FROM THE EDITOR

From Panther to Doom

Ben Heath
DT Weekend Editor

In 1966, there were three Black Panthers: Huey P. Newton, Bobby Seale and T’Challa.
Seale and Newton met each other in junior college in West Oakland. In September 1966, they began to write out the 10-point plan that would become the foundation of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, one of the most well-known black nationalist movements in the United States.

T ’Challa was the king of Wakanda, a fictional nation that was the world’s only source of a rare, valuable and fictional metal. His father, King T’Chaka, died in battle, but his creator, Stan Lee, lives on. Since 1966, the King of Wakanda has battled criminals and evildoers in the pages of several Marvel Comics titles.

“Black Panther” was among the first black superheroes and the first to gain any major notoriety. It would be years before he would have his own series — Marvel instead guest-starred Panther alongside the Avengers and the Fantastic Four.

Although Black Panther’s character technically predates Newton and Seale’s movement, the hero exemplifies many of the ideals described in the organization’s 10-point plan.

“We believe we can end police brutality in our black community by organizing black self-defense groups that are dedicated to defending our black community from racist police oppression and brutality,” the plan states.

T’Challa was an intelligent, powerful leader of a nation steeped in African heritage, willing to stand up for his people’s interests against those the world’s most powerful forces — even the U.S. government. In a 2001 series, “Black Panther: Enemy of the State,” T’Challa clashes with an African-American senator who wants to use the king for his own political goals, and he even declares war on the United States.

Though T’Challa did not carry guns or focus on American police oppression, the Black Panther ideals of self-defense and vigilantism are reflected in nearly all famous superheroes, white or black. In that respect, Panther is similar to Batman, whose early career (as depicted in “Batman: Year One” by Frank Miller and the movie “Batman Begins”) often set him against the police, who were too corrupt or arrogant to care about the concerns of the common citizen.

This connection could help explain why the emerging black youth hip-hop culture of the ‘70s and ‘80s found comic-book heroes so attractive.

DJ Kool Herc, a New York DJ who invented the breakbeat, performed with a group called the Herculoids, which included a DJ Clark Kent. Another DJ Clark Kent later spun for MC Dana Dane. The X-ecutioners, a New York turntable ensemble, formed under the name X-Men, a name that symbolized their relative lack of notoriety and their unique abilities — or “powers,” if you will.

The most notable fusion of comic-book imagery and hip-hop culture is the Wu-Tang Clan. The group’s records and personae feature references to Iron Man, Doctor Doom, The Riddler, Ghost Rider and Voltron, among others. In 2002, the Wu licensed a comic book line, “The Nine Rings of Wu-Tang,” replaced X-Men as the top-selling title in the country, according to “The Wu-Tang Manual.”

The group’s leader, RZA, even created a superhero character for himself named Bobby Digital.
“I decided to become Bobby Digital for real,” RZA writes in the Manual. “I had the car, and I had the suit. I was getting ready to go out at nighttime and right some wrongs.”

The Wu’s work also blurred the lines between hero and villain. In the Manual’s chapter on comics, RZA confesses that he came to identify more with characters that transcend those two labels, such as the planet-eating Unicron from “Transformers” and the planet-eating Galactus from “Fantastic Four” and “Silver Surfer.” These self-interested characters fit better with the Wu-Tang’s divide-and-conquer capitalist mentality.

While the major comic companies were introducing new black superheroes — Black Panther, Luke Cage, Black Lightning, Night Thrasher, Green Lantern (John Stewart), War Machine, Spawn — other writers, beginning in the early ‘90s, explored more complicated, darker heroes, similar to the characters often described in rap lyrics.

“Blokhedz,” for example, chronicles the adventures of Blak, a rapper who has the supernatural power to control people with his voice. The series confronts the contradictions of fighting for justice in a rap world dominated by drugs and violence. This is exemplified in the cover art for Blokhedz No. 2, “Death of a King,” which depicts Blak holding a gun in one hand and a mike in the other. The art is similar to a 50 Cent movie poster that became the target of parents’ groups last month. The Boston Globe reported that Blokhedz encountered a similar backlash.

50 Cent also recently announced his intention to publish several graphic novels and novellas chronicling the exploits of himself and other G-Unit members. The first novella is scheduled for release in 2007.

The white doves in the background of the Blokhedz cover suggest that its critics missed the point. But, in addition to the noble hero (Black Panther), the confused street warrior (Blak) and the ultimate Ayn-Rand-meets-Dick-Cheney capitalist poster child (Wu-Tang), the comic-rap world does offer its share of nefarious villains. MF Doom, aka Viktor Vaughn, Zev Love X, aka Daniel Dumile, takes this latter image to hilarious extremes.

The “MF Doom” character’s origin resembles that of Marvel’s Doctor Doom. The Doctor, born Victor Von Doom, was orphaned at a young age. In college, a science experiment left him disfigured, an accident for which he blamed Reed Richards. His vendetta against Richards, later Mr. Fantastic of the Fantastic Four, would lead him to extreme villainy.

MF Doom rapped under the name Zev Love X in New York hip-hop duo KMD. His brother and collaborator, DJ Sub-roc, was killed in a fatal car accident after the group’s first album was released. Their second, “Bl_ck B_st_rds,” was dropped by Elektra due to its controversial cover art.

At this point, Doom’s official bio states, the artist went into hiding and swore “revenge against the industry that so badly deformed him.” He now hides behind a metal mask.

Since reappearing in 1999 with “Operation: Doomsday,” Doom has won significant critical praise for his projects, including 2003’s “Vaudeville Villain,” 2004’s “Madvillainy” and 2005’s “The Mouse and the Mask.” His work celebrates the villainous side of comic-book culture, often sampling audio recordings of Fantastic Four books and equating rap skills with evildoing:

“Vaughn so witty/the way he take no prisoners and show no pity,” Doom raps on the title track to “Vaudeville.” On 2004’s Madvillain project, Doom and producer Madlib manipulate a recording from a documentary on the villain figure. “The worst of all was the Madvillain,” the introduction states. “They had no code of ethics.”

The celebration of amorality and vengance allows Doom to shift focus freely and often. On “Vaudeville,” for example, he will level critiques at mainstream hip-hop on one track and, in another, rap about using women (“Let Me Watch”).

This freedom also allowed Doom to release “The Mouse and the Mask,” a collaboration with DJ Dangermouse that advertises Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim lineup. He can’t be accused of “selling out,” since one with no principles has nothing compromise.

MF Doom plays La Zona Rosa Monday.

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