Not A Blogger

Oh You Didn't Know...

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 16:55:00 +0000

Dear Reader That Forgot You Still Had Me On Your Google Reader Feed,

In case, you've been on pins and needles trying to figure out what happened to me since my last post, I decided to quietly shut down operations on Not A Blogger due to the heartbreak of LeBron Raymone James crushing all my hopes and dreams.

But fear not! For I have taken my talents to the Passion Of The Weiss where I will be "employed" (in the sense, Jeff is not paying me at all) as a staff writer for the newly re-designed site. If you've missed some of my work over the last two months check the archives but here's a post I wrote today on the hooligans in Odd Future:

I Can't Go To Sleep: Tyler, The Creator - Bastard

C'est La Vie!

No Words... Lil Wayne Has A Crush On Rafael Nadal Edition

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 16:47:00 +0000

Sometimes these things just write themselves...

Self-imposed summer sabbatical to end soon, y'all

I'll Sleep When Justin Bieber Is Dead

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 00:12:00 +0000

"This is the most thugged out photo of the Biebster I could find on the internet and he still looks like a muppet."

As far as elaborate in-jokes on Twitter go, El-P's remix of Justin Bieber's "Baby" might as well be a "Modest Proposal" in terms of morose, we-are-going-there balls. El-P through the sheer force of his epically misanthropic will manages to turn Bieber's fledgling bubblegum soul into something approaching raw adult sexuality; an impressive feat alone if for nothing other than Bieber looks positively molestable by traditional Catholic standards and this remix makes his boyish falsetto seems shockingly sexy. (I don't think there is a "pause" button large enough to innoculate myself from the inherent, Uncle Chester creepiness of that previous sentence. The cops are knocking on my door as we speak.)

To say this song is superior to the original is a gross understatement. This song is superior to nearly everything you will ever hear. El-P's genius has always lied in his ability to use various elements of different musical genres as patische to serve his nihilistic musical world view. The Sam Kinison adlibs and (so expensive that it can't possibly be legal) sample of Paul McCartney's "Live And Let Die" is one thing but El-P manages to wield to Bieber's preteen falsetto as almost ambient noise on the track. Bieber's goofy "ahhs and oh girls" become geuinely sexy when combined with El-P's trademark synth buzz because El-P manages to add the tinge of menace that Justin Bieber's voice and music simply lack. If pre-teen girls managed to fawn obsessively over him when he was a nonthreatening, Disney-approved sex symbol, imagine the pandemonium he would cause if he performed this version at a concert. Kenny McCormick would be getting blown behind a T.G.I. Friday's for sure.

This song would be considering a raging success if it introduced one Justin Bieber fan to the music of El-P but this song simply kills. Terresterial radio needs to imbrace this song with the quickness.

Download: Justin Bieber - "Baby (El-P Death Remix)" (Via Definitive Jux)

No Words... Sookie Stackhouse Edition

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 14:01:00 +0000

What... the... fu...

I mean... Yeah, totally. But still...

Drake - Thank Me Later: Review

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 21:09:00 +0000

"Absolutely."

Who are we to judge? Maybe sleeping with swaths of women of a certain scandalous nature is as emotionally unfulfilling as Aubrey “Drake” Graham seems to suggest it is? Perhaps, having sex in a dorm room with your significant other is far superior than access to more beautiful strange than one reasonably knows what to do with? After all, we’re not famous (unless you are. In which case, I have to ask why are you wasting your time reading my blog when you could dipping your balls into Alison Brie? Priorities.) so how can we properly judge if it is as awful as Drake says it is.

It’s not like Drake is the first famous person to suggest that it truly sucks duck nuts living a life of unimagined privilege and wanton debauchery. It’s a theme our celebrity population have been desperately trying to convey to us for years. Consider how many of our more famous brothers and sisters have spoke of the hardships of lack of privacy, disloyal friends and sex addiction only to find their pleas for help ignored and ridiculed by a callous, unfeeling public desperate to feed the maw of celebrity schadenfreude but indifferent to it’s plight. Think of how many great works of arts have emerged from this lonely sentiment. Think of the poignancy that seeps from the dramatic pours of Wilder’s “Sunset Boulevard”, West’s “808s & Heartbreak” and Lohan’s “Rumors.” The lonesome wail of celebrity’s bitter catch-22 can be found in Drake’s melancholic masterpiece of moodiness, “Thank Me Later,” screaming in silent suffering.

What is evident about “Thank Me Later” is that Drake’s ability to convey his heartbreaking sense of pain is not compromised by his meager ability to convert “word thoughts” into rhythmic speech patterns. Drake is not a subtle writer nor talented rapper for there is no idea or emotion that can’t be conveyed through the power of beautiful cliché. What Drake does is emote his emotions in a sing-song shorthand that allows the listener to breeze over his breathtaking sense of entitlement and connect with the wounded teen soap star deep within all of our eternal souls.

Critics may scoff at Drake’s shallow misery as the petulance of an untalented hack given too much but it is only because these critics have lost their ability to feel emotions as deep and profound as the artist. Only a heartless cynic could deny such totems of naked humanity like “Miss Me” where Drake drunkenly proposes to an indifferent Nicki Minaj or the moment where he claims that he is an underground rapper although his ascent to pop stardom was clearly orchestrated by powerful music executives enamored with the magnitude of his eyebrows? Who can’t sympathize with that sort of anguish?

What makes Drake's music so powerful? The simplicity and lack of nuance is where the beauty lies. Drake's music, devoid of complexity, speaks to a generation of lost children desperately typing their thoughts 140 characters at a time to a cruel and indifferent world. Drake's narcissism should not be seen as a sign of weakness but as a sign that he better understands the world around him. A world where mundanity bears the direst of consequence and drama can be found in the tiniest of inconvenience. What is Drake? Drake is the zeitgest of youth culture itself.

Thank you later, Drake? No. I will thank you now. I will thank you for making it kosher to feel emotion again in commercial hip hop. I will thank you for helping me cope with the ragged truths of existence. I will thank you for helping me realize who I am as a human being. Who am I? I am a Drake fan. God save my soul.

Or it could be that Drake writes really, really, really, really, really catchy hooks? Seriously, try to stop humming "Light Up."

Adjusted Pitchfork Score: 6.9

On Bombast And King Crimson Samples: A Prayer For Lorne Michaels

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 21:47:00 +0000

"Call me when he starts sampling Night Ranger..."

Before we proceed with this de-facto review of Kanye West’s "Power," I want to make the most potentially and deliberately ignorant series of statements I might ever write quite clear. I do not care about sampling King Crimson in the slightest. Roughly a week ago, I was blissfully unaware of this band’s existence and was content to live in a universe where they did not exist. I do not have an opinion on King Crimson. I do not care about your opinion about King Crimson. In fact, I’m kind of resentful of being forced to live in a world where I’m forced to think about the implications of a King Crimson sample. Why? Because King Crimson does not matter. If they did, I most assuredly would have, at least, have HEARD of them. But I haven’t. So I can be reasonably be assured that a King Crimson sample is irrelevant to any possible enjoyment or hatred of a Kanye West song. Act accordingly, music geeks.

As for the offending song, Kanye West’s "Power", I like it more than I hate it. The song sounds like the mutant off-spring of Kanye’s production on "The Takeover" and Kanye’s (ghost producer’s) more bombastic production on "Swagger Like Us." This is a good thing. I thought "808s and Heartbreak" was a unique if slightly undercooked excursion into emo synth pop & b but it was not the Kanye West, I signed up for when I bought into the "College Dropout" hype. A return to the sample driven bombast of his earlier work would not only be welcome but a logical progression in the wake of his recent career missteps. I welcome this sound.

The song falls apart in terms of an attempt to address those aforementioned career missteps. "Power" is meant to be a defiant stand against those who vilified Kanye for his VMA disaster, his rampant, unchecked ego and his growing lack of self-awareness and humor about himself. He wants people to know that he’s not changing and is upset that you would even question his greatness. The problem is that he manages to undercut his entire message by wasting time battering limp pop culture institutions like Saturday Night Live. The song almost comes across as self-parody when he wastes 8 bars going after the venerable late night comedy program. Is Kanye really so thin skinned that he would attack a program that’s spent nearly four decades lampooning every relevant pop culture figure and institution? Does he not realize how sad and humorless that makes him look? If there is a reason to hate this song, it’s that.

Just know, I do not care about King Crimson. And never will.

No Words... Love Lost Edition

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Fri, 21 May 2010 23:09:00 +0000

At what point, do we admit to ourselves that the man we loved is dead...

An Open Letter To Lebron James

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Thu, 13 May 2010 19:08:00 +0000

Dear LeBron,

I've only got one thing to say to you...

All that other shit is irrelevant. Just get your head out your damn ass and win us the fucking game.

Sincerely,

The City Of Cleveland

A Prayer For Jay Electronica & Diddy

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Thu, 06 May 2010 19:57:00 +0000

"Honestly, I'd prefer if Jay was working with the guy in the middle."

Despite the myriads of his accomplishments over the span of his career, Sean Combs’ primary talent has always been surrounding himself with far more talented individuals and making it seem like he was doing THEM a favor by gracing them with his presence. If you are in the business of selling yourself as commodity, I can think of no greater skill than being able to convince others that they should be in awe of you and your accomplishments. This can be dangerous to those he’s in business with when Diddy’s second great talent is exploiting those same talented individuals to his benefit alone. For almost twenty years, Diddy has been hip hop’s great grifter content to run an endless shell game to keep himself in eternal relevance if not revelry.

Let’s take one of Bad Boy Records’ most iconic remixes as an example of what I’m talking about: Of the participants on the "Flava In Ya Ear Remix," Biggie is dead; LL Cool J is co-starring on a NCIS spinoff with the dude who played Robin; Busta is a roided up freak; Craig Mack is trying to hustle some poor stripper into sleeping with him on the strength that he once knew Biggie; Lord knows what Rampage the Last Boy Scout is doing these days. Yet, Sean Combs stays pimping his shitty reality TV shows and Ciroc Vodka. Why? Because Diddy never loses. He has the uncanny ability of knowing when to cut and run from an artist at the exact moment they lose the ability to make him look good. It seems nearly every act that has ever worked extensively with Diddy has grown to publicly regret it. (Hell, the L.O.X. threatened to throw a refrigerator at the man!) Diddy is perhaps hip hop’s all-time most loathsome individual (a genre that features both Suge Knight AND Curtis Jackson!) which makes the shine that Jay Electronica has taken to the legendary hustler all the more troubling.

It’s becoming rapidly apparent that Jay Electronica is perhaps the last of the great classical lyricists. Kool Moe Dee, in his excellent (and grammatical error-ridden) book, "There Is A God On The Mic", postulated that each generation of rappers has a trinity of great lyricists that follow in the tradition of the greats that came before them. Electronica is a true throwback to 90s classical lyricism in the grandest sense of the term. His hyper-literate references, evocative storytelling and dense narrative descriptions clearly place him in the lineage of the Melle Mel-Rakim-Nas tradition. Like many true school 90s holdouts, I have personally bemoaned the general decline in reverence for the lyricist. To me this lack of reverence has manifested two-fold. The most obvious is the decline in lyricism in mainstream popular rap music but also the rise of "punch line" lyricism in underground and hardcore rap scenes as well. A generation of rappers raised on mixtapes and "A Milli" freestyles have grown to believe that being a great lyricist is nothing more than being able to serve up a bunch of semi-clever punch lines. I cringe whenever somebody suggests that rappers like Fabolous or even somebody as respected as Jadakiss belong in the top 5 of working lyricists. Electronica seems far less concerned with writing a hot punch line than describing emotional turmoil of telling the mother of a friend her son has been killed. This alone makes Jay Electronica a special breed of rapper.

What makes his ascent to the cusp of the pantheon even more remarkable is that it can be owed to the strength of a handful of a few truly remarkable songs. The unlikely grass roots success of "Exhibit C" on terrestrial radio has launched Jay from the territory of perennial blog hype hero to something approaching a genuine true school, lyrical-ass lyricist rap star. Granted, Jay Electronica has been backed by some powerful industry figures like Just Blaze and Erykah Badu since his breakthrough mixtape, "Act I: Eternal Sunshine (The Pledge)" but his rise seems to be dictated by an organic following of fans who have discovered his music through word-of-mouth and file sharing. It doesn’t hurt that sheer infrequency of the release of his recordings have created a huge buzz amongst fans anytime Jay decides to descend from the mountain top and bless us with another track. The terrestrial breakthrough of "Exhibit C" was the logical conclusion of a growing critical mass that started way back with "Style Wars" and "Act 1" continued through "Queens Get The Money" and "Exhibit A" onward. Success has attracted a variety of industry leeches looking to mine his success for their own benefit. This is where Diddy comes in and my trepidation with his budding mentorship with Jay Electronica.

On the surface, a Diddy/Jay Elect symbiotic relationship makes a certain logical sense. It seems unlikely that Jay Elect will continue to get radio play recording largely hookless, lyric driven songs in today’s hip hop environment. Diddy with his natural pop proclivities could easily help Jay Elect form a synthesis of his music that would be more welcome within the parameters of modern terrestrial pop radio. Regardless of his own self-aggrandizement over the years, Diddy’s one unquestioned achievement is the ability to turn a very raw, uncouth Christopher Wallace into hip hop’s biggest pop star without sacrificing the edge that made Biggie a critical favorite amongst hardcore hip hop fans. It would go along way into securing Diddy’s slightly tarnished legacy as a talent scout and music executive if he could repeat the achievement with Jay Electronica. Jay Elect has already shown flashes of pop potential in the past with songs like "I Feel Good" and "Walk With Me" and considering the range of Jay’s talent, it’s within the realm of possibility that he could comfortably switch into that form of music without losing what makes Jay Electronica so great. However, part of what makes Jay Electronica so great in the first place is the natural avant-garde weirdness in his music. More esoteric fare like "Depature/Are You Watching?", "Eternal Sunshine," and "A Prayer For Michael Vick & T.I." easily match "Exhibit C" in terms of sheer lyrical prowess and have a novel weirdness that doesn’t show up as naturally as when Jay Elect works with Just Blaze et al. I’d hate for that to dissipate from his music for the sake of satisfying some major label idea of what’s considered "hot" at the moment.

The first released song in the Diddy/Jay Elect relationship has been largely encouraging in both terms of dissipating fears that Diddy will suddenly transform Jay Electronica into Danity Kane and for the potential for greatness in their partnership. "The Ghost Of Christopher Wallace" features 3 minutes of Jay Elect spitting his patented brand of lyrical flames before 4 minutes of Diddy’s legendary shit-talking. The song is meant to evoke Biggie in both name and spirit as the song plays like a new millennium version of B.I.G.’s classic "Who Shot Ya?" The song is largely a success if Diddy’s rant at the end dangerously treads towards Kanye-esque levels of ridiculous self-absorption.

Ultimately, the greatest potential problem with a Jay Electronica/Diddy professional relationship is what happens if and when Jay Electronica starts to fade from the public eye. As I mentioned before, Diddy has a natural talent of miraculously disappearing when an artist fades from the public eye. (See: Barrow, Jamal) As long as you are profitable to his brand, Diddy will find a way to exploit you for his own benefit but if you don’t you might as well as not exist. As great as "The Ghost Of Christopher Wallace" is, Diddy still manages to steal the vast majority of the time on the song and turn it into a forum for a celebration of his own achievements. That isn’t exactly a confidence booster that things will be different this time simply because Jay Electronica is the greatest thing since sliced bread was introduced to a toaster. So thank Shyne for warning me because now I’m warning you. You’ve got the mac, Jay. Tell me what you’re gonna do.

-B.J. Steiner

The Death Of "The Real Slim Shady"

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Wed, 05 May 2010 21:10:00 +0000

"I miss the blonde hair and the awkward doo rag..."

On perhaps his finest song, “The Way I Am”, Eminem lashed out against the pressure of having to continually record a “poppy sensation that got [him] rotation at rock and roll stations.” An irony that gets lost when you consider that he’s spent his career doing that exact same thing over and over to continually diminishing returns. It’s been a long time coming but Marshall Mathers finally got his wish. After five solo albums, two D12 albums, and tens of millions records sold, Eminem finally got to release a single that isn’t “My Name Is.” Eminem’s latest single, “Not Afraid,” bares no resemblance to the pop culture-lashing, pop chart chasing singles that have made him a mainstay of TRL (that still exists right? No? Well, don’t I look like an ass!) for over a decade.

“Not Afraid” is a bombastic yet a paradoxically sober affair with Eminem beating his chest and crowing that he is prepared for a life of sobriety and responsibility after years of portraying himself as an unhinged, drug-addled gremlin both in his music and his personal life. If the song has a direct predecessor, it would be T.I.’s post-weapons charge anthem, “No Matter What,” in both tone and delivery. Both songs aim at being anthemic and Eminem remains as technically virtuosic as ever but if you close your eyes, it would seem as if the words were coming out of Tip Harris’ mouth himself. The flow is so obviously similar that it seems as if Eminem locked himself in his rehab suite and listened to “Paper Trail” ad infinitum while he nursed himself into sobriety.. Even the basic song structure and subject matter bare almost identical similarity where as Tip stood defiant in the face of a long jail sentence, Em stands against the difficulties of post-rehab sobriety. If one were completely cynical, one could easily accuse Em of biting Tip’s song wholesale which makes sense if you consider that T.I. was one of the few non-Shady/Aftermath artists that Em worked with during his post-Encore/Proof’s death exile from rap music.

Ignoring issues of artistic thievery for a moment, the ultimate problem with “Not Afraid” is that it seems far more flaccid and generic than Tip’s titanic anthem. Eminem seems unsure of how to make music outside of his typical oeuvre. “Not Afraid” not only lacks the caustic wit of the Slim Shady era but it bears none of the bitter catharsis of his darker, more personal work like “Kim” or “Kill You.” The song works like a B-grade “Lose Yourself” content to kick lyrical clichés that sound as if they are the lesser aphorisms of inspiration pimps like Tony Robbins. When Eminem says that he’s “not afraid to maker a stand,” one is forced to ask “Against what?” The self-seriousness is almost laughably Keith Olbermann-like.

The question remains is how will this new Eminem function beyond this song in the absence of the artistic crutches he usually relies on. His upcoming album, “Recovery,” suggests an album that will be reaching towards something that approaches maturity but can Eminem sustain an entire album without reaching into his old bag of tricks. Does the public even want that? What if the single is received far worse than it’s predecessors and Eminem is forced to go back to the Slim Shady reserves for one last run? It’s easily conceivable that if “Not Afraid” flops, he will be making dated Tiger Woods jokes before you know it. (It should be noted that “Not Afraid’ is #2 on iTunes as I’m writing this so my postulating could be as easily redundant as an Eminem pop culture reference.) Still if the execution is slightly rote, it’s hard to fault Eminem for taking such a chance on a song like “Not Afraid” so late into his career. Eminem remains one of the few viable album-selling monsters and one must be tempted to stick with the formula that keeps him successful. If he’s going to remain a viable artist, he has to change with the times. The question is what left does he have to say?

Artistic Necrophilia Or Why We Don’t Need Liquid Swords 2

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 21:47:00 +0000

“Although, I do appreciate the sentiment.”

Yesterday, RZA announced through the divine magic of Twitter that he was working with GZA on a sequel to their 1995 masterpiece, “Liquid Swords”. While my inner Wu-Tang fanboy was struck with the giddiness of a thousand shrieking Drake fans, I was torn by a profound realization that one of my favorite rappers of all-time has ostensibly hit a wall of personal creativity. It seems that despite his own personal misgivings on the concept of making a sequel to the album, it seems that GZA is out of ideas. Unfortunately, he’s not the only artist reaching into the well of artistic rehashery as their seems to be rash of sequels for decade-old classic albums on the rise.

The success of Raekwon’s “Only Built 4 Cuban Lix II” in both commercial and critical respects have lead to a string of desperate, aging rappers to believe they can return to the casino one last time and cash out on the respect and admiration their decade-old classic albums have earned. While this is not a new concept per se, the sheer volume of these half-baked ideas recently is startling. It seems that every, struggling veteran rap act from Capone-N-Noreaga (“The War Report 2”) to Sadat X (“Wild Cowboys 2”) have made plans to produce sequels to the records that made us love them in the first place in one last desperate grab for relevancy. GZA is the latest rapper to hitch his wagon to such an inherently limited concept.

It’s easy to understand why artists feel the need to make sequels to their classic records. It’s easy publicity. When an artist announces they are planning to make a sequel to a beloved album, fans get excited on the promise of a return-to-form for an artist. "Yo, GZA’s making Liquid Swords 2? Oh word? It’s about damn time he gets back to making that classic shit! "

The fan is already invested in on the record before a single line is recorded. From an economic standpoint, this makes complete sense. If you are a veteran artist struggling to maintain an audience, the idea of creating a sequel to your most enduring work is guaranteed to draw an audience out of curiosity. Even if the material has little to no relationship to the original work, the name alone is bound to draw interest. The economics of the music industry are rough enough as is so if your new work is going to be virtually ignored on it’s own merit then grafting a familiar title to an otherwise unremarkable new work is downright smart.

The problem with this practice is that at best it’s artistic necrophilia and at worst, it’s gross commercial exploitation. Raekwon’s “Cuban Linx II” was an excellent album but the practice of wantonly stealing concepts of your older work only leads down a path where neither the genre or the artist can’t grow. Stealing from your older material leads to an endless feedback loop of the same material being produced over and over again. It’s circular. You can’t grow because you are stealing from yourself and you are stealing from yourself because you can’t grow. When a significant portion of artists in the genre continue to try and remake their classic album, the inevitability of stagnancy in the genre becomes entirely manifest. This is a problem that rap music has been assuredly facing for years. While the mainstream market for hip hop has withered from major label artists continuing to compromise their art by making pandering artistic choices to appeal a wider audience, the indie market has been flooded with album after album that sounds virtually identical to each other. Hip Hop cannot sustain itself that way especially when so much of what forms hip hop’s musical identity is the recycling and reinvention of the ideas of other artists. People will simply lose interest if they listen to the same music produced over and over again.

As Raekwon proved with his album, none of this prevents GZA from making a really, really good album when it comes down to actually producing “Liquid Swords 2.” GZA might be able to successfully execute a sequel that is as darkly chilling and brooding as his original masterpiece but the simple fact remains that he will still be trading in on the promise of the original product. However, it will be comfort food designed to soothe the soul of the true school hip hop fan. As hip hop fan, I demand more of my favorite artists than to simply have my favorite album rehashed for me. Say what you want about the bubblegum pop rap of B.o.B or the emo space rap of Kid Cudi but it’s a step in a new direction. Innovation will save the genre from stagnation because liquid swords can’t carve out a new lane for hip hop to flow through. Besides does the world really need "The Hunger For More 2?" (Yes, that's happening.)Be warned.

In Memory Of... Guru

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 12:11:00 +0000

This just really, really sucks. Hip Hop has suffered an unimaginable loss as Keith "Guru" Elam passed away this morning after a long battle with cancer. Guru's last days on earth were unimaginably tragic as he was shut off from his long-time friends and family by a particularly exploitative, hack producer looking to capitalize on Guru's notoriety.

However, I feel it's time like this when we shouldn't focus on the way the man died but focus on the achievements that the man have reached. When you think of New York hardcore hip hop and the 1990s, you realize that Gang Starr was synonymous with that iconic period of music Guru's work with Gang Starr stands premier. The chemistry he had with DJ Premier was quite simply impeccable. He had this almost velvet-like baritone that was employed in his trademark monotone delivery that underscored a fierceness to his rhymes. Gang Starr was a group that continued to pump out classic record after classic record; great single after great single; iconic video after iconic video.

Guru did not deserve to be treated the way he was during the last days on earth. He will be missed.

(Here's what I wrote about my favorite Gang Starr record, Moment Of Truth, way back when I started this blog in 2007: Albums You Should Own - Gang Starr's Moment Of Truth)

The Curious Case Of Die Antwoord

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 22:40:00 +0000

"This is the coolest song I've ever heard."

I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty about Die Antwoord: post-modern South African rave-rap bands with aspirations of Daniel Dumile-level conceptual character performance is assuredly that new, new hotness. Outside of that truism, nearly everything about zef rap group, Die Antwoord, is starkly alien and indecipherable to Western audiences. Their breakthrough video, “Enter The Ninja”, is like peaking into a trans-dimensional portal to another universe where crew cut rocking samurais frolic with blond mulleted pixies and progeria survivors in a bizarre cartoonish landscape. What language are they rapping in? Why does it look like they broke onto the set of "Parent's Just Don't Understand?" What the fuck is "zef"? Is this shit for real? AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THAT BLOND CHICK'S BANGS (and why am I strangely attracted to her? It's creeping me out...)?!?!?!

For those that aren't all up in the perverse bazaar of the "interwebs" the last couple of weeks, their music video, "Enter The Ninja", exploded across the internet in a wave of bemused confusion and shocked awe. Writers openly opined, whether or not, what they were watching was the work of meth head rednecks from the ghettos of South Africa or of sneering, irony-obsessed art students looking to prank music critics obsessed with the concept of authenticity. Die Antwoord claims to be a a "zef" rap group ("zef" is Afrikaans slang for redneck) consisting of lead MC Ninja, a hyper violent madman, Yo-Landi Vi$$er, a foul-mouthed pixie firecracker, and DJ Hi-Tek (not that one...), their deaf-mute producer. They identify their brand of music as a multi-cultural mish-mash of various South Africans cultures "fucked into one." Die Antwoord is loud, brash and hilarious with elements of UK Grime, 8-bit, and rave music smashed into one uber-anarchic package. The most intriguing part? It's complete conceptual performance.

Die Antwoord is the creation of long-time South African hip hop scene veteran and mixed media artist, Waddy Jones. Jones has been creating conceptual characters for his music since the mid-90s and is primarily known for his sad sack, "corporate" rapper persona, Max Normal. Die Antwoord is his latest and perhaps most brilliant creation yet. Jones plays "Ninja," the group's psychotic front-man. His character and the group plays almost as a dark parody of hip hop obsessed white kids across the globe. Ninja is covered in tattoos, bears gold fronts and speaks of his music in slightly delusional grandiose terms of cultural inclusiveness. On "Jou Ma Se Poes In A Fishpaste Jar," Jones (or rather "Ninja") repeatedly refers to himself (one assumes "ironically) as a "colored" for self-described and completely nonsensical reasons. Even the name "Ninja" itself is phonetically similar to "n-bomb" and one assumes it was chosen for it's aesthetic similarity. Meanwhile, Yo-Landi and Hi-Tek are draped in pro wrestling t-shirts and FUBU gear that is aesthetically similar (at least to Western eyes) to stereotypes of American redneck culture. It skates a very thin line between parody and just being offensive.

What separates the group is their music while delivered with a wink and a smirk is really fucking good. Their self-released debut album, "$0$", is witty, anarchic rave-rap that sport some instantly catchy hooks and bad-ass production. You can tell that Jones has been a rapper for long time because his rhymes are sharp, witty and delivered with a preciseness that belies a talented rapper. He's not some art punk fucking around with a culture and music that he doesn't understand. Meanwhile, Yo-Landi Vi$$er, the group's hypewoman and singer, is a true scene stealer.She bares a high-pitched and squeaky voice that is made incongrously hilarious by the foul-mouthed and hyper sexual nature of her rhymes and delivery. She's a pit-bull in a bad haircut. The chemistry that Ninja and Yo-Landi possess is striking. They bounce rhymes off of each other with a forceful swagger and compliment each other. "$0$", is an accomplished album musically in it's own right. The beats are obviously inspired by UK grime rap and hold your attention for it's rave inspired aspirations. Songs like "Wat Pomp" and "Wat Kyk Jy" swagger with an electronic stomp that is fresh to my ears. If this is "zef rap" than I'm definitely on board with the whole scene.

As much as I enjoy their music, I can't help but find some aspects about the group and its reception problematic though. I'm a Western critic living in New York and no matter how much I research and get to know their music, I still have a feeling their is going to be an inherent disconnect going on. "Zef culture" is something I'm not only unaware but I profoundly do not understand. If Die Antwoord is a parody of that culture then I can't help but I feel that I'm losing half the joke in translation. It's inevitable. I don't speak the language; neither literally (half of the album is rapped in Afrikaans) nor in a broader culture context. Die Antwoord also deals with some dicey cultural and racial issues that is bound to make me a little uncomfortable coming from my western sensibilities and prejudices. As previously mentioned, Ninja does refer to himself as "colored" which seems profoundly insensitive in a western context of racial boundaries due to the fact that he's a white South African. Is this kosher in South Africa, though? Am I misreading his (character's) intentions? Does it even matter? There is a moment in the video for "Wat Pomp" where Jones briefly appears in black-face that is bound to raise a few eyebrows. As a critic hailing from America, I'm resigned to shrug it off and assume that I'm simply missing the joke but it does make me rather skittish.

Regardless, I'm buying into the hype about Die Antwoord. They are the real deal. "$0$" is an early front-runner for album of the year and I can't imagine I'm going to find a group more engaging than them in this rap climate. This really is the coolest shit I've ever heard.

Video: Die Antwoord - "Wot Pomp"

Video: Die Antwoord - "Zef Side/Beat Boy"

A Few Words On Drake

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 06:46:00 +0000

"This guy is a rap star. Never forget that."

Let’s face it: Drake is a rather unlikeable dude. Regardless of how you feel about Aubrey Drake Graham’s music, it’s hard to root for the guy to succeed. For one, he is a Canadian teen soap actor who by all accounts decided to arbitrarily start a rap career simply because he could. This dude should have been subject to damning Brian Austin Greenian ridicule the moment that asinine idea floated through the space between his off-puttingly bushy, caterpillar eyebrows. He’s too pretty, too Canadian, too much of a Weezy biter and his music is liked a little too much by teenage girls. No! Just no...

With all that serving as a caveat, last year’s mixtape, the “So Far Gone,” was quietly if shockingly excellent. Borrowing heavily from the spacious, sad synth minimalism of Kanye’s “808s & Heartbreak,” Drake captured an unabashedly pop melancholy that seemed strangely addictive and charming. Drake is not a great rapper and yet “So Far Gone” works without a single great or memorable line to its credit. What works is the way that Drake is able to breezily switch from rapping to this mournful teen pop falsetto and how tightly structured each of the songs on the tape are produced and written. Drake is an atomic grade hook writer and you’ll find yourself humming the melodies and words to nearly every one of these songs. The songs don’t break ground thematically as it deals with the same pitfalls of fame material that “808s & Heartbreak” dealt with but Drake manages to somehow sound less cloying and whiny than Kanye did on the record. It’s goofy if shallow fun. It’s like some sort of weird synthesis of Nelly and Slug (and miraculously not nearly as awful as one would imagine that would sound like.)

Honestly, Drake should abandon any aspirations of being a traditionally “great” rapper because whenever, he tries to rappity rap he almost always sounds ridiculous. Take Drake’s latest single, “Over”, as an example. The production is as typically immaculate as nearly everything he’s been releasing the last year but the only thing remotely memorable on Drake’s part is the hook and bridge of the song. The verse is lifted straight out of the Lil Wayne playbook of forced and awkward punchlines but unlike Weezy, Drake lacks Weezy’s natural effortlessness in his delivery to compensate for his lyrical clunkers so Drake ends up sounding...well, forced and awkward. His confidence as a rapper seems unearned so he ends up sounding like the musical equivalent of that cocky asshole that needs to constantly validate his manhood by hitting on everything with a functioning pair of legs. Drake plays against his strengths when he tries to really, really rap.

The best moments of “So Far Gone” are the moments he let’s his guard down like on “Lust For Life’ where he is lamenting about the expectations of being continually approached by groupies for sex and he kind of croons the line “And who the hell am I to say no, no, nooooo.” It kills me everytime because it expresses a weary trepidation about the direction of his life. I relate to that even if that his problems sound like the problems I only can dream about. When Drake is swaggering over “Over”, he’s totally unlikeable but on “Successful” when he’s expressing his desire to get famous he seems like a genuine human. Call me crazy but that seems like a virtue an artist should strive for.

Shadowboxin' Jeremy Roenick With Zilla Rocca

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 21:03:00 +0000

"The Pinnacle Of American Cinema"

The incomparable Zilla Rocca of Clean Guns/5 O'Clock Shadowboxers/Clap Cowards fame and I recently collaborated on a piece about our mutual love of the video game artistry of NHL 94. If you aren't familiar with the game's supreme genius than quite simply you lost at childhood.

-Note: At some point in the near future, I plan to get back to updating my blog at a semi-regular interval. I plan to take a broader scope at the world so it'll probably less about rap music and more about the minutae of life. So take heart, five people who still care enough to read. I haven't quit hating on shit.

No Words... Jersey Shore Edition

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 21:35:00 +0000

When Snoop's the most well-adjusted person in the photo (and Tyson's the second!), you easily have a formula for awesomeness.

Eating Zombie Bizkits With Lil Wayne: Dame Dash, Blakroc and the Rebirth Of Dwayne Carter

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 20:07:00 +0000

"Like I was going to buy this album, anyway..."

When rap rock was found brutally murdered in a dilapidated mobile home on the outskirts of 8 Mile Road circa May 2004, there were very few people who shed a tear for this most maligned of musical genres. Fred Durst and his red backwards Yankees cap had long worn out their welcome on pop cultural landscape and thus the world watched in indifference as the icons of nu metal faded into inglorious obscurity. Although it was never the most critically respected of musical oeuvres, the middle class, faux-angst ridden teenage fans had grown up on these artists; and upon taking stock at their old CD booklets, learned that if one wanted to get laid by those cute, art chicks into Ani DiFranco and Ryan Adams records, they had to summarily dispose of those suspect Linkin Park records lowering their social queue. Thus, one of the most commercially successful genres disappeared into the ether; never to clumsily rhyme over distorted rock guitars, again.

Due to the hilarious serendipity of an Amazon shipping error, rap rock has returned from its grave in the last month of the last year of our indie rock overlords, MMIX, to haunt this craven world like a tracksuit be-suited zombie hellbent on fucking teen pop stars and screeching about rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ again. Two high-profile (well one is high profile, one is the the vanity project of Jay-Z’s former model moistener but let’s just say high profile for the sake of succinctness...) releases, Lil Wayne’s “The Rebirth” and BlakRoc’s self-titled debut, this last month have attempted to breathe life in to this necrotic genre with varying degrees of success.

I don’t know exactly how much cough syrup was consumed to make Lil Wayne think that he could make a rock album but it should have been immediately clear to all those concerned with selling him as an artistic genius that they needed to immediately convince Weezy that he simply had hallucinated the whole rap rock incident in one of his fevered drank-induced comas. Granted, Weezy is not the first nor the greatest rapper to fall to the siren call of the genre-bending crossover album (or as I’ve dubbed Love Below Syndrome) nor will he be the last. (Assuming, the rap industry is allowed to exist after this year.) Often when rappers reach the pinnacle of the rap genre, they feel like they need to validate their existence as “real” musicians to non-rap critics and fans. This leads to a lot of overwrought musical “fusion” and sublimation of the artists actual talent in service of hackneyed song-writing and poor (but glitterly produced) musicianship.

I’ve always found this approach vaguely disgusting as it buys into the rockist modes of thinking that rap is an inherently inferior genre. You can’t take your chair in the musical canon if your primary instrument is your speaking voice and when even the biggest names in rap buy into this mentality it only serves to reinforce this vaguely racist ideal. Granted, not all albums infected with Love Below Syndrome are worthless (Q-Tip’s eternally pushed-back jazz rap record, “Kamaal The Abstract”, is actually very solid and seems that it only languished in label hell because Jive had no idea how to promote it.) but they all seem to be working on this basic conceit. You gotta rock if you want to be taken serious as a musician.

Lil Wayne’s “Rebirth” is, of course, decidedly terrible and should serve as primary example on what not to do when attempting to make one of these records. If there is a saving grace to the few genre-fusing records that do work, its that the artist has a genuine appreciation and more importantly a deep understanding of why rock music works. (Take the Knux’s criminally overlooked hipster rap masterpiece “Remind Me In 3 Days...” as example. The Knux are incredibly skilled musicians at a variety of instruments and their music reflects that. The guitar riffs on “Cappuccino” seamlessly blend in with their electronica-influenced break beats and synthesizers to form perfectly synthesized rock-influenced rap music. The Knux understand rock music and their music reflects that.) Lil Wayne’s frame of reference seems to be lazily cribbed from watching about a half dozen old episodes of “Headbanger’s Ball” and calling it a night so he can go smoke himself retarded. Its as if he asked his producers to emulate Slash’s butt rock riffs so he can scream and warble his Weezyisms over the instrumentation in auto-tune. In a way, its kind of noble that nothing on the record resembles anything that would land itself on a Pitchfork year-end list (i.e. indie and lame) but it shows that Wayne has very little understanding of rock music in anything but a superficial way.

You would think that Lil Wayne would be a somewhat natural fit for hair metal-inspired rap music considering he seems primarily obsessed with the same lifestyle that hair metal promoted. Wayne likes to get head from slutty women, get high and do inexplicably stupid things, a sentiment that Bret Michaels assuredly sympathizes with. The problem is that Lil Wayne’s approach to writing rock music is resoundingly cliché. While Lil Wayne has grown more and more great a rap technician over the years to the point that’s impossible to deny that Lil Wayne is a great rapper (There I said it, people.), his approach to song-writing remains resoundingly insipid. When he tries to get serious like on “Misunderstood,” it ends up being rambling nonsense. So when he attempts to ply his trade to rock, a song like “Prom Queen” trades on the lowest common denominator of rock music, drawing well-worn tropes about love-gone-bad, revenge fantasies. And that’s one of the better songs on the album. In a way, Lil Wayne’s approach to rock music is the mirror approach that rock artists have towards hip hop. When Rivers Cuomo attempts to marry hip hop to his “guitar music” on the exceedingly awful “Can’t Stop Partying,” he just ends up repeating the most stereotypical elements of rap culture as if all that rap encompasses is blinged-out excess. All superficiality.

Of course, Dame Dash knows hip hop. This should be an exceedingly obvious statement considering the man was the mastermind behind Roc-A-Fella Records dominance as rap label this decade. He understands the modes of the genre and is able to discern between a good idea and a bad idea. What’s surprising is that the Black Keys know hip hop because nothing in their brand of hazy, indie blues rock suggests that they listen to anything other than Led Zeppelin II all day long. (Granted, there is nothing to suggest that they don’t listen to hip hop, either. I happen to love Ace Of Base’s “The Sign” although no one would know it, either.) Blakroc’s self-titled debut, Dame Dash’s vanity rap rock experiment with the Black Keys, might be the greatest rap rock album of all-time (depending on if you feel Rage Against The Machine qualifies) as it manages to synthesize both genres better than can reasonably be expected. The record works because it primarily defies some of the traditional aesthetics of the genre to create a newer more blues-based sound contrasting with the traditional heavy metal template that nu metal provides. Why rap rock records often fail is that being based on the aesthetics of heavy metal, the overly loud and grandiose musicianship that is a tradition in metal can overpower the spoken-word vocals of rap. The opposite is true in rap music where a great rap performance can make the production seem almost secondary. When you combine this with the clumsy rapping of nu metal singers like Fred Durst, it becomes formula for embarrassment.

The Black Keys’ brand of rock being primarily blues-based works infinitely better with the traditionally sample heavy formula of rap music production. The woozy guitar strings blend seamlessly into the background and let the rapping dominate and when you have an all-star cast of rappers like Blakroc does (Mos Def, Raekwon, RZA, Ludacris, Pharaohe Monche and the disembodied voice of Ol’ Dirty Bastard all make an appearance on the record) you want to sublimate the production into the background and let your rappers shine. “Stay Of The Fucking Flowers” and “Why Can’t I Forget About Him” sound amazing because the rappers and singers are given equal billing to the Keys production.

Dame Dash should be commended for the vision and his A&R work on this album because you can’t imagine this record would work nearly as successful without his keen ear for knowing how to put talented musicians in contact with each other. If more successful music moguls were willing to take chances like this perhaps hip hop wouldn’t be in such dire straits. This record has even done relatively well for an independent release selling 30,000 copies since its release mostly on strong word of mouth between music fans. If Lil Wayne wants to save “The Rebirth” from being a commercial and artistic disaster in the two months before it’s official release in February. He might consider calling Dash a call and see if he can’t have the Black Keys re-work the entire album for him. You never know…

Eating Leftovers With Elzhi

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 15:52:00 +0000

"Ugh, Nice watch..."

I always get hostilely indignant when "rap" fans claim that Jason Powers is "boring" as if simply being preternaturally gifted at the art of rapping is somehow akin to having the scarlet letter of unforgivable wackness affixed to one's lapel . If you can't appreciate the subtle yet thrilling intricacies of Elzhi's raps that's more an indictment of your own personal attention span (or perhaps need for instant gratification with easily digestible swagger) than any flaw in Elzhi as an artist. Elzhi is a rapper meticulously obsessed with the craft of rapping and his taste in the neo-boom-bap beats in the Black Milk variety is just as impeccable. Not only that but he's a rapper that is able to translate that ability into crafting perfect, little concept songs that have fully constructed narratives, themes and morals. His lyrical flash is backed up by true substance. If that's boring to you than I'm not sure why you are even interested in listening to rap music in the first place.

Elzhi's latest offering,"The Leftovers Unmixtape," is another fine edition into the Detroit rappers growing catalog. It's mostly compromised of b-sides, rarities, and remixes from Elzhi's excellent and underrated tandem ("Euro Pass" and "The Preface") of street albums last year and for fans of Elzhi's razor sharp lyrical ass lyricism, this won't disappoint. The tape features beats from long-time Elzhi collaborators, Black Milk and DJ Dez, as well neo-Dilla beatsmith luminaries like Jake One, Oh No and Moss. While this doesn't quite match the highs of its predecessors, it does feature some particularly stirring remixes of some Elzhi's classics. "Dream", Jake One's remix of personal classic "Talkin' In My Sleep", is particularly evocative.

Download: Elzhi - The Leftovers Unmixtape

Video: 5 O'Clock Shadowboxers - High Noon

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 00:51:00 +0000

For a guy I've never actually met in person, I converse with Zilla Rocca on the daily more often than I do with some of my closest friends (Shout out to the What?) so I'm going to be proud when Zilla breaks through the rap blog ghetto and turns himself into a genuine indie rap star. "High Noon" was my favorite song off of Zilla's and fellow "fruity little indie rap circle jerk" friend, Douglas Martin's 5 O'Clock Shadowboxers project from earlier this year. This is the video.

Prepare for full-on film noir awesomeness. I think more underground rappers need to have to the same level of conceptual ambition as Zilla does. If I have to listen to another goddamn "D.O.A." freestyle...

Adult Swim: Better Than Diplo

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 16:19:00 +0000

"B.T.W. A.T.H.F. F.T.W."

One of my personal tests, to determine whether or not a human being is worthy of spending my precious time with, is determining if one finds the material dispensed by Cartoon Network's Adult Swim funny. If one doesn't find the comedic stylings of Master Shake (or god forbid, Frisky Dingo...) hilarious, I inherently distrust your world view and thus you must be exterminated (or at least, summarily removed from my presence) off the face of this earth. (You probably would vote for Sarah Palin, anyway, so clearly you have nothing to offer the human species.) I find Adult Swim to be great not only because their humor gels with my inherent schadenfreudic enjoyment of the cruel absurdities of the world but their celebration of all things bizarre leads them to spearhead moments of weirdo musical genius like this amazing little southern rap remix project, "ATL RMX."

The idea of a record that dares to combine the trunk rattle of Atlanta-based street rap with the sounds of the luminaries of modern avant garde, electronic beat making is going to win it's share of ironically appreciative fans and knee-jerk reactionary haters alike but it's an album (or is it more of a mixtape? At this point, the lines have been blurred so much that my screed against mixtapes, two years ago, is largely anachronistic) that deserves a more thoughtful approach than both. I've always contended that a lot of southern rap icons like Young Jeezy and Three 6 Mafia whose music is often lazily described as "gothic" or "monolithic" would sound amazing if paired with producers like El-P who specialize in ambient swaths of dystopic buzz. El-P's beat-making approach is often all dark ambient mood anyway so it seemed like a natural pairing to combine it with rappers who specialize in dysfunctional amorality. The idea being that you could amplify the strengths of the artists involved and hide their weaknesses. For example, El-P's remix of Young Jeezy's "I Got This" fills in the awkward pauses and holes in Jeezy's flow with punctuating buzzing flourishes while Jeezy's natural charm makes El-P far more palatable to casual rap fans.

Not everything works, the two Lil Jon remixes are particularly heinous, but there is a lot to love on this. Ann Arbor-based, glitch hop producer, Dabrye's remix of Goodie Mob's "Is That You God?" is pretty much perfect. While Starkey somehow manages to turn Guerrilla Zoe's "Lost" into something approaching the auto-tuned hipster hop of Kid CuDi. The best cut on the record is the previously mentioned, "I Got This (El-P Remix)," which miraculously manages to be the best Young Jeezy record released since "3 A.M."

Download: Adult Swim & Beaterator Present... ATL RMX (Left-Click) [Via Adult Swim]

Kickspit Underground Rock Festival '09

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 17:39:00 +0000

Every couple of summers, I inexplicably decide to spend a few hundred dollars of my parent's hard-earned money and attend one of these outdoor music festivals and immediately regret it within the first hour of the show. For one, it serves as an instant reminder how much I hate the human race and to be herded amongst the worst of the human species, inches me ever so closer to my inevitable descent into multiple homicide, Joker-style supervillainy. Armed with this knowledge, you will realize why Saturday Night Live's pitch perfect send-up of these events resonated so spectacularly hilarious with me.

Of course, this was nothing compared to the genius of the potato chip sketch.

Blake Lively, I didn't think it was possible you could ratchet up your status within my heart but you have defied the odds and pulled it off. Serena van der Woodsen Forever! XOXO!

22 Minutes With Lupe Fiasco

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 23:21:00 +0000

"Lupe Fiasco's "Tiny Toons" game is on point."

Brevity is a virtue amongst rap artists that is often far too overlooked. Somewhere along the great existential time line of human existence, rappers began assuming that the more product they could shove onto the 80 minute flux capacity of the compact disc, the more likely their record would be plucked off the crowded shelves of a record store and inserted into the warm plastic confines of a stereo disc changer. Perhaps, this was wise thought when albums were selling like they were lightly sprinkled with heroin flakes but it makes little sense in an environment when the world's biggest beef enthusiast can only sell 160,000 copies of his new record. When nobody is buying your record anyway, it makes little sense to water down the content of your record with filler tracks especially considering when most music is consumed in the solitary schizophrenia of an iPod, an artist can ill afford to waste their fan's potential time listening to a slew of ill-conceived crossover tracks. It only takes a quick flick of the wrist to switch to something better.

Lupe Fiasco must have taken that lesson because his excellent new mixtape, "Enemy Of The State: A Love Story", is an exercise in the power of limited quantity correlating with infinite quality. "Enemy Of The State" clocks in at a brisk 22:09 minutes and there is not a second wasted where Lupe is not furiously bringing glorious swaths of funeral pyre. It's been almost two years since "The Cool" established his bonafides as the premier rapper of his generation and if you had forgotten how great a rapper Lupe is, it's not going to take you very long to remember.

Lupe's primary strength is the complex density in the metaphors of his rhymes. He's the type of rapper whose lyrics are just as enjoyable being read in the liners notes as they are to listen to. You discover more depths the more you listen to him so it's extremely rewarding that "Enemy Of The State" is so brief. It allows for easily more digestible, multiple listens that allows you to explore the subtleties of his craft. His work on "The National Anthem" is a lyrical junkie's wet dream. Initially, the mixtape was released "cassette-style" (one continuously long mp3) before bootleg junkies spliced it up but I find the "cassette-style" of the tape to be incredibly fitting. Much like an old Maxell magnetic, one quickly finds oneself furiously spinning the iPod wheel in reverse in order to listen to the same lyric over and over again. Only in the digital age, you don't have to worry about popping the magnetic tape in your mp3 player. Who says technology ruins everything?

Download: Lupe Fiasco - Enemy Of The State: A Love Story [Mixtape] (Via Nah Right)

Kidz In The Hall: That One Song That Samples That One Song From That One Band That Has That One Song That I Like

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 16:49:00 +0000

"Don't sit back there and act like Double-O's hair ain't luxurious when you know that it is, bitch!"

A few years back in college, I was browsing the music stacks at a Best Buy, looking for the latest Masta Ace record, when the in-store loud speakers began to the play the familiar drum patterns of a record I had become all too familiar with, Eric B. and Rakim's "My Melody." I paused for a moment to compliment the in-store D.J. for having decidedly exceptional taste for a sixteen year-old when it soon became apparent to my dawning horror that I would not be graced with the melodious baritone of Rakim's rich voice but rather the insipid strains of the pop vapidness of Teairra Marie's "Make Her Feel Good." I had been hoodwinked into the thinking I was listening to a superior song. Needless to say, I was not amused. I would go and buy the Masta Ace album at Circuit City, instead. (I was as shocked as you are that they had it. The rap selection at Syracuse area conglomerate retail chain stores is surprisingly boss.)

Later that day after I tore into Ace's masterpiece, A Long Hot Summer, for the first time (a surprisingly seminal moment of my music life since it was my belated introduction to my third favorite rapper), I began to reflect not on the universal atrociousness of Marie's blood screaming abortion but rather the curious nature of an R&B song sampling a classic hip hop jam. It seemed to me in my pre-blogger days (and before the crushing weight of disappointment morphed me into the cold-hearted hater that you know and tolerate) that if R&B was now sampling hip hop (instead of vice versa) that a critical equilibrium in the nature of the genre would soon broken and spiral rap music into the prophecies of the Pharaoh NaS and later dissected by the Prophet Sasha Frere-Jones. If R&B music was no longer producing original music breaks and instead were wantonly sampling from old school hip hop records than the delicate ecosystem of hip hop music sampling would soon eat itself and collapse into Casio keyboard fuckery or worse, start sampling from lame indie rock bands! I prayed to the Gods of the Mic this would not come to pass. Foolish, foolish mortal...

Noted hipster rap scions, Kidz In The Hall, made "history" this week when they sampled indie rock flavor of the month, Grizzly Bear's, "breakout" hit "Two Weeks" for their adventurously titled song, "Grizzly Man." A song that I've come to enjoy despite the obvious pretentious gimmickry involved with it's creation. Double-O and Naledge continue with a curious trend in hip hop as the sampling sources of the material continues to come from more and more obvious and gimmick-laden. Despite my admittedly ridiculous, curmudgeonly biases towards indie rock music in general, "Two Weeks" is actually a pretty fantastic song. Grizzly Bear's ethereal harmonies on the song remind me of Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys and they build around a hypnotic piano loop that help make the song an instant standout record. However, Kidz In The Hall specious choice to sample the song ends up sounding as pandering and pretentious as T.I. and company did when ripping off M.I.A. for "Swagger Like Us." It plays to the built-in tastes of their hipster rap audience and combined with the relative unimaginative way the song uses the source material makes the record seem like a cheap play for crossover potential. The song chipmunks Grizzly Bear's harmonies and simply speeds the piano break to hip hop level bbms. When referring to the song, noted street-oriented rap novice, Jeff Weiss said "I liked this beat better the first time, when it was called Still D.R.E."

What's more troubling is the way that Naledge seems to be mining the Clipse's flow on a Guerilla Blackian level (Word to the Passion, again). His voice and speech patterns seem to mirror the Brothers Thornton's signature growly and delivery right down to Pusha's "hyuck" adlib. It's disconcerting that Naledge would do this considering he's an artist that is fairly established in his own right. I wonder if he even noticed what he was doing.

With all that said, I still miraculously manage to enjoy the song beyond all of my critical caveats. Perhaps, I just like gimmicky source samples more than I'd care to admit.

Download: Kidz In The Hall - Grizzly Man [Via 2 Dopeboyz]

50 Cent - Before I Self Destruct: Review

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 13:50:00 +0000

"A lesser man would make a joke about 50 wearing a shirt on the cover.
Luckily, I am that lesser man."

I suppose if Curtis Jackson wasn’t Keith Olbermann-certified as the “Worst Person In The World,” one could begin to feel a tiny morsel of human sympathy for the man better known to the world as 50 “Fitty” Cent. After ruling the pop music world with an iron fist for the better part of the decade, 50 has fallen hard from the throne; Kanye infamously emasculated him two y ago in their sales showdown two years ago; his latest singles have been met with scathing indifference from both radio and the critical market; he’s been reduced almost to a court jester, showing up once every few to start a ridiculous beef with another rapper; raging against a world that does not care for his antics, anymore. It’s not far fetched to suggest had not for his Pimpin’ Curly videos on ThisIs50.com, he would relegated to Papoose status on his own record label. Be that as it may, after all the drama he’s caused helping shatter the New York rap scene in his quest to conquer it; it’s hard not feel a tinge (okay, a shit load) of schadenfreudirific joy at watching 50 Cent flail helplessly at making a hit record. The man wore out his welcome long ago and watching his feeble attempts at radio play be is karmic revenge for the endless amount of careers and lives the man tried to ruin. He’s earned this treatment. The man needs to hit the restart button on the last four years of his career.

50’s latest album, “Before I Self Destruct”, is billed as an almost mea culpa for the pop corniness of his previous two forays into blatant commercial pandering. In a way, it’s his “50 Cent Begins,” a revamp of his early mixtape persona before the allure of “Candy Shop” money turned him into a living symbol of gangster homo eroticism and beef mongering. “Before I Self Destruct” is an attempt to produce a record that bangs harder and more consistently than anything he’s done since quite possibly his mixtape days. For the most part, it’s a gambit that pays off as this is a record that is some of 50’s most inspired work since quite possibly “Guess Who’s Back?” and is easily his second best album.

From the opening moments of “The Invitation” (which according to the world’s most accurate encyclopedia is produced by DJ Premier. Really?! It sounds nothing like him, boys.), this record seems to have a clear statement of purpose when 50 Cent re-counting those infamous nine shots stares himself teary-eyed in the mirror and declares to himself “you ain’t dead!” It’s a powerful moment not so much because it evokes the most famous incident in his myth but because it serves as something of a metaphor for the state of his career. 50’s career as it’s nadir but he’s not going down without a fight even if it kills him. From this moment on “Before I Self Destuct,” 50 goes into an impressive stretch run of some of his most inspired, most hardcorest, most gangsterlicious (Word to Riley Freeman.) rap songs of his career. It’s song number ten before we reach anything that can remotely considered anything approaching that would be suitable for play in the club or the radio. 50 is not playing around. For once, 50 drops the quease-inducing sex food metaphor raps and actually provides the "aggressive" sounding music he's been alleging exists in between "21 Questions" knock-offs.

For those ten or so songs, Curtis Jackson gets his swagger back and returns to the viciously sarcastic wit that made him a star in the first place. Aside from the asinine radio-friendly pandering of "The Massacre" and "Curtis," I always felt the main problem with these record were that he couldn't channel the nihilistic joy of his mixtape work into any of his hardcore material. It always appeared that he didn't care and was more content to kick half-assed gangsterisms on auto-pilot than writing anything that remotely approached his early promise as a pure gangster rapper. The only time the fun of being the evil dictator of hip hop was channeled into his music was the shit-talking spoken word interludes, he would record over at the end of his seemingly endless diss tracks . (Think the last minute of "I Run New York.") 50 regains a little bit of that ol' demonic steez back on his new album. On "Then Days Go By", he giddily brags of being sexually taken advantage of as a pre-teen by his older babysitter when he screams "Take me baby, take me!" and on "Stretch," he taunts a young heroin addict that he doesn't give a fuck he' s ruining his live because "it's a cold world we're in". These are situations aren't novel to hip hop music but you can sense the joy 50 feels in playing the villain. We're missing that.

However, after those ten songs, the record begins to slowly fall apart as the second half of the record marks 50 Cent's quixotic quest to produce something gravitating towards a hit record. His insipid single, "Baby By Me," is as flaccid and desperate as the day it was conceived in a board room at the Interscope Records building. "Ok, You're Right" marks Dr. Dre's continued descent into pop, keyboard-plinking senility while "Get It Hot" sounds like budget Timbo lame-assery. This half of the record seems so schizophrenic and out-of-character with the mission statement of the first half that it begins to compromise the whole project. There is nothing on this record that is half as essential as "I Get Money," the brilliantly misanthropic single from "Curtis," and this in itself keeps the record from truly shining.

Still if this isn’t quite his “Stillmatic”, it comes close as possible as we will ever get out of 50 Cent (and no, we will not be debating the merits of “Stillmatic” in my comment section. It’s a great album regardless if your wack-ass Jay-Z revisionism will allow you to admit it or not. Sometimes, your just going to have to agree that the consensus is right, people. This is one of those times.). “Before I Self Destruct” isn’t quite perfect but it offers a glimpse at 50 Cent at this most clear and focused as an artist as he's been since his mixtape days. Welcome back, Curtis Jackson. I will now grudgingly give you your props. Don’t fuck it up.

Wale's "Mirrors".... The Calm Before The Shit Storm?

noreply@blogger.com (DocZeus) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 14:30:00 +0000

"The rest of State Property must be maaaaad..."

I have not been shy these last couple of months at expressing my trepidation regarding the prospects of quality regarding "Attention: Deficit", Wale's upcoming debut album. It seems that after Wale received near universal acclaim ("universal" meaning praise from people who don't find Gucci's jewelry/produce couplets the highest form of American poetry...) for "The Mixtape About Nothing," he's been far more concerned with hobnobbing with celebrities and updating his followers on the regularities of his bowel movement on Twitter (Seriously, have you seen how often this guy twitters? I know less about the every day's comings and goings of my closest friends than I do about this guy. Keep some mystery about yourself, dude!) than being in the studio crafting quality songs that people want to listen to. It makes one wonder if he's received too much hype too fast before he had the chance to build a solid audience or identity as an artist and instead, left him craving the fast money and limelight that a huge radio hit provides.

I have been less than ecstatic about his output that's been leaked for his album and this seemed directly tied to his obvious desires for a crossover smash (and thus far, his inability to write one). Enough blood has been spilled over the transcendent offense to the aural canals that is "Chillin", so there is no need to re-hash but the other material that has been released for the album have failed to capture my imagination as well. "Pretty Girls" was cool but it didn't help that it couldn't catch on despite that it featured the presence of every ig'nant rap fan's favorite manslaughter defendant, Gucci Mane. "World Tour" was slyly catchy but it was too derivative of a far greater Tribe Called Quest song for it to be considered a success. Meanwhile, "Let It Go (Inhibitions)" and "Contemplate", two high profile collaborations with famous artists (in this case, the Corpse Of Pharrell Williams and Rihanna) were the basic definition of album filler. It seemed the farther he strayed from his D.C. go-go influences into crossover territory the more flaccid the material became.

Today's leak du jour, "Mirrors," takes the opposite approach to the pop market pandering of "Attention: Deficit's" earlier leaks and not surprisingly, it's one of the more successful songs released from the album thus far. However, it still isn't quite the show-stopping monsters that "Back In The Go-Go" and "Nike Boots" were last year. "Mirrors" draws heavily from Mark Ronson's shockingly gutter production (who knew the Trust Fund King Of Hip Hop had these types of beats in him?) and Wale manages to acquit himself very nicely with a showy, stuterring cadence that proves he can ride a beat as well as anybody. Problem is that he's getting his shine seriously blocked by Bun B's killer sixteen (he tends to do that to even the best of rappers) and ultimately, Bun seems to make Wale seem like an afterthought on his own song. Wale has a lot of strengths as a writer (witty pop culture driven punchlines, an ability to write an issue driven song that doesn't come across as condescending, etc.) but going head-to-head against rappers of Bun's caliber is a recipe for looking foolish. He's much better at letting himself give space to muse on the song at hand than attempting to compete with other rappers for song dominance. He's just not that type of rapper. He's way better at working at a concept song and digging into the intricacies than anything else. It's definitively why "The Mixtape About Nothing" and "100 Miles & Running"(two mostly featureless records) are better than "Back To The Feature."

I'm not in FULL-ON PANIC MODE about "Attention: Deficit" because other than "Chillin", the songs have been simply unspectacular rather out right awful but I'm certainly worried that the record could be an assured disappointment. After all, I have spent quite the amount of time talking Wale up as if he's the future of hip hop. I wouldn't want to be wrong, now wouldn't I? I have a reputation to protect.

Random Notes:

- Wale and Ronson have had great chemistry ever since the initial "100 Miles & Running" mixtape two years ago. Wale should really considering working exclusively with Ronson and Best Kept Secret on all future products. They bring the best out of each other.

- This record is certainly not approaching a hit record (and I'm sure Tray is going to come wandering around to discuss some nonsense) but this is the type of stuff that Wale should be rhyming over for here on out.

- I only link to other blog's to provide zshare links because Interscope has a nasty habit of shutting your whole blog down if you deign to link to their material. Obviously, I'm interested in maintaining an accurate archive of my material. Mostly so commenters can bring up some hyperbolic comment about Saigon two years after the fact to flaunt that I once had something slightly positive to say about a rapper that he doesn't like. Consider this the trade-off, folks.

Download: Wale [Feat. Bun-B] - Mirrors [Via Nah Right]