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Hurricane Lame

It’s been a while since I’ve written something here. My only explanation is that there has been little to excite me in Hip Hop over the past couple of months and that I’m lazy. As a matter of fact, I haven’t even listened to much Hip Hop over the past two weeks with the exception of my workout mix that I play when I’m at the gym.

The release of Watch the Throne by Kanye West and Jay-Z changed this. My expectations weren’t that high, but being that I am a fan of both artists, I eagerly downloaded it the day it was released on Itunes. Enjoying it, I wanted to see what others thought, so I made my usual rounds of music websites and eventually landed on HipHopDX. For starters, I like HipHopDX a lot. It’s my go-to site for Hip Hop news. Lately, however, the site has been far to eager to give Compton’s own, Dr. Dre (sometimes) backed, former G-Unit, loud mouth The Game coverage whenever he opens his mouth to say something disrespectful about another rapper. It just so happens that he decided to rev up his tirades against Jay-Z this month in a desperate attempt to shore up hype for his own album (which will very likely sell far less than Watch the Throne).

For those who don’t know the history, here’s a primer: The Game started off his career as a boring westcoast rapper who sounded pretty similar to Shyne. He did a few mixtapes/street albums with the likes of JT The Bigga Figga and on his own before Dr. Dre took an interest in him. Freshly signed to Aftermath Records, he ended up in the same position every signee to the label aside from Eminem has been relegated to: the back burner. Lost with no hope of putting an album out, it was 50 Cent and G-Unit that took him under their wing and (beyond) arguably made his record the hit it was with the 50 Cent-assisted “Westside Story” “Hate It or Love It” and “How We Do.”

Relations between Game and 50 soon soured and 3 years of boring diss tracks were to follow from both sides. Dr. Dre, who Game has more than likely name-dropped (positively) over 100 times since signing to Aftermath, dropped Game (though this didn’t stop any of the Dre nut-hugging Game had grown to be known for by this point) and kept 50. Game followed with two bloated albums (the last of which, L.A.X., had an astounding 14 guest appearances spread over 19 tracks) that failed to match the success of his G-Unit assisted debut.

Over that time, 50 Cent’s career also steadily went downhill to the point where his last album (Before I Self Destruct) sold less than 150k it’s first week. Dr. Dre, ever the one to value cash more than anything else, no longer saw any conflict of interest in bringing Game back into the fold in early 2010.

Over a year later, Game is still prepping his latest album, The R.E.D. Album. Often delayed, but no one seems to mind. He must recognize this, because the album is set to feature 20 guest appearances. Unsurprisingly, none of them are from his affiliates in Black Wall Street, a group and record label he has cultivated for the past 5 years which has seen none of the artists drop a single album and, more importantly, none of his own albums have been released under it’s imprint.

So, quite the career, eh? What’s the most surprising, although I guess it shouldn’t be, is that Game has shown absolutely no artistic growth whatsoever in the course of his career. Lyrically, every album is the same. This is what his note sheet must look like when he decides to write a song:

• Cliche westcoast reference to Dr. Dre, lowriders, bloods, crips, or Compton.
• Name dropping at least 5 other artists.
• Another Dr. Dre reference.
• Some reference to the beef he’s had.
• Another Dr. Dre reference.
• Cliche gang-related bullshit that sounds as if he watched a hood flick while recording.

And there you have it.

Unfortunately for the hater in me and in all of us, one cannot say that Game makes absolutely awful music. The Documentary was an entertaining album, worthy of the praise it received. Doctor’s Advocate and L.A.X. were bloated and more of the same, but by no means terrible (I still listen to “LAX Files” on a weekly basis). The problem is simply that Game’s ego has distorted all reality. He thinks and acts as if he is in the same tier as Jay-Z, Nas, 2 Pac, etc. when he is more comfortably placed aside the likes of Rick Ross and Fabolous. Deep down, he must know that it’s not his skill as a rapper that is selling records, it’s his skill as a loudmouth and idiot to generate media attention. It’s worked up to this point, but I don’t see it working for much longer.

50 Cent - Get Rich or Die Tryin’

In 2009, 50 Cent released Before I Self Destruct. Though his domination of the Hip Hop (and for a while, the music industry in general) industry had been waning for some time before that, he had still managed to reach platinum with Curtis in 2007 while others were struggling to break 100k. Fast-forward two years and Before I Self Destruct struggled to sell 130k it’s first week and took four months to go gold. For the average rapper, this wouldn’t be too disappointing. After all, very few artists go platinum these days and even fewer go multi-platinum. Given the economic climate that was prevalent when 50 dropped the album, it could even be considered a success. But, then you key in his massive ego, arrogance, and the success of his first major-label album, Get Rich or Die Tryin’.

There are numerous explanations given for this album’s success. For me, it’s the fact that the singles were able to bridge the fine line between commercial pop and gangster rap cliches. It was difficult to walk into any club from 2003-2004 and not see people dancing to 50 rapping about knives and drugs in “In da Club.” The fact that he followed that up with “Many Men (Wish Death)” made little sense, but was successful nonetheless. The first mainstream gangster rap record to be successful in years, he showed off his storytelling skills with a gritty narrative detailing his pre-fame shooting. “21 Questions” and “P.I.M.P.” followed and ensured that female fans and commercial heads were on board for the ride. Essentially, 50 reached out to a very large demographic. It’s easy to see how someone could love one of those singles but not like the others. 

The album itself is nothing exciting. There are plenty of good songs, but also plenty of filler. 50 certainly has skills, but they take him nowhere when he is put over mediocre production. Dr. Dre is featured prominently on the album behind the boards, but at this point he was no longer the producing dynamo he was in the early 1990s. He succeeds on “In Da Club” and “If I Can’t” but is easily outdone by no-name producers like Darrell Branch on “Many Men (Wish Death)” and Dirty Swift on “21 Questions.”

Though it starts off strong, the second half of the album gets extremely sluggish. “Like My Style” “Poor Lil Rich” and “Don’t Push Me” could have all been cut at no loss. The bonus tracks are also worth skipping entirely, except for the phenomenal diss against Ja Rule “Life’s on the Line.”

The lyrics are nothing to write home about which, given that it’s billed as a gangster rap album, shouldn’t be a surprise. Get Rich or Die Tryin’ showcased a lot of potential that 50 failed to live up to, but if you’re willing to wade through a lot of the mediocrity on this album, there are some real gems on there.

6.5/10

Lil Wayne and the rebirth of longevity

As an off and on Lil Wayne fan, I often grow tired of the extremely polarized views expressed when he comes up in discussion. Browse a few Hip Hop videos on youtube and you’ll be sure to find statements against Wayne in the comments sections of videos which aren’t even by him. I’ll refer to it as Wayneophobia because the frequent need to prove that one is not a Lil Wayne fan is akin to how some homophobes feel the need to frequently criticize homosexuals to prove that they are not homosexuals.

On the other hand, there are many who are sure to like any and everything Wayne puts out and give him undue praise. The rule of thumb in Hip Hop when this type of polarization occurs is that the artist in question is surely worth a listen. Lil Wayne is certainly no different. At 28, his recording career has already spanned an astounding 14 years and he has been collecting platinum plaques for the past 11. Differing views of Wayne aside, this is remarkable in the current climate of Hip Hop where artists rise and fall within the span of two years (Soulja Boy, Paul Wall, Gucci Mane, et al.).

I skipped Rebirth and haven’t bought I Am Not a Human Being yet, and with Wayne’s recent stint in prison, I admit that I lost interest. However, a few days ago I saw the video for Dj Khaled’s latest forgettable single (It’s the one with Rick Ross and T-Pain. No, not that one. Or that one. It’s called “Welcome to My Hood.” No, not “I’m So Hood.”) and while everything about the track was standard fair, Wayne’s verse was filled with energy, his brand of goofball humor, and entertaining punchlines (“Shit happens, and since I’m the shit, I’m the person that it happened to” “I don’t see nobody/ see no body, like a headshot”). This morning I heard “6’7” and am officially back on the Wayne bandwagon.

Wayne has managed to stay relevant for so long due to sheer consistency and growth while other artists have coasted off singular styles for over a decade and have suffered losses in record sales and fan bases as a result. If you compare Tha Block is Hot to Tha Carter III, it’s not even immediately noticeable that you’re listening to the same rapper. But at the same time, he has the distinction of being able to fall back to his old style at any time while continuing to grow. Songs like “Shoot Me Down” “Don’GetIt” and “Tie My Hands” would have been unthinkable (even aside from the historical references in those songs) for him to release in 1999, but songs like “Get Money” and “Go DJ” wouldn’t have been. There are very few rappers who can successfully do this, with Jay-Z and OutKast perhaps being the best examples aside from Wayne.   

The best thing about Wayne is that the only way for him to go is seemingly up. He’s had missteps like every other rapper, but he has bounced back with such vigor that they can easily be overlooked. And while many scoffed at the idea that he would dare make a Rock-influenced album (Rebirth), the fact of the matter is that he wasn’t doing it for publicity or recognition, he was doing it because that’s what he damn well wanted to do. His inability to hold back when it comes to influences and innovation is what makes Wayne such a remarkable character and is what will keep me listening for years to come.                                                                                                                                     

The Canibus Effect

When I was in around 8th or 9th grade I experienced a sudden transformation in my musical preferences wherein I began to prefer “lyrical” rappers over so-called “commercial, materialistic” rappers. Thus, my Ma$e, Jay-Z, and No Limit Records albums were put on the shelf and I embraced the likes of Canibus, Afu-Ra, and a multitude of underground rappers with pretentious names, bland production, and boring lyrics.

Canibus started blowing up after “4,3,2,1” and the ensuing beef with LL Cool J. “2nd Round K.O.” energized Hip Hop and momentarily brought the battle back to what it had been in the 1980s. Aside from the questionable “you might have more cash than me/but you ain’t got the skills to eat a nigga’s ass like me” line, the lyrics hit hard and LL saw his career threatened by a 20-something upstart who had previously worked as a data consultant for U.S. State Department (gangsta, gangsta).

The rest is history. He released Can-I-Bus to negative critical reception, fell out with Wyclef, dropped 2000 B.C. and disappeared into obscurity, only being mentioned in the dark crevices of online Hip Hop forums. Since then, a myriad of reasons have been put forth to explain his commercial decline: blackballing in the industry, the ignorance of the casual Hip Hop listener to understand his rhymes, and, quite tiresomely, the Illuminati.

Hogwash. Canibus is no longer famous or well-known because he is perhaps the most boring and uninteresting rapper to ever pick up a microphone. His albums are filled to the brim with a handful of subjects:

• How he’ll destroy you if you battle him.
• How much of a great rapper he is.
• How the industry fears him because he’s such a great rapper.

Apparently his most recent albums have some ridiculous Illuminati references, but I’m no longer interested in paying money for a Canibus record. However, my general interest kept me purchasing his albums up to For Whom The Beat Tolls. You should rarely judge a book by it’s cover, and the same holds true for album covers. However, I should have known that this couldn’t be promising…

This is certainly one of the worst album covers in the history of Hip Hop. The album isn’t much better. But don’t take my word for it, here are some lyrical examples:

I drive forward Sandstorms make my eyes water
Skull is a submarine hull
Dolphin phones screen calls from places as far away as A.G.C.R.
The rhymes are raw, protected by the Jericho wall
With surface permutation of the permafrost
We thought close support from the Navy Carriers and Air Force
Would give us all what we needed, we were wrong
This is "The Greatest Rhyme of All Time" supposedly
1000 Bars it will probably always be

This is from “Poet Laurette Infinity V004” an “epic” song that lasts an astounding 10 minutes with the lyrics not improving at all. Canibus fans are prone to attacks on Lil Wayne’s lyrical prowess, but at the very least Wayne is able to stay on subject and make somewhat coherent songs. This lies completely out of Canibus’ reach on songs like these.

Once known as a show-stealer when it came to guest appearances, Canibus has become appallingly bad at this as well. Here’s a gem from Jedi Mind Tricks’ “Tibetan Black Magicians”:

I stomp on ya forehead
Peel the top of your fucking face off like an orange
And eat the carnage
My God that sounds horrid, eating MC’s
Is like eating garbage they make me vomit
Discombobulate prostates re-hydrate dry lakes
Wipe Ammonium Nitrate across the side of ya face

This is what it has come to. A rapper talking about prostates re-hydrating lakes and then wiping ammonium nitrate across your face is what is considered to be “real.” It’s easy to see that Canibus’ appeal lies in creating nonsensical verses which appeal to pseudo-intellectuals who confuse a vast vocabulary arranged haphazardly with intelligence.

Lyrics aside, Canibus’ career post-2000 B.C. has been a colossal train-wreck. In 2001, he released C True Hollywood Stories, a “concept” album that Canibus doesn’t even consider part of his repertoire. In it, he sparked an ill-fated beef with Eminem who promptly turned millions of die-hard Eminem fans into Canibus-haters and pushed him deeper into obscurity. A string of dire, bland records followed and with the exception of Stoup The Enemy of Mankind’s production on Rip The Jacker (yes, he continued to cash in on the LL beef even as late as 2003), Canibus has managed to produce nothing worth listening to in over a decade.

Essentially, Canibus was never supposed to make it so it was no surprise that he eventually fell. His deserved spot in Hip Hop was always to be in obscurity, next to rappers like Afu Ra who can’t write an interesting verse to save his life. The fact that he was given a taste of fame only soured any potential he ever had and made him bitter. The resulting angst has been evenly spread over a decade’s worth of albums and has to be wearing thin even on the most die-hard Canibus fan.

Drake - Thank Me Later

“Looking down from the top, it’s crowded below/ My fifteen minutes started an hour ago”

- “Fireworks”

There were moments when you couldn’t be faulted in doubting Drake. Rising to fame seemingly overnight with the help of Lil Wayne, landing numerous features like he was a seasoned veteran, and facing a wave of reactionary hatred, he had a lot to prove. Added to this was the fact that Cash Money Records had changed from a decently staffed record label which fielded numerous gold and platinum selling records from a variety of artists to a label whose only decent selling artist was the label’s president, Lil Wayne.

Since he became noticed as a rapper with commercial appeal, Drake underwent a rapid transformation from the underground/backpack rapper who starred in Degrassi to a cocky playboy who perhaps borrowed Lil Wayne’s style too much for comfort. Fortunately, Thank Me Later is the perfect mixture of his mixtape sincerity, commercial charisma, and the pop-structured song making of the featured producers.

The Alicia Keys-assisted “Fireworks” opens the album and introduces you to the albums main theme of an up and coming rapper dealing with the the superficial excesses of fame while battling with personal issues that stand poised to crack his cocky demeanor. Followed by “Karoake” and “The Resistance,” the album takes a very dark tone in comparison to the songs he had been featured on previously and sounds a world away from the intoxicating bubblegum pop of “Best I Ever Had.” In short, for every line about his money, girls, and fame, there are ones about his insecurities, the girls that got away, and the guilt and emotional distress he feels in regards to his family and upbringing.

“You feel the hours pass, until you find something/ I feel like when she moves, the time doesn’t”

- “Shut It Down”

The power in Thank Me Later relies in the contrast noted above, and this trend transcends lyricism. Songs like “The Resistance” and “Karaoke” channel the electric bleakness of Kanye’s 808s & Heartbreak while “Over” and “Fancy” find Drake sounding equally authentic rapping over typical sounding Cash Money beats. The guest appearances are mostly all noteworthy, with Drake holding his own with the likes of Jay-Z on “Light Up” (who takes a shot at Beanie Sigel) and Lil Wayne on “Miss Me.” It is Nicki Minaj, however, who steals the show on “Up All Night” delivering an uncharacteristically venomous verse, stripped of the care-free pop that she has shown thus far.

The album begins to drag in portions when Drake falls too far into his comfort zone. “Show Me a Good Time” shows glimpses of hope but mashes the subject matter of practically every other track on the album into one song over a mediocre beat that was surprisingly produced by Kanye West and NO I.D. “Shut It Down” is hypnotic at times, and the middle section is perhaps one of the best parts of the album, but at 7 minutes long it feels out of place and corny lyrics like “Ice cream conversation, they all want the scoop” courtesy of The-Dream ruin it.

Otherwise, Thank Me Later is a surprisingly strong debut effort that will likely satisfy a variety of Hip Hop fans (despite mainstream approval, the album was even included in Dj Premier’s list of favorite albums from 2010). Rumors of a Reggae-themed follow up are the only cause for concern in this rapper’s bright future.

8.5/10

2Pac - Greatest Hits

“All I want is money, fuck the fame/ I’m a simple man”

- “How Do U Want It”

Greatest hits collections are usually mediocre. The songs included are, unsurprisingly, the most popular tracks from an artist and as a result do not usually represent an artist’s best work. This apparently comes to a shock to many. I can’t remember how many times I’ve heard someone talking about a greatest hits collection and commenting that the record company/artist had the nerve to leave off some obscure song that, while great, was neither a single or popular. These concerns would be better voiced in regards to Best Of’s.

2Pac lived and ripped mics at a time when rappers could get away with releasing multiple singles that weren’t geared towards clubs or cruising down the highway. As a result, his greatest hits collection is actually filled with many of his greatest songs.

“My every move is a calculated step to bring me closer to embrace an early death”

- “So Many Tears”

The best part of this collection is that the full spectrum of Pac’s style is showcased. His ear for commercial Hip Hop is showcased with tracks like “California Love,” but through listening to this album you remember that Pac, one of the most commercially successful rappers of all time, was not a commercial/mainstream rapper as we understand those terms today. Tracks like “Life Goes On,” “So Many Tears,” and “Keep Ya Head Up” tap into raw emotion that has often been copied but never done with the same sincerity. Tracks like these are coupled with the murdersome “Troublesome 96,” “Hit Em Up” and the party-themed anthems “Toss It Up” and “To Live and Die in LA.” Pac always comes off as a man facing an inner-war, unable to make up his mind whether he’s a man of peace or a man hell-bend on destroying anyone in his way. This is a theme also evident in rappers like Nas, who comes off corny as a result. The same cannot be said about Pac. He contradicted himself but somehow always seemed believable.

So why a review of an album that came out 13 years ago by a rapper who died 15 years ago? It’s tiresome to point out that Hip Hop has changed since his death, but it is nonetheless true. He was the closest Hip Hop came to a complete rapper while others stood and stand on singular strengths. Hip Hop is great today, but listening to a Pac record takes you back to the heights it used to reach and you hope it will reach again.

“Bury me smiling, with G’s in my pocket/ have a party at my funeral, let every rapper rock it”

- “Life Goes On”

10/10