October 22nd, 2009
Camp Lo-”Another Heist” (prod. by Ski)
Cormega-”Make It Clear” (prod. by DJ Premier)
Redman ft. Ready Roc-”Cock Back”
Royce Da 5′9″ ft. Joell Ortiz & Bun B-”Hood Love” (prod. by DJ Premier)
Roughly half of the year’s 10 best hip-hop albums (UGK 4 Life, Born Like This, BlaQKout, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2, Blackout 2) have been made by rappers whose careers are approaching uncharted areas that Age of Exploration cartographers would’ve filled with sea serpents, dancing mermaids, and the occasional fabricated continent (word to Thule).For those with Muggsy Bogues memories, it’s a stark contrast to the days before Zshare, when rappers pushing 40 typically received Eskimo kiss-offs from their old labels or released largely unheard records on imprints owned by Joan Jett.
The mathematics make sense: when you factor in a graying but still substantial fanbase of people weaned on aging artists’ catalogues, an architecture of blogs equally ready to post on KRS-One or Wiz Khalifa, and iTunes’ ability to minimize or even eliminate manufacturing costs, it creates a much more ideal environment for both fans and veteran artists (who would’ve likely bricked regardless of web piracy).
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August 26th, 2009
Something old, something new, something Blu.
Jay-Z ft. Drake-”Off That” (Left-Click)
Chalk it up to the strung out numbness of the Internet IV drip that’s made the run-up to mid-September feel so anti-climactic. Where breathless anticipation should precede new and long-overdue records from Raekwon, Jay, M.O.P. and Boosie, it all feels mundane. Even a self-consciously “Event” album like Blueprint 3 can barely cause a ripple in the endless deluge of song-a-day for a month freestyles and 44 daily blog updates turning your RSS arteriosclerotic. After all, it is hard to stay focused when there are Drake and Trey Songz “Making of the Video” clips to watch. Rap is dreamy.
So Blueprint 3 is starting to mathematically eliminate itself from the playoffs. When the best song is “D.O.A.” and Luke Skywalker from Emperor of the Starship Enterprise has more facetime on your album than State Prop and Primo, the situation is grimmer than the playoff prospects of the Cincinnati Reds. I’m surprised Jay didn’t want Bronson Arroyo to croon hooks–his style has to be at least as innovative as Drake.” “Off That” is perfectly fine but totally sad–Jay raps like Willie Mays on the Mets and would probably try to lecture the “Say Hey” kid for wearing tight pants. Someone needs to tell him to stop saying “Ahhh,” at the end of the every bar. He should be saying “oy.”
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July 13th, 2009
Now watch me freak it in Korean.
Bishop Lamont ft. Xzibit-”Hallelujah”
I’d bet against The Reformation ever emerging from the Aftermath morass. But it really doesn’t matter when Carson’s finest can craft Gospel Brunch bangers over Dre beats better than anything off Relapse. Bishop’s pet peeve is the cult of swagger, which makes sense, considering dude’s a no-frills, hard-head. Swagger means nothing to a guy whose favorite restaurant is Bubba Gump. And even though Xzibit might have made a small fortune in ride pimping, he’s on board too, slitting the hook with his razer-blade voice box. Lamont’s wit separates him from prematurely cantankerous reactionaries like Termanology. At heart, he’s a South Park worshipping goofball who might bitch about fake gangsters, but will at least have the decency to reproach them for attending Magnet Schools and drama nerdery. That plus un P.C. remarks about Heath Ledger and the Olson twins ensure that regardless of label politics, Bishop should get a spot at the next synod.
Wale-”Pretty Girls”
This is more like it. No one should begrudge Wale for unabashedly playing to the ladies. In ‘09 the rap game isn’t like the crack game, it’s like the food stamp line. Unless you’re Jay-Z, T.I., Kanye, Wayne, or one of the other fortunate few, rappers seeking longevity can’t afford to ignore half of the population. The problem was that everyone who came on-board pre-Mixtape About Nothing, didn’t want Lady Gaga’s glandular grossness within 100 miles of Attention Deficit. Still, it was a smart bet, with “Chillin’ cracking Top 40 playlists nationwide. Thankfully, “Pretty Girls,” is Wale’s most successful attempt at equipoise yet, admonishing the “ugly girls to be quiet,” while soft-tossing smoove rhymes to pacify the “Best I Ever Had Crowd.” At one point, he admits that he’s a Libra, which would make sense–this is balanced.
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April 14th, 2009
Due to the sheer glut of good rap inner-tubing through the Internet, I’m starting a new column to round-up the best singles of recent vintage. There is a 75 percent chance, I’ll never do this again. Credit due to Joey, Noz, and Brandon, for pioneering this not-so-novel concept.
Kurupt ft. DJ Quik-”Hey Playa”
Considering a Kurupt and Quik collaboration seems conceived at a ‘94 rap fantasy camp, consider me skeptical that Blaqkout will ever emerge from the hirsute labyrinth that is Quik’s perm. Then again, after staying scarce for most of the decade, Quik has ditched his Compton cocoon of late, hosting a monthly series of Quik’s Grooves at Key Club. I’ve tried to make it out on several occasions, but seem to find out about them at the last second, and despite what my blog prolificacy might hint, I have a life off the Internet. True story.
Between “Hey Playa” and first leak, “Fuck Y’all,” the vets still burn the good Cali kush. Had a less talented beatmaker attempted this, it’d come off as Punjabi MC-lite, but Quik finds the oasis, offering up a funky slice of Mid-Eastern harem rap that both rappers crush.
Busta Rhymes ft. Raekwon-”Deathwish”
Maybe the Passover prayers worked, and I inhabit an alternate 1995, where Busta and Rae (and Quik and Kurupt) are in their prime, and the nation is in the midst of a Pax Americana pregnant with limitless peace and prosperity. I doubt it. But hearing Busta on the Asher Roth album felt like watching the Cavaliers decapitate the Celtics this week (sorry Dart). “Death Wish,” isn’t on any of the leaked Back on My B.S. tracklistings, but it doesn’t matter. What does is that Busta and Rae have recovered the hunger that abandoned them sometime around the time the Republicans captured Congress. Though judging from his waistline, that hunger never left the Chef.
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