“I just feel like my city's heritage and history is a whole lot more valuable than people give credit for,” says author Langston Collin Wilkins on the first page of Welcome 2 Houston: Hip Hop Heritage in Hustle Town, a book that is sure to move hip hop studies, cultural theory, and folklore research in a novel and exciting direction. Wilkins opens the text with a powerful assertion: “You can enjoy the art and decipher meanings on a surface level, but you cannot truly understand the music if you are not from its place of origin” (1). This proposition is not meant to be dismissive, nor does it attempt to dissuade scholarly engagement from spaces that are not “our own.” Rather, it characterizes hip hop in reference to a set of highly localized identities. Wilkins draws our attention to two particular analytic categories—geography and form. Certain sounds, styles, and ways of being have the ability to persist despite changes to our national and global cultural landscapes. For Wilkins, Houston hip hop is no exception.
The ensuing chapters draw upon ethnographic fieldwork and interviews with over twenty rap artists, producers, and managers from Houston. Chapter 1 introduces the reader to the spatial organization of Black communities in Houston, outlining the history of the Northside, Southside, and Southwest pockets. Houston is currently ranked as the fourth most populous city in the United States, and Wilkins discusses some of the challenges arising in navigating sizable cities, most notably the time it takes to travel between different neighborhoods: “Black Houstonians have historically socialized primarily within their immediate settlement spaces. Restricted mobility, both social and physical, has contributed to the high levels of place attachment among African American Houstonians” (29). Working in conversation with Henry Lefebvre (1991), Stephen Nathan Haymes (1995), and Diana Chisholm (2005), to name a few, Wilkins places hip hop studies directly alongside the literature on relational social space, setting up some of his assertions regarding how (and why) hip hop cultures develop their own unique forms of life.
In chapter 2, Wilkins charts the rise and fall of Houston’s local economy, connecting its development to fluctuating oil prices in the 1970s and 1980s. Since the discovery of oil in the region in the first year of the twentieth century, oil production has been a driver of economic growth in Houston. By the 1980s, however, the drop in oil prices spawned a recession, which saw approximately twenty percent of Black Houstonians living below the poverty line. The “Houston streets,” as Wilkins suggests, were largely informed by these circumstances and conditions, leading individuals to “rep their hoods” in particular ways. Whether verbally or non-verbally, “‘Reppin’ the hood is an embodiment of space. As one reps their hood, they seek to draw upon the perceived characteristics of their hood” (44). Different forms of slang, clothing, tattoos, and more, “reverberate outside the streets' abstract bounds, influencing both the ‘hood’ and mainstream Houston society” (47).
With these instantiations, Wilkins also highlights the ways that local artists shape the very culture and politics of Houston. From the slowed hip hop style of DJ Screw to Lil Keke, Fat Pat, and Big Pokey, the hood becomes a cultural identity, one that "indexes and immortalizes” experiences (60). In chapter 3, readers encounter some of the specificities of these hyperlocal aesthetics. Through an examination of slab history, “a unique vernacular car practice that centers on transforming older model luxury sedans into elaborate and almost futuristic-looking socio-musical machines” (66), Wilkins begins to delineate the heritage work that local hip hop artists engage in via their discographies. Houston-born artists such as Beyonce, Travis Scott, and Megan Thee Stallion feature slabs in their recordings, photoshoots, and music videos. These references are odes to the Houston streets, efforts to actively ensure the vitality of particular cultural moments. Addressing heritage, conceptually and analytically, is where Wilkins truly makes his mark. This framework prompts several powerful questions and exciting areas for future exploration. What kinds of stories are told about where we come from? What might we learn about our neighborhoods and our cities from hip hop? What does hip hop hold onto? Perhaps most importantly, what does it mean to write urban history from the perspective of the hip hop artist? As one of Wilkins’s participants, Lil Randy, says, “cities have people in place that help you make power moves. It's all political at the end of the day” (85).
Chapters 4 and 5 analyze the ways that “city anthems” (96) ignite civic pride and unite Houstonians across neighborhoods. City anthems encompass a wealth of cultural knowledge, especially because of their relationship to the underground hip hop scene. Though perhaps they are unfamiliar to some, Wilkins illuminates how these underground records reshape the very boundaries of hip hop. Given the difficulties in finding performance opportunities, underground artists are regularly forced to perform for smaller, nontraditional audiences. As a result, their lyrical styles tend to mirror the venues that support them. Existing in relative obscurity compared to mainstream artists, underground artists must find ways to gain exposure for themselves and their music. By exploring the underground hip hop scene, Wilkins unveils a dynamic tapestry of artistic expression that might otherwise remain marginalized. Hip hop is “a scene as richly diverse as the artists that make it up” (136). Below the surface, creativity flourishes.
Wilkins concludes, in chapter 6, with an analysis of the longstanding dialectic between Christianity and hip hop. This chapter adds another degree of complexity to an already impressive project. Christian rappers such as LeCrae (Houston-born) and Chance the Rapper, as well as the 2019 gospel album, Jesus is King, released by Kanye West, have garnered tremendous public attention in recent years. Presenting an underrepresented cohort of “hip hop missionaries” (153), Wilkins discusses the concerted effort undertaken by Houston artists to assemble different ideas about spirituality and sacredness. More than a recurring theme, the drive to connect the church and the neighborhood becomes another important form of heritage work. For Wilkins, the streets are beacons of testimony and ministry, full of stories concerning redemption, power, and otherworldliness. Heritage is enmeshed in genealogies, poetics, and texts, and hip hop has an uncanny ability to unite these different arenas of social life.
What is the relationship between hip hop, urban studies, and geography? Who contributes to our understanding of cultural heritage? What do our streets have to say? The complex analysis of place, identity, and hip hop in Welcome 2 Houston contributes to a range of conversations across disciplines. However, I would argue that this book is best read as a call to take stock of our communities. Where we come from matters; our life-worlds count for much. Hip hop has long been viewed as a form of storytelling; Langston Collins Wilkins takes this thread a step further, demonstrating that hip hop has made a lasting impact on countless lives, as many of us take these stories with us everywhere we go.
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[Review length: 1157 words • Review posted on March 18, 2024]