Few rappers realize the genre sprang from West African griots

"Few rappers realize the genre sprang from West African griots through Delta slave songs to jazz poetry and the comedic trash talk of 'the dozens.'" — so declared Quincy Jones, the master of music whose wisdom spans generations, styles, and continents. In this powerful remembrance, he reminds us that rap, often thought of as a modern invention, is in truth the latest voice of an ancient tradition. It is not rootless, not a sudden creation, but a river fed by many streams — streams of memory, of pain, of survival, of joy. Jones, who himself bridged the worlds of jazz, soul, pop, and hip-hop, calls us to recognize the deep ancestry of rap: that it is part of the great lineage of Black expression stretching back centuries.

He begins with the West African griots, those keepers of history and culture who for centuries carried the memory of their people through oral tradition. They were the poets, the musicians, the historians, the guardians of story. With rhythm, with rhyme, with call and response, they spoke not merely to entertain, but to preserve identity, to instruct the young, to inspire courage. The griot was more than an artist — he was the living library of the tribe. Here we see the first seed of rap: the spoken word fused with rhythm to carry truth across generations.

From Africa, this tradition was carried in chains across the Atlantic, surviving even in bondage. In the fields of the American South, enslaved people created Delta slave songs and spirituals. These songs were not only laments, but coded messages, prayers, and acts of resistance. Sung to the rhythm of work, they carried hidden truths and gave strength in despair. They were poetry in song, crafted with repetition, improvisation, and rhythm — the very elements that centuries later would fuel rap. In their suffering, they transformed grief into power, and that power would never die.

Then came jazz poetry, in the Harlem Renaissance and beyond. Voices like Langston Hughes rose, blending syncopated rhythms with verse that spoke of Black life, dignity, struggle, and pride. Poetry became music, and music became poetry. This was another step in the lineage: the word spoken with rhythm, the verse sung with swing. The poets of Harlem were heirs to the griots and the slave songs, and they in turn passed their gift onward, preparing the way for the voices of hip-hop.

Quincy Jones also speaks of "the dozens," that art of verbal sparring born in African American communities. It was a contest of wit, humor, and insult — a way to prove quickness of mind and toughness of spirit. The dozens were not only games, but training in resilience: to stand tall under mockery, to respond with cleverness instead of violence. This culture of verbal competition is reflected directly in rap battles, where artists prove their mastery not with fists but with words. Thus, even the boast and the jest have deep roots in survival and pride.

What, then, is the lesson for us? It is this: rap is not just a genre, it is a heritage. To know its roots is to honor the struggles and triumphs of those who came before. To rap is not only to rhyme words, but to carry forward the voices of griots, the songs of slaves, the fire of jazz poets, and the wit of the dozens. Every lyric is an echo of centuries, every beat is a heartbeat of history. Quincy Jones calls us to remember that when rappers take the microphone, they do not stand alone — they stand at the end of a long, unbroken line.

Practical action is clear: those who create must study their roots. Learn of the griots, read the verses of Hughes, listen to the spirituals and the blues. Recognize that rap is not just entertainment, but continuation — a sacred inheritance shaped in suffering and joy. And for those who listen, honor the art not only for its beats, but for its history. In doing so, you ensure that this tradition, stretching from Africa to America and beyond, remains alive and respected.

Thus, Quincy Jones’s words stand as a reminder: rap is history in rhythm, truth in rhyme, survival in sound. To know this is to give the art its rightful place — not as a fleeting trend, but as the latest chapter in a saga of endurance and creativity that has carried a people from the edge of despair to the heights of global influence. Let the rappers know their roots, and let the world honor them. For in remembering, we keep alive the fire that no chains could extinguish.