I reviewed Angel Haze's new album Dirty Gold on RapReviews this week. It's posted below. I had a viscerally negative reaction to the album after listening to it for two weeks straight. Maybe I don't listen to enough pop music so the terribleness of it shocks me, or maybe I was just expecting more from Haze. She has been through legitimate shit and has legitimate talent, but this felt like so much other narcissistic, shallow, self-absorbed pop culture bullshit. Blech.
Diversity has become such a politically correct buzz word in recent years that it is easy to overlook why it is such an important issue. Done right, diversity allows for the inclusion of voices and ideas that would otherwise be overlooked. Diversity means including women and people of color in medical studies, so that issues that are specific to women and different ethnicities are addressed. It means designing buildings so people in wheelchairs can use them. It means designing products and programs that address the wants and needs of a range of customers and constituents, and not just the ones that are the most dominant. Diversity means getting a more accurate picture of what is really going on. Over the course of six mixtapes, Angel Haze has shown why there needs to be more diversity in rap, and what we are missing by having so few prominent female rappers. Haze is a fierce, skilled rapper who can shit-talk with the best of them but also drops rhymes about the struggles that women face. Her 2012 covers EP "Classicks" ended with a version of Eminem's "Cleaning Out My Closet" where she rapped about being sexually abused by multiple men for years. It is a perspective that you rarely get in pop music, let alone hip-hop.
"White Lilies/White Lies" is another example of the perspectives we miss because men dominate hip-hop. There are a thousand rap songs about strippers, but "White Lilies/White Lines" is one of the few that is from the point of view of strippers themselves. "Whose daughter is on the stage?" Haze asks over a brooding beat. "I know her by name." The song is a punch to the gut that will ensure that you never look at a stripper the same way again.
Ironically, it is Angel Haze's very diversity that ends up hurting her major label debut "Dirty Gold." Haze tries to walk the line between battle rapper, pop star, emo rapper, and motivational speaker. That's a lot to tackle in one album, and it is not surprising that it ends up a mess. Too many of Haze's raps are yelled, and they don't jibe with the pop production and softer elements in the music. It's like her label wanted her to be all things to all people all the time, and as a result she's not entirely successful at any of them.
It be easy to blame her label for all the problems with "Dirty Gold." Their attempts to make her next Rihanna certainly aren't helping her, and the fact that she leaked the album ahead of schedule suggests that Haze wasn't totally on board with the direction her label was taking her. While the pop/rap hybrid doesn't always work that well on "Dirty Gold," it's not what really stunts the album. The heartbreaking thing about "Dirty Gold" is how bad the lyrics often are. Haze has shown on her mixtapes that she is not afraid of tackling real problems and addressing things like abuse and her troubled upbringing with frankness and honesty. On "Dirty Gold" she defaults to overused flower metaphors, platitudes, and the kind of empowerment cheerleading that would make Oprah embarrassed. Her spoken word pieces are particularly painful, The album starts with her saying "I'm making it for people who just want to get lost." An interviewer says "That's interesting how music does that. It's like a trapdoor." "It locks you in," agrees Haze. It sounds like a pseudo celebrity doing a confessional on a reality show. Or this spoken intro from "Black Synagogue:"
"And the light, the light can make everything feel beautiful. It can make it feel safe, so safe that, like, in the night, we spend all of our time running away from our truths. And then we meet someone who tells us, 'God will always love you, no matter what you do. The only thing that will never stop loving you is God.' And because of all of our darkness, which at night I still run from, which at night we all still run from, we get stuck chasing light. That's a Black Synagogue."
There is a criticism of religion in there somewhere, but like a lot of her lyrics, it is frustratingly cliched and vague.
Songs that should be moving end up falling apart under the tortured prose and overworked metaphors. The aforementioned "Black Synagogue" is about Haze's disillusionment with religion after growing up in a cultish Christian sect. It comes off more like a temper tantrum than spiritual questioning. "Black Dahlia" is a message to her mother, who raised Haze in the sect. It should be a heart wrenching tear jerkier, but instead it feels like high school poetry. Natalia Kills does some spoken word in the song, telling her mother that she would rather have not been born if it would have made her mother's life better. However, she does it in a British valley girl accent that kills the gravitas of the moment (It doesn't help that Haze inadvertently titles the song after the name given to Elizabeth Short, the aspiring actress who was found mutilated and dismembered in an empty lot in Hollywood in 1947).
It's the endless string of cliches and empty platitudes that killed "Dirty Gold" for me. The love song "Planes Fly" (which could be about a woman) has any romances stamped out of it with clumsy, trite lyrics:
"I'm up in the air, still running from everything below
Yo, I'm not sure what this is but I've got jet fuel in my soul
Propellors tucked in my ribs
We'll fly
When the tunnel's got no light
And the light exposes this dull life
It's alright
When the good feels bad but the bad feels better"
I realize I'm being much harder on Haze than I usually am on male rappers, especially since she can actually rap and is rapping about suicide, self-doubt, love, and other topics not usually heard in the Hot 100. Maybe I am inadvertently playing into the double standard that often goes hand in hand with diversity, in which members of minority groups are held to much higher standards than the majority. There's also the fact that it is harder to rap about real issues than it is to rap about nothing. I'll put up with Ty Dolla $ign rapping about his two bitches in the club, but when a rapper tries to put down some real talk, I expect them to step their game up. I'm also not Haze's target demographic. No doubt her songs would hit much harder if I were a young woman and not a middle-aged man who happens to hate pop music. There have been a number of positive reviews written online about "Dirty Gold," so the record is definitely connecting with some people. It is certainly the type of album that wants to be cathartic to listeners.
I can live with the fact that Haze is going for a pop sound that I'm not a fan of. I can deal with the cheesy power ballads and the EDM beats. What really disappoints me with "Dirty Gold" is how shallow it is. You take a woman who can rap, sing, and could offer some much-needed counter programming to what mainstream hip-hop usually delivers. Instead, she's going for Nikki Minaj meets Eminem meets Rihanna on the Tyra show. It feels like a major missed opportunity. Hip-hop deserves to have more albums by female rappers, and we deserve better albums than "Dirty Gold."
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Against Me!
I will admit to being one of those people who never paid attention to Florida punk band Against Me! until their lead singer changed from Tom Gabel to Laura Jane Grace. Laura's gender transition is the big story that follows the band around. Like Chaz Bono and Lara Wachowski, Laura's become a poster girl for transgender rights. It's a good story, and one that has catapulted a fairly successful punk band into a much larger spotlight. Their new album, Transgender Dysphoria Blues, would be a strong album if all the members had boring and unremarkable backstories.
My impression of Against Me! was that they belonged to that strain somewhat cheesy, anthemic, Warped Tour-ready alt-punk that the kids loved and that left me cold. Songs like "I Was a Teenage Anarchist" sound to me closer to Kings of Leon than Bad Brains. "Stop" sounds like a Franz Ferdinand cover. Their new album is still anthemic rock, but they seem to be less concerned with chasing commercial success. That and Laura has a whole new mess of stuff to sing about.
The title track is a powerful song about her experiences being transgender.
"Your tells are so obvious
Shoulders too broad for a girl
Keeps you reminded
Helps you remember where you come from
You want them to notice
The ragged ends of your summer dress
You want them to see you
Like they see any other girl
They just see a faggot
They hold their breath not to catch the sick."
Later she sings "You know it's obvious but we can't choose how we're made."
The rest of the album isn't always as strong as that opening track. The cheesy alt-rock of their earlier work seeps in during the latter half. I still like it, and I like how Laura is incorporating her experience into punk. One of music's greatest gifts is it's ability to allow us to understand and empathize with people different from us. Most of us will never know what it is like being trans, but Against Me! give is a window into that world.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Macklemore and Ryan Lewis
I wrote about the Macklemore backlash on RapReviews this week.
In the wake of Macklemore and Ryan Lewis's stratospheric rise to success this year, a considerable backlash has inevitably raised its head on the internet. The backlash got especially heavy in the wake of the MTV Video Awards in August and the Grammys at the end of January. The duo have been accused of being corny, of not being "real hip-hop," of stealing the limelight from African-American rappers and gay rappers, and of being pandering white hipsters. People have every right to not like Macklemore and Ryan Lewis's music. It's not surprising people are getting sick of them given how ubiquitous their music is. Even a powerful song like "Same Love" gets old after the thousandth listen. However, the backlash has gotten ridiculous, and it's now open season on Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. It's gotten to the point where Macklemore could donate all of his money to the poor and people would criticize him as having a white messiah complex or being self-righteous or thinking he's too good for money. A lot of the criticism of the duo rests on faulty arguments, so it's worth looking at what people are saying about them and what the truth of of the matter actually is. First things first: the Grammys are not an accurate reflection of the state of music. They are and always have been an establishment award show that reflects the tastes of older people in the record industry, and they are almost always a joke. Who can forget Jethro Tull beating Metallica for best Hard Rock/Metal album in 1988? Eminem has won most of the best hip-hop album awards, even for his albums that weren't that great, because he's a known entity to the voters. I, along with Macklemore, was disappointed that Kendrick Lamar didn't win best hip-hop album, but it's not like that invalidates Kendrick or even represents what people who actually care about music think.
Some critics say that Macklemore and Ryan Lewis make music for people who don't like hip-hop. While "The Heist" is definitely a crossover success, it's popular among hip-hop heads as well. "The Heist" has a 74 on Metacritic, and the low scores are from rock critics. Hip-hop outlets like XXL, Hip Hop DX and this site all gave "The Heist" very positive reviews, and it made several RapReviews year-end lists. Pop fans may love Macklemore, but so do hip-hop fans.
Another argument, raised by Jon Caramanica of the New York Times and Kenzo Shibata on The Learned Fangirl, is that Macklemore is the Pat Boone of hip-hop, a milquetoast white performer taming the music down and acting as a gentrifying force for a legion of white rappers set to invade. There are two big problems with this argument. The first is that Macklemore is not the first or most successful white rapper. He comes from an indie rap scene that is full of white MCs. From El-P to Aesop Rock to Brother Ali to Edan to Cage, there has been no shortage of rappers of European descent in indie rap. That's not to mention the Beastie Boys, Bubba Sparxx, and Paul Wall, white rappers with mainstream success. The elephant in the room is Eminem, who is one of the most successful rappers of the past fifteen years, who also happens to be one of the best, who also happens to have won multiple Grammys, who also has crossover hits, and who also has issues tanning. And that's just America. There are thriving hip-hop scenes with mostly white MCs in Australia and Europe. Jon Caramanica is probably right that Macklemore is a template that your average white kid who was not raised on the streets of Detroit can follow to incorporate rapping into the white, college-educated, middle class experience. I can guarantee that the next few years will see a slew of releases by white MCs who are either doing hipster rap or trying to do a pop-rap crossover. Whether that will lead to African-Americans being driven out of hip-hop is highly unlikely.
Ever since the Beastie Boys put out "Licensed to Ill" in 1987, people have been afraid that white folks were going to steal hip-hop from African-Americans in the same way whites "stole" rock n' roll from them thirty years earlier. There's several problems with this claim. For one thing, white co-option of rock music happened in a time before the Civil Rights Act, when segregation was legal, and when black music was called "race music." While there is still a lot of deep-rooted racial segregation and discrimination in the U.S., we've come a long way from the days when you would not hear black artists on "white" stations.
Secondly, in many ways hip-hop won. It has become the de facto music of youth culture. Rock music, which had been dominant since the 60s, has become a marginalized, outdated genre. Pop music is more likely to incorporate hip-hop production elements as it is to incorporate rock guitars. A young kid nowadays interested in making music is more likely to pick up a laptop or turntables than a guitar. Hip-hop slang has gone mainstream; even country musicians are using it. White sorority girls belt along to Rick Ross and Jay Z songs. Madonna, a 50-year-old white woman, came to the Grammy's WEARING A GRILL. Mainstream "white" culture has gone much more hip-hop than hip-hop has gone "white." Macklemore isn't an example of a white person co-opting hip-hop; he's an example of how hip-hop has influenced mainstream culture. Twenty years ago Macklemore and Ryan Lewis would probably have picked up guitars and formed a grunge band. Nowadays it's more natural for them to pick up a mic and drum machine.
What also gets lost in the Macklemore and Ryan Lewis hate is the fact that they put out their album by themselves. While the music establishment certainly embraced them and their ability to move units, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis were not the result of sinister machinations of the record industry to have white people take over rap. They were two dudes who worked for years before making it big. The other artists they were competing against in the Grammys all had major label support. Macklemore was also not the only rapper nominated for a Grammy whose music has crossover elements. Drake and Kendrick both have pop and R&B elements in their music, as do a lot of mainstream hip-hop artists. There are commercial considerations at work: it's hard to sell a million downloads of a dude rappity-rapping. A lot of this crossing over is due to how completely hip-hop has saturated into mainstream culture. There isn't the division between hip-hop and R&B or pop music like there was twenty years ago. Kids today aren't as segregated in their listening habits as Gen Xers were, and the music they make reflects their diverse tastes.
Some gay rights activists complain that Macklemore is stealing music from gay rappers, and he's acting like a gay savior. I know Madonna and Lady Gaga both have gay detractors who resent them acting like great straight saviors. But those artists, like Macklemore, have done a lot for gay rights by bringing gay people into the forefront of mainstream culture. Macklemore is this only artist I know of who has a hit song supporting gay marriage, and one of the few artists I can think of in any genre to have a hit song that was explicitly pro-gay. That's a big deal.
Hip-Hop is a large and diverse genre. It's not a zero-sum game. It's not like a straight white rapper getting popular means that the quota for hip-hop has been filled for the year so all projects by black and gay rappers have to be shelved. The mainstream success of Jay Z, Kanye, Drake and Nikki Minaj is proof of that. You have artists like Migos, DJ Mustard, and Chief Keef making music that speaks directly to young African-Americans, and you have artists like Chance the Rapper pushing the genre forward. Rap is doing fine, with or without Macklemore. If anything, he can act as a trojan horse for black and gay artists to penetrate part of the market that hasn't been receptive to hip-hop before. There are a whole bunch of people who didn't know they were hip-hop fans before "The Heist." Many of them will continue to explore the genre. Some of them will check out Kendrick Lamar because of Macklemore's clumsy apology on Instagram.
People have every right to be tired of Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, to not be into their take on hip-hop music, and to never want to hear "The Heist" again. But creating a narrative where Macklemore and Ryan Lewis are using their white privilege to take over and ruin hip-hop sells both Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and hip-hop short. This music is big enough for different kinds of artists and different approaches. If anything, Macklemore deserves credit for challenging the dominant party rap cliches and opening up hip-hop to new topics and new audiences.
In the wake of Macklemore and Ryan Lewis's stratospheric rise to success this year, a considerable backlash has inevitably raised its head on the internet. The backlash got especially heavy in the wake of the MTV Video Awards in August and the Grammys at the end of January. The duo have been accused of being corny, of not being "real hip-hop," of stealing the limelight from African-American rappers and gay rappers, and of being pandering white hipsters. People have every right to not like Macklemore and Ryan Lewis's music. It's not surprising people are getting sick of them given how ubiquitous their music is. Even a powerful song like "Same Love" gets old after the thousandth listen. However, the backlash has gotten ridiculous, and it's now open season on Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. It's gotten to the point where Macklemore could donate all of his money to the poor and people would criticize him as having a white messiah complex or being self-righteous or thinking he's too good for money. A lot of the criticism of the duo rests on faulty arguments, so it's worth looking at what people are saying about them and what the truth of of the matter actually is. First things first: the Grammys are not an accurate reflection of the state of music. They are and always have been an establishment award show that reflects the tastes of older people in the record industry, and they are almost always a joke. Who can forget Jethro Tull beating Metallica for best Hard Rock/Metal album in 1988? Eminem has won most of the best hip-hop album awards, even for his albums that weren't that great, because he's a known entity to the voters. I, along with Macklemore, was disappointed that Kendrick Lamar didn't win best hip-hop album, but it's not like that invalidates Kendrick or even represents what people who actually care about music think.
Some critics say that Macklemore and Ryan Lewis make music for people who don't like hip-hop. While "The Heist" is definitely a crossover success, it's popular among hip-hop heads as well. "The Heist" has a 74 on Metacritic, and the low scores are from rock critics. Hip-hop outlets like XXL, Hip Hop DX and this site all gave "The Heist" very positive reviews, and it made several RapReviews year-end lists. Pop fans may love Macklemore, but so do hip-hop fans.
Another argument, raised by Jon Caramanica of the New York Times and Kenzo Shibata on The Learned Fangirl, is that Macklemore is the Pat Boone of hip-hop, a milquetoast white performer taming the music down and acting as a gentrifying force for a legion of white rappers set to invade. There are two big problems with this argument. The first is that Macklemore is not the first or most successful white rapper. He comes from an indie rap scene that is full of white MCs. From El-P to Aesop Rock to Brother Ali to Edan to Cage, there has been no shortage of rappers of European descent in indie rap. That's not to mention the Beastie Boys, Bubba Sparxx, and Paul Wall, white rappers with mainstream success. The elephant in the room is Eminem, who is one of the most successful rappers of the past fifteen years, who also happens to be one of the best, who also happens to have won multiple Grammys, who also has crossover hits, and who also has issues tanning. And that's just America. There are thriving hip-hop scenes with mostly white MCs in Australia and Europe. Jon Caramanica is probably right that Macklemore is a template that your average white kid who was not raised on the streets of Detroit can follow to incorporate rapping into the white, college-educated, middle class experience. I can guarantee that the next few years will see a slew of releases by white MCs who are either doing hipster rap or trying to do a pop-rap crossover. Whether that will lead to African-Americans being driven out of hip-hop is highly unlikely.
Ever since the Beastie Boys put out "Licensed to Ill" in 1987, people have been afraid that white folks were going to steal hip-hop from African-Americans in the same way whites "stole" rock n' roll from them thirty years earlier. There's several problems with this claim. For one thing, white co-option of rock music happened in a time before the Civil Rights Act, when segregation was legal, and when black music was called "race music." While there is still a lot of deep-rooted racial segregation and discrimination in the U.S., we've come a long way from the days when you would not hear black artists on "white" stations.
Secondly, in many ways hip-hop won. It has become the de facto music of youth culture. Rock music, which had been dominant since the 60s, has become a marginalized, outdated genre. Pop music is more likely to incorporate hip-hop production elements as it is to incorporate rock guitars. A young kid nowadays interested in making music is more likely to pick up a laptop or turntables than a guitar. Hip-hop slang has gone mainstream; even country musicians are using it. White sorority girls belt along to Rick Ross and Jay Z songs. Madonna, a 50-year-old white woman, came to the Grammy's WEARING A GRILL. Mainstream "white" culture has gone much more hip-hop than hip-hop has gone "white." Macklemore isn't an example of a white person co-opting hip-hop; he's an example of how hip-hop has influenced mainstream culture. Twenty years ago Macklemore and Ryan Lewis would probably have picked up guitars and formed a grunge band. Nowadays it's more natural for them to pick up a mic and drum machine.
What also gets lost in the Macklemore and Ryan Lewis hate is the fact that they put out their album by themselves. While the music establishment certainly embraced them and their ability to move units, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis were not the result of sinister machinations of the record industry to have white people take over rap. They were two dudes who worked for years before making it big. The other artists they were competing against in the Grammys all had major label support. Macklemore was also not the only rapper nominated for a Grammy whose music has crossover elements. Drake and Kendrick both have pop and R&B elements in their music, as do a lot of mainstream hip-hop artists. There are commercial considerations at work: it's hard to sell a million downloads of a dude rappity-rapping. A lot of this crossing over is due to how completely hip-hop has saturated into mainstream culture. There isn't the division between hip-hop and R&B or pop music like there was twenty years ago. Kids today aren't as segregated in their listening habits as Gen Xers were, and the music they make reflects their diverse tastes.
Some gay rights activists complain that Macklemore is stealing music from gay rappers, and he's acting like a gay savior. I know Madonna and Lady Gaga both have gay detractors who resent them acting like great straight saviors. But those artists, like Macklemore, have done a lot for gay rights by bringing gay people into the forefront of mainstream culture. Macklemore is this only artist I know of who has a hit song supporting gay marriage, and one of the few artists I can think of in any genre to have a hit song that was explicitly pro-gay. That's a big deal.
Hip-Hop is a large and diverse genre. It's not a zero-sum game. It's not like a straight white rapper getting popular means that the quota for hip-hop has been filled for the year so all projects by black and gay rappers have to be shelved. The mainstream success of Jay Z, Kanye, Drake and Nikki Minaj is proof of that. You have artists like Migos, DJ Mustard, and Chief Keef making music that speaks directly to young African-Americans, and you have artists like Chance the Rapper pushing the genre forward. Rap is doing fine, with or without Macklemore. If anything, he can act as a trojan horse for black and gay artists to penetrate part of the market that hasn't been receptive to hip-hop before. There are a whole bunch of people who didn't know they were hip-hop fans before "The Heist." Many of them will continue to explore the genre. Some of them will check out Kendrick Lamar because of Macklemore's clumsy apology on Instagram.
People have every right to be tired of Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, to not be into their take on hip-hop music, and to never want to hear "The Heist" again. But creating a narrative where Macklemore and Ryan Lewis are using their white privilege to take over and ruin hip-hop sells both Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and hip-hop short. This music is big enough for different kinds of artists and different approaches. If anything, Macklemore deserves credit for challenging the dominant party rap cliches and opening up hip-hop to new topics and new audiences.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Rival Dealer Review
Burial, Rival Dealer
Originally published on RapReviews.com
British producer Burial came on the scene in the mid-2000s, making dubstep that channeled urban loneliness. His critically acclaimed 2008 album "Untrue" combined dubstep's shuffling beats and wobbling bass with filtered vocal samples that evoked a sense of yearning and romantic longing. It was the soundtrack for walking home alone from a club at 2am feeling disconnected from the rest of the world.
Burial hasn't released an album since "Untrue," but he has been busy putting out EPs. In 2012 he released "Kindred" and "Truant/Rough Sleeper." On those EPs he experimented with longer running times and more complex arrangements. He also started moving away from the confines of dubstep, exploring 90s rave and abstract compositions.
"Rival Dealer" is yet another leap forward for Burial. He completely abandons any semblance of dubstep, replacing it with 90s-influenced techno and house. The title track has a driving beat that references the late-80s dance/R&B of Soul II Soul and C+C Music Factory. It is aggressive and confident, which is a change from Burial's previous music. He samples Gavin DeGraw's "More Than Anyone," repeating the line "I'm going to love you more than anyone." The completely changes at the five minute mark, becoming a haze of static bass while samples of "this is who I am" and Lord Finesse declaring "You know my motherfucking style!" play. Seven and a half minutes in, everything goes silent, replace by ambient synthesizers and sample of a woman talking about looking at the night sky.
"Hiders" is the shortest song on the EP, but still manages to switch moods and tempos in its four minute running time. It's a song that conveys feelings of joy, empowerment, and overcoming obstacles, albeit in Burial's own skewed way. A triumphant piano plays over heavily filtered vocals. An 80s synth drum beat finally kicks in at the 2:40 mark, and barely sticks around for a minute before the song devolves into ambient noise and silence. It's a gorgeous, triumphant piece of music.
Burial makes the theme of coming out explicit by ending the song with part of director Lana Wachowski's 2012 speech to the Human Rights Campaign about being transgender (Wachowski is probably best known for making the "Matrix" trilogy with her brother back when she was Larry and they were the Wachowski Brothers; Her speech about what it was like growing up transgender and why she decided to transition makes a powerful argument for trans rights).
In a text to a British DJ, Burial explained "I wanted the tunes to be anti-bullying tunes that could maybe help someone to believe in themselves, to not be afraid, and to not give up, and to know that someone out there cares and is looking out for them." That's a lofty goal, and the EP largely succeeds. It is a moving piece, and transcends the confines of dance music. However, as good as "Rival Dealer" is, I personally hope that Burial starts to move away from these long-form epic tracks. He's released six songs that are all over the 10-minute mark, and I think he's taken the concept of a longer, more intricate track about as far as he can. There is a frustrating formlessness to "Rival Dealer" and "Come Down to Us" that takes away from impact of those songs. Burial has been moving farther and farther away from the physical joys of dance music into a more cerebral space. This more cerebral music is interesting and challenging, but it is missing some of immediacy of his earlier work. "Hiders" hints at one direction Burial could go in: making dance music that could get asses moving but also give you something to think about. That isn't to diminish "Rival Dealers;" but I do hope his next release sees him going shorter rather than longer.
Originally published on RapReviews.com
British producer Burial came on the scene in the mid-2000s, making dubstep that channeled urban loneliness. His critically acclaimed 2008 album "Untrue" combined dubstep's shuffling beats and wobbling bass with filtered vocal samples that evoked a sense of yearning and romantic longing. It was the soundtrack for walking home alone from a club at 2am feeling disconnected from the rest of the world.
Burial hasn't released an album since "Untrue," but he has been busy putting out EPs. In 2012 he released "Kindred" and "Truant/Rough Sleeper." On those EPs he experimented with longer running times and more complex arrangements. He also started moving away from the confines of dubstep, exploring 90s rave and abstract compositions.
"Rival Dealer" is yet another leap forward for Burial. He completely abandons any semblance of dubstep, replacing it with 90s-influenced techno and house. The title track has a driving beat that references the late-80s dance/R&B of Soul II Soul and C+C Music Factory. It is aggressive and confident, which is a change from Burial's previous music. He samples Gavin DeGraw's "More Than Anyone," repeating the line "I'm going to love you more than anyone." The completely changes at the five minute mark, becoming a haze of static bass while samples of "this is who I am" and Lord Finesse declaring "You know my motherfucking style!" play. Seven and a half minutes in, everything goes silent, replace by ambient synthesizers and sample of a woman talking about looking at the night sky.
"Hiders" is the shortest song on the EP, but still manages to switch moods and tempos in its four minute running time. It's a song that conveys feelings of joy, empowerment, and overcoming obstacles, albeit in Burial's own skewed way. A triumphant piano plays over heavily filtered vocals. An 80s synth drum beat finally kicks in at the 2:40 mark, and barely sticks around for a minute before the song devolves into ambient noise and silence. It's a gorgeous, triumphant piece of music.
Burial makes the theme of coming out explicit by ending the song with part of director Lana Wachowski's 2012 speech to the Human Rights Campaign about being transgender (Wachowski is probably best known for making the "Matrix" trilogy with her brother back when she was Larry and they were the Wachowski Brothers; Her speech about what it was like growing up transgender and why she decided to transition makes a powerful argument for trans rights).
In a text to a British DJ, Burial explained "I wanted the tunes to be anti-bullying tunes that could maybe help someone to believe in themselves, to not be afraid, and to not give up, and to know that someone out there cares and is looking out for them." That's a lofty goal, and the EP largely succeeds. It is a moving piece, and transcends the confines of dance music. However, as good as "Rival Dealer" is, I personally hope that Burial starts to move away from these long-form epic tracks. He's released six songs that are all over the 10-minute mark, and I think he's taken the concept of a longer, more intricate track about as far as he can. There is a frustrating formlessness to "Rival Dealer" and "Come Down to Us" that takes away from impact of those songs. Burial has been moving farther and farther away from the physical joys of dance music into a more cerebral space. This more cerebral music is interesting and challenging, but it is missing some of immediacy of his earlier work. "Hiders" hints at one direction Burial could go in: making dance music that could get asses moving but also give you something to think about. That isn't to diminish "Rival Dealers;" but I do hope his next release sees him going shorter rather than longer.
Migos
Migos Young Rich N***s Originally published on RapReviews
"Versace," the breakout hit by Atlanta trio Migos, could easily be a parody song meant to make fun of how stupid rap has gotten in the twenty-teens. The hook is just the word "Versace" repeated eighteen times in a row, and lyrically it doesn't get deeper than "shoes and shirt Versace/Your bitch want in my pockets/She ask me why my drawers silk/I told that bitch ‘Versace'." The video, which features the rappers hanging out in a mansion showing off their Versace clothes and jewelry with a bunch of finger-sucking models and a panther, wouldn't need too much to be a Lonely Island bit. It was one of the stupidest songs of 2013. It was also a hit that earned the trio a remix with a verse by Drake.
I was so put off by "Versace" that I wrote off Migos and avoided listening to "YRN." Then the mixtape ended up on a bunch of best of 2013 lists by people whose opinion I respect. I decided to give it another listen to see if there was some hidden genius in Migos that I was missing. After listening to "YRN" for a week straight, I think I understand the appeal.
One thing I have to say about the Migos right off the bat: when Quavo, Takeoff, and Offset aren't just repeating the same word, chirping like a bird, or using white pop stars' names as drug slang, they can actually kind of rap. In true Southern style, they rap in triple-time, dropping verses that are kept strictly to sex, drugs, luxury brands, and occasionally giving shout-outs to dead homies ("R.I.P."). Their flow alternates between chanting and sing-songy, adding a catchiness to the songs that works well with the melodic production. They may not have much substance, but they have an excess of style. They aren't going to give Earl Sweatshirt a challenge in the lyricism department, but they are a lot more fun to listen to.
The production is well-executed Southern trap rap. Gucci Maine collaborator Zaytoven produced six songs on the tape, including "Versace." The rest of the tracks are handled by Migos' childhood friend Juvie, Stack Boy Twuan, Phenom Da Don, Dun Deal, C4, Mercy, EA, and MPC Cartel. The beats are all mostly built around the synths, rolling hi-hats, and snap beats typical of Southern rap, but a little tweaked. The songs manage to hit hard but also be catchy, and the producers throw in trance and ambient influences on some of the songs. They know how effective minimalism can be, when to go all out and when to hold back.
"Versace," the breakout hit by Atlanta trio Migos, could easily be a parody song meant to make fun of how stupid rap has gotten in the twenty-teens. The hook is just the word "Versace" repeated eighteen times in a row, and lyrically it doesn't get deeper than "shoes and shirt Versace/Your bitch want in my pockets/She ask me why my drawers silk/I told that bitch ‘Versace'." The video, which features the rappers hanging out in a mansion showing off their Versace clothes and jewelry with a bunch of finger-sucking models and a panther, wouldn't need too much to be a Lonely Island bit. It was one of the stupidest songs of 2013. It was also a hit that earned the trio a remix with a verse by Drake.
I was so put off by "Versace" that I wrote off Migos and avoided listening to "YRN." Then the mixtape ended up on a bunch of best of 2013 lists by people whose opinion I respect. I decided to give it another listen to see if there was some hidden genius in Migos that I was missing. After listening to "YRN" for a week straight, I think I understand the appeal.
One thing I have to say about the Migos right off the bat: when Quavo, Takeoff, and Offset aren't just repeating the same word, chirping like a bird, or using white pop stars' names as drug slang, they can actually kind of rap. In true Southern style, they rap in triple-time, dropping verses that are kept strictly to sex, drugs, luxury brands, and occasionally giving shout-outs to dead homies ("R.I.P."). Their flow alternates between chanting and sing-songy, adding a catchiness to the songs that works well with the melodic production. They may not have much substance, but they have an excess of style. They aren't going to give Earl Sweatshirt a challenge in the lyricism department, but they are a lot more fun to listen to.
The production is well-executed Southern trap rap. Gucci Maine collaborator Zaytoven produced six songs on the tape, including "Versace." The rest of the tracks are handled by Migos' childhood friend Juvie, Stack Boy Twuan, Phenom Da Don, Dun Deal, C4, Mercy, EA, and MPC Cartel. The beats are all mostly built around the synths, rolling hi-hats, and snap beats typical of Southern rap, but a little tweaked. The songs manage to hit hard but also be catchy, and the producers throw in trance and ambient influences on some of the songs. They know how effective minimalism can be, when to go all out and when to hold back.
How well you like the Migos depends on how much you can embrace their use of repetition. Most of the hooks on "YRN" are built around the group repeating the same word or phrase over and over again. It simultaneously drove me crazy and got in my head. I found myself cruising around chanting "Hannah Montana! Hannah Montana! Hannah Montana! I got molly, I got white, I got molly, I got white, and I been trapping trapping trapping trapping all damn night!" At their best, Migos are having so much fun that I forget just how the dumb what they're saying is. Then after the third song in a row, Quavo's unrelenting chanting becomes too much and I listen to something else.
Migos biggest issue might be that album-length mixtapes aren't the best way to showcase their talent. They don't have eighteen songs worth of material. They have maybe five songs worth of material, spread out over eighteen tracks. They are the musical equivalent of a fried Twinkie: totally devoid of nutritional value yet really satisfying in small doses. Taken in bites, "YRN" is a good time, but it is way more Migos than anyone should ingest in a single serving. I found myself alternating between hating it and loving it, then hating myself for loving it. That's a lot of conflicting emotions for uncomplicated music.
Migos biggest issue might be that album-length mixtapes aren't the best way to showcase their talent. They don't have eighteen songs worth of material. They have maybe five songs worth of material, spread out over eighteen tracks. They are the musical equivalent of a fried Twinkie: totally devoid of nutritional value yet really satisfying in small doses. Taken in bites, "YRN" is a good time, but it is way more Migos than anyone should ingest in a single serving. I found myself alternating between hating it and loving it, then hating myself for loving it. That's a lot of conflicting emotions for uncomplicated music.
Ranting About Macklemore
Kenzo Shibata's article "Macklemore, the Peter Frampton of Hip-Hop" inspired me to write a ranty comment, which I've published below. I'm working on an editorial for rapreviews on the same subject.
I have a couple issues with your argument.
#1. While Macklemore was embraced by the record industry when they realized he could make them money, he’s an independent artist. He and Ryan Lewis put that album out by themselves. He’s not part of the system trying to water rap down, man.
#2. Le1f, while gay and a rapper, doesn’t make amazing music, and certainly doesn’t make the kind of music that could be expected to resonate with tens of millions of people. I love Big Freedia but she’s not about to go mainstream either. It’s also not a zero sum game -just because a straight guy had the first pro-gay rap hit doesn’t mean that there can’t be a gay rapper with a hit as well. If any thing Brother Ali should be mad because he was white and pro-gay before it was cool.
#3. I love PE and NWA, but they haven’t been relevant for twenty years. The kind of hyper political rap that PE made was basically only made by PE. Most “golden era” hip-hop was about being a good MC. Even the Native Tongue groups like De La Soul and Tribe Called Quest weren’t that political. The idea of rap music as the African-American answer to punk rock is largely projection by people outside of hip-hop who want it to be something it never really was.
4. If Macklemore is Framptom, than mainstream hip-hop is Warrant and Poison. it’s become a self-parody where every other song is about strippers or getting drunk in the club or having sex with strippers while getting drunk in the club. There are outliers in the underground and indie scenes, but most rappers are heavily invested in rapping about partying. Even rappers criticizing rapping about partying, like Kanye, rap about partying. Which isn’t to knock Migos or Juicy J or whoever, but shit isn’t exactly deep. kind of like early rock n’ roll, which were mostly thinly veiled songs about sex. Or early punk, which was mostly songs about getting high and trying to get laid.
5. Maybe Macklemore and Ryan Lewis are popular because they are “safe,” but it doesn’t hurt that they every other word out of their mouth isn’t the n word or bitch. I love Kendrick Lamar and I think his album is amazing, but my wife will not let me play it in the house because she can’t deal with the language. And not because she is safe and middlebrow, but because she doesn’t like the fact that so much of rap is full of really offensive language. And not offensive because it’s challenging the system, unless using racial and sexual slurs is somehow anti-establishment now.
What hip-hop needs is more artists operating outside of the major label system, more artists challenging the bullshit that mainstream rap is delivering, and more artists who are able to take the genre in new directions and to new audiences. I don’t love Macklemore, but he is not hip-hop’s problem. Hip-hop is hip-hop’s problem. To paraphrase d. boon, hip hop is whatever we want it to be, and that can include white hipsters rapping about gay marriage and thrift stores.
Thursday, February 06, 2014
Deftones
Listening to the Deafheaven album got me thinking about another band starting with "D" that mixed elements of metal and shoe gaze: Sacramento's Deftones. They were originally lumped along the rap-rock Nu-metal acts of the late 1990s, but they were a much different beast than Limp Bizkit.
My first exposure to them was their video for "Back to School (Mini Maggit)," which features Chino Moreno rapping like a Chicano Beastie Boy. It's a good song, but one that really isn't indicative of their sound. Their 2000 release White Pony got a lot of buzz, but I didn't get around to listening to it until I was stuck in Bulgaria in 2003 with nothing to listen to. Deftones were one of the few "alternative" acts whose music I could find in the bootleg record stalls of Sofia, so I picked up White Pony and their 2003 self-titled release.
While Deftones definitely had some of the aggression of their contemporary nu-metal bands, they also had other sonic elements. The band has stated that the Cure and the Smiths were big influences on them, and there is a softness and complexity to their music that you wouldn't expect from a metal band. I don't mean a softness in terms of having ballads, but in terms of exploring different sounds and emotions. They are sometimes called the Radiohead of metal, and I think that fits. Like Radiohead, they aren't afraid to experiment with different song structures and textures while still delivering solid hooks and melodies.
The result is music that often manages to combine the best parts of shoe gaze and metal without getting too cheesy or emo. It's a fine line to walk, and the Deftones do it well. I can't help but think that the fact that they are a multi-ethnic band from Sacramento, a city that is not exactly the epicenter of culture, contributes to their ability to mix different influences and still sound unique. By all rights they should be another bro band, but they rarely delve into bro aggression.
One of my favorite songs of theirs is "Feiticeira," which opens White Pony. It's a driving song that alternates between heavy and pretty, and tells a creepy tale of being kidnapped. "My jaw and my teeth hurt," Chino sings, "I'm choking from gnawing on the ball." That's what I like about Deftones, at least in their White Pony and later incarnation. It's not music about fucking shit up and raging, brah. It's more complicated than that. They take that aggressive energy and feelings of depression and frustration and channel it in more creative and interesting ways than many of their contemporaries.
They went even farther in that direction with 2003's self-titled follow up. That album was much more about swirling guitars and atmosphere. Partially because they were falling apart as a band due to a combination of drugs (White Pony was named after cocaine, their drug of choice until Chino discovered speed) and ennui. The end result is a powerful album, the sound of a band falling apart.
Which is why listening to Deafheaven and Liturgy made me dig up my Deftones albums. Like Deafheaven, Deftones make pretty metal. Unlike Deafheaven and their black metal brethren, Deftones music isn't as alienating blatantly off-putting. Which makes for better music.
My first exposure to them was their video for "Back to School (Mini Maggit)," which features Chino Moreno rapping like a Chicano Beastie Boy. It's a good song, but one that really isn't indicative of their sound. Their 2000 release White Pony got a lot of buzz, but I didn't get around to listening to it until I was stuck in Bulgaria in 2003 with nothing to listen to. Deftones were one of the few "alternative" acts whose music I could find in the bootleg record stalls of Sofia, so I picked up White Pony and their 2003 self-titled release.
While Deftones definitely had some of the aggression of their contemporary nu-metal bands, they also had other sonic elements. The band has stated that the Cure and the Smiths were big influences on them, and there is a softness and complexity to their music that you wouldn't expect from a metal band. I don't mean a softness in terms of having ballads, but in terms of exploring different sounds and emotions. They are sometimes called the Radiohead of metal, and I think that fits. Like Radiohead, they aren't afraid to experiment with different song structures and textures while still delivering solid hooks and melodies.
The result is music that often manages to combine the best parts of shoe gaze and metal without getting too cheesy or emo. It's a fine line to walk, and the Deftones do it well. I can't help but think that the fact that they are a multi-ethnic band from Sacramento, a city that is not exactly the epicenter of culture, contributes to their ability to mix different influences and still sound unique. By all rights they should be another bro band, but they rarely delve into bro aggression.
One of my favorite songs of theirs is "Feiticeira," which opens White Pony. It's a driving song that alternates between heavy and pretty, and tells a creepy tale of being kidnapped. "My jaw and my teeth hurt," Chino sings, "I'm choking from gnawing on the ball." That's what I like about Deftones, at least in their White Pony and later incarnation. It's not music about fucking shit up and raging, brah. It's more complicated than that. They take that aggressive energy and feelings of depression and frustration and channel it in more creative and interesting ways than many of their contemporaries.
They went even farther in that direction with 2003's self-titled follow up. That album was much more about swirling guitars and atmosphere. Partially because they were falling apart as a band due to a combination of drugs (White Pony was named after cocaine, their drug of choice until Chino discovered speed) and ennui. The end result is a powerful album, the sound of a band falling apart.
Which is why listening to Deafheaven and Liturgy made me dig up my Deftones albums. Like Deafheaven, Deftones make pretty metal. Unlike Deafheaven and their black metal brethren, Deftones music isn't as alienating blatantly off-putting. Which makes for better music.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Belly
 |
| Full on 1993. |
One of my favorite albums in the 1990s was Belly's Star. Belly was group formed by former Throwing Muses and Breeders member Tanya Donnelly. From what I've read, many of the songs were originally supposed to be on the Breeders follow-up to their amazing 1990 album Pod, but then Kim Deal got busy touring with the Pixies so Donnelly decided to form a new band. Many of the songs on Star have the same warped perspective as the early Breeders, so it isn't hard to imagine songs like "Every Word" being Breeders' songs. Belly is best known for "Feed the Tree," their biggest hit.
That song is a bit more pop than the rest of the album, but it does capture Belly's combination of sunny hooks and dark lyrics. Much like the contrast between Donnelly's own cute, elfin looks and her actual personality. Being a human being, she was/is much more complicated than the image of her that the media picked up on. As someone who has dated many a cute, short woman (and is married to one), I can tell you that they often resent being stereotyped as cute. That label doesn't do justice to the fact that their is much more to them than the fact that they are little and pretty. Of course, Belly might not have gotten as much traction had Donnelly not been a looker whose winsome appearance and pretty voice contrasted so well with her lyrics.
There was a dreamy, romantic quality to Belly's music that made them perfect for listening to late at night. I was a freshman in college when I got into them, and I remember how the music seemed to open up a new world to me, both sonically and literally. It was "girlier" than most of the music I listened to, and yet maintained an edge. I listened to it obsessively for much of 93-94. Their follow up, King, went in a more rock direction and as such was a disappointment both commercially and critically. Belly broke up soon after. Tanya Donnelly had a brief solo career before delving into motherhood, but she has continued to release music in the 2000s.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Black Metal
As part of my New Year's resolution to listen to music outside of my comfort zone, I've been exploring black metal. Black metal is a form of extreme metal that is based around blast beats, screeching vocals, and tremolo picking, which basically means quickly strumming the same note. It was born in the late 80s out of the thrash scene, and has become kind of a Big Deal in the last ten years. A lot of critics and musicians seem to take it seriously, and it seems to be the metal sub-genre that is generating the most excitement. My knowledge of black metal is mostly limited to the violence, racism, and church burnings associated with the early 90s Norwegian scene, and the fact that they all wear goofy corpsepaint. I find the screeching vocals incredibly annoying, and the aesthetics, theatricality, anti-Christian rhetoric, and overall creepy vibe kept me far away from black metal until recently.
After Deafheaven's "Sunbather" was voted one of the best albums of the year by Pitchfork, I decided to give it a listen. Deafheavan aren't a "true" black metal band: they don't dress up or wear make up and there is a distinctly hipster vibe to their music. Like Brooklyn's Liturgy, they are essentially hipster post-black metal, but stick largely to the black metal sonic template. They seemed like a good enough starting point for my entry into the genre.
So after listening to "Sunbather" and Liturgy's "Anasthetica," I have to say that I kind of get black metal. I don't think I'm going to listen to a lot of it, but I get why people dig it. First the good: sonically, it can be interesting. It lends itself to a more orchestral, epic vibe than normal metal. Normal metal is all about precision and riffs. Black metal is more about walls of sound and textures. Done well, it can be very powerful, and it sounds different from most music out there. It's heavy, but there is also room to explore different song structures and incorporate other elements. It's not as staid or rigid as a lot of metal or hardcore.
It is also very effective outsider music. It is so extreme and grating that there is no danger of your little sister's friends getting into it. Normal people will never like black metal. Emperor will never be on a Toyata commercial. It is totally extreme and totally exclusive.
Deafheaven in particular explores the contrast between the aggressive and ugly and the soft and pretty. In some ways it reminds me of Fucked Up's "Chemistry of Modern Life," in that it has these rich textures and thoughtful lyrics presented in a package of extreme music. The play between the pretty and ugly works well with Deafheaven. It's a powerful, epic album, and one I find myself enjoying despite my aversion to the screeching vocals.
The svocals still make no sense to me, and I find them annoying. I like some extreme music, and I can listen to Cookie Monster vocals with no problem, but there is something so grating about black metal vocals. It also doesn't make sense to me that a genre so fixated on their lyrical themes has lyrics that are impossible to understand. I never understood this about grind core or power violence either - if you are just growling and screaming into a microphone, don't pretend you are saying actual words. That's what's so interesting about "Sunbather." He's screaming like he's singing about satan and Norse gods or whatever, but the lyrics are actually collegeate poetry about love and longing. The lyrics to the title track are:
I held my breath and drove through a maze of wealthy homes
I watched how green the trees were
I watched the steep walkways and the white fences
I gripped the wheel
I sweated against the leather
I watched dogs twist through the wealthy garden
I watched you lay on a towel in grass that exceeded the height of your legs
I gazed into reflective eyes
I cried against an ocean of light
[…]
It's 5AM and my heart flourishes at each passing moment
Always and forever
I totally relate where singer Gary Clarke is coming from. Like, literally relate because I too spent a good chunk of my twenties being broke in wealthy San Francisco, and I know that mix of longing and jealousy towards the wealthier classes. Those emotions come through on "Sunbather." It's an intense album, but I can't help but feel that it would be so much better if they had an actual, you know, singer singing. Even angry hardcore singing. Anything but dying-eagle screeching.
The other problem I have with black metal is that the music is exhausting. It's being hit in the face repeatedly, or having to take public transportation during rush hour in a bus full of teenagers and drug addicts. There is not a millimeter of space - it's all blast beats and strumming guitars. It's one of the few types of music that genuinely scares me. Partially because it sounds so damn evil, but also because of its history as the music of choice for sociopaths and racists. I know that the whole racist thing was supposedly years ago, but people still love Burzum, and that is a project of an outspoken racist and neo-fascist. People poo-pooing black metal's racist past remind me of people poo-pooing Oi!'s racist past. Maybe the bands are overtly racist, but part of its DNA is that racism.
And what better music for white racists than black metal? Unlike most metal or rock music, it has nothing to do with black American blues music. It has zero groove. It has no beat. It is the whitest music in the world. Despite being called black metal, I am pretty sure that it is the type of music that has the fewest black people actually engaged with it.
My biggest beef with black metal is how deliberately wallowing and self-margianalizing it is. It's music for outsiders by outsiders, and it is guaranteed to keep making you feel like an outsider. I'm not proposing that disenchanted youth should pump some Taylor Swift, but it doesn't seem healthy to me to bury yourself in music that is so intent on making you feel alienated and terrible. Maybe it is like the blues in that there is a catharsis in embracing your misery, but it doesn't sound healthy. And yes, I realize that is what the boomers thought about punk and their parents thought about rock and their parents thought about Frank Sinatra. In the end I'd rather listen to something that isn't as focused on feeling like shit. Like Coltrane. Or just about anything else, really.
Even after delving into black metal, I don't understand why it has become the new hip metal genre. NPR writes about it, and it is Pitchfork's new favorite thing, along with abstract electronic music compositions and whatever Arcade Fire and Kanye release. It makes no sense to me that mainstream and indie music sites are covering this fringe extreme metal while giving other forms of loud music (i.e. contemporary punk and hardcore) largely a pass. Why choose this particular form of loud music to intellectualize about? Is it because it is fringe and outré and dangerous? It's similar to how they get really excited about street rap mix tapes but tend not to cover underground or indie rap. Since it is way cooler for white hipsters to write about poor black kids dealing drugs and shooting people than to listen to rappers closer to their actual demographic and experience. God forbid. (Pot.Kettle.Black)
Wednesday, January 01, 2014
Favorite Songs of the Year
Favorite songs of 2013
Savages, “Husbands”
Wavves, “Demon to Lean On.”
Danny Brown, “Dope Song”
Tree, “Devotion.”
Chance the Rapper, “Everybody’s Something”
The Hunters, “Nosebleed”
Superchunk, “Staying Home”
Run the Jewels, “36 Inch Chain”
Daft Punk, “Get Lucky”
Laura Mvula, “That’s Alright”
Rhye, "Open"
Low, "Plastic Cup"
Favorite albums of the year
Having a kid changed my listening habits this year. Most of the time I was listening to music with my daughter, often early in the morning. As a result, I listened to a lot of mellow music, old jazz, old Sabbath, and old soul. The other stuff was limited to my hour-long commute on Bart, which is incredibly noisy, with shitty headphones. Not a lot of room for subtlety or nuance. Here’s what I liked the most out of what came out this year. If I had to pick my favorite it would be the Colleen record. It is such a delicate, beautiful album and it made my 5 A.M. wake up times much more bearable. I would put it on, get a cup of coffee, and watch my daughter interact with the world in our living room while we waited for the sun to come up.
Cate Le Bon, Mug Museum
Chance the Rapper, Acid Rap
Colleen, The Weighing of the Heart
The Hunters S/T.
Rhye, Woman
Run the Jewels
Savages, Silence Yourself
Special Request, Soul Music.
Superchunk, I Hate Music
Tee Flii Annie RUO’Tay 2
Tree, Sunday School 2
Favorite Rap Albums of the Year
My yearly list of favorite rap albums is up at RapReviews. The albums are:
Danny Brown, "Old."
Chance the Rapper, "Acid Rap."
Juicy J, "Stay Trippy."
Ka, "Night's Gambit."
Run the Jewels, "Run the Jewels."
Special Request, "Soul Music."
Earl Sweatshirt, "Doris."
TeeFlii "Annie RUO'Tay 2."
Tree, "Sunday School 2."
Zomby, "With Love."
Sunday, November 03, 2013
Danny Brown and London Posse reviews
I reviewed Danny Brown's Old on RapReviews a few weeks ago. I'm into it. It's drug music that captures how terrible drugs are.
I also reviewed London Posse's Gangster Chronicles. They were a British group from the 90s who were pretty good.
I also reviewed London Posse's Gangster Chronicles. They were a British group from the 90s who were pretty good.
Saturday, November 02, 2013
Kiss
I've been on a Kiss kick lately. I got into them in college, at first because they were so silly, but then because they have some genuinely catchy songs. Stupid, but catchy. The band's early records owed a lot to the Rolling Stones and maybe a tiny bit to the New York Dolls, although Kiss had none of their edge. They did have some good moments, like "Parasite":
Or "Firehouse."
The band were always shamelessly opportunistic and commercial. They went disco in the late seventies when that was cool (but I guess so did the Stones, so what are you gonna do). In the eighties, they found their brand of hard rock replaced by glam bands that they had inspired. Some of Kiss's most amazingly terrible music came out of the eighties in their bald-face attempt to ape trends. The result was a string of mediocre albums, and some terrifically shitty songs, like "Heaven's on Fire."
It's basically an AC/DC song, only less meaty. And it has one of the best double entendres ever "Baby don't stop/Take it to the top/Eat it like a piece of cake." What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? I'm assuming he's talking about blow jobs, but the analogy doesn't work.
Gene Simmons is a giant asshole, and I've never been into his schtick. Paul Stanley, on the other hand, is my hero. For one thing, he is so flaming in this video. So, so flaming. He has kids and has been married twice, so he's probably not gay, but you would never guess that from this video. Because he is prancing around in make up. And wearing chaps. And hanging out with a fat guy in leather pants and a perm. It bums me out that he isn't actually gay. That would be so much cooler than just being a straight sleaze bag who is kinda effeminate.
Stanley also has some great stage banter I admire his energy and showmanship, although sometimes he sounds like your dad doing a "cool black guy" impression.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Ghostpoet/Danny Brown/Superchunk
I reviewed Ghostpoet's sophomore release on RapReviews. I liked his debut, but I was less into this album. It was a little too formless for me. It does have some good songs, like "Meltdown":
I'm working on a review of Danny Brown's Old. It has some of the craziest songs of his career, embracing club rap in a way he hasn't done before. And lots of songs about drugs.
I've also been listening to Superchunk's new album I Hate Music. It's really good, and I don't think that's just nostalgia talking. I liked 2010's Majesty Shredding, but I think this album is even better.
I'm working on a review of Danny Brown's Old. It has some of the craziest songs of his career, embracing club rap in a way he hasn't done before. And lots of songs about drugs.
I've also been listening to Superchunk's new album I Hate Music. It's really good, and I don't think that's just nostalgia talking. I liked 2010's Majesty Shredding, but I think this album is even better.
Monday, October 07, 2013
Juicy J/In Utero
I reviewed Juicy J's Stay Trippy last week on RapReviews. It's sexist and mindless but fun. Sort of the hip-hop equivalent of Motley Crue.
It has also been twenty years since Nirvana's In Utero came out. That album was the first album I ever bought the day it came out, and was the soundtrack for my first year of college. Like all Nirvana records, In Utero has its share of issues. Bleach wallows too much in tuneless Melvins worship. Nevermind is overproduced and oversaturated. Incesticide has its share of B-sides that rightly never made it onto an album. And In Utero is a little too obsessed with how icky fame is. (Is there anything more boring than listening to a successful artist bitch about being famous? That's why I've avoided all of Drake and Kanye's output.) What all Nirvana also have in common was that they were an incredible band who managed to channel Kurt Cobain's suicidal depression into incredibly powerful music.
Revisiting In Utero has reminded me of just how good it is. Not all of it, mind you. I think "Heart Shaped Box" is one of their worst songs, "Rape Me" is embarrassing to listen to, and it is a little too self-conciously abrasive and uncommercial. But it is still an incredible album. If you want pure energy, you have the noisy stomp of "Scentless Apprentice" or the rage-ahol of "Tourette's." If you want their more sensitive side, you have "Dumb," "Pennyroyal Tea," and "All Apologies." My favorite song is "Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle," which masters Nirvana's loud-quiet-loud formula, and has the crushing chorus "I miss the comfort of being sad." Nirvana songs never make a lot of sense, but Kurt was great at producing memorable one-liners. "I think I'm dumb/or maybe just happy," "What is wrong with me?," "I'm so tired I can't sleep," and my favorite, "If you ever need anything please don't/Hesitate to ask someone else first/I'm too busy acting like I'm not naive/I've seen it all I was here first." That last line, from "Very Ape," encapsulated the indie rock holier than thou attitude of 1993.
One song that I had totally forgotten about in the fifteen years or so since I listened to In Utero is "Milk It." It's another heavy Melvins-type track, full of grinding guitars and not much melody. Kurt sings in an agonized wail, and the lyrics sound straight out of Naked Lunch. It's an incredibly weird and dark song for the one of the biggest bands in the world to have made. The shitty band I was in in college used to play it at practice.
It has also been twenty years since Nirvana's In Utero came out. That album was the first album I ever bought the day it came out, and was the soundtrack for my first year of college. Like all Nirvana records, In Utero has its share of issues. Bleach wallows too much in tuneless Melvins worship. Nevermind is overproduced and oversaturated. Incesticide has its share of B-sides that rightly never made it onto an album. And In Utero is a little too obsessed with how icky fame is. (Is there anything more boring than listening to a successful artist bitch about being famous? That's why I've avoided all of Drake and Kanye's output.) What all Nirvana also have in common was that they were an incredible band who managed to channel Kurt Cobain's suicidal depression into incredibly powerful music.
Revisiting In Utero has reminded me of just how good it is. Not all of it, mind you. I think "Heart Shaped Box" is one of their worst songs, "Rape Me" is embarrassing to listen to, and it is a little too self-conciously abrasive and uncommercial. But it is still an incredible album. If you want pure energy, you have the noisy stomp of "Scentless Apprentice" or the rage-ahol of "Tourette's." If you want their more sensitive side, you have "Dumb," "Pennyroyal Tea," and "All Apologies." My favorite song is "Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle," which masters Nirvana's loud-quiet-loud formula, and has the crushing chorus "I miss the comfort of being sad." Nirvana songs never make a lot of sense, but Kurt was great at producing memorable one-liners. "I think I'm dumb/or maybe just happy," "What is wrong with me?," "I'm so tired I can't sleep," and my favorite, "If you ever need anything please don't/Hesitate to ask someone else first/I'm too busy acting like I'm not naive/I've seen it all I was here first." That last line, from "Very Ape," encapsulated the indie rock holier than thou attitude of 1993.
One song that I had totally forgotten about in the fifteen years or so since I listened to In Utero is "Milk It." It's another heavy Melvins-type track, full of grinding guitars and not much melody. Kurt sings in an agonized wail, and the lyrics sound straight out of Naked Lunch. It's an incredibly weird and dark song for the one of the biggest bands in the world to have made. The shitty band I was in in college used to play it at practice.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Music for Little Girls Part 2
I'm back at work after four months off. What did my daughter and I listen to for most of the summer? Black Sabbath and a lot of it. Not "Black Sabbath" or "Iron Man" or any of the scarier songs, but most of their early stuff was basically heavy blues.
I finally bought Sleep's "Dopesmoker," after listening to it on Spotify. It's definitely a headphone album, and one you need to sit with. It's an hour long and all built around the same riff, but it gets heavier and heavier as it goes along. It's a well-deserved classic and has made my commute more bearable/deafening. The lyrics are friggin ridiculous - all about science fiction stoner stuff, like marijuanauts. Whatever, dude.
As part of my metal kick, I got Windhand's latest album. They are a Virginia doom metal band who are very, very heavy.
I've also been listening to Juicy J's Stay Trippy. Every song is about paying strippers money to strip and fuck. EVERY. SINGLE. SONG. Except for the two about robbing and killing. It's ignorant as all hell, sexist as shit, and yet I kind of love it. I can you not like a guy who'll rap "you're baby mama ain't a ten but when I'm drunk she's close enough?"
I finally bought Sleep's "Dopesmoker," after listening to it on Spotify. It's definitely a headphone album, and one you need to sit with. It's an hour long and all built around the same riff, but it gets heavier and heavier as it goes along. It's a well-deserved classic and has made my commute more bearable/deafening. The lyrics are friggin ridiculous - all about science fiction stoner stuff, like marijuanauts. Whatever, dude.
As part of my metal kick, I got Windhand's latest album. They are a Virginia doom metal band who are very, very heavy.
I've also been listening to Juicy J's Stay Trippy. Every song is about paying strippers money to strip and fuck. EVERY. SINGLE. SONG. Except for the two about robbing and killing. It's ignorant as all hell, sexist as shit, and yet I kind of love it. I can you not like a guy who'll rap "you're baby mama ain't a ten but when I'm drunk she's close enough?"
Friday, September 13, 2013
The Other F Word
I watched Andrea Blaugrund's documentary The Other F Word last night.
I had a lot of hope for the movie, a documentary about punk rock fathers. It ended up bumming me out. For one thing, it is really hyperbolic and myopic in its description of punk. It acts like punks were the first and only rebellious youth movement, totally ignoring jazz, the beats, and rock n' roll. How did those guys become fathers? How did Pete Townsend or Miles Davis make the transition to adulthood?
I also am not a huge fan of most of the bands profiled. They are almost all Epitaph bands whose idea of punk is very different than mine. Their idea is much more rooted in suburban rebellion, getting fucked up and saying fuck the system. For me, punk was less about nihilism and more about a progressive alternative to America's shift towards conservatism in the 80s. It was about being anti-capitalist, anti-corporate, and pro-women and gay rights. It was about trying to find an alternative to commercial culture. That punk ethos isn't really analyzed at all in the movie. Instead, it's basically about how hard it is to be a dad when you tour constantly in a rock band. That is interesting, but it's not really about punk rock dads per se. And they aren't really very rebellious. Jim Lindberg, the guy from Pennywise, acts like it is the height of rebellion to get his daughter's name tattooed on him. Newsflash: tattoos are no longer rebellious. Every square-ass in finance under 40 has a tattoo. Every frat boy has their greek letters tattooed on them. It is more rebellious to not have tattoos, or go Lars Frederiksen's route and get "Skunx" tattooed on your forehead in shitty prison style. Lars drove me nuts, because he was so self-marginalized. He dressed like an anachronistic clown, and then acted put out that people looked at him funny. You are dressed like a punk extra from an 80s action movie: of course people are going to look at you funny. Bondage pants have been out of style for at least two decades.
That's the thing: punk isn't really rebellious anymore. You look at a Total Chaos video and they are basically like a hair metal band, with more power chords.
The women's voices are also pretty silent. Sure, it's hard to be on tour 200 days a year when you have three kids, but what is it like trying to take care of three little girls by yourself while your husband is gone?
I could definitely relate to some aspects of the movie. I was never really a punker, but there is a part of me that identifies with punk, and it's hard to reconcile that with being a parent. There's a part where Lindberg describes how he used to be against the system, and now he is part of it. I struggle with that too. I have the house and the mortgage and a gardner and a cleaning service, and all of these trappings of upper-middle class life that I used to scoff at. I had a realization a few years ago that you can't fuck the system, the system fucks you. The best path forward is to try to play within the rules of the game while hanging on to your decency and integrity by what Buddhists call right livelihood and right action. I try to treat other people with respect and not get addicted to money and stuff. So I went back to school for management, and I worry about my earning potential, and how I can best provide for my family. It's a weird shift to have to make, and there are times when I become painfully aware that I have become what so many kids mock: safe, suburban, middle-class. But I don't think living hand to mouth in squalor sounds like a great idea. I'd rather be boring than irresponsible at this point.
But I'm rambling. My main point is, The Other F Word is disappointing. Lindberg wrote a book on being a parent that I might check out. I also recommend reading Rad Dad, which is about how radical and activist dads. It's often a little too lefty for my tastes, but it is still an interesting take on alternative approaches to fatherhood.
I had a lot of hope for the movie, a documentary about punk rock fathers. It ended up bumming me out. For one thing, it is really hyperbolic and myopic in its description of punk. It acts like punks were the first and only rebellious youth movement, totally ignoring jazz, the beats, and rock n' roll. How did those guys become fathers? How did Pete Townsend or Miles Davis make the transition to adulthood?
I also am not a huge fan of most of the bands profiled. They are almost all Epitaph bands whose idea of punk is very different than mine. Their idea is much more rooted in suburban rebellion, getting fucked up and saying fuck the system. For me, punk was less about nihilism and more about a progressive alternative to America's shift towards conservatism in the 80s. It was about being anti-capitalist, anti-corporate, and pro-women and gay rights. It was about trying to find an alternative to commercial culture. That punk ethos isn't really analyzed at all in the movie. Instead, it's basically about how hard it is to be a dad when you tour constantly in a rock band. That is interesting, but it's not really about punk rock dads per se. And they aren't really very rebellious. Jim Lindberg, the guy from Pennywise, acts like it is the height of rebellion to get his daughter's name tattooed on him. Newsflash: tattoos are no longer rebellious. Every square-ass in finance under 40 has a tattoo. Every frat boy has their greek letters tattooed on them. It is more rebellious to not have tattoos, or go Lars Frederiksen's route and get "Skunx" tattooed on your forehead in shitty prison style. Lars drove me nuts, because he was so self-marginalized. He dressed like an anachronistic clown, and then acted put out that people looked at him funny. You are dressed like a punk extra from an 80s action movie: of course people are going to look at you funny. Bondage pants have been out of style for at least two decades.
That's the thing: punk isn't really rebellious anymore. You look at a Total Chaos video and they are basically like a hair metal band, with more power chords.
The women's voices are also pretty silent. Sure, it's hard to be on tour 200 days a year when you have three kids, but what is it like trying to take care of three little girls by yourself while your husband is gone?
I could definitely relate to some aspects of the movie. I was never really a punker, but there is a part of me that identifies with punk, and it's hard to reconcile that with being a parent. There's a part where Lindberg describes how he used to be against the system, and now he is part of it. I struggle with that too. I have the house and the mortgage and a gardner and a cleaning service, and all of these trappings of upper-middle class life that I used to scoff at. I had a realization a few years ago that you can't fuck the system, the system fucks you. The best path forward is to try to play within the rules of the game while hanging on to your decency and integrity by what Buddhists call right livelihood and right action. I try to treat other people with respect and not get addicted to money and stuff. So I went back to school for management, and I worry about my earning potential, and how I can best provide for my family. It's a weird shift to have to make, and there are times when I become painfully aware that I have become what so many kids mock: safe, suburban, middle-class. But I don't think living hand to mouth in squalor sounds like a great idea. I'd rather be boring than irresponsible at this point.
But I'm rambling. My main point is, The Other F Word is disappointing. Lindberg wrote a book on being a parent that I might check out. I also recommend reading Rad Dad, which is about how radical and activist dads. It's often a little too lefty for my tastes, but it is still an interesting take on alternative approaches to fatherhood.
Wednesday, September 04, 2013
When Rich White People Imitate Poor People of Color
I want to chime in real quick about the reaction to Miley Cyrus's twerking on the VMAs. I've read a few articles written by black women about their reaction to Miley, and the general tone is: Fuck Miley and her cultural appropriation bullshit. People are pissed that she is using blackness to be cool, using black people as props, and
As Jacqui Germain wrote on Racialicious, "expressing your sexuality at my expense isn’t okay. You don’t get to claim sexual freedom while simultaneously perpetuating the oppression of another body. When you feel the need to express your sexuality by turning my body into an accessory, the black feminist in me—two identities which I refuse to separate—can’t have your back anymore."
On Jezebel, Dodai Stewart wrote "Miley and her ilk need to be reminded that the stuff they think is cool, the accoutrements they're borrowing, have been birthed in an environment where people are underprivileged, undereducated, oppressed, underrepresented, disenfranchised, systemically discriminated against and struggling in a system set up to insure that they fail."http://www.racialicious.com/2013/08/28/miley-cyrus-feminism-and-the-struggle-for-black-recognition/
(Rush Limbaugh said that the media wouldn't have cared had she twerked on a woman, since evidently the media hates heterosexual sex but loves teh gays. "Obama might have called Miley to praise her for her heroism had she twerked with another woman" he opined, ignoring the fact that she was being sexual with women in the act as well as Robin Thicke. Also, fuck Rush Limbaugh).
First off, let me say that the opinions of actual women of color about Miley's co-opting of black culture and how it makes them feel should be weighed much more heavily than my opinion. But there was something about those responses that rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe they sounded too much like the pearl-clutching outrage of an old white person: "Well, I NEVER!" Maybe it's that they were defending twerking as if it were some sort of high art that Miley was sullying, when it's more like the cultural equivalent of two sorority girls making out to turn on their frat brothers.
There's also the fact that I think Miley was the one who looked the fool on stage, not her backup dancers. She's also been co-signed with a number of African-American rappers and producers, who are all too happy to work with this crazy white girl in order to have a chance at some of her money and exposure. I think the Juicy J's, Mike Will's, and backup dancers Miley works with are smart enough to know what they are doing. I don't think they are being played. Yes, Miley is slumming it in order to get cred, rebel against her goody-two-shoes past, and prove that she is a sophisticated young lady. But I'm guessing if you go to most clubs in the U.S., they will be full of white girls shaking their asses to hip-hop.
The debate around Miley twerking is part of a larger story that has been going on for years with African-American culture: blacks get shit on, they make art as a release and/or reflection of the pain of being shit on, and then the people indirectly or directly responsible for shitting on them consume that art as being authentic, unlike their privileged lives. Because shitting on people offers much less opportunity to make great art than being shit on.
In my review of Chief Keef's Finally Rich, I wrote, "there is something inherently sad about the fact that Keef has gotten huge by celebrating the traumatic, disfunctional world he comes from. Half his fans love his music because it reflects the world they know, and the other half love it because it shows them the edgy, "real" world that exists outside the safety of their parents' suburban homes. I don't know which is more depressing. Equally depressing is the fact that there is a high possibility that Keef will fall victim to the violence he came up in, and an almost certainty that he'll end up in jail for parole violations."
Benjamin Nugents book American Nerd noted that one thing that separates most white nerds from the popular crowd is the fact that they don't use hip-hop slang or embrace hip-hop culture. Their hyperwhiteness separated them from the rest of society. Young privileged white people are all about calling their friends "homie," bumping hip-hop, and safely embracing elements of a culture that they would never want to interact with face to face. The same kids dancing to Juicy J at a club in San Francisco's wealthy Marina district stay far, far away from Hunters Point or the Bayview, where the actual poor blacks live.
In other words, the racial problems that plague society are reflected in our pop culture, and years of black coolness hasn't done a lot to make African-Americans more equal in society. Black music may dominate the pop charts, but black men are still disproportionally represented in the prison systems. I think it is a step in the right direction that music is no longer as segregated as it was in the 1980s, but it is worth reminding ourselves that liking hip-hop or R&B doesn't cure racism.
(image from Getty, stolen from the Huffington Post)
As Jacqui Germain wrote on Racialicious, "expressing your sexuality at my expense isn’t okay. You don’t get to claim sexual freedom while simultaneously perpetuating the oppression of another body. When you feel the need to express your sexuality by turning my body into an accessory, the black feminist in me—two identities which I refuse to separate—can’t have your back anymore."
On Jezebel, Dodai Stewart wrote "Miley and her ilk need to be reminded that the stuff they think is cool, the accoutrements they're borrowing, have been birthed in an environment where people are underprivileged, undereducated, oppressed, underrepresented, disenfranchised, systemically discriminated against and struggling in a system set up to insure that they fail."http://www.racialicious.com/2013/08/28/miley-cyrus-feminism-and-the-struggle-for-black-recognition/
(Rush Limbaugh said that the media wouldn't have cared had she twerked on a woman, since evidently the media hates heterosexual sex but loves teh gays. "Obama might have called Miley to praise her for her heroism had she twerked with another woman" he opined, ignoring the fact that she was being sexual with women in the act as well as Robin Thicke. Also, fuck Rush Limbaugh).
First off, let me say that the opinions of actual women of color about Miley's co-opting of black culture and how it makes them feel should be weighed much more heavily than my opinion. But there was something about those responses that rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe they sounded too much like the pearl-clutching outrage of an old white person: "Well, I NEVER!" Maybe it's that they were defending twerking as if it were some sort of high art that Miley was sullying, when it's more like the cultural equivalent of two sorority girls making out to turn on their frat brothers.
There's also the fact that I think Miley was the one who looked the fool on stage, not her backup dancers. She's also been co-signed with a number of African-American rappers and producers, who are all too happy to work with this crazy white girl in order to have a chance at some of her money and exposure. I think the Juicy J's, Mike Will's, and backup dancers Miley works with are smart enough to know what they are doing. I don't think they are being played. Yes, Miley is slumming it in order to get cred, rebel against her goody-two-shoes past, and prove that she is a sophisticated young lady. But I'm guessing if you go to most clubs in the U.S., they will be full of white girls shaking their asses to hip-hop.
The debate around Miley twerking is part of a larger story that has been going on for years with African-American culture: blacks get shit on, they make art as a release and/or reflection of the pain of being shit on, and then the people indirectly or directly responsible for shitting on them consume that art as being authentic, unlike their privileged lives. Because shitting on people offers much less opportunity to make great art than being shit on.
In my review of Chief Keef's Finally Rich, I wrote, "there is something inherently sad about the fact that Keef has gotten huge by celebrating the traumatic, disfunctional world he comes from. Half his fans love his music because it reflects the world they know, and the other half love it because it shows them the edgy, "real" world that exists outside the safety of their parents' suburban homes. I don't know which is more depressing. Equally depressing is the fact that there is a high possibility that Keef will fall victim to the violence he came up in, and an almost certainty that he'll end up in jail for parole violations."
Benjamin Nugents book American Nerd noted that one thing that separates most white nerds from the popular crowd is the fact that they don't use hip-hop slang or embrace hip-hop culture. Their hyperwhiteness separated them from the rest of society. Young privileged white people are all about calling their friends "homie," bumping hip-hop, and safely embracing elements of a culture that they would never want to interact with face to face. The same kids dancing to Juicy J at a club in San Francisco's wealthy Marina district stay far, far away from Hunters Point or the Bayview, where the actual poor blacks live.
(image from Getty, stolen from the Huffington Post)
Lee Bannon and Steve Arrington and Dam Funk
I reviewed Lee Bannon's instrumental ep this week on RapReviews. It's a hip-hop take on British electronic production, yet another example of hip-hop producers embracing ambient music.
I also reviewed Steve Arrington and Dam Funk's album Higher. It's an interesting slab of 80s funk, but is a bit unpolished.
I also reviewed Steve Arrington and Dam Funk's album Higher. It's an interesting slab of 80s funk, but is a bit unpolished.
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