Barry Schwartz used to write for Stylus. Now he fronts Disco Vietnam, a band that is way more excellent than both Disco and Vietnam (here is the proof). This is his first guest-blog on the Passion of the Weiss. Hopefully it will not be his last

“I’m so far ahead of my time, I’m bout to start another life

Look behind you, I’m about to pass you twice

Back to the future and gotta slow up for the present”

- Jay-Z, “Hovi Baby”

Growing up a chubby Jewish whiteboy from Long Island one tends to learn the essential lessons of social survival rather early. Foremost among these lessons: do everything you possibly can to not completely humiliate yourself in public. That’s just the basic math. As long as you don’t draw the potential for any negative attention to yourself I swear to you you’ll be just fine.

Still, knowing the path and walking the path are two very different things; sometimes a fat kids’s burning desire fails to overcome his physical deficiences and, perhaps one day, while running the dreaded mile in gym class, he gets lapped.

There is nothing worse than being lapped. Stitches in your left side, drenched in sweat, you breathe arhytmically, panting, as some Aryan robot and the girl you’ve had an unrequited masturbatorial affair with for the last seven weeks flies right past you. And they know. They know they’ve lapped you. You know they’ve lapped you. You know they know they’ve lapped you. They know you know they know. Soon, everyone in your gym class will know, and by 7th period the entire school. You’re 13-years-old but the cosmos have already decided: “Settle in, buddy. You will not be losing your virginity for quite some time.” Your whole life just got fucked. Today will be one of the days of your life you will have to watch like in that Albert Brooks movie Defending Your Life.

All because you got lapped.

Which brings us to today’s topic:

Well, Except for the Fact that Russell Crowe Isn’t American

On November 2nd, Ridley Scott’s heavily anticipated crime saga American Gangster will debut in theaters nationwide. Starring Denzel Washington, American Gangster chronicles the life of Frank Lucas, a 1970s Manhattan heroin kingpin, and Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), the detective working tirelessly to bring him to justice. If the trailer for American Gangster is any indication then you know this much: this shit is going to be pretty fucking badass. Being that I myself am also a badass I plan on seeing and enjoying this scrumptious movie.

Within a few short weeks American Gangster has somehow already positioned itself firmly within the tradition of similarly themed films: The Godfather, Scarface, King of New York, all of which have contributed to the glorification of criminal as folk hero. Nothing really wrong with that. Michael Corleone, Tony Montana, Frank White and later Tony Soprano: each of them men of questionable character, questionable intentions and distorted value systems, but each them also inarguably badass motherfuckers. Icons. Frank Lucas, whom the film’s trailer describes as the only black man to operate above the Mafia, has all the prerequisites for induction into this distinguished fraternity. The fact that he was a real person certainly helps. The fact that he’s being portrayed by Denzel Washington, an icon in his own right, also gives him a nice little jump. People are psyched; it’s not everyday you get a new anti-hero, and within the last week I’ve already read and spoken to a number of people who have proclaimed, “American Gangster is going to be the next Scarface.”

Still, I can’t help but feel that in everyone’s haste to annoint American Gangster “The Scarface of our time!” they’ve rather conveniently forgotten to, you know, SEE THE FUCKING MOVIE FIRST! (I mean come on! You don’t watch Entourage? The fuck is wrong with you people? Adrian Grenier isn’t an oracle! Pay attention!)

Now, I’m not saying American Gangster isn’t going to be the next Scarface or even that it won’t be fucking amazing. I’m just saying it isn’t fucking out yet so you haven’t fucking seen it yet so it can’t possibly be the next Scarface yet. In fact, the film technically doesn’t even exist as a pop culture entity yet and can’t be until people have access to it on a mass level.

Oliver Stone: Entirely to Blame for Rick Ross

But, as has been widely reported, one of the people who has seen American Gangster is Jay-Z. Apparently Jay-Z was so affected by the film, overwhelmed by what he perceived to be its startling parallels to his own life and personal cosmology, he has spontaneously decided to record an entire concept album inspired by American Gangster to be a companion piece to the film itself. News of the album was greeted with much fanfare, with many expecting the album to be Jay-Z’s return to a grittier street hustler style, (the hip-hop equivalent of Thom Yorke saying In Rainbows is going to kind of sounds like The Bends) causing mass HOFNARs throughout the nerd kingdom. Whatever it sounds like Jay-Z’s American Gangster will be released on November 6th, only four days after the release of the film.

Now, this seems all well and good until you consider we live in reality; movies don’t really leak, but there’s no way in hell Jay-Z’s American Gangster’s isn’t going to leak before the release of the film American Gangster. Which creates a rather interesting little paradox I like to call “Preemptive Postmodernism”: the metaphor precedes the literal. A rather large group of people experience a piece of pop art directly inspired by another original independent piece of pop art before they will even have the opportunity to access the experience of original independent piece of pop art. That’s a little fucked.

So what this means is if you listen to Jay-Z’s new album before the Friday the film is released, you are potentially allowing Jay-Z’s singular experience of the film to preemptively recontextualize your experience of the film. And this was all made possible because Jay-Z is rich and famous and awesome and they screened the fucking movie for him. This begs the question:

Pop culture is acclerating, but can it lap itself?

I foresee two possibilities: One: If pop culture get’s lapped it will become deeply embarrassed, go into shock and simply pass out and never lose its virginity; in seizing the opportunity to attach himself to the next Scarface Jay-Z effectively ensures that it doesn’t become the next Scarface. (Actual irony!)

Or, two: the encounter could create a time paradox, the result of which could cause a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space-time continuum and destroy the entire universe! Granted that’s a worst case scenario. The destruction might in fact be very localized, limited to merely our own galaxy.

Now that you’ve read that last paragraph, imagine I’d written and published it before the release of Back to the Future II. That would be a fucking dick thing to do.

So, Jay-Z I think you’re being kind of a dick. And you might also be putting the entire galaxy in danger so, if you’re so ahead of your time, yeah, maybe you could think ahead next time, ya dick.

Download:
MP3: Jay-Z-”Blue Magic”