The Mother of Hip-Hop
Sylvia Robinson began her career as a soul singer in the early fifties. In the late seventies, while working to develop Sugar Hill Records, she earned her place in history with one single.
In the eyes of many, rap has a problem with women. Its main players—whether we speak of its stars, its activists, or its fans—are overwhelmingly men. In both its lyrics and its imagery, it has a reputation for being dreadfully misogynistic and for portraying women only in the degrading form of the objectified woman, the sexual doll with disproportionate features. For these reasons, among others, it has aroused the ire of numerous feminists, of those who consider themselves progressive, as well as that of prudish conservatives.
Because of, among other things, the treatment it appears to reserve for women, people with seemingly antagonistic ideologies unite against it.
Let’s not kid ourselves: like so many other artistic and musical practices, hip-hop culture has, since its beginnings, been primarily a male affair. Monica Lynch, who presided over the pioneering rap label Tommy Boy and closely observed the transformation of this New York street movement into a global phenomenon, is explicit: “… the vast majority of DJs were male, the vast majority of graffiti artists were guys, the vast majority of breakdance groups were men, and the vast majority of rappers were male. […] I simply think it was seen as a boys’ playground.”
And yet, since its origins, rap is also a women’s affair. Several women, behind the scenes or in a more discreet manner than men, have left their mark. And this is evident from the very first days.
While historiography has enshrined Clive Campbell, alias DJ Kool Herc, as the founding father of hip-hop, it does not always do justice to the role of his sister, Cindy. It was together that these two Jamaicans of origin introduced and adapted the sound system concept from their island to New York, giving birth to block parties—those underground street celebrations that became the melting pot of hip-hop culture. It was Cindy who, in order to make a little money to expand her wardrobe, organized the very first of these parties, a back-to-school jam held in the Bronx on August 11, 1973. With this first edition being a success—and the origin of her brother’s reputation as a DJ—she then continued to support him and manage his career, playing a role that would earn her the title “The Mother of Hip-Hop.”
However, this title is more often attributed to another woman. It belongs to a woman whose decisive role is to transform this New York subculture, centered on African-American communities—hip-hop and its rap component—into a music with international resonance.
Sylvia Robinson first had a career as a soul singer in the early fifties. In the late seventies, while working to develop Sugar Hill Records, the label she founded with her husband Joe, she had a brilliant idea: to bring to light the art of those first rappers who were then heard in the streets and nightclubs of New York, whose aura was still only local and confidential.
It took perseverance for her to achieve her goals. The first hip-hop activists, indeed, did not believe that their discipline could become a music in itself. Approached by Robinson, the pioneering DJ Grandmaster Flash told her to get lost. He eventually gave in in 1979, with the single “Superappin’,” released on Enjoy Records, though he had initially found it absurd to transfer to record an art that essentially consists in expressing oneself about that of others. Already making a good living from his club performances and the tapes he sold hand-to-hand (the future mixtapes), he could not imagine that a career in the music industry might prove more lucrative.
Sylvia Robinson quickly proved him wrong. Struggling to arouse the interest of the true pioneers of hip-hop, she created an entirely fabricated group, The Sugarhill Gang, in order to have them record a track. On the music of Chic’s disco hit “Good Times,” these unknowns perform for 15 minutes, partly appropriating verses written by more authentic rappers. “Rapper’s Delight,” released in September 1979, is not the very first rap single, contrary to what some still believe. But its success, both national and international, is considerable. It puts an end to all skepticism regarding the commercial profitability of recorded rap. Even though no one had yet realized it, this single opens the era of a genre that, for several decades, will boldly dominate the world of popular music.
With this single alone, Sylvia Robinson has already earned her place in history. But she does not stop there. Sugar Hill Records became one of the leading labels for this emerging music in the following years. Until its disappearance in 1986, it released the singles of all the major groups of the old-school era—Funky Four Plus One, Treacherous Three, and Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five. The great DJ, indeed, eventually joins Robinson. It is on her label that he releases his most emblematic singles, “The Adventures of Grandmaster Flash On the Wheels of Steel” (1981), a mix filled with scratches that became foundational for the virtuoso hip-hop DJs later known as turntablists, and then “The Message” (1982), a bleak description of the reality of the ghetto.
Once again, Sylvia Robinson showed flair. As with “Rapper’s Delight,” in a sort of stutter in the history, Grandmaster Flash did not believe in “The Message.” He feared that its slow tempo and serious subject might repel his fans. However, the head of Sugar Hill Records forced his hand. Without his knowledge, she released this single under her name, to which Grandmaster Flash did not contribute, leading to a conflict between the DJ and the label. Known for her stinginess, her very relative honesty, and the sometimes violent methods of her husband, Sylvia Robinson did not leave only good memories for the rappers with whom she collaborated. But once again, her instincts were not mistaken: having become a gold record, “The Message” is not the first politically engaged rap track, but its success helped steer a whole segment of this music in the direction of social commentary.