<span>If you'</span><span>re a fan of Public Enemy, </span><span>last week's ousting </span><span>of its flamboyant member Flav</span><span>or Flav</span><span> over</span><span> his increasingly contentious relationship with the group</span><span> is no</span><span> surprise</span><span>. For</span><span> hip-hop lovers, </span><span>his dismissal </span><span>is not only a blow </span><span>to the art form</span><span> but could also hasten the demise of one of the genre's most celebrated roles: the hype man. </span> <span>That's because Flav, 60, </span><span>whose real name is William Drayton Jr, is one of the best to ever do it.</span><span> </span><span>For almost</span><span> 40 years, he embodied all the seemingly contradictory attributes of the position and showcased its role in taking hip-hop performances from night</span><span>clubs to arenas.</span> <span>For the uninitiated</span><span>, the hype man is the</span><span> stage warmer – the person with the highly caffeinated personality who marauds the boards and amps up crowds before the main act</span><span> arrives.</span> <span>But in reality, he</span><span> is the unsung hero of the night.</span><span> </span><span>He is the concert's P</span><span>ied P</span><span>iper, he lifts the show when it's lagging and helps</span><span> the main act when they are flagging. He takes the stage like a confident frontman, but is humble enough to stand in the shadows to let</span><span> the night's headliner </span><span>bask in the crowd adoration they were not fully responsible for.</span> <span>While there is no strong early account</span><span> on how the hype man originated, the </span><span>consensus among hip-hop historians is that the role was formed in the 1970</span><span>s in the pre-hip-hop era of funk and soul house parties in New York. The party's planner or promoter was</span><span> considered the first </span><span>hype ma</span><span>n as he</span><span> moved around the venue and ensured the vibe was right.</span> <span>As hip-hop emerged in the early 1980</span><span>s, the genre's first generation of hype men – such as </span><span>Kidd Creole from Grandm</span><span>aster Flash </span><span>and </span><span>the Furious Five – gave the role an artistic flair by also providing backing </span><span>vocals. "The hype</span><span> man gives </span><span>[an artist]</span><span> a certain emphasis and actually makes his show a bit better," Creole previously told </span><span>hip-hop magazine </span><span><em>Vibe</em></span><span><em>.</em></span><span> "A person can have a hype man and still have a bad show, but the </span><span>[hype man]</span><span> adds to the artist."</span> <span>It was Flav who elevated the part into</span><span> a</span><span> pillar of hip-hop. Through his zany work with Public Enemy, Flav allowed the hype man to become a musical force of its own. At the time, </span><span>Public Enemy had caused</span><span> huge controversy in the US with</span><span> their politically charged lyricism, so Flav provided a welcome counterpoint both in the studio and on stage. </span> <span>Whereas rapper Chuck D wore </span><span>black and preached African-American independence, Flav kept it light with colourful clothing and that oversize</span><span> clock around</span><span> his neck. While</span><span> D bludgeoned fans with his bombastic voice, Flav was the vocal foil with his scratchy yet melodic yelps. In short, Flav was the sugar coating allowing Public Enemy's hard</span><span>core rhetoric to go down well and inspire generations of hip-hop artists.</span> <span>With the role requiring a level of charisma </span><span>on stage, it's no wonder many </span><span>hype men </span><span>become </span><span>stars </span><span>in their own right. Before Jay-Z became, well, Jay-Z, he was an aspiring artist warming up the stage for his mentor, Jaz-O, in the early 1990s. It was the same </span><span>Sean </span><span>"P Diddy"</span><span> Combs, who worked the stage for The Notorious BIG.</span> <span>Ironically, it was the success of both moguls</span><span> that allowed hip-hop to become</span><span> a permanent part of popular culture, and with that came a new generation of individualistic rappers who gradually diminished the role of the hype man.</span> <span>The chief architect of this move</span><span> is perhaps</span><span> unsurprisingly, Kanye West, who took the stage by himself as part of his </span><span>2008 </span><span><em>Glow in the Dark Tour</em></span><span>. That minimalism, augmented by edgy visuals, continues to define the modern hip-hop live experience. When Drake and Post Malone performed in Dubai and Abu Dhabi in 2015 and 2018</span><span> respectively, they </span><span>took the stage solo with their only backing group </span><span>a blinding army of spotlights.</span> <span>While the hype man remains alive through </span><span>artists such as Eminem (Mr Porter) and 50 Cent (Tony Yayo), they sound no way as vital as they</span><span> used to</span><span>. As one of its greatest practitioners, Vin Rock from Naughty by Nature, told </span><a href="http://www.thenational.ae/arts-culture/music/live-hip-hop-is-all-about-spectacle-1.365132"><span><em>The National</em></span></a><span> in a previous interview, the individualistic streak running through hip-hop now is killing the genre's collaborative spirit and a</span><span> proud hip-hop tradition: </span><span>"Everyone wants to be 'The Man' now, instead of being a team."</span>