News

Some Thoughts on DMX, who was a Rare and Authentic Character

By Kevin Kinkead

Published: Apr 12th, 2021 · 8:59 AM EDT

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I know this is a Philadelphia sports blog, and we’ll get it back to the Eagles momentarily, but we did that DMX “Mount Rushmore” post on Friday morning, just before the rapper died, and a lot of people read it. Maybe there’s a hidden DMX contingent among the “four for four” sports fans in our neck of the woods.

So I thought I’d share some quick thoughts about the late hip hop legend and his influence on a group of folks who straddle the Millennial and Generation X line.

For starters, I don’t think the younger crowd realizes how popular DMX was back in the day. We’re talking multiple chart-topping albums and singles. You couldn’t turn on MTV without seeing his videos or turn on the radio without hearing his songs. He was on top of the world for a brief stretch of time that lasted from 1998 until about 2003.

The reason the stretch was brief isn’t because he flamed out. It was more about the fact that he released so many albums in such quick succession, that his prime was crammed into a very short window. With It’s Dark and Hell is Hot and Flesh of my Flesh, Blood of my Blood, he had two albums that hit #1 on the Billboard charts in the same calendar year. Those discs came out just seven months apart, then one year later he released And Then There Was X, which also hit #1 and was certified 5X platinum. In just five years, he released five albums that charted at #1, spawned 15 singles, and sold more than 15 million copies.

The thing about DMX that really stuck out was authenticity. There was a level of seriousness and hardness with which he rapped, which was unique then and remains unique to this day. His music was intensely gritty and dark and vulnerable at the same time, and he wasn’t a guy who was afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve. There was a significant pouring of outward emotion from him, which you didn’t find anywhere back then, let alone in hip hop music.

For example, this portion of his 1998 single, Slippin’ –

“If I’m strong enough I’ll live long enough to see my kids
Doin’ somethin’ more constructive with their time than bids
I know because I been there, now I’m in there
Sit back and look at what it took for me to get there
First came the bullshit, the drama with my mama
She got on some fly shit so I split and said that I’ma
Be that seed that doesn’t need much to succeed
Strapped with mad greed and a heart that doesn’t bleed
I’m ready for the world or at least I thought I was”

Compare those tunes to mainsteam hip hop from that era (i.e. Puff Daddy), and it was so in-your-face and intense and different from what was popular at the time.

It’s funny, because white people in the suburbs LOVED DMX. If you don’t believe me, watch the video of him performing at Woodstock 1999, when the majority white crowd was singing the lyrics for every song. At every high school dance we had, from 1999 to 2002, you would hear “Party Up” and sometimes even “How’s it Goin Down,” which was passed off as a slow dance song, if you can believe it.

The interesting thing about it was this:

No, the average 15 year old Boyertown kid couldn’t relate whatsoever to the hood, or the incredibly rough upbringing DMX had. But like any great artist, he was so adept at conveying an understanding to people who did not share the same experiences. Berks County wasn’t Yonkers, but when DMX rapped about the latter, you said to yourself, ‘okay, I get this; I realize the seriousness and severity of what he’s talking about.’ And because it was genuine and real, it was appreciated, even by people who couldn’t relate. His music took you out of wherever you were and transported you to somewhere else instead.

(and this should go without saying, but when any song has a catchy beat, good lyrics, and a quality hook, it’s going to be enjoyed, regardless of the subject matter and whom it was written for)

Quick story –

I saw DMX when I was 19 years old, as a college freshman in a death metal phase. He headlined a tour with Nas and Lil’ Kim opening, and it came to the Coliseum in Morgantown, West Virginia. Not exactly a hip hop demographic, if you know what I mean. Lil’ Kim did two songs, said “I love Virginia,” and got booed off the stage for her geographic mishap. Nas killed it, as always, and then DMX came out, did 40 minutes, said a prayer, started crying, and then walked off the stage. It was jarring, but in retrospect, it was totally him. He poured his heart and soul into a brief set for mostly white college kids and the small minority of black athletes at WVU, then something set him off emotionally and he lost it towards the end of the gig.

That was him in a nutshell, right? He was troubled. He had a lot of demons. He did a lot of bad things. We’re not using this space to glorify a drug abuser, but the honest truth is that music is full of these types in every genre. Look no further than the myriad substance users in rock and heavy metal who came and went well before DMX. Scott Weiland, Jimi Hendrix, Phil Lynott, etc. It comes with the territory.

But if we’re going to remember DMX for anything, it should be that authenticity. Especially in today’s world of corny posturing and fake, auto-tuned, over-produced mumble rap, DMX stood out as a real one. He went hard every single time. He was 100% genuine, and openly showed all of his strengths and flaws, and that’s why he was admired. He had “it,” whatever “it” is.

RIP.