Although it’s not in the same goofy-yet-tragic boat as California (yet), the great state of Louisiana is currently shrinking—bleeding jobs, a coastline and residents at an alarming rate. So why is the city of New Orleans itself expanding? Northshore is the new Metairie, Laplace is almost the new edge of town, and St. Charles Parish has become the new epicenter of local hip-hop.

Well, maybe that last part hasn’t quite come to pass (yet). But the mere fact of the Blackhouse label’s existence defies precedent: a real homegrown rap label has indeed been birthed from the River Parishes. In fact, CEO Norris Revader, speaking amidst constant cell phone activity in his office, claims that this is the first music business of any kind to spring from the immediate area. To him the whole thing makes perfect sense, at least in the context of his entrepreneurial streak: “I been working since high school, working every Saturday and Sunday, every summer. I was always a hustler. Straight minded.” That high school was Hahnville, and most of that work was done at his father’s well-known Sheetrock company. When the elder Revader passed away from cancer in 1998, Norris was a natural to take over. Yet the 21-year-old couldn’t help but feel his talents were better suited to something other than drywall.

Enter Papa Doc. A West Bank native who’d enjoyed a regional hit with 1992’s “It’s All About Yo Lips,” this former honors student and LSU pre-med major spent four years collaborating with other artists in a search of a follow-up smash. Then, in 1996, he found himself “in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people,” resulting in a five-year stretch for cocaine distribution. “Life is all about choices,” he says now. “I made the wrong choices. I had to pay for it. I came out with a whole different mindframe.” Fortunately, there was now a thriving scene to plug that mindframe into, and he soon scored a hit with “Kayenne,” produced by Beats by the Pound. It was upon reuniting with his old friend Norris, however, that he found what he was looking for—a local label to release his comeback CD.

Revader readily admits that he “truly didn’t know nothing about the music” when Papa Doc came to him suggesting the Blackhouse Entertainment venture, but figuring this might be the new direction he needed, he quickly agreed. It certainly didn’t hurt that he had a relative in the business—cousin Michael Patterson, better known as Misdemeanor of the group Partners N Crime. Within no time the label had sold 500 “mixtape” CDs tellingly entitled Fire on Da Bayou to parish residents, all emblazoned with the Blackhouse logo. That original design was the source of some controversy, featuring as it did a sniper atop the White House (and this during the D.C. sniper attacks). Saner heads have since prevailed and replaced the famous residence with a rundown house, in order to symbolize something that has stood the test of time and yet is still standing. No word on what the sniper on top means now.

The unique qualities of Blackhouse have to do with more than location, however. Logo aside, both Doc and Norris are very serious about promoting a positive vibe with their releases, an antidote to the thugged-out mentality currently ruling the airwaves. In other words, a whole new mindframe. The label has sponsored a very successful “family day” picnic, while Revader insists on a no alcohol policy at the label’s shows. The messages in the music, he insists, are going to be similarly positive. “It ain’t none of that poison stuff you get now. [We’re] telling you right from wrong,” he declares.

Blackhouse’s first big single, Papa Doc’s “Hear Me Cry (Michelle’s Prayer),” is definitely in that vein, a heartbreaking and cautionary tale of domestic violence, sexual abuse, and suicide told from the point of view of a 12-year-old girl. (It precedes the album Doc helped start the label for, Give Us This Day, scheduled for release in early 2004.) Quite shockingly blunt about the details, the track was inspired by a number of stories the rapper has heard over the years from various females, most of all a sad tale Papa was told during the last, halfway house months of his prison sentence. “The passion that she gave [the story],” marvels Doc. “She broke down in tears. I could understand her plight. And now I have a daughter, so that caused me to think about how I would feel if this happened to her. This is not something that just started yesterday. It’s been going on.”

“You look at the murder rate,” he continues, “it’s not a good thing. And it’s not just here in New Orleans. For me, myself, I’ve been a part of that for way too long. You come to a time where you have to grow up. I have to do something for my own. It has to start at home.” The p-word seems to make him a little more self-conscious than it does Norris: “As far as the positive moniker, I look at it more as being conscious, socially and economically. I don’t want to stereotype this music, so I just like to call it brain food. Food for thought. I want to leave you with something that, after you hear it, you say, ‘You know what, he actually said something.’ Don’t get me wrong: I’m not trying to save the world, or save rap, ’cause I can’t do that. But maybe I can spark some interest in the youth.”

There could be no better time for such a message, especially considering the unwanted attention the trial of C-Murder has brought to the Louisiana hip-hop scene. The No Limit rapper, real name Corey Miller, was convicted of second-degree murder recently in the fatal beating and shooting of 16-year-old Steve Thomas outside a Harvey nightclub back in January of 2002. The conviction carries a mandatory life sentence. Corey’s family, who sobbed when the verdict was read, have steadfastly maintained his innocence; brother Percy, best known to the world as rap megamogul Master P, has gone on record as claiming the whole affair a case of mistaken identity. Indeed, motions for a new trial have already been filed with Judge Martha Sassone of Jefferson Parish’s 24th Judicial District Court. (Prosecution had presented two witnesses who placed Miller as one of the assailants, but could not positively identify him as the killer; defense attorneys produced nine witnesses who testified that Miller was not the murderer, but their testimonies did not match each other.)

For hip-hop fans who have grown weary of the business’ seedier elements, labels like Blackhouse may be the answer; at the very least, they prove that the bling-bling may be on its way out of rap, just like rap may be slowly making its way out of the city. And for many of us, those who have been paying attention to this game for a quarter-century, that can’t happen soon enough.