It’s been quite a year for anniversaries. Mozart’s bicentenary, Shostakovich’s centenary — each has been around long enough (or, to be more precise, not around long enough) to warrant a commemorative show or 300. And they were not the only ones. It would have been nice if there had been a nod in the direction of the silver anniversary of the founding of the Inuit Broadcasting Commission, but that may have been crushed in the rush.
It is this week, though, that the death a mere ten years ago of a towering figure in his own milieu, who matters not a hill of beans to those outside it, is being marked. Tupac Shakur — remarkably, his real name; in fact his real name was the even more glamorous Tupac Amaru Shakur — died on September 13, 1996, killed by four bullets he took in a drive-by attack six days earlier.
There will be those who said he had it coming. The fresh prince of gangsta rap, thug rap, just generally angry rap, he spent many of his 25 years in big police trouble. He was not a very nice man; indeed, he was found guilty of sexual assault in 1994, the day before he was shot five times during an attempted robbery, only to release himself from hospital three hours after surgery. True! Which brings us to Jacqueline Springer’s programme next Wednesday (1Xtra, 2.30pm): Tupac — the First Martyr of Hip-Hop. Martyr? Not very nice man gets himself shot by other not very nice people? What kind of martyrdom is that? Yes, it’s a hard task Springer sets herself. How well she accomplishes it, in her interviews with those who knew him best, is up to you. Spare the time to tune in to the story of a man about whom you may know little but his name, and consider the fact that he has sold more than 70 million albums (most of them, granted, subsequent to his demise).
The following night, the lucky winner of a 1Xtra competition gets a chance to walk the streets of Los Angeles and talk to the people who knew Tupac (2Pac Remembered, Radio 1, midnight). That’s if the visit comes off, of course — the winner’s companion on his sentimental journey will be the British DJ Semtex who, if he’s going to get past Heathrow security, let alone LAX, is going to have to use his given name toot sweet.