The UB Post-Leading English News

"Hip hop is the movement of the moment," says Benj Binks, an Australian filmmaker so intrigued by the Mongolian take on this American cultural movement that he is making a documentary on the subject. ÂÂ

In what seems to any foreigner a fascinating transposition of an American cultural icon to an ‘exotic’ location, Binks set out to learn how the Mongolians have made hip hop their own. He interviewed a range of people for the film, including local performers, music producers, politicians, music teachers and shamans. Interestingly, the shamans drew many parallels between the content and structure of their traditional songs and the urban rhymes that flood the radio stations today.

Tracing its development in Mongolia, the film, which will be called "Mongolian Bling", explores hip hop’s role as a medium of self expression and identity formation alongside the development of democracy.

Seeking out the social and political in hip hop is not a new concept. Indeed, it forms part of the movement’s very foundations. Born of the then-impoverished and arson stricken New York borough of the Bronx, hip hop was a cultural movement initiated primarily by African-American and Latino youths during the 1970s. It was a means of artistic expression, an outlet for venting frustrations and anger about the hardships of being a minority and the pressures of inner city life.

Hip hop’s main elements include rapping, DJing, graffiti art and breakdancing. In the early days the movement was credited with saving many lives. Instead of turning to gang life, teens participated in dance and artwork battles. Rather than resorting to physical violence, kids dissed each other through improvised raps. Their lyrics often tackled social and political issues. Hip hop was the voice of the angry, the marginalized. But it was also the voice of change, calling for reform and for revolution.

From the days of disaffected youths finding freedom of expression through their street art, hip hop has since become a global (and commercial) phenomenon. The Foreign Policy journal states, "hip hop is a lingua franca that binds young people all around the world, all while giving them the chance to alter it with their own national flavor".[1]

Hip hop of the Mongolian variety began in the early 1990’s, as the country experienced an explosion in popular culture following the arrival of democracy. The movement started with dance crews, ranging from just a few up to 30 members, performing to Western music and competing in dance tournaments. Various music groups formed soon after. Initially copying the Western tunes, they then began to break their own beats and write lyrics in their native tongue.ÂÂ

The first generation of Mongolian hip hop artists often tackled the social, philosophical and political in their lyrics. The group Har Sarnai (Black Rose) is considered the grandfather of Mongolian rap, although its music is a fusion of techno and rap.

Later generations of artists still sang about social and political issues, but also included softer touches and thus appealed to a wider audience. The boys from Tatar, Mongolia’s most popular hip hop act today, do address the problems faced by Mongolian society such as alcoholism and unemployment. But they, like many others, also sing about other, less hip hop-like subjects.

Love, for example, is a common theme in contemporary Mongolian hip hop music�no doubt to the dismay of the hard-core purists. And a favorite lyrical theme in Mongolian folk music, tributes to mothers, also features regularly in the lyrics of many rappers.

Despite this thematic digression from hip hop’s roots, Binks says the music is still very Americanised. Many groups have simply "lifted the image and music straight from America" he says. Turn down the volume while watching one of their video clips and it appears as if it could easily hail from the States.

What certainly is an American influence is the commercial aspect of the industry. Tapping into the image conscious youth market, hip hop has the potential in any country to be a veritable cash cow not only to record labels, but to corporations who align with bands. Product placement and sponsorship are important elements in the Mongolian scene. Claimed by the artists to be a necessary evil in a culture in need of funding, lyrics and video clips will often prominently feature a brand of beverage, cigarette or even more curiously a transportation company. In fact, a handful of music artists of various genres, including hip hop, all have songs named after the same brand of  beer. Have a look at the CD cases and you’ll find they are covered with corporate sponsorship labels. Some performers do draw an ethical line however. The artist Quiza, for instance, refuses to take any money from cigarette or alcohol companies – a juice brand is his preferred sponsorship partner.

As disconcerting as the relationship between corporations and artists may be, it does however provide the needed funds to produce high quality music in an industry that hemorrhages financially from the effects of music piracy.

Mongolian hip hop production values are unarguably slick. Binks acknowledges that the albums are musically very well produced, and video clips and bands themselves are "visually very impressive". But he laments a void at the core of the movement. The heart of hip hop, or what he perceives as its essence, is mostly missing. "Hip hop in Mongolia is not a voice of the marginalised" he says. An agenda for reform and a rebellious spirit, whcih was once the driving force of hip hop, seems swallowed up by a shiny, commercial package. As impressive as its image is, Mongolian hip hop is a far cry from the rawness and edginess of its ‘old skool’ counterpart. Yet such a criticism is not unique to Mongolia; in the US hip hop now appears to be more a commercial enterprise than any real vehicle for social reform.

Binks openly acknowledges that his perspective is that of a foreigner, and he admits that hip hop is still doing good things for Mongolia. It may not have the same political resonance and sense of urgency that it did for the young and angry voices of the Bronx some three decades ago, but it certainly remains the voice of the youth. And with around 59% of Mongolia’s population still under the age of 30, that’s a significant demographic.

Hip hop in Mongolia is the music of the mainstream, and to some that may just be the very antithesis of what the movement is all about. Others may see it as just another sign of hip hop culture’s move to a truly global stage.