I may have mentioned my fascination with Alexander Hamilton a few times before. Well, it turns out (thank goodness!) I'm not alone.
At a May 12 evening of Poetry and Spoken Word performances at the White House, Broadway writer Lin-Manuel Miranda performed a piece from his upcoming hip-hop concept album, The Hamilton Mixtape. The White House put video of the event online last week, and... it's absolutely worth 4:27 of your time. (Transcript follows)
I'm thrilled the White House called me tonight, because I'm actually working on a hip-hop album, uh, a concept album about the life of someone I think embodies hip-hop: Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton. You laugh! But it's true. He was born a penniless orphan in St. Croix, an illegitimate birth, became George Washington's right-hand man, became treasury secretary, caught beef with every other founding father, and all on the strength of his writing. I think he embodies the word's ability to make a difference.
So, I'm going to be doing the first song from that tonight; I'm accompanied by Tony- and Grammy-winning music director Alex Lacamore. [Applause] Uh, anything you need to know? I'll be playing Vice President Aaron Burr, and snap along if you like.
How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore
and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot
In the Carribbean, by Providence impoverished, to squalor,
Grow up to be a hero and a scholar?
The ten-dollar Founding Father without a father
Got a lot farther
By workin' a lot harder
By bein' a lot smarter
By bein' a self-starter
By fourteen they had placed him in charge of the trade and charter
And every day more slaves were being slaughtered
And carted away across the waves
Our Hamilton kept his guard up
Decided he was longing for something to be a part of
The brother was ready to beg steal borrow or barter.
Then a hurricane came,
Devastation reigned,
Our man saw his future drip drippin' down the drain.
Put a pistol to his temple
Connected it to his brain
And he wrote his first refrain
A testament to his pain.
The word got around: They said, "This kid is insane, man!"
Took up a collection just to send him to the mainland
Getcha education; don't forget from whence you came,
And the world is gonna know your name!
What's your name, man?
Alexander Hamilton. His name is Alexander Hamilton.
There's a million things he hasn't done.
But just you wait. Just you wait.
When he was 10, his father split
Full of it, debt-ridden.
Two years later, see Alexander's mother, bed-ridden,
Half-dead, sittin' in the room, sick himself,
Alex got better but his mother went quick.
Moved in with a cousin. The cousin committed suicide
Left him with nothin' but ruined pride.
Somethin' new inside him, a voice
Saying Alex, you gotta fend for yourself,
He started retreatin'
And readin'
Every treatise on the shelf.
Now, there would've been nothin' left to do
For someone less astute,
He would've been dead and destitute
Without a cent of restitution.
Started workin'
Clerkin' for his late mother's landlord
Tradin' sugar cane and rum and other things he can't afford
Skinnin' for every book he can get his hands on
Plannin' for the future: See him now
As he stands on the bow of a ship headed for a new land
In New York you can be a new man.
The ship is in the harbor now,
See if you can spot him:
Another immigrant comin' up from the bottom
His enemies destroyed his rep; America forgot him;
And me? I'm the damn fool that shot him.
Alexander Hamilton,
We were waiting in the weeds for you.
You could never back down.
You always had to speak your mind.
But Alexander Hamilton, we could never take your deeds from you.
In our cowardice and our shame,
We will try to destroy your name.
The world will never be the same, Alexander!
Yeah, I'm the damn genius that shot him.
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Comments
James Madison. Hands-down.
I really, really need to read more about Madison, AshKW; having read so much on the Hamilton "side" of things, I'm disposed to dislike him, but then again: The Federalist Papers!
Actually, I'm changing my answer to that. A hip-hop rendition of The Federalist Papers would be perfect.
Besides that, he gave my great Uncle a job...Sec of Treasury.
We owe him one.
If one showed up around me today, I would have to punch him in the nutz, then try to kill the son of a gun.
The ones who amended that document are the founding fathers of my constitution.
I think Jefferson, with his inter-racial proclivities, would definitely have been a jazz man, tinged with the blues. Madison, classic rock. Adams most definitely would have gone for the standards, a real Tony Bennett kind of guy. Washington would have been classic British rock of the Phil Collins/Genesis variety when with Martha, but in his own study he would be listening to Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash!
Burr was a marksman, and he brought his own pistol, while Hamilton borrowed a pistol since he had not owned one for years. At the word “present” the two pistols were fired. Hamilton’s shot hit a tree. Hamilton said he would not shoot Burr. In French, delope, this was throwing away your shot. Burr’s shot inflicted a mortal wound. Hamilton was quickly taken by his seconds to a residence in Manhattan.
Hamilton wanted the ministrations of the Rev. Benjamin Moore, rector of Trinity Church, New York and Bishop of the Diocese of New York. Moore denied any ministration, for fear it would give credibility to dueling. Hamilton then asked for the Rev. John Mason, a Scotch Presbyterian, who also denied giving him Holy Communion because it was not in a church setting. Hamilton again asked for Benjamin Moore, who heard Hamilton’s confession of faith, his forgiveness of Burr, and his desire to unite with the Episcopal Church, which he had not yet done. He was then given the final sacraments.
Hamilton asked that his wife Elizabeth be called, but not told the extent of his wound. When she came with their children, she went into an understandable frantic state.
On Thursday, July 12, at 2 p.m., Hamilton died at age 49. At the foot of his bed was Ella, and their seven children. Later on, Ella opened the letter Hamilton had written in expectation that he would be killed. He asked her to be consoled by religion, comforted that they would meet again in a better world. He called her the best of wives and the best of women. Hamilton was buried in the Burial Ground of Trinity Church, New York. Saturday, July 14,1804.
Although the hip-hop tribute is cute. It does little to really reveal any of the true essence of Hamilton and actually sounds a little revisionist.
For the "MC Burr" to neglect the fact that Hamilton forgave him for killing him misses the most important point.
Also, just to prove my own dorkery: Hamilton and Burr both used pistols borrowed from Hamilton's brother-in-law. Burr had been practicing, against the custom of his time, with his own pistols prior to the duel, but the choice of weapon went to the challenged (Hamilton), who chose the set of weapons that his son had used in his own fatal duel not long before.
See, it's totally made-for-hip-hop. The drama! The tragedy! The gunplay!
Great post as usual. Great question too. For me it would have to be Jefferson. There is already the inherent feel of poetry in his words for me.
Philos777,
The majority of your post is taken word for word from an article titled, “Why, Aaron Burr, did you fire ?” by Rev. Richard W. Davies as found on oldsaintlukes.org. You may have simply overlooked giving the proper credit for this in your comment.
As for founding fathers and their rap, its hard not to consider Jefferson for the poetry of his words. But if we just expand to American history a little, I bet Lincoln would make a good concept album.
I'm a Hamilton lover too.! They broke the mold when they made him. It it weren't for his bad cop to Madison's good cop we may still be under the AofF.
And, when I hear people apply their own convenient motivations to the founding fathers I think of Hamilton and just roll my eyes.
Love this post!