Urban desolation and symbolic denigration in the hypergetto

Curtis insists on taking me to his neighborhood church for a visit with his pastor. As we hunker down inside his four-wheeler, he flips on a tape by the rap band, No More Colors, full tilt and the heavily distorted sound floods the cabin with its frenetic, pulsating rhythm. »It’s my fav’rite song, ’cause it’s positive: it tell d’kids enough killin’s an’ dope and shootin’ an’ stuff, don’t do dat ’cause We’re All Blacks, We’re All in the Same Gang!« – the song’s inspiring if raucous chorus. He …