How Quincy Jones called a secret summit to end violent rap feuds
The peak of hip-hop in the 1990s represented a turning point. African American communities were finally being heard in music in their own right, by their own people, and about their own lives. There’s no understating the power of that revolution. But there’s also no getting away from the fact that along with this came a scene of danger, crime, and violence, which wreaked untold repercussions on some of its most prolific stars. But above it all, there was one man who predicted this path of destruction and attempted to put a stop to it: Quincy Jones.
Jones is one of these people who you think you know everything about, given the unfathomable amount he achieved in his lifetime, but no matter how much of an expert you think you become, he continues to throw up more surprises. His involvement with the hip-hop scene was just one of those litany of instances, but more than just getting behind the music and the stories it evoked, he could also foresee the difficulties that unfolded.
The height of the trouble began with the rising rivalry between the East and West coasts of America, led by Sean Combs’ Bad Boy Records in New York and Suge Knight’s Death Row Records in Los Angeles. But this was more than a war of words – it was one that soon became embroiled in violence and criminality, and Jones knew, from his own experience, that he had to put a stop to things before it proved too late.
Having treaded the boards of gang culture himself in his youth, harrowingly to the point of being stabbed in 1930s Chicago at the age of just seven, the music producer giant heeded a call – and, surprisingly, both sides of the rivalry listened. Then, bringing the figureheads from across the divide together in one pivotal summit in the autumn of 1995, Jones acted like some form of hip-hop Messiah in imparting his message of peace.
“We’ve got to seriously talk about what you are going to deal with,” Jones told the secret room of more than 50 attendees across the debate, including Suge, Combs, Dr Dre, and The Notorious BIG. “They are not playing, there’s real bullets out there, believe me. Maybe literally and figuratively. It’s a very emotional thing,” he added, his voice cracking. “I want to see you guys live to at least my age.”
Afterwards, despite the profundity of the moment, all Jones could do was watch and wait as the tragedies of the ensuing years unfolded. Tupac Shakur wasn’t at the conference in question as he was serving a jail sentence for sexual assault at the time, but only a year later, when he was murdered in 1996, Jones’ exact premonitions had taken a very dark turn.
With the subsequent murder of The Notorious BIG in 1997, the reality of what the music mogul had warned was all too clear. To some, it might just seem like rapping, but with the underworld of crime, rivalry, violence, and revenge that this 1990s era of hip-hop enacted, the repercussions shellshocked not just families and loved ones, but the entire music industry at large.
The most tragic thing of all was that Jones had truly tried his best to prevent it all from happening in the first place. He knew all too well the repercussions, the violence, and the travesties, but the rappers were maybe just too young and hedonistic to properly heed it in the moment. Above all, through the number one hits, discovering world-changing talents, and the reverential status, none of it really mattered to Jones. He was just one man who stepped in as a musical father, trying valiantly to protect his young.
