Monday, January 15, 2007

Dirty Money

I keep meaning to write a review of the Clipse album Hell Hath No Fury, but it has fallen into the same wormhole as the write up of modest mouse i started three months ago and the write up of quasimoto i began a while back. All artists/albums i like so much, i can figure out a way to do them justice. so instead, i'm just gonna write about "Dirty Money", which is one of my favorite songs on Hell hath no fury, and seems to sum up what is so amazing about the record.

For one thing, while dirty money is about buying shit with drug money, it is a million miles away from all the bling bling flossin tracks by, um, well, everyone. Ok, so maybe the chorus isn't quite so many million miles away:

All my fly bitches like (dirty money, dirty money)
All my stripper bitches like (dirty money, dirty money)
All my college hoes like (dirty money, dirty money)
Dont it spend so right? (dirty money, dirty money)
Now lets go shopping, lets go chill
Lets go buy them new Louis Vuitton heels
Ass of La Perla, ears full of pearls
Damn dirty money know how to treat the girls

Ok, so it sounds like something that might come out of the Jigga's mouth, and i can sort of picture the video of them sippin' cristal in the club pointing at big booty broads in g-strings. However, what separates this from a lot of the materialistic club anthems out there is that this song is ultimately sort of sad and joyless. They are bragging about all the money they got, but you can tell from their voices that they had to pay a high price for their paper. The beat reinforces this - it's both banging and unsettling.

Part of it is that the song is a defense of ill-gotten gangs. It's bling with a concsience:

"I dont mind keepin you up on them must-have's
Pito pumps, Gucci slouch bags
Now tell me, is that dirty money really that bad? "

He's asking because he knows it kinda is that bad. There is also a loneliness to the macking that is a lot deeper than our standard mysogynistic lyrics. In one line, malice says "You could tell me bout ya day, I pretend I listen
And you aint gotta love me, just be convincin' ". Later on he expounds "By no means, am I in love with a stripper
You understand that then you fittin the glass slipper." There is a sadness, an emptiness behind all the glitz and ice.

This song reminds me of coming home late from a club when you are starting to sober up and come down, all the magic of the evening is going away and the city just seems lonely and cold. It's like the final scene in La Dolce Vita where marcello ends up alone on the beach after the party. It's just sad, and cold, and fucking awesome.

Anyways, dirty money. believe that.

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