Editor’s Note: Resident Philistine rap expert Dan Hahn returns with a look at Tulsa artist Ron Ron, and offers a plea for the local in music.
Tulsa, Oklahoma sits tucked in the foothills of the Ozarks, bifurcated by the sandy Arkansas River, and shrouded in historical greatness, shame, and controversy. Tulsa is a city operating with and throughout a crippling, yet endearing identity crisis. Most citizens can’t tell you whether it fits in the American South, West, Southwest, Midwest, Plains, or in some kind of independent neutral zone; all they know is that at some point there was oil, then there was a city, then there was a massacre, and now there is a small yet cosmopolitan; backwards yet artistic; segregated yet diverse; archaic yet ambitious little burg where a few hundred thousand Oklahomans live.
The music scene in Tulsa reflects this swirling spirit of dichotomy with every breath. Country, rock, indie rock, classical, folk, metal, hardcore, jazz, and hip-hop acts churn out catalogs of music every year; some of it laughably “Tulsa”, and some of it quintessentially and boastfully representative of the grass roots that formed it. The last two years of national hip-hop music have been as contradictory as my hometown for me. In the fall of 2012 Kendrick Lamar came out with good kid, m.a.a.d. city. This compilation was as good as it’s been in a long time for me. It was masterfully artistic and simple in the right places while being astronomically groundbreaking in others. The storyline was that of a blockbuster, and the genuine quality was straight up religious throughout. Then came Macklemore. Coming out of my Kendrick daze, I was happy to see a white dude from Seattle making big ripples in the rap pond. Upon finding out that Macklemore’s stuff sucked as badly as Kendrick’s did not, I dissolved into the arms of Yeezus by Kanye West against the better judgment of everyone who knew better. This album was amazing from the start. It was 40 minutes of asymmetrical, off-putting revolutions inside a mind as wild and crazy as Omar Gooding on Nickelodeon circa 1994. But, the grandeur dissipated as quickly as it came, ending with me feeling bored, tricked, and saddened by music that didn’t stand the test of time and multiple listens.
Hip-hop tends to do this. Not since the Jazz Age has there been a genre of music so exclusively American that it divides culture down the middle into those that love it and those that hate it. This is why I love it. It is so polarizing and comprehensively domestic that I simply must listen to all of it, forming my opinions around a college degree for which I am still in debt, and minimal proficiency for the genre myself. With all of this malarkey doing laps inside my head, I decided to come back home for new music to love.
Local emcee Ron Hodge has been making music under the name “Ron Ron” in Tulsa for several years. A father, a full time member of the ranks of the employed, and a true believer in community and peace, this dude can rap his ass off to boot. Early in 2013 he came out with a mixtape for free online simply called “Derelict”. Spoiler alert: it’s phenomenal. I have listened to the record several times all the way through and am still struggling to think of a piece of music as honest, clean, brave, and decisively vulnerable either inside or outside the local scene. I am not sure whether or not my personal friendship with the artist bolsters or handicaps my opinion of the music, but I don’t really care. Ron Hodge the person is every ounce a clear manifestation of the straightforward quality of his music. If this were different, perhaps I would have to look at my opinion of the music with a more unbiased eye, but here we are.
The album itself was produced, written, recorded, and mastered locally. This shit is pure, untarnished “laundry room” dope, and it’s beautiful. Ron Ron’s lyrical delivery is like a steady stream of fighter planes decimating the sound barrier, and leaving the audience below ensconced in fumes, bewildered, awestruck, and applauding. From bar to bar, the clarity with which he turns phrases; the simplicity with which he phonetically crafts parables; and the proficiency with which he speaks are obviously the products of years of sensitive introspection and practice. This is refreshing to the listener. So often in music, especially hip-hop, there is an impulse to quickly churn out stuff that reeks of a lack of effort. Ron Ron does not do this. With every syllable, the listener hears an artist trying SO hard, that it provokes instant attention. There is no “swag” on this record. There isn’t an iota of tall-tee-wearing-pant-sagging-wannabe-something-or-other fallacy on this recording; it is all killer.
The only thing on the record that outshines the lyrical delivery is the lyrical content. In a climate where all rappers do is brag, beef, and fame-grab, Ron Ron steps up to the mic and admits that he is scared, vulnerable, humble, and thankful. He admits he isn’t the best, that he has things to learn, and that he appreciates those around him. This self-deprecating style is ironic in that it is this lack of artificial confidence that actually elevates him above most of his peers. Don’t be fooled, “Derelict” doesn’t leave the listener with a sense of pity for the artist. It doesn’t detract from his skill, or mission, but pares away the bullshit and leaves honesty and bravery in its place. “Off My Chest” is a track that stands out to me in this way. On this song, as the title suggests, Ron crafts a belligerent, but eloquent stream of consciousness about class inequality, politics, and the state of music in our country dripping with a sense of truth from the artist’s perspective. “Pristine” (a track featuring Ron Ron by local juggernaut Sur’Ron the 7th) is another look into a mind so clear and unadulterated by the quest for material success, that it lets him admit he is a great artist without sounding false. “So Far Away” offers a glimpse at the darkest spots of human insecurity, and how pain can be a good thing if it initiates thought and action. These tracks and others paint a picture of purity in composition, which is so rare in popular music.
Ron Ron comes off, from beginning to end, as the quiet guy that is better than all the loud guys. His lyrics squint through the fear and translucency of his peers with Eastwoodian confidence to find a safe place where he writes, raps, and composes art so good that his peers, his listeners, and his fair hometown of Tulsa must nod with reverence while feeling the goosebumps permeating their misconceptions of what rap from Oklahoma can be. I am so glad I know this guy, and so glad I have this record.
For a “name your price” download of this record, and other material by Ron Ron visit his website. Ron Ron will be performing with others at Soundpony Bar in Downtown Tulsa on October 25th at 10 p.m.
By day, Dan Hahn teaches high school English in Tulsa, Oklahoma. By night he adopts the nom de rap Algebra, and attempts to singlehandedly save the world of hip hop. Algebra has twice been awarded an “Absolute Best of Tulsa” award as Best Hip Hop artist.
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