Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 86 - Eminem

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

A lot of ink has been spilled talking about the controversies present in Eminem's music - enough that I really shouldn't waste time adding to the discourse on the subject. But, when talking about Eminem's music, discussion about the controversy is inescapable. The fact that Eminem himself delightfully revels in the critical uproar only serves to draw even more attention to this. 

Eminem's critics blame him for all sorts of crimes - misogyny, homophobia, glamorization of violence, and profanity, among others. But I wonder if Eminem hasn't been misinterpreted as the cause of all these things. His music might be better seen as an effect, the inevitable conclusion that stems from these things, not the catalyst of them. When Eminem is at his best, he's holding up a mirror to America, showing our country's reflection in all its shocking ugliness. It's brutal and offensive, but Eminem is right to claim that he's neither the first nor the last artist to do this sort of thing. Nor is the portrayal of this necessarily an endorsement. Rather than asking why Eminem makes this sort of music, perhaps we should be asking ourselves why, as a culture, so many people are drawn to it. 

On the other hand, I feel that Eminem's defenders often give him a free pass. The most notable Eminem apologists, such as Robert Christgau, seem to think that Eminem is some sort of postmodern genius juggling the identities of Slim Shady, Marshall Mathers and Eminem in some clever metanarrative. Eminem is certainly clever, but I don't necessarily thing he's smart in this literary sense - there are dangerous and disturbing elements in this music, and I don't think one can easily write it off as irony or tongue-in-cheek posturing. Behind this very angry music is a very angry man. 

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The Hip-Hop Hullabaloo, Or: The Record Industry Hates Making Money

Visitors to popular hip-hop sites OnSmash.com, RapGodFathers.com, and DaJaz1.com got a rude awakening when they tried to open up the site last Friday morning. On November 26th, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, a division of the Department of Homeland Security, seized the two sites and the domain of BitTorrent search engine torrent-finder.com, in addition to the domains of at least 70 other sites responsible for distributing counterfeit DVDs and clothing.

This doesn't seem all that surprising, at least at first blush. The old guard of the music industry (and their allies in government) have been working steadily since the days of Napster to shut down the Web's most popular piratical outlets. First came the fall of Napster, followed by the breakup of its more notable P2P successors and, most recently, attempts by governments around the world to get rid of the most-used BitTorrent trackers. Some went quietly (and tragically). Others, not so much.

But while most prior moves by anti-piracy forces targeted outlets that openly aid and abet piracy, this action focused on a much more ambiguous target: music blogs. And for those of us who rely on such blogs for most of our musical cues, this is a rather troubling development.

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Music Review: Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

You wouldn't hesitate to call Kanye West a narcissist, an egomaniac, a douchebag, or just stone-cold crazy. But would you call him a bad guy? I don't mean "bad guy" as in "villain"; that's a role Kanye's been more than willing to play, time and again. He revels in it all over My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy ("I thought I was the asshole") and on a number of his G.O.O.D. Friday tracks: "I figured out I'm not a nice guy/Shook hands, kissed babies/Gave it a nice try." But to call him a truly "bad man," an amoral rock star in the vein of Ginger Baker or Lemmy Kilmister? That's a different question altogether.

Kanye's new album is an expansive, galaxy-conquering masterpiece, a feat of wild musical and lyrical experimentation that is without precedent in Kanye's own catalog or, indeed, rap's entire canon. It is his best album since Late Registration and maybe of his whole career. And, I think, it's pretty convincing evidence that his heart, if not his mouth, is in the right place.

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 77 - The Wu-Tang Clan

I'm feeling under the weather today, and I don't have the energy to do the detailed write-ups and Grooveshark links that I normally do. This is a shame, because I think there's a lot of interesting stuff to talk about with the Wu-Tang Clan. They've been on the periphery of my awareness since my friend stole his older brother's copy of Enter the 36 Chambers and made me listen to it when I was in fifth grade. It was dense and jarring then. I thought it would be a bit more palatable now, but it still summons the emotions I remember from when I was 10 years old - densely-packed, intimidating rhymes over some very unsettling beats. 

Have you ever drifted off to a feverish sleep while listening to the Wu-Tang Clan? I just did before getting up to write this. It's a strange phenomenon, and not quite one I recommend. The Wu-Tang Clan, faceless and pseudonymous, is like a nine-man ninja team assaulting your brain; whenever one rapper is done with his verbal sparring, another jumps in to take over. In that way, there's no escape. 

Additionally, I'm used to my rap beats being fairly solid. But the beats, especially on Enter the 36 Chambers, are far more nebulous - fuzzy minor-key minimalist piano parts, hazy drum beats, all sounding like they could either disappear at any moment, or coalesce into some sort of demonic symphony. It's music that always sounds like its at the brink of an abyss, teetering on the edge. The confidence of the rappers' lyrics over these strange backing sounds are a contradiction that's perhaps the defining aesthetic of the group. 

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Saturday Morning TV: Bert and Ernie Are SO Street

Sometimes I’m amazed by the stuff I’ve somehow missed on YouTube.  I might have to buy this song now, too.

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Sunday Reading: Sir Wiks-a-Lot

Wikipedia is a lot of things to a lot of people.  A rabbit hole of information you probably never needed to know.  A research tool for the young and irresponsible.  A mildly ineffective means of image control.

For me, it’s also a perpetual source of amusement.  Minor acts of Wikipedia vandalism never cease to tickle my funny bone.  Hell, I still laugh whenever I think about Ryan North’s quest to limit all Wikivandalism to the article on chickens.

But it isn’t just the petty Internet “crime” that I enjoy.  I also appreciate the creativity, the degree to which people are willing to take stupid topics seriously.

I present to you excerpts from the Wikipedia synopsis of Sir Mix-a-lot’s “Baby Got Back”:

“In the opening verse, Sir Mix-a-Lot professes his affinity for large buttocks and his inability to disguise this fact from others. He goes on to describe other desirable physical attributes, such as a trim waistline, tight-fitting garments, and unblemished skin.”

“He recommends that any exercises performed should be limited to the abdominal area. He cautions against a fitness routine strenuous enough to diminish the heft of the gluteal muscles. Though he offers no broad dietary guidelines, Mix-a-Lot contends that the dish "red beans and rice" is an important food staple for maintaining healthy buttocks.”

I love this article so much I could just copy and paste the whole thing, but I won’t.  The author deserves the hits.  What I like most about it, aside from the splendid dressing-up of Sir Mix’s lyrics, is the thorough hyperlinking.  It’s just on the good side of excessive.  Just like big butts.

[via someone we follow on Twitter…no, I can’t remember who]

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Dr. Dre Wants to Explore the Solar System

I love rappers.  I love their ludicrous public outbursts.  I love their overblown odes.  And I love their ability to have and then act upon the most unlikely ideas imaginable.

Dr. Dre wants to make an instrumental hip hop album about our solar system.

A recent interview with VIBE revealed the good doctor’s plans.  When asked about future projects and the possibility of an instrumental record, Dre replied:

“An instrumental album is something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. I have the ideas for it. I want to call it The Planets. I don’t even know if I should be saying this, but fuck it. [Laughs.] It’s just my interpretation of what each planet sounds like. I’m gonna go off on that. Just all instrumental. I’ve been studying the planets and learning the personalities of each planet. I’ve been doing this for about two years now just in my spare time so to speak. I wanna do it in surround sound. It’ll have to be in surround sound for Saturn to work.”

“It’ll have to be in surround sound for Saturn to work.”  Amazing.  What does he mean when he says he’s been “studying the planets”?  I’m picturing Eminem or Snoop in the studio, wondering why Dre isn’t behind the glass.  They send an engineer to go find him,  and Dre’s up on the roof with a telescope, trying to discern the orbits of Jupiter’s moons. 

Does he realize Gustav Holst already charted that space?  I hope so.  I hope he’s planning to remix “Mars.”  Everyone leave Dr. Dre alone.  He needs to finish this album pronto.

[via Boing Boing]

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 66 - Kanye West

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

There are some celebrities who manage to make a career out of being a celebrity. Catapulted to stardom by some long-forgotten event, they've managed to milk their fifteen minutes of fame into fifteen years. They linger in the spotlight, popping up in a new controversy every so often, exchanging their fame for more fame. After a while, you forget why they became well-known in the first place - they're now just famous for being famous.

I have a vague memory of a time when Kanye West was famous for being a musician. That time has long since passed; his last album came and went without much fanfare, but his persistent antics - including the now infamous Taylor Swift incident, have ensured that he stays in the public eye.

In a way, it's a shame, because he's a decent musician. But, unfortunately, we live in a culture where it is very easy for the artist to eclipse the art. And truthfully, Kanye's controversies retroactively spoil some of his music. Albums like The College Dropout or Late Registration are awash with Kanye struggling with his own insecurities, particularly in living up to his mother's expectations after dropping out of school. But then you remember that Kanye made the claim that he should be in the Bible, and suddenly the albums don't seem like personal statements of independence anymore - they seem like solipsistic rants of an egomaniac.

Should the artist's actions be able to affect the art in this way? Possibly not, but it also remains the sad truth that such associations are bound to happen. Kanye is hardly a rapper anymore - Kanye is a Professional Celebrity, popping up every six months to make bombastic claims and get the bloggers all riled up.

Oh, and every so often he makes music, too. But that hardly seems to matter anymore.

WEEK 66

ARTIST OF THE WEEK: Kanye West

MY LISTENING: I listened to The College Dropout (2004) every day this week. I also listened to Late Registration (2005) three times, Graduation (2007) twice and 808s and Heartbreaks (2008) once.

WHAT I KNEW BEFORE: Aside from his celebrity antics, Kanye's music was pretty much everywhere around the middle of last decade. "Gold Digger" and "Jesus Walks" were two songs I remember being exposed to a lot in college, and I also had a particular affinity for "Diamonds from Sierra Leone" - mainly because I'm a big fan of the Bond movie that sample comes from.

WHAT I LIKED:

Kanye is nothing if not creative, even if he tends to be all over the place. But his best albums are, paradoxically, a well-structured sloppy mess. I think my favorite might have been Late Registration. Kanye's biggest strength is his crazy beats, and this album has the best of them. Songs like "Gold Digger" and "Diamonds from Sierra Leone" are already a blast, songs about serious subjects soaked in irony and clever wordplay. But the beats made out of the vocals of previous songs are what help catapult the songs from the "good" to "great" category. The flow overtop vocals from Ray Charles'/Jamie Foxx's "I Got A Woman" or Shirley Bassey's "Diamonds are Forever" should by all rights be an inaudible mess - but instead it works perfectly.

The College Dropout is a little more uneven, but its high points are still fantastic. "We Don't Care," the album's first song, masterfully combines a pop hook chorus with angry, socially-aware rap. "Jesus Walks" and "Never Let Me Down" are darker tracks that still never collapse under the weight of their own message. Kanye's lyrics have the distinct ability to be simultaneously serious and ironically pun-laden at the same time. There are a few tracks when it fails, but for the most part these early albums contain the wonderful cognitive dissonance of Kanye rapping about serious subjects while somehow not taking himself too seriously.

In Graduation, Kanye lets his social conscience drop a little to have some fun. This album abandons the intricately scored beats of the first two to adopt a much more in-your-face electronic sound. It's not as rewarding to engage in close listening, but it's a hell of a lot more fun to party to - tracks like "Stronger" or "Homecoming" are joyously danceable.

808s and Heartbreaks is the black sheep of the Kanye family and it seems to be a somewhat controversial release. Here, Kanye abandons rap entirely to sing pop songs through the oft-maligned Autotune. It doesn't always work, and has the penchant to collapse into melodrama, but at it's best, like in the opening "Say You Will," 808s is a gloriously exposed minimalist exercise - an exciting turn for an artist who put out three albums of pomp and excess. I appreciate the sentiment here, even if the entire album might not hold up to the concept.

WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:

There are certain points of Kanye West's output, particularly on The College Dropout, where all the crazy samples and beats and wordplay simply inflate into so much that they become bloated and not fun anymore. Songs like "Kanye's New Workout Plan" or the seemingly endless "Last Call" are just a little too over the top for my taste. Like all talented artists, sometimes I feel that Kanye just has to establish some boundaries and reign in his ambitions. Other songs, like "Slow Jamz," are just awash with the spoken dialogue and skits that are not uncommon in rap but I've never really understood.

As I hinted earlier, 808s and Heartbreaks also presents some problems. One of the major issues is that Kanye can't sing worth a damn. Most of his songs aren't bad, and he has a surprisingly good ear for melody. But he can't pull off his own tunes. Blanketing his voice in Autotune works for some songs with that certain alien aura, but it does not work across an entire album. "Heartless" could have been a much better song, for example.

At other times, the album is just too melodramatic. This might seem like a weird complaint for an artist whose previous albums were loaded down with every trick under the sun. But Kanye's lyrical bravado, which feels in place in the dense rap of his earlier albums, seems out of place on songs like "Welcome to Heartbreak" and "See You In My Nightmares." The songs are still enjoyable, but the vocals are so masked that they're almost too goofy to take seriously.

(Although, in the interest of fairness, I only listened to 808s once. It might grow on me when I give it a second try, but it was different enough to be very off-putting on the first listen).

FURTHER EXPLORATION WOULD ENTAIL: I've tackled all the existent Kanye albums, but I suppose I could move on to the albums that Kanye helped produce - Jay-Z's work being some of the most prominent.

BEST SONG YOU'VE HEARD: "Gold Digger"

BEST SONG YOU HAVEN'T HEARD: "Never Let Me Down"

NEXT WEEK'S ARTIST: Beck

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mc chris For The Win

Hip hop is something I've never been able to fully embrace. In my formative years, I was firmly within the "anything but rap and country" camp of musical taste. It wasn't until my freshman year when Kanye West's "Gold Digger" was playing at every single frat party and I shared my dorm with a guy with a Cam'ron poster that I even really gave rap a chance. Even with my college excursions into "the Hood", the only artist I've really been able to walk away with any sort of real love for is the Wu-Tang Clan, mainly because anybody who uses samples of old kung fu movies is okay with me. I can relate to that.

Relating is exactly my problem with hip hop. Rap music is primarily a chronicle of the struggles of lower class African-Americans from the mean streets; I'm an upper-middle-class white guy from Minnesota, there's a disconnect there. Gangsta rap only sets off my overly-sensitive white liberal guilt receptors and nowadays' less hardcore pop rap displays a propensity for macho posturing and an effeminate obsession with shoes and clothes that I'm far too self aware to get down with.

Maybe that's why I love mc chris so goddamn much. He speaks to me and my experiences, which is why rap had such an impact among black youths in the first place. That and the sick beats. Those are nice too.

Chris "mc chris" Ward is by trade a writer and voiceover artist from Atlanta. He first rose to prominence with his work on Cartoon Network during the turbulent period of Adult Swim's ascendancy. He voiced the recurring characters of Hesh on Sealab 2021 and MC Pee Pants (a giant diaper-wearing spider who raps) on Aqua Teen Hunger Force. His first big exposure musically came when his signature jam "Fett's Vette", a song about Boba Fett bounty hunting to make payments on his corvette, was featured in the closing credits of an episode of Sealab. I remember first seeing that episode in eighth grade and immediately jumping on Kazaa or Morpheus or whatever I was using at the time to download it, because man oh man, I love Boba Fett.

Since then, mc chris has made quite a name for himself as one of the champions of the "nerdcore" subgenre. Nerdcore is a facet of hip hop seemingly almost completely separated from the rest of the genre. Its artists and fans tend to, as you'd figure by the name, be nerds. Well okay, they're all nerds. Nerdcore songs are all about geeky subject matter: video games, comics, math, the inability to talk to members of the opposite sex, etc. It's stuff that someone like me, a guy who bitches about breakfast cereal commercials on the internet, can relate to.

mc has recently distanced himself from the nerdcore movement, seeking to be seen less as a novelty act and more as a legitimate hip hop artist. That's well within his rights and is probably a good idea considering the novelty act nature of many nerdcore artists. That being said, can a rapper whose songs deal with such mainstream rap-friendly subject matter as tripping on Robotussin, suburban malaise, being bad at sex, Neville Longbottom, and dressing up like a ninja to stalk cute redheads (I approve) can ever really find acceptance outside of people who regularly post on Star Wars forums?

I saw mc at a live show last night and he was awesome. Some may call it pandering but to see him up on stage ranting about how the Clone Wars TV show is the best thing to happen to Star Wars in twenty seven years really made me feel at home (even if I disagree with him). To get an idea of what mc's on stage banter is like, check this video out (though of course he has nothing on the greats).

Perhaps some day, every conceivable facet of the population will have a rapper to tell their story. Perhaps its part of rap's evolution as a musical movement to move out of the ghetto and into the wood-paneled basements of suburbia. There will of course be detractors to artists like mc chris, but there will also be plenty of fans to support them. The internet has made it so niche artists can find a fan base, and mc has profited greatly from it.

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 51 - De La Soul

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

I think the best phrase to describe De La Soul's place in the history of rap music is "dead end." I don't mean for this to have negative connotations; rather, it seems to me that the group represents a road not taken, a history of rap that Might Have Been had the genre not evolved in a different direction.

This sort of thing is interesting to consider when looking at music history. Back in 1989, De La Soul was hailed as the next big thing, the future of rap, the group that was going to change everything and usher in a new age. And, while they haven't been failures by any means, the rise of gangster rap in the nineties means that the group's role has been relegated to an interesting historical sideshow, rather than an important force in the narrative of the music.

But in a way, that makes De La Soul (and other similar dead end groups) more compelling. You've never heard anything like it before, because no one has followed in their footsteps. They were the first and the last group to capitalize on this kind of rap, and their lack of successors serve to make them all the more unique.

De La Soul's debut album 3 Feet High and Rising is hailed as their magnum opus, and critics in 1989 wrote how it was "radically unlike any rap album you or anybody else has ever heard" and represented the future of rap. When this future failed to materialize, De La Soul's subsequent releases spent a lot of time and energy coping with this unfulfilled prophecy. De La Soul is Dead is an acerbic critique of the gaudiness of gangster rap, and on Buhloone Mindstate, the group complains about their role as the dark horses of the rap world.

Perhaps the critics' predictions did put too much pressure on De La Soul - the group's later releases seem to be struggling to both live up to the hype and exercise the massive influence that was anticipated. The problem is, though the critics can have their own picks about who should represent the future of any given discipline, popularity and success rarely correspond to what the critics would like. I'm sure there's an alternate universe somewhere where De La Soul is considered the most influential group in rap; in this world, we'll just have to accept them as a unique footnote to rap history.

WEEK 51

ARTIST OF THE WEEK: De La Soul

WHAT I KNEW BEFORE: I actually saw De La Soul in concert once, back in 2007. (They performed for about two minutes before the event was called on account of rain). But I wasn't aware of their significance in rap history until I started reading about popular music last year, which prompted me to listen to 3 Feet High and Rising in December of 2008. I hadn't touched the group again until this week.

MY LISTENING: I listened to 3 Feet High and Rising (1989) once every day this week. I also listened to De La Soul is Dead (1991) and Buhloone Mindstate (1993) twice each, and The Grind Date (2004) once.

WHAT I LIKED: De La Soul's first two albums were released before the landmark case Grand Upright Music, Ltd. vs. Warner Bros. Records Inc., in which the judge ruled that one must obtain legal permission for each and every musical sample used in a piece of music. As a result, De La Soul was free to use all sorts of samples in these two albums with little threat of legal retribution. Aided by producer Prince Paul (who pretty much functions as the fourth member of the group for their first few albums), De La Soul is very good at crafting together snappy beats to rhyme to. Rapping over guitar riffs, brass fanfares, and all sorts of other music, the trio imbues their music a warmth and vivacity that a lot of rap lacks, I think.

This innovative use of sampling allows De La Soul's music to be more emotive than most rap music, especially rap music from this time period. Whereas Public Enemy was blasting out songs with righteous anger in 1989, De La Soul was far more laid-back. Songs like "Ghetto Thang" still decry the living situation of inner-city African-Americans, but their constant references to the "Daisy Age", optimistic songs like "Tread Water" and feel-good tracks like "The Magic Number" means that De La Soul's social criticism comes through a completely different kind of music.

They're not just laid-back hippies, though (in fact, they would grow to resent their hippie reputation). Their sophomore album contains "Millie Pulled a Pistol on Santa", a chilling song about violence and child abuse. But De La Soul also has a good sense of humor, as seen through the large number of short, playful tracks on each of their albums. Whether they're rapping over a French education tape in "Transmitting Live From Mars", dropping light-hearted insults in "A Little Bit of Soap", describing themselves in couplets in "Description" or rapping over lounge piano music in "Johnny's Dead", these short tracks are far from filler. Rather, they serve to supply the unique personality of the albums, and in some ways are far more effective at this than the actual full-length songs.

WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:

De La Soul's second and third albums, De La Soul is Dead, and Buhloone Mindstate, tackle the issue of the group's place in the world of rap in interesting ways. As an example: De La Soul is Dead features skits scattered across the record. In these skits, children listen to De La Soul and making fun of the group, throwing the tape into the trash at the end of the album to leave and "go listen to Hammer."

These conceits are clever, and they give music critics something to write about. But this self-reflection doesn't add a lot to the album musically; the skits are too numerous and break the flow of the album. There are similarly annoying skits on 3 Feet High and Rising and Buhloone Mindstate- while De La Soul is great at the short, 60-second track, these short, 60-second skits never work out as well, and range from mildly interesting to blatantly self-indulgent. I'm not asking De La Soul to make a tighter album (part of the group's appeal is their long, ambitious projects), but most of the skits are unnecessary, and the message more effective when incorporated into the music.

Finally, De La Soul is not nearly as entertaining once new sampling laws were in place and the group couldn't just glean riffs from whatever they wanted. Buhloone Mindstate is considered by some of the group's devotees as their finest album, but, for me, it lacks the playful beats of the first two records, and while the raps are competent, they just don't have the personality of the group's earlier stuff (though, unlike their other albums, Buhloone Mindstate does contain some great jazzy tracks, like the beautiful "I Be Blowin' "). After De La Soul stopped collaborating with Prince Paul, their staleness is even more apparent - The Grind Date is a fine record, but it lacks the punch that the group carried during their heyday.

WHAT I LEARNED: It was interesting to explore the world of early 90s alternative rap. I was expecting the music to sound dated, but De La Soul still seems like a breath of fresh air when compared to most rap - probably because we haven't been exposed to derivatives and knock-offs for the past twenty years.

FURTHER EXPLORATION WOULD ENTAIL: My lack of rap knowledge means that I'm not quite sure where to go. Is Pharcyde similar to De La Soul? Should I listen to Prince Paul's solo stuff?

BEST SONG YOU'VE HEARD: "Me, Myself and I"

BEST SONG YOU HAVEN'T HEARD: "Tread Water", which is actually a pretty stupid song (De La Soul are on record saying that they hate it), but for some reason has been stuck in my head all week.

NEXT WEEK'S ARTIST: Sonic Youth

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 45 - The Roots

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

I've been doing this project for almost a year now, and I've listened to a lot of interesting music. But thus far I've skirted around one of the biggest forces in popular music today - rap. Except for a brief dalliance with OutKast last summer, my rap listening has been entirely music that is decades old - Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest, and Run-D.M.C.

I don't know why I've been avoiding rap music. It's not a question of taste - what rap I've been exposed to I've found intriguing. But there's something very intimidating to me about the entire field of hip hop, even more so than most popular music I know nothing about. My parents exposed me to classic rock, and the white-boy indie music that's churned out today is not terribly far from my nerdy academic sensibilities. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm not the targeted audience for rap music, and there's something about that that makes me feel like a poser merely for listening. On Friday night, as I kicked back in my khaki shorts with a glass of wine and a crossword puzzle, I couldn't help but notice that the Roots CD I had put on didn't really fit the rest of the scene. I kept waiting for the Cool Police to come in and tell me to turn that music off and put back on a violin concerto or Vampire Weekend or something. In my mind's eye, the Cool Police always look like my black neighbors, who I'm certain are judging me through the walls when I listen to this.

This is all ridiculous, of course. If you haven't heard, we're living in a post-racial world now, and hip-hop is arguably the most influential and prominent genre in popular music today. The counter-cultural icons of yesteryear are now thoroughly mainstream (Exhibit A: Last night's Superbowl half-time show), and I'd argue that rap artists, from their politically-charged lyrics to their crazy celebrity antics, are the true musical superstars of today.

Which means I should probably buckle down and start listening to more rap and stop worrying if that slightly tan looking dude is judging me for listening when I have my window rolled down at a stop light. But it's a different kind of music, and as a result I found it hard to do this week's write-up. Rap music has its place in the history and present culture of popular music, but it also has its own traditions and rules which I'm hardly familiar with. (What's with the skits? The nicknames? Why does every other track have a guest vocalist?).

I'm also not as familiar with even the basic terminology, so I hope you'll forgive me as I try and wade through this. I'm going to try and make an effort to put more rap artists on my listening list, and hopefully I'll learn enough during the process to not embarrass myself when I talk about it.

If I approach something entirely the wrong way, don't be afraid to berate me in the comments. But just keep in mind that I'm a skinny white kid with a Beethoven bumper sticker on his car that's trying his best.

WEEK 45

ARTIST OF THE WEEK: The Roots

WHAT I KNEW BEFORE: Really, I was only familiar with the Roots because they're currently the house band on the subpar Late Night with Jimmy Fallon (in fact, they're probably the only consistently good aspect of that show). I was intrigued enough by their all-over-the-place style of jamming to choose to listen to them for a week; as it turns out, their recorded material is somewhat different in tone, the most notable distinction being the lack of a full-time sousaphone player (seriously).

MY LISTENING: I listened to Things Falls Apart (1999) every day this week, and to Phrenology (2002) three times, as these seemed to be the two most highly-acclaimed Roots albums. I also listened to Game Theory (2006) and Rising Down (2008), as those were the other two Roots albums that happened to be available at my local library.

WHAT I LIKED:

Like I said, most of what I can compare the Roots' music to is older rap from the 80s and early 90s. And, in that regard, their music is lot denser than old-school hip-hop. Gone is the single rapper laying lyrics atop a single tape sample; rather, the Roots' tracks are intricately layered and deep, in the sense that it feels there's a lot of textural levels of the music to explore. Part of the Roots' claim to fame is that they use few recordings during their live performances, rather playing all the backing beats themselves. This sort of performance certainly shows through on their CDs, as the tracks are filled with complex drum parts, backing vocals, squealing guitars and electrifying keyboard parts. It could have ended up sounding flashy and overproduced, all glitz and no substance, but I think the "live performance" aesthetic helps to ground these songs. That most of these tracks wind their way through funk, soul and other disparate genre influences only makes it that much more interesting.

The Roots are also deep in another sense - their lyrics tackle serious subjects like domestic violence, while name-dropping prominent black figures like Chinua Achebe and W.E.B. DuBois. I wasn't expecting the music from a second-rate late night show's house band to tackle such subjects, so I was surprised to discover that a lot of the Roots' music is grounded in this political and social activism. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting and so it took a few days for me to get on board with this sort of music, but by Thursday I was admiring the well-crafted, very intelligent lyrics. "Inevitably, hip-hop records are treated as though they are disposable," implores a voice in "Act Won", the opening to Things Fall Apart. "They are not maximized as product, not to mention as art." The Roots, at least, seem to be trying to change this.

WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:

I don't think I listened to a single Roots album this week that was less than an hour long. It seems like with each CD they're trying to outdo themselves, cramming everything they possible can onto the disc. To call it "overambitious" would be an understatement; every album is another attempt to make the definitive alternative hip hop masterpiece, and I'm not sure if they ever really succeed. I'm all for incorporating a variety of influences into your music, but the endless sound collages and spoken poetry went a little too far for me. A few times, like "The Return to Innocence Lost" at the end of Things Falls Apart, and the epic "Water" on Phrenology, degenerate into what amounts to a bunch of sounds cobbled together to drift aimlessly for ten minutes at a time. I much preferred the Roots when they concentrated their efforts on shorter, less artsy tracks.

WHAT I LEARNED: I usually do my listening while working on schoolwork or cooking dinner, but I'm not sure if rap music is best suited for those endeavors. The Roots especially were a different kind of music, more emotionally draining and in-your-face, harder music to multitask to. I was able to appreciate the music more while driving, or going on a walk, when there was nothing else to distract me. Whether this is a phenomenon that applies to all hip hop, or just the Roots, remains to be seen.

FURTHER EXPLORATION WOULD ENTAIL: I really have no idea where to begin. Wikipedia tells me that Roots frontman ?uestlove headed a "neo soul and hip-hop informed musical collective" called the Soulquarians around the beginning of the century, with other musicians like Mos Def and Q-Tip (who I've at least heard of), and Talib Kwali (who I actually saw perform once). I suppose this would be a place to start? Perhaps?

BEST SONG YOU'VE HEARD: "The Seed 2.0"

For the second week in a row, the default choice, as it's possibly the only song you've heard.

BEST SONG YOU HAVEN'T HEARD: "The Spark"

NEXT WEEK'S ARTIST: Van Halen

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What's the Deal with that Hot New Auto-Tuney Sound?

Picture yourself as a record producer in 1997. Some breathless engineer bursts into your plush office, golden records adorning the walls, holding a 3.5 inch floppy diskette. He knows he only has a few precious seconds before your associate follows him in and tackles him to the floor, so he'd better make this good. "Hey, check out my new proprietary pitch-correction softw-" BAM! Down he goes.

"No, no, let him up, Faheem," you tell your man, through a wry grin. "I want to hear what he has to say."

The engineer stands up, adjusts his thick glasses, checks his pocket protector, and takes a deep breath to regain his composure. You notice that his shirt sports a blue and red Exxon logo, and that hanging from his right breast pocket is a photo ID badge with the name "Andy Hildebrand."

"It's like this, see," Hildebrand begins. "We have this software that detects seismic changes, for finding oil, see?" he points knowingly to the Exxon logo on his shirt. "And I figured out that you can use it to alter pitch, to make each not perfect, see? And seeing as it's always been my dream to be a pop singer, I thought I'd bring it to you and we'd make something happen. See?"

He fidgets nervously as you size up his offer. "Oh yes indeed, Mr. Hildebrand," you say, with an almost imperceptible wink. "I'm certain we can make something happen." You reach down and push a button on your desk, opening up a trapdoor under the feet of the excited engineer. Before he falls, your associate gently snatches the floppy disk from his grasp. "Faheem, take that disk to Mark Taylor over at Metro Productions. I hear that his client, Cher, is planning a new dance album, Believe, and this might be just the thing..."

Your associate, Faheem Rasheed Najim, delivers the disk, but before he does, he makes a copy for himself. Seven years later, Faheem broke out the fabled software, adopted the stage name T-Pain, and the Auto-Tune revolution was born...

Okay, that's probably not how it really happened, considering T-Pain would have been only 12 years old at the time of my little fable. But some of it is true, like the part about Andy Hildebrand inventing the software and T-Pain ushering in the Rebirth of Auto-Tune.

No matter what you feel about the use of auto-tune, you've got to give Mr. Pain some credit for starting such a big thing in the music business. I mean, this software was first used by country music stars in their live performances to make it sound like they had perfect pitch. Which, personally, as a music fan, I have no problem with. This feature might get under the skin of those who believe in the sanctity of live performance, but in my opinion, using a computer to correct the occasional flubbed note is basically no different than using an electronic amplifier to enhance your instruments or playing your guitar through a wah-wah pedal to alter the sound. It's the 21st century now, and nothing is as it seems; plus acoustic concerts went out of vogue after Nirvana on "MTV Unplugged."

Before coming to the fore with T-Pain's ad nauseum usage, the auto-tune software had a brief exposure with Cher's 1998 hit "Believe." A few other artists utilized the method at the time, but it didn't explode, partly because of some wheeling and dealing by Cher's producers: for a while after the song was first released, they told everyone that a vocoder had produced the distorted vocal effects.

But the secret was soon out, and it wasn't long until auto-tune fell into the hands of the artist who would nurture it and spread it far and wide. Starting in 2005, every song from every album released by T-Pain featured auto-tune heavily. And I mean heavily. Not just to correct the pitch on a couple of phrases and not just here and there in the chorus. I'm talking every single note sounds like he's hitting himself in the throat Bobby McFerrin-style when he sings.

The unique and captivating sound produced by his liberal use of auto-tune has garnered T-Pain some intense recognition in the music industry and in pop culture. His last two albums peaked at numbers 1 and 4 in the US, and five of his singles reached the top 10, according to the Billboard Top 200 chart. He appeared in the Saturday Night Live Lonely Island digital short "I'm on a Boat." And he introduced his auto-tuney sound to fellow artists such as Grammy Award winner Lil Wayne and Academy Award winner Jamie Foxx.

He's even diversified by releasing an iPhone app - called "I Am T-Pain" - that allows buyers all over the world to apply T-Pain's trademark sound to any audio clip they can imagine. The wider availability of the software has led to a marked increase in auto-tune related parody, including auto-tuned versions of other songs, the news, or even just regular, everyday life.

But in addition to the support and imitation, T-Pain's musical innovations have also sparked a fair degree of backlash. Criticism peaked with Jay-Z's 2009 single D.O.A. (Death of Auto-Tune), which berates modern day rappers for their "light" voices, their "singin' too much," and their "T-Pain'n." Mr. Z further suggests that rap should return to its roots, urging niggas to "just get violent."

T-Pain's thoughts on the matter: he wants everyone who uses auto-tune to pay him royalties. Diddy did it. Why not the rest of the music industry?

I think this request is taking things a bit too far, Mr. Pain. You came across a good thing, and it's worked for you. Don't risk it all by trying to claim ownership or turn too much of a profit. Because as soon as money becomes involved, people will start looking real hard to find the actual genius behind the auto-tune software. And if that happens, T-Pain might not like what people find...

Do I like auto-tuned music? Sure, in moderation and if it's done well. I think T-Pain does a better job at it than Lil Wayne, whose voice just sounds thin and gurgly with too much auto-tuning.

Do I think it's ruining the music industry? Hardly. I see it as a passing fad with which people are just too obsessed at the moment. I'm not a rap purist. I don't necessarily think a hip hop artist has sold out if his shit doesn't "make niggas wanna go 'n commit felonies" (that's Jay-Z again).

I do think, however, that music needs to hold the attention of the public in order to remain successful. Eventually people are going to get bored of hearing the same perfectly-pitched, heavily distorted sound coming out of every single singer's digitally enhanced mouth, and decide that it's time to move on.

But, then again, that's probably what people said when they introduced the first synthesizer...
Continue...

Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 32 - Run-DMC

I was driving in the car with my younger sister during my Beastie Boys portion of this project (Week 8). I cued up Licensed to Ill on the stereo, and informed my sister (the good brother that I am) that this was the first rap album to top the Billboard Charts.

My sister made the sort of bored expression that only a sixteen year old girl can pull off. "I'm not impressed," she informed me, without missing a beat. The subtext of this damning statement, of course, is that this music is old, and thus dated, past its expiration date, no longer fit for consumption.

Is newer always better? We tend to think this way, and not just in regards to music. We're always looking for the next big thing, whether it's an album, a book, a movie, a political movement. And it's certainly true that newer music is probably the best representation of our current age, better suited to speak to us about contemporary issues. But does this necessarily make it better than that which came before, or just different?

Sometimes past works become so popular that it's hard to approach them with anything close to a clean slate. Take, for example, Run-DMC, this week's artist. I'm sure in 1984, their music was exciting, even jarring. I can understand the historical significance, but I don't think I can appreciate how new this music was back then. In part, I've been softened up by rap music since then - the very music that draws inspiration from Run-DMC's initial albums. It's a paradox. Certain groups become so successful, so influential, that they effectively make themselves irrelevant.

Also, I find that I've encountered parodies of this music far more often than the music itself. To bring up the Beastie Boys again, whenever I listen to Run-DMC's amazing song "King of Rock", I find myself thinking of the line from Hello Nasty - "I am the King of Boggle / There is none higher / I get eleven points from the word 'Quagmire' ". Once you've heard a satire like that, how can you take the original seriously anymore?

WEEK 32

Artist of the Week: Run-D.M.C.

What I Knew Before: I think I came into this world with Run-DMC's cover of "Walk This Way" already implanted in my mind; it's one of those songs you just know. Other than that, I had a vague idea that Run-DMC was the first significant rap act to really hit it big on the charts, but I had never really heard much of their music. It just doesn't get that much play outside of I Love the Eighties anymore, I suppose. I did have "King of Rock" in my iTunes library but, in one of those strange quirks of the digital era, I'm not sure how it got there. Its play count was at zero before this week.

My listening: The self-titled Run-D.M.C. (1984), King of Rock (1985), and Raising Hell (1986). I listened to Raising Hell everyday this week, and I listened to the other two three times a piece. Also, I am writing this on Sunday having just listened to Tougher Than Leather (1988), which was so awesome that it knocked the post-Halloween hangover right out of my head. I wish I had listened to it more this week.

What I Liked: Run-DMC brings this raw, unbridled energy to most of their work that pretty much knocks my socks off every time I hear it. The music also has the ability to make the most mundane tasks seem awesome - listening to this made it a lot more fun to unload the dishwasher, or drive to the grocery store.

Run and DMC have a pretty good back-and-forth thing going with most of their rhymes. A few times it degenerates into a sort of lame call-and-response, but most of the time the interaction between the two rappers is pretty fun to listen to. At the same time, most of the rhythms are pretty simplistic, without a lot of the ellisions and rhythmic tricks used by modern rap artists. But that same rhythmic simplicity gives the music a sort of power - once you get into Run-DMC's groove, it's hard to get out of it.

I liked the group's attempt to integrate rap and rock. I know that "rap-rock" has a negative connotation nowadays, but what Run-DMC is doing is pretty cool. They hinted at this combination on their first album with "Rock Box", pursued it unconditionally on King of Rock, backed off a little bit on Raising Hell, and finally reached the perfect combination between the two on Tougher Than Leather. Jam Master Jay's beats aren't bad, exactly, but they're rather spartan and, for the most part, without embellishments. It's a lot more fun to hear Run and DMC rap over a roaring hair-metal guitar riff.

What I Disliked: Remember that thing about dated music I was talking about? A lot of these lyrics are stupid. Really stupid. They seem naive, simplistic and childish compared with what would come later. Some of Run-DMC's earlier stuff has a lot of social messages, which I don't really mind - songs like "It's Like That" and "Wake Up" might be corny, but at least they're sincere. But some of the other songs have lyrics that are pretty terrible. "You Talk Too Much" is a six-minute track filled with strange insults about someone who talks too much ("It's everybody's business that you love to mind / And talkin to you, is like dropping a dime"). And even Run-DMC's attempts at self-aggrandizement fall flat ("D for Never Dirty / MC for Mostly Clean").

I know I just lauded them for their simplistic rhythms, but that got really repetitive after listening to the group for hours upon end every day of the week. Their best songs manipulate this rhythmic minimalism to great effect. Their worst songs fall into that call-and-response format I was talking about, and become really boring, usually involving one of them rapping a line in an ascending, questioning tone, and the other responding in a descending, conclusive tone. ("One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-five-and-six-and-seven? One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-five-and-six-and-SEVEN!" That is my impression of the format for a lot of their tracks. It reminds me of Bulworth rapping.)

Finally, while Run-DMC can pull off the rap-rock integration, it falls completely flat when they try to tie in other genres of music. As Exhibit A, I present you "Roots, Rock, Reggae" and as Exhibit B, I give you "Ragtime".

What I Learned: I learned that Run-DMC was the first rap act to bring the tough, street-smart mentality to the genre. Before they came onto the stage, rap was a lot flashier and showier. Run-DMC brought an angry sort of minimal austerity to the music, and they were probably just as influential in the way they dressed (all in black, with Fedoras and unlaced Adidas sneakers. Compare this to the glitzy outfits of Grandmaster Flash).

I also learned that Run-DMC was opposed to the cover of "Walk This Way", but producer Rick Rubin pressured them into it. While it certainly won them a lot of fame and airtime, I think I'm going to have to side with Run-DMC. It's a kind of a stupid song, and it's sort of a shame that it's become their legacy. There are other, better, Run-DMC songs that involve this partnering of rap and rock.

Cool Fact of the Week: Jam-Master-Jay was murdered in 2002. Since then, Run-DMC has officially disbanded, with the two surviving members refusing to perform under that name. In an age in which a lot of older acts are embarking on "reunion tours" with only one or two original members, I think that Run-DMC's decision to retire the name is very classy indeed.

Further Exploration Would Entail: There are some later Run-DMC albums that are almost universally panned - Back From Hell (1990), Down With the King (1993), and Crown Royal (2001). The latter includes collaboration efforts involving Kid Rock and Fred Durst, so I think I'll definitely be staying away. Rather, I'm interested in exploring the early forms of rap music to which Run-DMC was reacting. I doubt that Grandmaster Flash, the Sugarhill Gang, or Afrika Bambaataa have enough albums out to merit an entire week, but I might start exploring their singles.

Best Song You've Heard:

King of Rock

Best Song You Haven't Heard:

Tougher Than Leather

Next Week's Artist:

The Allman Brothers Band

[Postscript: I got some inquiries last week about my chronology. I am already on Week 32 on this project, but I've only been blogging for the past three weeks. The artists of the previous, unchronicled weeks have been (in order, as far as I can remember): The Stone Roses, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pavement, U2, Depeche Mode, Guns N' Roses, Joy Division, the Beastie Boys, Bob Dylan, R.E.M., Mötley Crüe, Yes, A Tribe Called Quest, the Velvet Underground, Radiohead AND Daft Punk (this week was a double), Fleetwood Mac, Jane's Addiction, Robert Johnson, Can, Public Enemy, Pink Floyd, Bruce Springsteen, OutKast, Oasis, Johnny Cash, Duran Duran, The Who, The Police, and Pearl Jam.]

Continue...

Mopping Up Culture Vomit: The Exclusivity Agreement, Discovered in Rap via Country

Over a beer and a glass of scotch (I had a bad week), my dad and I continued our long-running discussion on why he just doesn't care for rap music and why I think it's the best thing since sliced-bread/whatever musical genre that came before rap that was as good as rap.

His argument centers on the concept of "technical proficiency." This argument has been running even longer than the rap argument, probably since I figured out who Brad Paisley was and took issue with how stupid his name is.

My dad argued the dude was tremendous at guitar and thus deserved at least some degree of praise. I, citing how "good" Yngwie Malmsteen was at the guitar and how much he actually "sucked balls", didn't give a shit about Brad's prowess.

I argued that somebody like Les Paul or Clapton could smoke Brad Paisley.

And even at the time, I knew that was bullshit, at least in some way. I'm not sure either of them could actually play faster that Paisley, but I thought they could beat him in terms of "technique", grandly-conceived.

I have since recanted my dislike for Brad (yup, I love him so much I'm on a first-name basis with him, even if that basis is unrequited), considering how disgustingly good he actually is at guitar and, more importantly, what a terrific songwriter he is.

(Here's where the rap comes back)

My dad was right about "technical proficiency." There is a reason why people adore "technically proficient" people so much: they appreciate how much effort has gone into the artist's product. Artists who toss off their creations aren't particularly revered, except when it's clear how great they are when they actually try (I'm looking at you, Weezy) and how good they still are when they don't (still looking at you, Dwayne).

But he still doesn't like rap. He doesn't view their art as being indicative of "technical proficiency" and thinks he can knock it off. Yes, my father is going to try to write/perform/record a rap song.

And hooooooooly crap, am I excited.

That (my excitement) is not really the point, though.

I'm not excited, per se, for my dad to record a rap song. I'm excited because I know he's going to fail at it.

That did not come out right.

I know he's going to fail because I failed to record a particularly good rap song. And yes, I wrote/performed/recorded a rap song. The results are not pretty, and nobody but myself and my closest confidantes will ever hear it. Unless they decide to embarrass the hell out of me. And frankly, I wouldn't blame them.

You, reader, should take this away. Be open-minded about what constitutes "technical proficiency." A rapper may not be able to singer (thus autotune), but a singer also may not be able to rap (thus, 311). I love them, and they've been doing it for twenty years, but neither of the dudes from 311 could rap their way out of a paper sack.

If it's not already clear: rapping is hard. To get the flow of a Jay-Z, an Andre 3000, or even just a post-College Dropout Kanye, you have to earn it.

Kanye's a good example. His lyrics, at their best, were fresh and insightful on Dropout ("All Falls Down", some of "Jesus Walks"). At their worst, they were banal and faux-misogynistic ("Breathe in, Breathe Out"). His flow could be great ("Get 'Em High", where he might even upstage both Common and Talib Kweli, the latter of whom I never did like anyway).

But, damn, has he gotten so much better. He's great on "Touch the Sky" (maybe better than Lupe, who's one of those who can phone in a verse and still kill it), spectacular on "Gone" (and complemented perfectly by Killa Cam), and uniformly excellent on all of Graduation (but especially "Good Morning" and "Everything I Am").

Rapping is hard, hard, hard. Don't blow off good rappers because they make it look easy. That's what all good musicians should do.

BONUS TRACK (i.e., appendix that didn't quite fit in, but is related):

Following up on last week: Cudi can't sing particularly well, and that makes his live performances allegedly crappy. But does that really take anything away from "Day 'n Nite?"

"Okay," you might say, "but dude didn't produce the song, so is he really responsible for it?"

Yep.

Just as few directors simultaneously write, edit, and direct (I'm not looking at you, Coen Brothers), virtually no musicians perform every duty on their songs (again, not looking at you, Prince).

I should just rename my column, "Cut 'Em Some Slack." Because that's what I tell you to do, every week.

Nobody's perfect. And collaboration's fun. Continue...

Mopping Up Culture Vomit: The Rebirth of Auto-Tune

Kid Cudi, it might be said, evinces why auto-tune was created.

'Cuz gawd DAMN, that dude cannot sing.

Early T-Pain recordings indicate much the same was true with him.

Kaneezy wanted to sing on 808s, but he couldn't, either. So he used a computer. And, for the most part, it turned out pretty great (and Rihanna looks FINE in that video). On the whole, the record wasn't perfect. Kanye's a better pop-rap songwriter than he is a pop songwriter (meaning he doesn't write the strongest hooks). The sound, per Kanyusual, is locked-down.

Sorry. I promise I won't do any more Kanye puns.

But Kanye doesn't appear to be tone-deaf. Nor does T-Pain. Nor, for that matter, does Cudi.

They don't hit the notes perfectly, but they're somewhere in the general vicinity. (SIDE NOTE: Even though he was (sorta) joking on this one, I think "D.O.A." showed that Jigga man is tone-deaf as all get-out.) (SIDE NOTE to THE FIRST SIDE NOTE: Jay-Z attacking someone for riding a trend on an album which fails largely because it poorly rides existing trends strikes me as a bit hypocritical).

Scotty, Faheem (I can't even believe how much better a name that is than T-Pain), and Mr. West could all learn how to sing.

Singing's all about control. Knowing how to breath. Knowing when to hold a note. Knowing how to hold yourself so that the sound comes out most purely.

I'm convinced nearly everyone could learn how to sing. We can't all be Bing Crosby (or David Bowie, for that matter), but that's not really a fair standard anyway.

But why do we need to learn to sing, anyway?

Why was Auto-Tune one of the most reviled trends in recent pop music history?

But was it really all that reviled? People vote with their feet, and the consensus was firmly in favor of the not-actually-a-vocoder.

T-Pain's not a bad example. His songs are almost absurdly catchy. "Buy You a Drank?"

"Can't Believe It?" The remix is even BETTER.

"Chopped & Skrewed?"

A friend (we'll call him R. Batie... no, that's too specific...how about Ryan B.?) told me about the strange chords Pain'll throw into a seemingly simple pop song. "Chopped & Skrewed," in particular, seems satisfyingly weird (even if I don't have the musical vocabulary to point out exactly why.

That same guy also told me that there should be no guilty pleasures. I first took this to mean that I'm not allowed to listen to Pain or Justin or Rihanna or "Forever" (SIDE NOTE: guess we don't hate Chris Brown enough to not use his song in the most touching moment in Office history).

Then I realized he meant I just shouldn't feel guilty about it.

Stop assailing rappers who want to be able to sing. Everybody wishes they could sing. Ever been to a karaoke bar?

Just let 'em in the club already. That is, if you're in it to begin with. Continue...

Mopping Up Culture Vomit: In Defense of Kanye

Defense being a complicated concept.

You'll think I'm defending his actions. Which I sort of am.

And maybe you'll think I'm defending his music. Which I most certainly am.

But what I'm not doing is wholeheartedly condoning what Kanye West did. I'm just examining it.

So we all know the story: cherubic country pop sensation wins a moondick at the Video Music Asswards for Best Female Video or something. She is understandably elated.

The video in question (by the way, I thought cute football player guy wrote "tired of Obama" to Tay-lo at one point) is adorable. You really must have a heart of stone not to get goosebumps when quarterback dude whips out the "I love you" sign after she whips out her own. That's what she said.

Returning to our prior narrative, this is the point at which Kanye becomes more hated than Obama, Jon Asslein, and Rod BlaGEAUYe-vich combined. I'll refrain from linking to said incident because I have faith that anyone who reads this blog has learned how to use the Google.

I feel your hate. Really, I do. Drunk, (yes, he was wasted on a gallon of Hennessy or something else rappers drink), arrogant rapper gets on stage and takes it to the most adorable thing on the face of the planet. Even Obama called him a douchenozzle (paraphrased).

Many have pointed out that Kanye was right. He didn't say Taylor didn't deserve it. He didn't say Taylor made a shitty video. He pointed out that Beyonce made one of the best videos of all time. Cue meme roundup.

And. She. Fucking. Did. You've seen this thing, right? It is so good. So fucking good.

So fucking good that instead of New Years Resolving to do something useful like lose weight or stop punching women, I resolved to watch "Single Ladies" more often. I have, but I'm still disappointed in my progress.

But "Single Ladies" and "You Belong in Me" (fuck; "With Me") are apples and oranges. The first is high concept masquerading as the catchiest song on the face of the Earth starring someone so beautiful she makes Bar Refaeli look like an unfuckable hag.

That was a joke, in case you're an idiot.

Look at that video. Perfect.

PERFECT choreography. Perfect use of special effects. Starring not one, not two, but THREE hot bitches.

That is wrong. They are not bitches. They are queens. There's a rap song about that particular concept by some Wally guy.

The video is brilliant, high art.

"You Belong with Me" is not. It is really, really, really cute and has some sweet things to say about how the best person for us doesn't always look like the best person for us. It is an achievement, and Taylor (and her director, who was conspicuously absent...cue seething hatred for MTV) deserves a lot of credit. And considering that Beyonce won best video of the year, Taylor totally deserves the award.

But people will not be talking about the video for "You Belong with Me" in 15 years.

I'll bet anybody we'll be talking about "Single Ladies" for-eva. And, unfortunately, this stupid...no...educational incident.

I initially just got pissed at people for being pissed at Kanye. I hated their hate.

I told anybody who would listen (and most people who wouldn't) some variation of the following:

"You've never gotten drunk and cussed out somebody that didn't deserve it?"

To which they usually replied, "Well, yeah, but I didn't do it on national TV."

Ah, too true. The simple answer to this might be, "You'll never get the chance to be drunk on national TV and cuss out somebody adorable."

That still didn't shut people up. They were pissed. So I kept thinking about it.

What put Kanye in that position? And I mean position in the grandest, non-sexual sense.

Kanye IS the best rapper alive. Maybe not at rapping, but he's got the best package on the whole.

No. Penis. Jokes.

Okay, just one: "package in the hole?" HA!

The guy is a brilliant rapper in terms of what we think of as rapping. On his best stuff, his flow is unbelievable (take, seriously, anything on any of his solo albums pre-808s, but "Get 'Em High" on The College Dropout might be the best example).

His production is unthinkably good. No arguments there, right?

His choice of guests is perfect. One of Jay-Z's best lines ever (tall order, I realize): "I'm not a businessman, I'm a business, man?" On a Kanye song.

His taste is unparalleled. Just read his blog (when it's not down from all the people reading it). Great music videos, great visual art, great music, great fucking lighting fixtures.

Kanye's taste shows on his records. He has dictated trends in subject matter in rap lyrics (emo rap? him), fashion, and production since before people knew his fucking name. Everybody thought 808s sounded like shit when it came out? All rap, no, all hip-hop sounds like that now.

And he is not a bad man. Like President Bush and Vladimir Putin, I looked into Kanye's teary eyes (you're a nice guy Leno, but, seriously, shame on you for invoking Kanye's dead mother to get a ratings boost) and knew he was a good man.

Listen to the lyrics:

"To the hustlers, killers, murderers, drug-dealers, even the strippers, JESUS WALKS WITH THEM."

"Did you realize that you are a champion in their eyes?"

And, perhaps most simply:

"Welcome to the good life."

Anybody'll admit that Kanye's lyrics have made millions of people happy. Anytime I'm in a bad mood, all I need is to listen to The College Dropout from beginning to end.

That, my friend, is a gift.

A gift, naturally, not given selflessly. The guy's made countless peoples' lives better. So can't he live it up a bit? Date the the most attractive (or sometimes weird-lookin', but still reaaaaaally hot) people on Earth? Can't he believe the same positive jam he feeds to everyone else?

And, as hard as it is to empathize...

As hard as is to understand the concept of getting drunk at a nationally televised event with millions of young, impressionable teenagers watching...

Can't we forgive him for making a mistake?

Brilliant people have always died for their art - suicide, overdose, homicide.

Cobain, Hendrix, Lennon.

Kanye's on suicide watch.

Please. Don't let another person who's made so many people happy die just because he made a mistake.

And, lest I blame everyone but Kanye for Kanye's problems, I'll say this straight to you, Mr. West: you don't have to do this anymore.

The defense rests.

Jordan Pedersen has tried to be a nice person for his whole life. It's worked out sometimes. He would also prefer Format Magazine not sue him for using their brilliant art.
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