The Imus Test: Rap Lyrics Undergo Examination

The late C. DeLores Tucker, who took a stand against violent rap lyrics, in 1995 with the plastic handcuffs used to restrain her at a music-store protest. Hip-hop impresario Russell Simmons wants "extreme curse words" banned. (Associated Press)

At first blush, it seemed as if the latest furor over misogyny and racism in rap had died down, eclipsed by more tragic headlines. Shock jock Don Imus, in the wake of uttering his now-famous two-word slur, got the sack while a victorious Al Sharpton declared that "more people need to get this message." But two weeks past its news expiration date, the debate seems to be gathering renewed strength.

Today, rap is both an art form and an industry under intense examination, both from within and without. Perhaps the late C. DeLores Tucker, who began railing against rap's "pornographic filth" in the early 1990s, was onto something after all.

On Monday hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons, who just two weeks ago was arguing for the rights of rappers to express themselves as artists, did a seeming about-face and called for the voluntary banning of "bitch," "ho" and the N-word from the lexicon as "extreme curse words." He called for a coalition of industry executives to "recommend guidelines for lyrical and visual standards." Then the NAACP yesterday unveiled an initiative to halt racist and sexist imagery in the media, aimed at the record and television industries, recording artists and the African American community. And tomorrow, in a belated benediction, a civil rights group will honor Tucker, the leader of the National Political Congress of Black Women who initiated a national crusade against gangsta rap and took the recording industry to task for putting profits ahead of social responsibility.

Rap, facing sluggish record sales, is at a cultural crossroads. A University of Chicago study released in February said that 62 percent of black teens think rap music videos are degrading to black women.

Was veteran rapper Nas right when he titled his latest album "Hip Hop Is Dead"?

"I don't see rap in a crisis," Simmons said yesterday. "This happens every 10 years. People are blaming rap for all of society's ills."

His call for the removal of the unholy trinity of rap insults came as a response to "public outrage," Simmons said, but he remains wary of encroachments on the First Amendment. "It's the potential for us to head off a nasty discussion that promotes censorship."

Rappers, he said, are "going to make poetry no matter what anyone says." And no matter how hard-core their expressions, a segment of the buying public seems to want it.

"I don't think it's going to have a significant impact," Geoff Mayfield, director of charts at Billboard magazine, said of Simmons's recommendation. "A lot of broadcasters will be cautious anyway. I believe that those standards are already adhered to. I don't know how often you would hear the B-word on the radio."

In the music business, decisions are driven more by commerce than ethics, he added, and sales of unedited albums far surpass sales of the "clean" versions. "I don't see that changing."

Tucker's boycotts of hard-core rap and the stores that sold it didn't stop the industry from churning out more and more explicit recordings. Back then her quest seemed quixotic, schoolmarmish and finger-wagging. (On a 1999 release, Snoop Dogg mockingly dedicated his CD to the people "who say gangsta rap is dead: [Expletive] y'all.") While her efforts made headlines and seemingly pushed Warner Bros. to offload the Interscope label, gangsta acts such as Snoop, Tupac Shakur and 50 Cent sold well.

But the Imus incident recharged a debate that never really went away. "This is what you would call a perfect storm. Hip-hop was already going through a purging process and self-examination," said Davey D., a hip-hop historian and journalist in the San Francisco area. "The debate around hip-hop being dead brought many of those issues to the forefront. People have grown weary."