Danny Hoch is an innovative force in the continued evolution of hip-hop as an art form and a culture. A pioneer in blending elements of theater and hip-hop, Hoch’s eclectic body of work is unified around his efforts to shape hip-hop into a socially conscious, politically relevant arts movement. All of this from a 30 year-old white, Jewish man from the Queens.
An accomplished stage actor, Hoch is best-known for his one-man performance pieces, especially Jails, Hospitals and Hip Hop, in which he uses monologue to portray a vast array of characters, from Puerto Rican women, to uptight Jewish mothers, to rap superstars. Hoch’s performance is suffused with incisive commentary on issues of racial and cultural identity, especially concerning some of the subtler ways in which racism still operates on Americans’ consciousness. Jails’ critical and popular success has spawned a feature film that fuses studio shots with footage from a live performance at a prison.
Hoch also acts on television and in movies, including Black Hawk Down, director Ridley Scott’s newest film. Hoch’s arts portfolio includes writing and production credits as well; last year he helped organize the New York City Hip-Hop Theater Festival, which featured politically minded, hip-hop-influenced theater. And Hoch is a founding board member of the Active Element Foundation, a group that offers support for youth activists; a contributor to publications like Harper’s and The Village Voice; and a featured instructor at countless seminars and special engagements.
The breadth of projects in which Hoch is involved befit his self-identification as a “griot,” a term he explained in a 1990 interview with the Revolutionary Worker. “A griot is the word that the French used when they colonized Africa to describe the solo performers that they saw there in the 1500s–performers that were storytellers, but at the same time they were comedians, they were teachers, they were preachers, they were shaman, they were priests\xe2\x80\xa6in essence I am telling stories. And I am doing what a griot does anywhere around the world.”
By conceiving of himself as a “griot,” (to be fair, Hoch also uses more conventional terms like “teacher,” “artist,” and “activist” as the situation demands), Hoch rejects notions of art as politically neutral. He tells New Voices via e-mail, “Social action is art, if it is effective. And on the other hand, there is no social action without the participation of the arts and artists. The true ancient history of the performing arts is education, religion, politics and entertainment rolled into one big hamentashen. Somehow in the west, art got co-opted by the rich, and it became separated from its homies. But we shall never forget.”
Hoch is equally non-conformist in his interpretation of the hip-hop culture that so deeply informs his creative output and political orientation. “Hip-Hop is a culture of resistance\xe2\x80\xa6It is no longer just the four elements (grafitti art, dj-ing, breakdancing and rapping), it has transcended itself\xe2\x80\xa6into contemporary theater, dance, music, fashion, law, medicine, education, journalism and fiction. It is no longer the culture specific to the place and time in which it was created, but hip-hop is the culture specific to the generation from that place and time and beyond, and the generations that were affected by that place and time, even if they weren’t there.”
By accentuating the evolution of hip-hop, Hoch carves out a space within it for his mixture of experimental theater and progressive politics, which he sees as a return to the movement’s roots. “I think the future of hip-hop lies in the culture as an arts movement, married to a political movement. If the original tenets of hip-hop resistance and culture are to remain with us, then it can only broaden into what I call Pan-Hip-Hop Arts, which must align itself and work with the hip-hop doctors, lawyers, activists, teachers and politicians in order to survive and carry out its mission, of which ultimately there are several–one being liberation, another being the redistribution of wealth.”
Not incidentally, Hoch’s multi-ethnic, multi-dimensional perspective on hip-hop rationalizes his role as a white, Jewish man contributing to a movement that arose out of the urban black experience in America. Hoch, however, is well aware of his precarious status as a white, Jewish hip-hop artist. “The question [of ethnic heritage and creative production] is a tricky one because of the history of minstrelsy in the United States, and the unfortunate history of Al Jolson and other Jews who took ‘black’ culture and exploited it, and misinterpreted it for America, back in the day. However, precisely because of my heritage, which is also one of resistance and culture, it is one of my responsibilities to work towards undoing the Al Jolson effect, and to work towards, rather than against, the liberation of this big shtetl we call New York City\xe2\x80\xa6That sounds real poetic, don’t it? Don’t believe a word I say.” The response is vintage Hoch–insightful analysis and determined idealism, topped with a disarming turn toward self-deprecation.
Hoch’s approach to Judaism underscores the force of Jewish cultural identity. Although decidedly secular, Hoch acknowledges the imprint of Jewish culture on his life. “Griots from different parts of the world take on different traits and forms that are directly related to the culture. I think that Jews in Eastern Europe have always played with the fine line between extreme pain/seriousness and hysterical laughter. It’s not something I think about doing, it just happens naturally throughout my work and I think I can attribute that to Jewish roots.”
