Retrospective Review: Very Necessary by Salt-N-Pepa
Retrospective Review: Very Necessary by Salt-N-Pepa
Emerging from Queens, the rap group Salt-N-Pepa unleashed their most valiant effort and activism through Very Necessary.
In 1990, the Queens-based trio Salt-N-Pepa—Cheryl “Salt” James, Sandy “Pepa” Denton, and Deidra “Spinderella” Roper—took to the Hollywood platform of “The Arsenio Hall Show.” Their mission was an urgent public service announcement: to educate about HIV and AIDS. At that time, they were part of a fundraising touring production called Heart Strings, a new musical featuring Cher and Magic Johnson. The troupe modified their hit “Let’s Talk About Sex” into “Let’s Talk About AIDS,” a version that explicitly zeroed in on sexual health.
The audience was a mixed bag. While some eagerly participated in the signature Hall bark, Arsenio Hall himself questioned whether Salt-N-Pepa’s audience was attracted by their music or their looks. “Your image is a lot more lady-like. Is that what draws these guys?” he asked. Salt, visibly irritated, retorted, “We’ve been criticized for that. I didn’t realize I was so attractive that I could sustain a six-year career solely based on looks—that’s ridiculous.”
Salt-N-Pepa’s appeal went far beyond superficial infatuations. Only a fraction of their supporters were admirers based on physical attraction; the majority resonated with the trio’s groundbreaking embrace of assertive femininity that didn’t necessitate adopting B-boy attire. “We strike a balance; we’re neither meek nor aggressive,” clarified Spinderella. Salt used their fashion choices—lipstick and combat boots—as a metaphor for their multifaceted identity.
The 1993 album Very Necessary encapsulated the trail Salt-N-Pepa blazed not just for the rap genre but also for societal norms around gender and sexuality over the first decade of their career. Their unabashed conviction shone through songs like “Push It”—which, according to Pepa, is about dancing rather than sexual undertones—and “Let’s Talk About Sex.”
These anthems starkly contrasted with the derogatory language from their male peers. In Salt-N-Pepa’s universe, derogatory terms typically reserved for women were fair game for men, too. Their narratives, aligning with other female powerhouses like Queen Latifah and TLC, transformed style but not substance. Whether sporting combat boots or pum pum shorts, the imperative remained: women must own their sexuality and express it freely and safely.
The album’s opening single, “Shoop,” exemplifies an ironic approach to the gender politics of objectification, a precursor to the modern feminist rhetoric—sometimes serious, sometimes tongue-in-cheek—that we encounter today. In the accompanying visuals, Pepa informs Salt and Spin about her Achilles heel—men—as they observe men involved in a dice game on Coney Island. This subversive form of catcalling inverts the traditional dynamic, balancing the scales of objectification.
Salt acknowledged the mixed reception by discussing this transformation in the group’s public image during a 1995 dialogue with Mary Wilson of the Supremes. She argued that openly embracing one’s sensuality shouldn’t negate one’s intelligence or command of respect. “If you’re making it clear that you are intelligent, respected, and autonomous while handling your affairs competently, there’s no harm in revealing what you’ve worked hard to maintain—provided it’s done tastefully and with sophistication.”
This shift in attitude empowered Salt-N-Pepa to confront and reframe cultural norms surrounding femininity and desire. Songs like “None of Your Business,” the album’s third single, pre-empted the modern conversation around slut-shaming and asserted the irrelevance of societal judgment. Spinderella articulates this sentiment in her rap: “How many rules must I break for you to realize that your biased societal norms hold no weight with me?”
Another striking feature is “Somebody’s Gettin’ on My Nerves,” which showcases Salt-N-Pepa’s lyrical dexterity without sacrificing emotional intensity. Salt’s verses, characterized by focused rage, compare with Ice Cube’s sharp invective on the N.W.A. diss track “No Vaseline.”
The artistic choices made by Hurby “Luv Bug” Azor in production amplify the album’s high energy. Despite a history of guidance and mentorship that dates back to the group’s origin as the duo Super Nature, Azor’s influence diminished as the trio increasingly sought to control their creative direction. This shift is evident in the album’s diverse sound palette, which draws from various New York City subcultures and includes musical references ranging from James Brown to Joe Tex.
Against this backdrop of nuanced production, the album’s core message is the group’s unwavering advocacy for individual agency—both sexual and social. This is manifested in tracks from Salt-N-Pepa’s early hits to newer songs addressing issues like AIDS prevention, as seen in their appearances on talk shows like “Charlie Rose.”
The album culminates in “I’ve Got AIDS,” a jarring skit featuring performances from the Boston-based multicultural peer education group WEATOC. The decision to end on such a sobering note serves as a call to action, emphasizing the necessity of self-care and activism. It also underscores their commitment to social advocacy, positioning them as unique voices in mainstream discourse, even when compared to socially conscious rappers.
Though Salt-N-Pepa may not overtly label themselves as activists or feminists, their perspective on these roles is nuanced. During an engaging conversation with Mary Wilson of the Supremes, Salt elaborated, “I think we’re feminists to a degree. But I have no issue with the man taking the traditionally masculine role, provided he understands the responsibilities that come with it.” Their chart-climbing song “Whatta Man,” which reached the number three spot, amplifies this viewpoint. Collaborating with En Vogue—still basking in the glow of their previous year’s breakout album, Funky Divas—the track extols the virtues of respectable, attractive men.
While the song hinges on the age-old sentiment that “good men are scarce,” it also celebrates femininity. The incorporation of Linda Lyndell’s iconic “What a Man” and Spinderella’s nod to a lesser-known Whitney Houston song, “My Name Is Not Susan,” injects layers of meaning. Accompanied by a music video featuring Treach from Naughty by Nature, who was romantically linked to Pepa at the time, the song complements the album’s broader exploration of the complexities of women’s emotions and relationships: the love that endures and the love that exhilarates.
Salt-N-Pepa’s chemistry grants them remarkable adaptability, setting them apart from their peers like Queen Latifah and MC Lyte. Far from being unidimensional, their work offers a sweeping perspective on individual and collective female experience. It examines issues ranging from daily romances and rivalries to the looming specters of AIDS, gang violence, and substance abuse. This nuanced outlook enabled future artists like Nicki Minaj to achieve mainstream success without sacrificing her underground Smack DVD origins. Their music creates a platform for women to articulate their multifaceted lives, whether or not Salt-N-Pepa was conscious of this impact.
During a BuzzFeed podcast called Another Round, rapper Remy Ma lamented the transience of fame in a youth-obsessed genre. Icons fade, accolades wane, and few artists receive the reverence accorded to rock legends like the Who or the Rolling Stones. Though Salt-N-Pepa received accolades during VH1’s 2016 Hip-Hop Honors, the event focused exclusively on female MCs, wrapping them into a generalized tribute that included numerous artists they had influenced.
Despite their versatile career, which saw them sharing stages with diverse acts like the Fat Boys and N.W.A. (who once served as their opening act), their current gigs find them headlining nostalgia-filled 1990s tours alongside Vanilla Ice. These tours often overlook their significant contributions, placing them next to an artist whose solitary chart-topping hit satirized the genre they helped define. Yet, Salt-N-Pepa’s story is layered; it beckons a closer look to understand its manifold dimensions.