Concrete Feeling

Some rappers aren't content to work for somebody else. They intend to decide for themselves on their own terms rather than feel controlled by the record industry. They want to stay independent.

Every generation of rapper in France tackles the diffcult and sometimes violent relationship between the police and urban French youth. And in the 90s, it became urgent after 17-year-old Makomé M'Bowolé was killed by a bullet to the head at point blank range during a police interrogation at a police station, triggering riots.

The rapper is a social animal. He moves in groups and collectives, like Time Bomb or Beat 2 Boul. They're like famillies, only with a message and a vision. And maybe that family is necessary: during the height of racial tensions in 90s France, controversial immigration laws left many communities feeling under attack.

Rap took off: no longer a genre on the fringes of acceptability or even on the fringes of what is considered music: it was everywhere. It was on TV, and in film, and it stormed the charts with major commercial successes. But that left many rappers with an uncomfortable choice: stay true to their underground roots or embrace the mainstream.

The mainly BAME neighbourhoods of Paris were places mainstream media didn't go and didn't talk about. So the local rapper's became the CNN of their communities. They rapped about unemployment, police violence, everyday racism and lack of a future. They wanted to be heard by the society that had pushed them to the fringes.

Coming out of France’s suburban ghetto, the first French hip-hop artists take the country by storm in 1990. Names like Assassin, NTL and IAM were politically engaged and ready to shake things up.