Respect Authority

In the opening of “Hailey’s Song,” Eminem, who had already broken down barriers in the rap world by virtue of being white (and lyrically innovative), says “I can’t sing/I feel like singing/I wanna fuckin’ sing.” And at the end, after what is a vocally atrocious but still very endearing song, he says “I told you I couldn’t sing/Oh well, I tried.”

Were “Hailey’s Song,” in all its experimental glory, an entire album – it would be Lil Wayne’s Rebirth: daring, bold, endearing, and not entirely …good.

As a preface, I should say I’ve been listening to an illegally downloaded ultimate version of Rebirth, which includes all of the tracks officially released this week, as well as a few that had been leaked months ago and were later pulled from the CD. In all, after more than few delayed releases, Weezy popped out nearly two-dozen songs for Rebirth, which was marketed as (and is) the rapper’s attempt to merge his own hip-hop style with rock influences. I don’t have the energy to figure out which songs were part of the final release and which weren’t—moreover, all of the songs were arguably intended for inclusion on a professional album—but I figure having a few extra ones to go off of just means Wayne gets a more comprehensive chance at impressing me. Read More ›

In the world of rap, where a criminal history is the closest thing to a job requirement, it takes a unique artist to pull away from the traditional club shootings and drug deals. Cue Lil Wayne: Although the Grammy award winner was busted in 2007 for what might be considered the most predictable of rapper follies—an unregistered gun and the undeniable billowing of marijuana smoke from his tour bus—he broke the mold this week by pleading guilty to second-degree weapons possession and agreeing to spend a year in jail.

The choice was arguably a smart one: had he gone to trial, Wayne was likely to face upwards of three years in prison, depending on whether the court accepted a controversial DNA profiling technique that involves identifying suspects based on something like a dozen human cells. But considering the debate surrounding low copy number DNA profiling, he also had a chance of winning the case altogether—critics say the results of such testing are too problematic to be trusted.

Take note, rappers: There are lessons to be learned here. For one, manage to proceed through an entire court case without acting like a stereotype, and you’ll be given serious accolades in the mainstream press. Every article I’ve read about this mentions Wayne’s somber attitude during the proceeding, and courteous, if not reluctant, plea. As though making rap music precludes one from knowing to say “sir” when speaking to a judge. I mean, the man was wearing a fucking scarf; I think it’s pretty clear intimidation was not on his to-do list. Read More ›

So here’s a weird idea I had last night while surfing YouTube’s high seas. I decided to listen to music by starting on a video of my choice and from then on only selecting subsequent tracks from the previous one’s related videos. I’d pick a song I liked, and failing that, one I found at least reasonably tolerable. The playlist ends when I get bored of putting together all these fucking YouTube embeds.

Pearl Jam - The Fixer

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By this time next year, we’ll all carry personal auto-tuners around with us and even the fucking Beatles will be reuniting. It was a weird year for music, and it’s hard to say where the industry is headed (I mean, other than down). But one thing is for sure, those iPod earbuds still look great with some dark denim and a Palestinian kaffiyeh (that trendy scarf you’ve appropriated and know nothing about). Here are our picks for this year’s music that’ll rock you harder than a suicide bombing.

Lil’ Wayne
I don’t care if its The Carter I, II or XXLVVII, if Weezy is spitting hot fire, I will be there, guns blazin’. Okay, so I don’t have any guns, but if I did, this is exactly what I would use them for — to shoot in the air as I rapped along about gangster themes like drugs, girls and being an alien rapper from outer space who came to Earth to literally eat the sub-par hip-hop competition. Vibe magazine readers may have named Eminem the best living rapper, but I would bet cash money (millionaires) that’s because they haven’t listened to “Shooter” while smoking a joint on the fire escape.
— kira

The Hood Internet — The Mixtape Volume 3
My debilitating lack of attention span means I generally get bored of an album after only a couple weeks, leaving me an insatiable fiend always itching for his new fix. Having The Hood Internet’s third mixtape on my iPod is like walking around with an endless methadone IV attached to my arm. The Chicago-based DJ Duo are producing some of the most innovative mashups in the supersaturated genre, and their albums are consistently more surprising and more accessible than King Girl Talk, who, on his own solid release this year, started to wander off into the land of Bar Mitzvah Top 40. — aaron

Beyonce — Single Ladies
The song’s retarded but clearly it wasn’t made for the radio; it was made for YouTube. The video is ridiculous, her ass is ridiculous, and the fan videos make the original seem like a masterpiece. Absurd doesn’t begin to describe it. — lou

Lil' Wayne, undergoing some glaucoma therapy

Dealer In Courtroom: I can assure you I have never sold marijuana to the defendant… except for last week of course, ain’t that right my man? That shit was the booooomb, huh dawg? Yo, yo dawg… why you cryin? You wanna blaze after this shit?

Case in point.

And yet, Lil’ Wayne’s assistant/pot-supplier, Terry Bourgeois, was a chosen witness at a suppression hearing yesterday for the rapper’s Manhattan gun-possession case. Which seems like a bad choice for a whole host of reasons, not the least being that Bourgeois probably isn’t going to remember the facts too well other than perhaps, “God damn, the Doritos we ate that night were fucking incredible, Wayne.” Read More ›

As infamous rapper Eminem once said of Dr. Dre in his subtly-titled “White America,” “Every fan black that I got, was probably his in exchange for every white fan that he got. Like damn, we just swapped, sittin’ back lookin’ at shit, wow, I’m like ‘my skin, is it starting to work to my benefit now?’”

Outside of being one of Eminem’s less innovative and more Yoda-like lyrics, the idea behind this statement is true: Eminem, ridiculed during his early days in Detroit for being too motherfucking white to rap, has surely ascended to the throne. Earlier this week, and just three weeks before the first black man in American history steps up to the presidential plate, a three-month online survey of Vibe magazine readers named Mr. Marshall Mathers the “best rapper alive.”

The most ironic part of Eminem’s win, however, isn’t actually his race. Mathers, who followed the “I’m retired, just kidding, no I’m not, yes I am again!” trajectory of many a rapper before him, hasn’t put out an album in four years. In fact, until Vibe’s announcement, I wasn’t even confident he was still alive. Moreover, also-living rapper Jay-Z, who has self-proclaimed himself “best rapper alive” more than once, lost out to Eminem in the competition’s final round, as did Lil Wayne, who consequently has a song called “Best Rapper Alive.” One can only hope the solution to these contradictions isn’t, you know, making someone the best rapper …not alive, a title Eminem could never claim anyway since as far as I know Biggie’s still dead.

Either way, a black man running for (and please oh please oh please) winning the presidency and a white man snagging the title of best living rapper gives me a great deal of hope, and not just that someday our society might escape out from under hundreds of years of deeply entrenched racism. But also hope that I too might someday be able to accomplish some of my less stereotypical dreams: professional bull rider, Murderball competitor and, naturally, best rapper alive.