The Mozart of Hip Hop? On ‘Dilla Time’

In a 2011 article from The Guardian titled “J Dilla: the Mozart of hip-hop”, journalist Rob Fitzpatrick discusses the legacy of J Dilla’s prolific production discography and skills as a hip-hop producer, frequently comparing him to the famous classical composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In the article, he heavily emphasizes J Dilla’s classical training, highlighting the possible connection between the “genius” he portrayed in his own compositions with the classical music education he received at a young age. This is quite common in terms of comparing contemporary artists to classical figures of Western European art and occurs both in artists from European (white) spaces as well as African (black) spaces. The unfortunate side effect of this, however, is that it frames whatever contemporary art, whether it be in or outside of Eurocentric practices, being discussed as a comparison to the Western art canon.

In Dilla Time, however, this mold is seemingly broken, and is without a doubt one of the prime examples of not only a definitive biography for J Dilla, but a solid musicological framework for future writings on popular music. Instead of waxing lyrically about the brilliance of specific J Dilla beats ad nauseum (something every Dilla fan is guilty of, including myself), Dan Charnas takes an approach that explores both the musical influences of J Dilla as well as how J Dilla influenced not only hip-hop, but music itself. An emphasis is made throughout the book that J Dilla’s methods for creating unique drum patterns not only allowed him to stand out as a producer but also led to changing how musicians think about rhythm, in what we could call the “post-Dilla era” of approximately after his death in 2006 to today.

It does not exalt him as a god or as royalty, like so many in what Simon Reynolds call the “cult of J Dilla”, but it views him as a man, who had faults, vices, and struggles. Growing up in Detroit during the city’s major economic decline throughout the 1970s and 80s, Charnas shows the socioeconomic backdrop that a young James Yancey faced throughout his adolescence, while also highlighting the rich musical heritage that influenced him. Sure, he had cello lessons, but he also grew up with the sounds of Michael Jackson, George Clinton, and Marvin Gaye. Both of his parents were avid musicians, and his neighbour and Funkadelic guitarist Amp Fiddler acted as a major mentor, showing him how to sample using the new (at the time) Akai Professional MPC60 when he was a teenager. His peers, such as fellow Slum Village members T3 and Baatin, heavily shaped how he wanted his beats to represent both himself and the city he was raised in. Everyone he made music with, from production collectives The Ummah and the Soulquarians to fellow artists like Erykah Badu and Madlib, had a profound impact on shaping how and why he made beats the way he did. Terms such as “drunk” or “lazy” have been used to describe his style of beat-making, but these words are misleading at best and offensive at worst, as every note placed on his MPC was intentional. The terms themselves only really describe the disorientation one may feel when hearing a Dilla beat for the first time, as its radical nature may leave one feeling “drunk” or so relaxed they may decide to spend a lazy afternoon listening to his discography.

What was once radical, however, now seems commonplace. Since 2006, every beat scene from the Los Angeles pioneers of **Flying Lotus and [Ras G](https://youtu.be/7hX7xngNzZ4)* to the seemingly millions of lo-fi beat-makers online yearning to earn a placement on a Spotify study playlist have pushed every aspect of J Dilla’s signature sound to its limit. Some have grown tired of the “Dilla type beats” infecting the airways of every coffee shop and record store, calling the trend “diet Dilla”. Some have even claimed it as a form of musical gentrification, with producers like Grammy-winning 9th Wonder warning on Twitter that the sound may exclude the marginalized voices and influences that built the J Dilla sound in the first place. After reading Dilla Time*, however, one can’t help but feel like there is hope in the new sound and direction that Dilla spearheaded decades prior.

Does this mean then that J Dilla really is the “Mozart of hip-hop”, and his genius really reflects that of what Mozart did with European classical composition in the late 18th Century? The comparison, at this point, seems superfluous and unnecessary. Afrodiasporic concepts defined by academics such as what Olly Wilson calls the “heterogenous sound ideal” (a tendency to embrace differing timbres and rhythms in a piece of music) and Henry Louis Gates’ definition of Signifyin(g) (in which musicians enact forms of double meanings to the listener) are crucial to both hip-hop culture as well as the musical techniques innovated by J Dilla, and stand on their own separate from the lineage of the Western music canon. Although the romantic image of a “great master” who suffered for his art while creating masterpieces may be drawn upon when discussing J Dilla, especially in relation to his final instrumental album Donuts (as he was struggling with complications from lupus and created much of that album hospitalized), this represents only a small part of J Dilla’s influence. Viewing J Dilla’s entire legacy as a Mozartian struggle is at best an oversimplification and at worst an unnecessary reframing of his work with the Western art canon to legitimize its importance to those outside of hip-hop culture.

Comparisons of J Dilla to Mozart, at the end of the day (though I’m sure J Dilla himself would have been flattered), perpetuates systems of white supremacy and keeps the influence and image of him and his music firmly within a white racial frame. According to music theorist Philip Ewell, this consistent emphasis of almost entirely white male composers throughout music education and the music industry as “masters” of the art form have negatively impacted how we view composers and other musical figures that are non-white or non-male. J Dilla does not have to be the “Mozart of hip-hop” to be taken seriously, for he is simply the J Dilla of hip-hop or, for that matter, the J Dilla of music.

Dan Charnas’ ‘Dilla Time: The Life and Afterlife of J Dilla, The Hip-Hop Producer who Reinvented Rhythm‘ is available to purchase here.