Music – Extraordinary Nobodies

My Thoughts on Current Music Discourse

While Dustin writing again after being pretty silent for nearly the entire year thus far is a big deal, I’ve had such frequent breaks from writing that I’m not even sure if this one was the longest. Thankfully, this time around it wasn’t due to writer’s block or mental burnout; essentially everything Dustin covered in his piece addressing why he stopped writing applies to me too.

There is something else that’s tangentially related to what Dustin spoke about in his reintroduction piece though. During the site’s hiatus, I spent more of my time observing than commenting. In doing so, I’ve come to really see how horrible some people can be when they speak on certain artists or music that they personally dislike. It’s something I was always aware of, of course, but it’s been driven home to me just how widespread this sort of attitude has been recently. Dustin said something in his article that stuck with me, but for reasons different than what I believe he had intended when saying it.

The people you’re talking to behind the monitor are people too.

In this age of constant accessibility to music and artists through social media, artists have become circus animals. When the routine isn’t what they want it to be, the audience throws peanuts because they think it’s funny. This isn’t a new or original observation, but everything is treated like either unequivocal fire or trash. No nuance, no middle ground. It’s all just perpetuated by lazy hip hop publications on social media, asking fans to drop a shit emoji or a fire emoji in the comments, reply with a .gif of how they feel about something, or whatever else to fish for engagement in the most shallow of ways. And when it comes to the fans, when you can quantify “how right” your opinion is through likes and retweets, it gets really easy to start spouting aggressive, intentionally contrarian, half-baked thoughts because of people mindlessly scrolling and interacting with it. These stupid hive-mind opinions start to spread, artists become easy punching bags, and a lot of the time, music gets reduced to a joke in certain circles. It’s a counterproductive practice, because there are people who put their whole selves into the music, as well as listeners who genuinely resonate with it on a personal level.

It’s become so easy for people to voice whatever opinions they’d like to and not have to worry about the consequences behind their words. Due to the fact that nobody really needs to see anyone else face-to-face in order to instantly communicate with them, a lack of respect has developed over the years that – while not exclusive to hip hop’s artists and audience – pervades the social dynamics between people who engage with music and people who make it. You don’t need to really think about what you’re saying, all you do is send a tweet out to virtual space and go about your day.

I don’t think there very many fans who really treat music like it’s art anymore. Music has been something so accessible for so long now. Not to sound like an out-of-touch old man, but kids are growing up in an era where the idea of spending money on music is an entirely alien concept. And why wouldn’t it be? Why on earth would someone spend money on something they can get for free? Adults who grew up buying music don’t question it so why on earth would an average teenager, for whom streaming is all they know, question it too?

But it’s still a problem, at least in my view. There’s no way that this hasn’t shifted the way music is thought about. I’ve seen somebody actually criticize somebody else for buying vinyl LPs of a few albums that they considered bad – it didn’t even seem to occur to this person that the album was a product that was meant to be purchased. Setting aside how silly it is to criticize a stranger over the internet about how he spends his money, this person couldn’t fathom the idea of financially compensating an artist for the product that was consumed just because it was perceived as “bad”. As though buying a bad album is any different from buying a bad video game or paying to see a bad movie in theaters…yet nobody would bat an eye at somebody doing the latter two.

The change in perception of music from art that’s meant to be paid for to essentially an entitlement is also part of what I believe has fueled the treatment of artists lately. The human element of an artist creating something is lost on people. I think that’s what makes it easier to trash something with no regard for the language being used. The degrees of separation that have arisen with the way music consumption has developed as well as the personal disconnect through social media honestly makes it understandable why things happen the way they do nowadays. Of course, trashing music isn’t a new phenomenon; there have always been assholes out there who are either trying to be funny or are insecure elitist fools who think they need to tear someone or something else down to look good. But at the end of the day, it’s just something that I’ve noticed more of, and it’s been bothering me.

I know it looks like all I’m doing is yelling “SOCIAL MEDIA BAD” in this piece so far, but please don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to chastise anyone or preach. I’m certainly not guilt-free. On sites that I used to visit, I would be just as bad as the people I’m talking about right now. To this day, I can still be pretty harsh against my better judgement. I just try to keep it confined to private conversation rather than public trashing. Even so, I’m sure someone could dig up pretty disrespectful tweets that directly contradict what I’m saying now. So I get it. It’s just something that I feel is worth keeping in mind when discussing art. I’m not saying I want to see people pretending they like something when they don’t. Negative feedback to sub-par music is essential for an artist to grow. Sometimes an album is going to miss the mark. It happens. Artists are people, and people fuck up, no matter their profession. But musical discourse has gone from fairly thoughtful to almost entirely reactionary. It’s disrespectful to artists and frankly pretty boring to engage in as a fan. There are so few people whose opinions I respect or care to hear at this point in time and it sucks.

However, none of this is as egregious as what a lot of “professional” music journalists do. I have very little, if any, respect for the vast majority of them. I want to make something very clear though: I’m speaking mainly about writers at big publications like habitual offenders XXL or more recently The Source, and not necessarily people at smaller blogs (at least not the ones who value thoughtful writing over click-baiting everything the fuck out). Publications without integrity. Writers who will happily trash an artist in reviews that spend more time talking about the artist’s age, past hits, problematic behavior, and promotional buildup than they do the actual music. They drag the artists through the mud in reviews, but they’ll never shut up about them. They’ll cover every move they make, every tweet they send out, every affiliate who gets shot or locked up. They’ll expect these artists to sit for interviews…and then they’ll go right back and write another lazy review with no effort made at showing respect to the person who has supplied them with exposure and ad revenue or his/her creative process. I mean, I suppose it makes sense. People are going to click on the review regardless, so why bother putting effort into it if you’re getting paid either way, right? Plus, if you have a few snappy sentences insulting the artist, you can always rely on somebody to screenshot it and post it on Twitter for extra clicks!

None of this is a secret. It’s fucking disgusting. These writers, being the parasitic scum they are, don’t even hide how obvious it is. It’s getting worse as time goes on. It’s really not that hard to give an album a respectful and thoughtful critical write-up while without turning it into a personal attack, but that causes less of a reaction so that’s obviously out of the question.

On that note, I do want to say that I personally don’t feel comfortable writing reviews anymore. My writer’s block last year was directly due to the fact that I had shifted my focus to writing reviews. The site as a whole had trended in that direction in general, and I struggled to write anything that I felt truly did the albums I was reviewing justice. I don’t have the skill required to break an album into its components, speak about each, then bring it all back together to speak about it holistically. And giving an album a numerical grade seems like it’s very reductionist. Doing so works as a shortcut to people who don’t want to actually read about the album, but rather look for reviewers whose opinions validate their own. I don’t find reviews fun, and at the end of the day I only started posting here because I thought it was fun to talk about music. I am proud of my last couple of reviews, but they were exhausting and I still feel like I could have and should have gone further with them. So I’m probably done with that for the most part.

I understand that this may come off as needlessly bitter or preachy. But it bothers me how carelessly hip hop gets handled by music media, just because it runs pop culture and is therefore the easiest genre to cover. I’m tired of seeing kids who don’t understand or care about rap music or hip hop culture profiting off of something they don’t know and will never take the time to learn about. And while I’m not getting paid to do this, I know that to a lot of readers, I’m not any more qualified to talk than they are. The thing is, I know that’s not inaccurate. I’m not a voice that can speak on behalf of hip hop. I can’t dictate what hip hop should or shouldn’t be. I’m not a tastemaker, I’m not a gatekeeper. I’m a nerd who grew up fascinated with hip hop culture and rap music. I’m an outsider looking in. I write because hip hop has shaped so much about me, from my worldview to my sense of humor and beyond, and I would like to pay tribute to that. And that’s why it grates on my nerves so much to see people treat hip hop and rappers like they’re a commodity for anybody to get in on. Hip hop deserves respect and it’s about time the people who exploit it for a paycheck realize that, and do better.

Discussing the Crowdfunded Leaking of Eminem’s Music

by Dustin

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Fan entitlement isn’t a new concept by any means, particularly in the music industry, but it does occasionally cross the line into total lunacy. The Eminem fandom has toed that threshold for years upon years, but lately it seems to have spiraled into something quite sinister from the perspective of a collective that believes in supporting the artist: crowdfunded group-buys of vaulted material never meant to be released. Leaks are somewhat of an expected evil for mainstream artists of course, but what makes this different is the individuals behind the process: a group of fans one could rightfully call Stans due to their adoration of the rapper they’re stealing from. Making it even more pathetic is the fact that their idol, Eminem, is an artist who has loudly spoken out about his music being leaked in the past while emotionally detailing how protective he is toward his art.

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For a bit of history, Eminem has faced leak issues in the past as well. Apart from the notable Encore situation back in the day, StudioLeaks ran amok in the early 2010s, releasing a handful of songs from (presumably) 2006-2008. This article in particular isn’t discussing these cases as they were different and happened a long time ago, but something relevant did happen during the StudioLeaks saga. During this particular time period a snippet for a Relapse-era song titled “Nut Up” was released. It wasn’t much, just an underwhelming hook and the beginning to an equally mediocre verse. Nothing much came of it and to most it was likely entirely forgotten; however, earlier this year a group of Eminem fans were presented the opportunity to purchase the entirety of “Nut Up.” Easily enticed by the idea, a group buy was organized through discord with rabid support from the r/Eminem subreddit and other general hip-hop forums. It was successful, at least in the sense that a bunch of entitled fanatics were able to raise several thousand dollars to steal a song from their own greatest of all time. This may have been slightly more excusable had it just been a one-off, unfortunately that doesn’t seem to be the case.

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Only a couple of months after the “Nut Up” group buy, a few other snippets were released to the public. Among these, a rather questionable song featuring Eminem on a Joyner Lucas cut rumored to be from the latter’s days with Atlantic. Subject matter aside, it was clearly not meant to have seen the light of day presently for one reason or the other. Whether that be due to an artistic choice, contract disputes, or that it was due for future release, can’t be said for certain, but what is undeniable is an Eminem Stan’s inability to leave well enough alone. Yet another group-buy was organized, setting a goal of $1500 to purchase the full version of the track. In an astonishingly short amount of time, pledges from the depressingly desperate and thirsty reached close to a grand. At the time of publication, the crowdfunding effort remains open and growing. All to rob someone else of their property.

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Honestly, it has long since ascended past the point of wack hyper-fans and grown into a legitimate issue.

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Another human’s art is not public property. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been a fan, what their musical output has been like, how rich they are, or how tempting you find that forbidden fruit. Music is an immensely personal form of expression, and nobody is in the position to decide what gets released aside from the original creator. Flat out, bottom line, this type of behavior is unacceptable and it you call yourself a fan of an act while simultaneously jacking their work, you’re a scumbag. Appreciate what you’re given, and learn some respect for other people. If you spend all day posting on an Eminem subreddit and then turn around and contribute financially to theft of his product, what fucking thought process goes through your head to justify that? If it doesn’t amount to much more than “because I want it,” then all of us here would like to leave you with these few parting words: grow up, and support the artists you care about.

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This childish attitude needs to change.

A General Commentary on this Writing Thing

by Dustin

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Hey, hello. It’s been quite a while since Rajin or I have put together any semblance of writing for this website. To be exact, our last published article was all the way back in February of this year. Eight whole months have flown by in the meantime, and it’s been quite an adventure to say the least; however, it would also be inaccurate of me to blame our hiatus on life. To put it bluntly, I think we’ve both been extremely burnt out on the whole process of running the blog. While interacting with artists and shining light on their music never grew stale, maintaining relationships with readers and other writers quickly became as insufferable as humanly imaginable. Quite honestly, I think this particular set of annoyances needs to be aired out for a couple of reasons. Primarily because it irritates me and I feel like complaining, but additionally for the sake of anybody else thinking about starting a blog, podcast, or anything similar as a precautionary tale of some of the trash you’ll deal with.

It gets old.

I will say that although it’s easiest to point fingers at emotionally charged readers (which we’ll get to a little later), dealing with other bloggers and writers can be an experience akin to pulling teeth with no anesthetic. It’s not terribly uncommon to get approached by other bloggers interested in hosting you on their site for a review of a particular album. In concept, it’s pretty cool, music blogs aren’t as prominent as they once were and I do believe that we should support each other. In reality though, it doesn’t seem to work that way at all. For example, I spent a lot of time working on a review for another website only to be told I needed to make it “more positive,” even though that wouldn’t have been genuine to my thoughts. I refused to make the changes, and took my article here to release it on my own. The same guy proceeds to spend the next while alternating between asking me to collaborate “again”, and tagging us alongside every artist under the sun in Instagram and Twitter replies. Having never been involved with his shit in any way, being roped into the attention baiting was incredibly irritating. While I’m sure he had good intentions at heart, that’s not what we’re about and it’s just something none of us were okay with in practice. Mixing bigger problems like this with the standard group of people who want you to write their content for them rather than contribute your own style just absolutely killed the beauty that could be collaborative writing.

Shout out to MJC of FilthyBroke for following through hosting an article of mine at his blog when he was dabbling with it, though, you’ve always been an absolute pleasure to work with. Thanks for letting me be me.

Now, to the readers: I love most all of you from the bottom of my heart. If you’ve ever taken an interest in anything on this site, sent an email suggestion, contacted me on twitter, or any of that, then thank you. Aside from the artists, you make putting time and energy into this so very rewarding; however, a smaller but louder minority have some of the most volatile misplaced anger and musical insecurity, and I really think they need to check how they conduct themselves. Nobody should be sending death threats, defamation of character, slurs, or telling somebody to kill themselves over music discussions. It’s stupid to the point that it becomes more than a routine annoyance than anything serious, but it’s a huge drag. We’re chatting about hip-hop because we adore the genre and want to be able to share it with others in a fleshed out way. Even negative reviews and articles are written because one of us took enough interest in it to want to spend that time talking about it. It’s not an assault on individual taste, and nobody is trying to dictate what you can enjoy listening to. If having someone else validate your personal taste is important in your eyes, I would recommend you shop around until you find a publication that leans your way. It’s that simple, stop wasting your time harassing people on websites that are likely never going to make you happy. It isn’t going to change their content, and your opinions aren’t going to change their mind. What are you accomplishing, really?

I don’t have much else to say, so I’m going to cut myself off here. If you think you recognized your own behavior in this article, maybe reflect on it a bit. The people you’re talking to behind the monitor are people too. None of this is really that critical, but at the end of the day, paying a little more attention to conduct both as a blogger and as a reader can go a long way. Rajin, myself, and everyone here sat on the sidelines for quite a while trying to figure out how to proceed, and we’ve decided to keep it alive. At the same time, it’s going to be zero tolerance from this point onward for most of the nonsense discussed here. I really don’t have the energy for it anymore.

On a more positive note to end things: thank you for your patience, and we’re happy to be back.

Much love.

Album Review: ANKHLEJOHN x Big Ghost Ltd. – Van Ghost

by Rajin

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9/10

Since delivering his official debut album in 2017, ANKHLEJOHN has remained one of the most interesting emcees in the current underground scene. He has a tendency to switch things up for each project, an artistic choice that continues to keep him fresh and engaging. He has released countless EPs and mixtapes, each of which has its own identity that sets it firmly apart from the rest of his discography. In June 2018, he released what he touted as his second album, Van Ghost, with legendary blogger turned full-time producer Big Ghost Ltd. Ghost has worked with Ankh before, supplying him with the most dynamic, cinematic beat on the entirety of The Red Room (“Original Man,” a chilling song that features Hus Kingpin). From their very first time working together, it was clear that Ghost had a deep understanding of who ANKHLEJOHN is as an artist. The chemistry that these two obviously had gave way to further collaboration, eventually culminating in an incredible album, inspired by Vincent Van Gogh.

Big Ghost initially made a name for himself as a producer on 2015’s Griselda Ghost with Westside Gunn and Conway. He took a fresh approach to the sound that Daringer had crafted for Griselda and made it his own, resulting in one of my favorite projects to ever be released by the label. From there, he’s continued honing his skill and developing his own musical identity. His distinct drum patterns and ear for samples make his beats instantly identifiable. What sets him apart the most, however, is the way he adapts his production to fit the rapper with whom he is working like a glove. While his sampling techniques generally don’t vary, the sources from which he draws change depending on the style of the emcee he’s producing for. This practice creates an entirely different sound for each project while maintaining an unmistakable production signature. Through his subsequent work with Vic Spencer, Hus Kingpin, and CRIMEAPPLE, he proved himself to be one of the most reliable producers in the game.

With this in mind, to say he outdid himself on Van Ghost would be an understatement. The production on this record is without a doubt the most unique and awe-inspiring music Big Ghost has created thus far. It’s actually quite difficult to describe; while still very obviously boom bap, the aesthetic brings to mind the image of a chapel designed in the era of Baroque architecture. Tracks such as “The Church at Auvers,” “The Starry Night,” and “At Eternity’s Gate” feature elements including pianos, angelic vocals, and harps that sound nothing less than godly, for lack of a better term. The majority of the production work on this album ultimately leaves the listener astounded at how Ghost pulled off what he did. In a moment of sheer brilliance, he bridged the gap between past and present on “Almond Blossoms,” another track featuring Hus Kingpin. The production weaves between sections with harpsichords and sections with bassier, jazzier sounds that recall the luxurious vibe of Cocaine Beach. It’s incredibly seamless, and it is just one of many examples that demonstrates level of creative ingenuity displayed by Ghost throughout this album.

Truly, the only rapper who could have done this production justice is ANKHLEJOHN. Anybody who is familiar with him knows how dramatic his style as an emcee is. The dark, creepy ad-libs that he throws into the mix serve as a stark contrast to the heavenly sounds found among the instrumental backing, and his gruff voice offers an often frightening element to otherwise soothing music. He elevates the already cinematic instrumentation to an entirely new level; on just the first track, which opens with some very melancholy pianos, Ankh soulfully recounts a story of past trauma, before switching to a threatening growl as the beat takes a turn for the horrific. This is representative of his performance through the entire album; he brought the best out of every beat with how he adjusted his vocals to match and compliment the feel of the instrumentals. The production on this album seems to have inspired Ankh to show more variety in his delivery, and as a result, this is potentially his most vocally diverse project to this day. Lyrically, Ankh has always been fairly blunt, and he doesn’t deviate from that here. Some songs serve as violent displays of blunt lyricism while on others he instead opts to drop knowledge, displaying the dichotomy often found within his music. In general, his style felt looser on this project than others, which ultimately served to benefit the final product.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the features on this album as well. Ankh shares the mic on only two tracks, on the previously mentioned “Almond Blossoms” with Hus and the posse cut “At Eternity’s Gate,” and each time it worked wonderfully. The latter is by far the greatest posse cut I’ve heard in years; with a lineup of features that includes Eto, Fly Anakin, and CRIMEAPPLE, one would think the track could never live up to the potential those names alone set. I’m happy to report that it likely exceeds anything anyone could expect.

With Van Ghost, ANKHLEJOHN and Big Ghost crafted the most original rap album I had heard in a long time. The care that went into it is evident even from the surface; each track is named after a Van Gogh painting, and Big Ghost himself painted the artwork in a similar artistic style that Van Gogh painted in. I’m going to acknowledge the obvious: this review is many months late. This is because I honestly had a hard time describing this album in a way that would do it justice. Everything came together in such a unique way. There was no precedent set for it, so I didn’t know what to say about it. In many ways, this album is peerless. You’re unlikely to see another project offer what this one does, in the same fashion that it does. For that reason alone, it’s worth a listen. It is detailed and layered to the point that most people are going to walk away having picked up something that others haven’t. In that sense it hits its mark entirely, acting as an equivalent to a fine painting.

Rajin Rambles: Time to Defend Dust Again…

by Rajin

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Despite what the title may imply, I’m not gonna spend any time or energy speaking about music I don’t like in this piece. I’m sure I’ve done that enough, and it would probably look tacky at this point (it was actually probably always tacky). However, I really don’t like the attitude that I’ve seen some people carry, about the past belonging in the past and being irrelevant. Right now, hip hop is at an “age,” so to speak, where it’s made an incredibly long journey from its roots. There’s very little now that resembles the music that artists like Run-D.M.C. were making when rap music was just first exploding onto the scene.

For this reason, I feel like some “dated” sounding material being released could be constructive. The argument that I’ve seen come up is that we’ve seen certain styles of music done before, so there’s no real reason to see them again. While I understand that point, and even agreed with it to a certain extent until fairly recently, I don’t think it necessarily has to hold true. I’m just barely over half of hip hop’s age and while I don’t have any official figures or statistics, I don’t think it would be inaccurate to say that a huge chunk of the audience is in my age group. I also don’t think it would be inaccurate to make the claim that most listeners in my age group really don’t give a shit about what was happening 30 years ago. While I think it’s irresponsible for writers and media personalities — who are theoretically supposed to have respect and knowledge for the history — to approach hip hop with that sort of attitude, I don’t think I can blame a casual listener for feeling that way. There’s so much music being released these days that if you’re not somebody extremely passionate about it, it’s hard to find the time to both keep up and go back in time no matter how accessible everything is now. The pool of music just continues to grow, which makes the task of wading through it all that much more imposing.

This is why I feel like what LL Cool J is doing on his Rock The Bells radio show is so essential. It offers a quick and easy way to take a look back through the history of hip hop and rap music. You get to listen to the hits that came before your time, and build an understanding of where the music been and how it got here. All coming from someone who everybody recognizes for one reason or another, who also happens to be someone who took part in solidifying this music as something more than just a fad.

With where hip hop is now, I strongly believe that there could be some benefit in revisiting styles and sounds without tailoring anything to 2019. It’s clear that there’s room for anything in hip hop. We have seen boom bap, a style that most people consider to be outdated, make a powerful comeback in the last few years. Granted, it isn’t generally the type of boom bap you would see in the ‘90s. It still exhibited a bit of evolution; at this point, boom bap today is far from being “throwback,” and I find it a little annoying when it gets relegated as such (I can’t say for sure, but this more than likely contradicts stuff that I’ve said in the past). It quickly picked up where the ‘90s left off, and is now sonically something very different than it used to be. It feels like a natural progression, but it doesn’t necessarily bring anything from the past back.

I would love to see someone from the ‘80s come out and make something that sounds like what they were making back then, but brought into 2019. Kool G Rap is still around out-rapping people over 30 years into his career, but that’s not necessarily what I’m talking about. I want to hear something like EPMD rapping over funk samples and bringing back the feeling they had on their music before their first breakup, or LL shouting boasts over loud minimalist production. I feel like it could be interesting to see music like that released in this day and age. Such a large portion of today’s rap fanbase has no idea what hip hop sounded like before the ‘00s. I find that gaining an understanding of what happened in the past could add to one’s overall understanding of the music in general — at least that’s how it’s worked for me. Re-examining what’s happened in the past could open up new pathways in the future, possibly to styles that hadn’t happened in the past due to technical limitations and such. In a way, I feel like it would almost be like taking a few steps back stylistically to attempt a net movement forward. At worst, it would end up just end up reinforcing that the past should stay in the past.

You kind of see that with artists, in a way. I’m going to use Cypress Hill as an example. They came onto the scene with a very dark, hazy sound, courtesy of DJ Muggs drawing from psychedelic rock as a source of inspiration and samples. This remained the case, for the most part, through their first four albums; their formula was seldom changed. They essentially just made the same sort of music for four albums (which isn’t a criticism – those are four of my top five Cypress Hill albums). However, by the time Skull & Bones came out they largely abandoned everything that they had built their brand on and moved on to other styles. They messed with the current trends going on in west coast hip hop at the time as well as, regrettably, nu-metal. In the years to come, they would also try out reggae-influenced sounds, and even have an album without any Muggs production at all. Cypress Hill decided that they wanted to try new styles out after spending the better part of a decade using what was essentially the same style, and that’s fair. An artist/group is at full liberty to make whatever creative decisions they want to. Last year though, they decided to go back to their roots for their latest album, Elephants on Acid. This saw them returning straight to their Temples of Boom days of making dark, murky, and psychedelic music. They felt more at-home making this sort of music than they had in 20 years. From here, they can go in whatever direction they want to, but it’s clear revisiting what was familiar revitalized them for the most part.

I feel like this same sort of thing could go for rap music as a whole. The genre has been exploring many different sounds for decades now, and I feel like the time may be right for it to take a second and revisit its roots. While in general, music has become a lot more complex and detailed since the days I’m talking about, I believe it would still be worth exploring.

I don’t know. These are just some stray thoughts and I don’t think I really even said anything here. But I’ve felt like this for a while now. For the first half of January I was listening to almost nothing but ‘80s rap. I wanted to get familiar with the history of rap music and see how it developed. See how regions outside of New York developed their own sounds. Observe how rappers who would be considered vets by the early ‘90s had to adjust to the rapid innovation and change in the landscape, and compare that to how vets do it today. So much has been left in the past with no trace of it around now, which is understandable enough. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that in a time where accessibility is at an all-time high, it seems like the history of hip hop is focused on less than ever; for that reason, I feel like it wouldn’t be the worst idea to try reminding people where things started. I’d like to see some older artists show everyone what gave new artists a platform to begin with.

Final edit: Dustin

Think Piece: Why the Hate Fetish and Mindless Following?

by Dustin

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If only this were a public presentation. I would ask for a show of hands from individuals who’ve experienced a true “hater” (for lack of a better term). The type of person that goes into anything assuming, possibly hoping, that they hate it. One assured to get more joy from verbally tearing into media than actually consuming it. I’m genuinely certain that every individual in the audience would raise their palm, particularly if they’ve spent any amount of time on the web. Music fandoms seem to be a continual purveyor of hate porn. Sometime between the point Pitchfork started spewing untreated sewage and the present, it’s seemingly become far cooler to approach under the mindset of flaw hyper-vigilance; ignoring the redeemable out of desire to be dissatisfied and overflowing with hot takes.

A particular facet of this that really bothers me is the desperation in matching opinions with prevalent tastemakers. I mean, I understand that this is basically the entire point of tastemaking to begin with; however, I really don’t understand abandoning your original opinion of a project just because a YouTuber or author you respect decided to slam it. What are you doing? Are you so obsessed with this online figure that your personality must match theirs entirely? Are you planning to meet them and impress them? Marry them? That’s kind of creepy, to be honest. I’m sure I should probably just mind my own business because worrying about this at all makes me a bit of a hypocrite, but come on. You can watch social media perception of a release shift from positive or negative in real time after a few notable people publish their thoughts. It’s pathetic, man. You can enjoy a reviewer and not agree with them all the time. Trust me, it’s not illegal. Most of us don’t care, and those that do are probably horrible at talking about music anyway.

I also scratch my head at the entire idea of “uncool” artists. Acts that you’re not allowed to enjoy without feeling embarrassed because the populous has decided they’re lame. I’ll take a hard pass on that, thanks. It’s understandable when it’s a monster like R. Kelly (though the general public could certainly be doing a better job of exiling him), but what exactly is there to gain from being ashamed of your tastes? 15 years from now, are any of you going to be happy that you abandoned loved material to impress uptight nerds on the internet? I highly doubt it. Do yourself a favor and redownload every album you enjoyed but moved to the recycle bin because it might make you seem like a “loser.” Cut it out, you’re better than that. Happy listening.

I suppose what I’m urging you to do is take music a little less seriously. It’s not that big of a thing, and it never has to be. Art is art. If you approach it from a more positive place, you’re going to end up enjoying so many things. For me, when I finally tossed the constant scrutiny to the side, my eyes were opened to an amazing new world of experiences. Admittedly, I still write and release negative reviews in spite of carrying a genuine wish to love every record I spin. Disappointment is human nature, and I think there’s value in sharing why you were disappointed. It adds some variety to the discussion, as long as the views are truly your own. For the listener, though, I don’t think you should let this influence your preferences negatively. Enjoy what you enjoy, and read articles for the pleasure of seeing through another perspective. Reviews are not authority, they’re simply entertainment just like the albums they’re coat-tailling. Turn off your lust for dislike, and lend art the open mind it deserves. You might surprise yourself with how much fun it can be, besides, none of this is a competition.

Final edit: Emily – Preliminary edit: Rajin – Additional direction: Isaac

Album Review: Kanye West – ye

by Dustin

kanye-west-ye-album-credits

4/10

A lot of things can and have been said about Kanye West. Many a think piece had found itself picking apart the socially reprehensible drivel to fall out of his mouth after he took the media by storm this year in a whirlwind of foolishness. Though the social impact of his ignorance is certainly an interesting topic, it has seemingly worked its way into every single review on the planet. Clicking on any discussion about his recently released ye album, and one is likely to spend more time reading political views than anything related to the music. While Kanye certainly has made himself an impossible character to wish to support, ye is for all intents and purposes a major release from one of hip-hop’s most prominent figures. For that reason alone, the music deserves to be analyzed as actual music, and not the ramblings of everyone’s favorite pariah.

With that out of the way, let’s reflect on Mr. West’s eighth solo effort.

It’s not often that the production on an album dwarfs the presence of the emcee, but this was absolutely the case with ye. Luckily for himself, Kanye can lay claim to the instrumentation on this record as well. For years, Kanye West fans have been clamouring for the controversial figure to go back to his roots of chopping samples and banging out killer instrumentation. Not long prior to the release of ye, he offered up some promising (and genuinely very good) instrumentals on Pusha T’s DAYTONA. Moving onto this project, he surprisingly kept that momentum going. The beats were good. Nothing stood out in the same way that “Santeria” did on DAYTONA, but it was some of the best production work Kanye has rapped on since My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. There was a nice blend between his signature soulful sample style from back in the day, and his more modern wavy, synthetic, bass heavy sound. It was all quite pleasing to the ear, and set the album up for what should have been an easy home-run if he could keep up on the mic; however, that didn’t really happen.

In other words, ye was an album that would have been better served to be a beat tape. Kanye proved to be his own worst enemy, as his backdrop outshone the lackluster spotlight.

Being that he has never been the most talented writer in the world, Kanye has relied pretty heavily on his charisma and personality behind the mic. Even on his weaker projects he came across as an eccentric, and there was something infectious about it. His vocal performances on ye were odd, as they lacked any semblance of this spark. Yeezy seemed disinterested and it was difficult to engage the music when he carried himself as entirely uninvested. It should be mentioned that there clearly was an attempt on Kanye’s behalf to come across as a more introspective and thoughtful writer; however, this manifested itself in tracks such as “I Thought About Killing You” and “Wouldn’t Leave,” which were extremely groan inducing and difficult to sit through. In addition to that, the adventures into braggadocio did not carry any sort of weight, as his lack of charisma couldn’t lift the mediocre writing. Regardless of the topic, most songs on here felt like gutless and redundant rehashes of things that he’s already done a hundred times in the past.

Actually, imagine the rapping on My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. Now imagine that rapping with every last drop of energy sucked out of it, leaving only the bare bones of its design. That is essentially how Kanye came across on ye. Not horrendous, just unbearably dull.

Side note, the mixing was bad. Really bad. Mike Dean has been a bit of a disaster in the technical department for a long time, and ye is no exception. Everything was muddied out, resulting in the album sounding amateurish and unfinished. For a major release, the audio quality was downright shameful.

Acknowledging Kanye’s tumultuous negative media presence wasn’t really required to walk away from ye feeling entirely empty. Though many reviewers rating it poorly have chosen to focus mostly on his personal volatility, the album from a musical standpoint offered very little to be excited about. It was encouraging to hear him knocking out enjoyable instrumentals again, but at the same time his rapping showed little improvement from the nosedive it took on Yeezus five years ago. While one would have hoped that dialing back to a 20 minute run time could have helped Kanye release a more focused product, ye felt just as rushed as The Life of Pablo in most respects. Unfortunately, it was also a lot less interesting. The manic energy of his last two projects was not to be found; instead, the final product had little identity, and felt like nothing more than a placid celebration of boredom by an artist who left his prime long ago.

Album Review: Prof – Pookie Baby

by Dustin

pookiebaby

3.75/10

A few years ago, Rhymesayers associated themselves with an artist well outside of their usual dynamic. As an addition to their roster he stuck out like a sore thumb, yet his chaotic energy charmed the fanbase quickly. This artist was Prof. The other side of the coin to Rhymesayers Entertainment’s introspective conscious rap signature. He came in boasting an arrogantly brazen offering of hyperactive shenanigans within his music. He was a debauchery driven scumbag but possessed a degree of self-awareness that broke through on moments of emotional reflection. His label debut, Liability, came in 2015 and offered an excellent helping of his range. It was a mess, but so genuinely fun that it was impossible not to love. It felt like a jumping off point into something bigger for Prof. He took time away from the studio to tour but recently returned with his new album. Pookie Baby, the record which would push the sound and success of Liability forward and prove that Prof was a true powerhouse on the label.

Except, it didn’t happen that way. Not even close.

Pookie Baby missed the mark in most ways, but the biggest element of failure was Prof’s writing. His wild, party addict, white boy shtick, which normally seems natural, came across as eye-rollingly forced. The lyrics began to be more of a nuisance than a pleasure to sit through by the thirtieth time he reminded anyone listening of how often he has sex. It was funny at first, particularly on “Send Nudes,” but at a point, Prof started to sound like a meme of himself. A broken record with no range. It was hard to listen without feeling like he had phoned the writing portion for the vast majority of the release. The wit and tongue in cheek braggadocio of past releases were hard to see. Instead, there was an appeal to the lowest common denominator with empty, repetitive lyrics. It was a letdown. Prof is capable of a lot more than he showed on Pookie Baby, but the steps backwards were too blatant to be pushed aside. Given the length of time between Liability and now, it’s reasonable to say that more could have been expected.

There’s also the aspect of vocal delivery. Prof has never been a technically talented singer, but in small doses, his voice can be a lot of fun and add a unique flair of versatility that many lack. Small doses being the key. In the case of Pookie Baby, though, the singing was far too frequent and hit a point of being completely abrasive. One or two songs featuring his trademark warbling would have been welcomed with open arms; however, when it feels like half the album is an artist overusing an already spotty singing voice to avoid having to write lyrics with more depth, there is a problem. Pookie Baby had this problem. When he opted to rap, Prof’s delivery did compensate for some of the weaker writing to a degree. It still wasn’t his best work by any means, but it was passable enough for songs like “Time Bomb” and “Action” to sound genuinely engaging. Sadly, these moments were very much the minority. Prof misused his vocal tools to the point that it hurt the record severely. It’s a shame because there were a few glimpses of that bombastic skill on the album. He just decided, for whatever reason, to put a minuscule amount of it on display.

In addition to Prof delivering vocals well below his capabilities on Pookie Baby, he received little help from the instrumentals. It was more cohesive than Liability musically but lacked the eclectic charm and character of that album’s production. It felt like a binary. Either he was rapping on top of a bouncy, upbeat trap flavored beat, or he was crooning on top of something more wavy and slow. While none of the instrumentals were inherently bad, they were generic and grew dull quickly. Prof normally has enough energy to carry weaker beats, but his complacency on Pookie Baby enabled them to stand out as mediocre. Tracks were screaming for more intricacy to help carry his performance, and it just was not there. It was another unfortunate reflection of the regression Prof displayed as an artist. His production choices were that of an individual who misunderstood his strengths and appeal, resulting in a bitterly inferior product from top to bottom.

In spite of Pookie Baby’s quality issues, it doesn’t seem fair to count Prof out entirely. As much as this was a rather significant misstep, it wasn’t bad due to deteriorated ability. It felt more like he was lost musically, and leaned heavily on his crutches to be able to flesh out an album. This has happened to many an artist over the years, and a future return to form is more than possible. Regardless this is a review, and the reality is that Pookie Baby offered little of value or interest. A couple of songs were quite amusing and might be worth spinning again, but the overall product was underwhelming at best. It just didn’t click. He’s worth keeping an eye on going forward as there’s plenty of untapped potential, but this is a project better to be left forgotten.

Album Review: Black Milk – FEVER

by Dustin

FEVER

9/10

Detroit. One of the meccas of hip-hop. For years the city has churned out phenomenal talent like flowers growing through the cracks of the extremely rough social climate. Since the turn of the millennium, Black Milk has been honing himself as one of Motor City’s finest artists. Working with prominent local names such as Slum Village, Danny Brown, Guilty Simpson, and Royce da 5’9”, he became known as a production wizard before moving into solo rap releases in 2005. His career has been one marked by superhuman craftsmanship, particularly following the release of Tronic in 2008. Black Milk has been an artist to never settle, striving to push his style to new places with each new drop. Just shy of four years since his last rap release, Black Milk stepped out of the shadows with a new offering of tracks; one that may only have been his most bold step forward in the name of musical progression.

FEVER was a sonic departure for Black Milk, at least regarding his rap releases. While it moved away from the alternative street-hop sound, he had crafted on No Poison No Paradise, and If There’s a Hell Below, it built upon the distinctive flavor of the Nat Turner collaborative effort, The Rebellion Sessions. This will likely be a sticking point for some, and admittedly it did make for a confusing initial listen; however, once that shock wore off, the album felt incredibly well put together. It doesn’t take a hip-hop aficionado to recognize that Black Milk has been a production powerhouse for many years, but he still managed to find a point of ascension for FEVER. The instrumentals on this album were fantastic. Through the process of chopping tracks recorded by his actual band, Black Milk gave the beats a sense dynamic liveliness that would otherwise be difficult to accomplish using samples. It created an intimate environment, much like watching a jazz-rap show at a small venue. Additionally, he didn’t entirely abandon the classic boom-bap undertones that have become a signature of the Michigan region. The record maintained a needed sense of familiarity. There was a wonderful balance between genres that often gets lost on artists when they move into new territory. While the jazz and funk elements were certainly prominent, FEVER remained hip-hop at its core.

The production oddities didn’t end there, however, as the vocals on this release were handled uniquely. Black Milk felt to be a little further back in the mix, doing away with the stark contrast between emcee and instrumental. This had some interesting consequences. First and foremost, it gave the album a flawless aspect of cohesion. The way Black Milk allowed himself to be enveloped in the beat made it sound as if he was more at home than ever before. There were no moments that felt as if the beat selection was questionable, a true hat tip toward the attention to finer detail. Secondly, it created an environment in which it became possible to end up fully lost in a track as the listener. There was an ethereal beauty to each song, with the individual pieces joining forces to create a rich final sound. While this may have made it hard to firmly hang onto Black Milk’s lyrics at first, with subsequent listens it became a true marvel to appreciate.

Making it all the more worth taking time was the fact that Black Milk’s performance as an emcee remained solid as ever. There’s something to be said about knowing when to keep it simple, and he has proven time and time again to be a master of that art. While admittedly more ambitious on FEVER than some of his past work, Black Milk’s flows never attempt to overwhelm. They were tight and complementary to the chilled out production. At the lyrical level, he opted to focus on his strengths: observant bars and social storytelling. Verses were packed to the brim with quick poignancy, and tracks such as “Foe Friend” highlighted his ability to craft interesting stories out of the day-to-day. What FEVER lacked in bombastic vocals was made up for in spades with unmatched consistency. There isn’t much else that can be said. Black Milk was simply extremely sharp for the entire duration of the project, and that’s an underrated quality for an album to possess.

Unfortunately, FEVER was the sort of album that will evade a good handful of listeners. It felt distinctly removed from the path Black Milk was on, and if fans don’t approach it with an open mind, it likely won’t land with them as well as it could. This is “unfortunate” because beyond that surprise it was truly a pleasure to experience. Spinning it with expectations checked at the door made it evident that this is a special record. A potential candidate for album of the year, assembled by one of hip-hop’s most artistically attentive minds. Black Milk once again found a way to push the envelope, a remarkable feat for an individual with an already fantastic track record of releases. Bravo.

Celebrating the Growing Importance of Physical Media

by Dustin

cassette2

To be completely honest, the title to this article might sound odd to most. How can physical media possibly be more important than ever when digital has steamrolled the industry? At the surface level, it is dead. Retailers are pulling the last of the CDs off the shelves, marking the end of a decades-long music media evolutionary process. Yet, many have never spent more money on CDs, vinyl, and cassettes than they do now. I am extremely bad. If I don’t budget a monthly allowance to be spent on music I suddenly find myself in a position where groceries are particularly troublesome. Financial tomfoolery aside, I’ve come to realize that moving back toward physical releases has changed my relationship with music entirely. With today being Record Store Day my friends and I wanted to take a minute to share our passion for this fading corner of the music scene, and hopefully shed some light on why we consider physical releases more important now than they have ever been.

“In a world where streaming makes music easier to consume than ever, it seems as though its value is continuously decreasing. For a long time now, I’ve been confronted with the question “why buy a song when I can download it for free?” However, with the increasing prevalence of streaming, which poses as a way to “support” artists in a cheap (potentially free) way, the statement seems to just be given more validation. I’ve always felt that streaming is dissatisfying in many ways; there’s no connection between fan and artist. Physical albums allow that connection to exist. You have something tangible to hold, you have to store and maintain them, you get to surround yourself with what you love. They allow the music to keep its value in a market where it’s more dispensable than ever.”
–@RajinBuu

“Buying records means reading liner notes. It means learning about the friends and family involved with the project and glimpsing into their world. It also meant (like in the case of Outkast) learning just exactly what they were saying in the days before OHHLA or Genius.”
–@deaconlf

“As both an artist and a music lover I appreciate something tangible and it warmed my heart as an artist to know that so many fans wanted to buy a physical copy of our debut project, my mom bought one my dad bought one it was something that they can look at and say “wow my kid did this” and fans can look at and say “yeah I can touch this, I can hold on to it, I can frame it” it’s like a time capsule from a forgotten period where projects stayed in your rotation for longer than a week and reviews weren’t done instantly but it’s an incredible thing to be apart of, physical music goes right along with t shirts and posters as genuine mercy.”
–@MTFRyourmom of @_Nobodies

“Physical releases, no matter the format, are more important than ever now. Much of our lives exist between ones and zeros, so holding and hearing and smelling something like a record can really fill the binary void… Establish a sense of connection beyond the internet. As soon as the needle hits the groove something real happens and it is fucking beautiful. It’s almost primal at this point. I think this is true with vinyl, cassettes and CDs. All formats provide a tangible experience that sounds better than streaming, hope people stop arguing about ‘superior’ formats and just focus on making something beautiful and real. Physical releases are awesome”
–@FilthyBrokeRex

For myself it’s much of the same. I crave the connection to art that only physical media can provide. From the beauty of large format cover art to the excitement of finding carefully placed easter eggs inside the album booklet, there is a tactile appeal to the senses that cannot be found anywhere else. For me, it transforms listening to an album from a simple act of consumption to an event that feels special and unique every single time. The thrill of entering a record store or thrift shop and crate digging can only be surmounted by the childlike wonder I feel when my hands finally reach something that I want. My music collection at any given moment is a treasure trove of memories, personal discovery, and adventure. It’s something I curated for myself and nobody else; a scrapbook of self-assuredness that carries all my convictions in taste. I wouldn’t trade that feeling for the world.

There’s also the element of showing that you care. The artists I love create music that becomes an integral part of who I am, and as such I want to support them in any way that I can. Attending concerts isn’t realistic all the time, but buying something that I can hold, show people, and proudly display is always an option. Digital media feels so incredibly disposable, and to me that undermines the effort and dedication these individuals pour into creating something for us to enjoy. Sure, I can acknowledge that 25 or 30 dollars for a vinyl record sounds expensive; however, when you start to consider the entire process behind the album’s existence, it really isn’t that much money. Support keeps people creating. At the end of the day, I’m more than willing to shell out extra if it helps my favorite musicians are able to stick around a little longer. Fraction of a penny streams don’t pay the bills for anybody who isn’t already a star, and that fact alone would be enough for me to proclaim physical media’s importance in the modern climate.

If you still carry any doubts, please take the time to visit a record store today (or at any point in the near future). If you’ve never been fortunate enough to take the time, it is a vastly different experience than endlessly perusing music on Spotify or Google Play. It’s a world that not enough people take advantage of these days, yet there’s a reason it pulls so many of us in. We could sit here for days and try to explain, but really you won’t get it until you try for yourself. Who knows, you could just end up catching the same bug that bit the rest of us from the very moment we purchased our first albums. Apologize to your wallet on my behalf, and have fun!

Happy Record Store Day.