Their “concern about a Black Planet” was not mine. It absolutely was 1989 while the many sweltering summer time on record, and I’d currently dropped in deep love with hip-hop.

Their “concern about a Black Planet” was not mine. It absolutely was 1989 while the many sweltering summer time on record, and I’d currently dropped in deep love with hip-hop.

by Camille Jackson

It had been 1989 plus the many sweltering summer time on record, and I’d currently dropped in deep love with hip-hop. Through low priced foam headphones I’d taped together, we listened incessantly to MC Lyte, De Los Angeles Soul, Jungle Brothers, KRS-One, third Bass, Salt-N-Pepa, Eric B. & Rakim, over and over repeatedly auto-reversing the cassettes within my Sony Walkman until we knew the buttons by feel and didn’t need to aim to rewind or fast ahead.

We see the liner records. We memorized the words. Continue reading “Their “concern about a Black Planet” was not mine. It absolutely was 1989 while the many sweltering summer time on record, and I’d currently dropped in deep love with hip-hop.”