The Posthumous Album Quandry
I spend more time on the road than anyone who doesn't work on a highway should. I could count at least four to five hours of my day in traffic or some mode of transportation. It gives me enough time to listen to entire albums, write articles and even complete assignments. While listening to Tupac Shakur's discography on my phone, 'Life Goes On' from All Eyez on Me came on. Melancholy surrounded me; thoughts of loved ones gone filled me. The story they left stays in my mind and helps me laugh sometime. Their legacy is kept alive. So is Tupac's, who has released more in his death than in his lifetime. But does any posthumous project count in an artists discography?
To answer that really loaded question, the history of the posthumous project needs to really be examined. While most of Western society sees nothing wrong with listening to music from a deceased artist, the release of works from the musician is still a newer concept. Research into the topic brings many back to XIXth century Chopin, whose final works were released after his passing. Afterwards, with the advent of recording technology, we saw artists such as Sonny Boy Williamson and Big Bill Broonzy have a lot of their works put out after their untimely passings. In terms of importance to Hip-Hop culture, important projects that were released that helped pave the way from the genre were Sam Cooke's Try A Little Love, a lot of Nat King Cole's works and Jimi Hendrix. Inside the community, there's Scott La Rock's work with KRS-One, Big L's The Big Picture, Biggie's Life After Death and most of 2Pac's discography came after their respective deaths. This element of music may have a long history, but it isn't one that stretches an exorbitant amount of time.
The idea of the posthumous album, and my overall concerns and thoughts, revolve around the last example that I gave: Tupac Shakur. I never got a chance to listen to any of his music during his lifetime, but I listened to a large amount of his discography post-mortem. During his lifetime, the late-great Makaveli saw 5 albums be released; since he passed in September of 1996, his brand has released eight of them without including compilation albums or live recordings, with the last one being released in 2006. Talking to my uncle, who introduced me to Pac as a kid, he told me that he stopped feeling that the posthumous albums stopped being from Pac after the 1997's R U Still Down? (Remember Me) as the soul wasn't there. After that one, he felt that it had become too commercialized and centralized on Tupac's character and not the man, forcing his vocals with modern artists that he may not have even spoken too if he was still alive.
The soul. The vision.
Talking to a long-time fan of the genre and Tupac made me change my initial perspective to a small degree. See, I don't believe that an artist, dead or alive, can fit five years into the future without a certain progression or evolution, because the entire genre changes sounds in a range of five years. At the time that this article is released, the hottest form of Hip-Hop is Trap, while in 2014 was a simple base (ex: Tyga excelled with this type of beat) and five years before that was heavy sample usage, à-la-Kanye West. Who we see as Top 3 in the game in terms of numbers is the most consistent we've seen in five years with Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole and Drake. Five years ago, the debate could be made that Nicki Minaj took J. Cole's place due to the raging success that was The Pinkprint. Five years before that, in 2009, there wasn't a single MC that could hold a torch to Jay-Z's dominance, Lil Wayne's features and Kanye's Beats. Long point being that the culture is in constant motion, therefore references and beats become outdated in a five year span. But the emotional and artistic connection changes the debate a lot.
Hip-Hop continues to have the sad reality of having too many of our young stars dying too soon. Tupac left us at the age of 25 with a plethora of material while XXXTentacion passed away at age 20 to name but two. What we can be sure of is that not all artists leave us with mountains of resources: The Notorious B.I.G. really left us with an album and a half worth of material. It is known that Life After Death was about to be released anyways before he died unexpectedly and that he sadly never saw it pass - making it a true part of Biggie's work. If the next project, Born Again, would've been the proper ending for Brooklyn's Finest trilogy is unknown. What we know is that the vision for Life After Death was complete and carried out the way it was supposed to be.
The addition of those emotional elements may muddy the waters for some Hip-Hop purists, but their inclusion is invaluable. It's how we distinguish our favorites - like do you prefer Tupac or Biggie - and our least favorites. My personal belief is that the creators vision has to be respected. A posthumous album can exist, but if it doesn't respect the vision or lifestyle that the artist had, than it becomes an empty cash grab. Let's take Tupac as an example: in his lifetime, he released 5 albums and 8 after his death. In what was released during his life, the many faces of man was always explored - hustler, lover, friend, criminal - to a tee; if he didn't need help, I wouldn't think he would've taken it. However, when listening to projects that were released after his death, the concept of THUG LIFE disappears after R U Still Down? (Remember Me). It doesn't feel like Pac anymore; the albums start capitalizing on the charisma and the energy that he had, not the message he wanted to put out in the world. When the message is gone, sadly, so is the artist.
