What is it with me being drawn to German rap these days?

Foreign rap has always interested me because I know the history of American rap rather well. And, when you truly understand its roots, it's almost impossible to separate its cultural roots from those with the black community in America.

So I have to wonder in what way foreign countries come to love the genre. Because, let's be honest, the above video screams pure hip hop - not rap, the culture of hip hop. It makes me miss 90s rap all over again. It's probably the most pure thing I've seen in a long while during this decade of anything resembling hip hop culture.

Which is interesting because how do such pure aspects of the culture get picked up by Germany? Which, while I ask that, I'm being somewhat ironic about. After all, I'm working on my own album that draws off of the history of hip hop though it doesn't represent hip hop in its most pure form, linking the stuggles of urbanization, etc. to other struggles.

But I still find it interesting. Of course, there is no answer to this question with what little I know already. Something to look for in the future.

I so wish I could steal that beat, btw. It sounds absolutely gorgeous.

Random comment from http://news.yahoo.com/s/huffpost/721294#mwpphu-container (for the record, I think changing our currency is a horrid idea, even though the graphic designer in me gets giddy at the idea of new designs and the ability to give other American figures such as other past Native American figures (Sacagawea or otherwise), Susan B. Anthony, and FDR a national position of representation - but that's a discussion for another day):

"It would be such a disgrace to this country to remove the first president of the United Stated George Washington and put Obama on instead. Possibly the worse president this country has ever had and if he continues the way he is we wll be in a depression instead of recession if were not alreaddy there. He states that we are doing better, he better get out of the white house and instead of taking all those vacations start talking to the average american who is struggling to even feed their children. This is wrong."

My response?

The point of this is not some liberal vs. conservative bull. It's a simple...let's talk with our heads before our behinds.

For those who read this, you may remember that, before Obama was elected, I said that I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about him as a candidate. I forget if I said much after he was elected but his often complete lack of doing anything for liberal issues (and his complete regressive acts on gay rights) made me absolutely infuriated. In fact, outside of health care and how he's been handling the economy, I have found little for which I've necessarily wanted to praise him. He'd get more of a neutral from me rather than a positive or negative.

But to say he's the *worst* president we've ever had? Seriously?

That's like idiots who say Bush was the most conservative president we've ever had. Let's not forget, before 9/11 struck, he was going to sign a revision to NAFTA with the president of Mexico so that labor (i.e. people) could traverse across borders without restraint. Hell, the War on Terror, while arguably socially conservative, is not, by any means, economically conservative. To say otherwise is just blatantly false.

Do I think Obama should go on a dollar bill, so soon? No, I don't think he's earned it. I'm hoping that in the future he'll do so and I think he's just playing it politically safe for now (of course, if he loses reelection, that plan will have done him no good and look very poor in the histories of time). But at this current moment, no, of course I don't think he deserves to be on any currency.

But there's a far cry from that and then claiming he's running our country into the ground. Don't be so sensationalist. He's done some good, he's done some bad. But let's make sure we know what we're talking about (remember when everyone was freaking out over Michelle Obama taking a supposed "vacation"?). When people claim that he is just utterly awful, one of the worst people and presidents ever, and all other forms of hyperbole, I literally want to just flat out laugh - but I can't forget that these people actually think they're being intelligent (of course, they're criticism is usually followed by some inane remark of racism or trying to turn our country to communism). Just...stop, breath, and then think. That's all I ask.

The world does not exist in blacks and whites, people, it is many shades of gray.

 

(btw, if you want to see the different designs, go here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/09/16/15-amazing-new-designs-fo_n_719913.html#s141225. Like I said, I don't want to change our currencies, but the new ideas and implementations are pretty cool)

I think this may just be the most adorable thing I've seen in a long while:

If you remember the last time I posted this, just something to get you through the day; if this is the first time you're seeing this, you can thank me later (yes, I'm still that cocky about it - it's that damn good).

(if you've ever wondered where I got the quote for your picture from, Kari)

So, I've mentioned many (many) times on here, often in (sometimes snide) off-handed remarks, that I think very (very) highly of the album Reasonable Doubt by Jay-Z. The natural follow up question would be, "Why?"

If you even remotely know me, you'll know that I often and readily complain about pop music. While I think there can be decent arguments made in defense of it (and the stuff often makes fantastic character studies, as you'll see soon enough), I think most of it (if not all of it) is the industry and often artists trying to cash in on a quick buck. This is particular true for rap music. For a genre that was born out of the really screwed up black experience starting back towards the 70s, it was not a genre that should have gone commercial so soon.

While Rock 'n' Roll (amongst other genres) were able to articulate (initially) uncomfortable human experiences and taboo emotions in a relatively safe, artistically healthy, and (often) sane way, rap has taken all the gritty and uncomfortable aspects of (majoridly) black life in America - you could make an argument for just referring to it as urban life these days, though that notion steals away some importance from the origins of what birthed this monstrosity - for the past 4 decades and blasts it in defiance, realized it can capitalize off of it, and, in a mix of the mentality of getting out any way you can and honest gusto, twisted and convoluted the stereotypes that came to frame the genre and cemented them. Again, fascinating to study, not so good in terms of being an art-form.

That's why something life "Airplanes" by B.o.B. feat. Haylay Williams or even "Billionaire" by Travie McCoy feat. Bruno Mars (even though the honest reciting of the mental effect of being starved of monetary value on the latter song does honestly annoy the Hell out of me) are welcome changes to the scene of rap. After all, the genre was built off of sampling music.

To quote No Good Advice, "after all, techno was invented by escapist black kids in Detroit who were obsessed with Kraftwerk, and disco bands like Chic (as if the name wasn't enough of a clue) based their aesthetic on a Roxy Music-derived euro-penthouse cool a million miles removed from '70s funk. Disco evolved into house, and early hip-hop went from sampling Chic to assimilating European synthpop and inventing electro. Only in the late '80s did acts like Boogie Down Productions, Eric B & Rakim and Public Enemy transform hip-hop's sonic palette by dropping the more synthetic elements in favour of samples from pre-disco funk, particularly James Brown."

That rap might sample rock or use rock influences only recalls back the (rather thin and in the past) connection they have from being birthed out of the conglomerate of many jazz influenced genres, of which include funk (Jimi Hendrix, anyone?).

However, as No Good Advice also (rather well) points out both here and here, recent pandering to both rock and Euro-pop/dance influences seem to be, once again, intents to just sell as much as possible and appeal to as large an audience as possible. I've considered, quite seriously, of using the phrase Artistry is Dead for the past decade. Leastwise, it seems, when it comes to commercial rap.

There's a reason some rap-heads get caught in a certain time frame. In the 90s, they were complaining that rap had died and it should go back to the 70s/early 80s. The entire past decade, we've wondered what happened to Hip Hop's golden age and why we can't go back to the 90s.

And, admittedly, rap for me still is turn-tablism/sampling and lyricism (flow, wordplay, and rhyme) - gritty production and sparse sampling. But the sampling has changed; that's fine, even to be expected. I don't want to mire the genre. Better production or sampling outside of jazz/funk is not going to make me say that it isn't Hip Hop or bad rap. But, while the production towards the end of this decade has shot utterly up in quality (it had to - that's how they sell), I have yet to get any decent lyricism. Leastwise, not to an astounding extent. And, I mean, the production has been good. Kanye almost never ceases to amaze on that end and, while I dislike the song, the production on "What You Say" by Jason Derulo is enough to make my legs go weak.

But, I'm a Hip Hop purist. I want lyrics. I grew up off of underground Detroit rap. I grew up listening to freestyles done in random radio studios in low-lo-def quality. I've listened, readily, to tracks with so much noise that you can barely make out the mc.

At the end of the day, I breath lyricism. Often times, a track (that has a heavy beat/percussion) without sufficient rap over it won't cut it for me. I almost wanted to personally thank Kanye at the beginning of "Good Morning" because he had finally used multi-syllabic rhyme out of all the songs I had listened to of him at the time (it was like, "Please, do something relatively lyrical!!").

As you might guess, I love the Hip Hop culture (and how rap fits into that). But I'm not above calling out its flaws. That's part of the reason I do find myself often looking for alternative rap. I just want good rap, even if that rap has ventured into new places so that only the roots are still present (much like jazz and funk did with the blues, only less so).

So, while I love 90s rap...I can't just straight up say that it's satisfying.

"Juicy" by the Notorious B. I. G. is a great song...but ultimately it's the basic rags to riches story. Admittedly, I love (rather guiltily) "Got a Story to Tell" and it's a fantastic demonstration of a minimalist beat and the power of story telling and delivery in rap. But it also furthers the black-on-black harm so prevalent (and socially ingrained) in the black community and the way that it continually diverts attention away from the real problems that could be dealt with.

"N. Y. State of Mind" offers one of the best phrases out of rap (I still have a hard time thinking it's not some common saying made up a longer time ago) - I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death. Plus "Never put me in your box if your shit eats taps" remains one of my favorite (and best delivered) punchlines ever. Not to mention the production is defining, iconic, and to die for. But beyond that...damn it, I just can't get into this song. The description of the shoot out always seemed corny to me and the album as a whole doesn't seem to tell me anything or give me any useful character insight. It's a vague description of a poorly defined immature youth that doesn't give me any sympathy for him. Maybe they were right in that you couldn't understand it unless you lived it - but I still don't see how that's not a flaw in the album.

Sure, "Dear Mama" by 2Pac is a touching song. But this is also the same guy who proclaimed so loudly "M.O.B. - Money Over Bitches 'cause they breath envy" along with many other equally questionable lyrics.

And, yes, The Chronic articulated the culture at a time when no one was listening - it's lyrics are still utterly ugly.

Now, I'm being cursory. I've never believed in so black and white of arguments. But, for being cursory, this is accurate (of the stuff I've mentioned). Hip Hop had an amazing ability to bring out important aspects - without ever resolutely dealing with them. My brother recently showed me rapgenius.com. And it actually has had me gain slight more respect for artists such as Lil' Wayne. But I still stand by my previous statement.

 

So...why Reasonable Doubt? It's the only album that provides lyricism and a greater sense of subject mater that resolutely deals with itself rather than seeming to be a spewing of streaming consciousness laid out on a track.

Not to say that hasn't been done before. "Somebody's Gotta Die" by Biggie is a perfect song, as far as I'm concerned. While not necessarily preachy or with a sense of preaching, it details the situation with realism (and beautiful story telling) while keeping the cold facts of reality in the picture (i.e. yes, violence opens up many possibilities and opportunities - but you're not the only one living in this world and others will be affected); this was what seemed to have fallen out of the picture on "Niggas Bleed".

Which isn't to say Reasonable Doubt is a perfect album either. Admittedly, I'm still trying to wrap my head around how Jay ever though "Cashmere Thoughts" ever fit on an album about hustling. Yet, outside of two songs, Reasonable Doubt presents an album that acutely focuses around a topic and, through the tracks, examines and assesses this topic through what seems like a very solid and singular character. It's a fascinating personality study that has so many aspects that seem so utterly intended  so aware that I have a hard time thinking that much of this album could have been done on accident. And, really, this is mostly clearly illustrated on "Feelin' It".

 

"Feelin' It" is the track I give to people who I want to hook into the album (or just rap in general). Backed by the smoothest piano loop possibly ever, it sounds just gorgeous and catchy, complimented by a hook by Mecca that just tops it off. It's a clear demonstration of sampling back in the 90s and the essential origin of rap, yet it doesn't have the still blatant evident sound that it is only one piano snippet looped over and over (unlike "D'evils", which sounds like it was picked freshly off a record, with the scratching and all). In fact, for the longest time, I even thought it had accompaniment melodies until I really listened to it. Yet it's not as seamless and complex as "Can I Live". Beautiful Hip Hop still evident, from a purely physical level.

And, with such an instrumental, it sounds like it should be nothing but bragging. Rather foolishly, on my review of Reasonable Doubt, I said that's all it was. It feels good, doing it's basic task really well. Not much wordplay, but the flow is righton (and incredibly hard to imitate). Plus his delivery, the enthusiasms in his voice, are all perfect. Not to mention it's some of the most intricate rhyme-wise that Jay ever gets. It does the job.

How deceptive.

Surely, it is bragging. It starts in the first bar, notably, "Crystals on ice; I like to toast, I keep on spilling it." The decadence is clear, as he actually brags about how tipsy he is. The most offensive line of the song comes with, "Transactions illegitimate 'cause life is still a bitch/And then you die - but for now, life, close your eyes and feel this dick..." Yet, his character is so firmly planted there. The delivery is perfect - he almost pulls it off so that it sounds like a classy and cool comeback.

Admittedly, it's the addition of the alliterative, almost fast-paced rhyme that makes it so damn catchy. Just listen to this:

 

Since diapers, had nothing to live for like them lifers but
Making sure every nigga stay rich within my cipher
We paid the price to circle us, success - they turned my mic up
I'm about to hit these niggas with some shit that'll light they life up
If every nigga in your clique is rich, your clique is rugged
Nobody will fall cause everyone will be each others crutches

 

On its own, it's not all too impressive. Admittedly, there's something to like about a confidence so large that you think you can enlighten another's life ("I'm about to hit these niggas with some shit that'll light they life up"). And the crutches line is barely ingenious, maybe a clever spur-of-the-moment quip. But backed with his delivery and the seductive rhyme, you can't help but enjoy it (I mean, listen to that rhyme! "that'll light they life up" Oh, that's so delicious...). Again, he has the gall to claim the ability to provide enlightenment ("I hope you fools choose to listen; I drop jewels, bust it/These are the rules I follow in my life: you gotta love it"). And then you can't help but smile at the last bar:

 

Jiggy-jigga looking gully in the joint
If y'all niggas ain't talking bout large money, what's the point?

 

Even if it's just rhyming shit several times, the vocab and choice of words here is immaculate for every section of the verse. The use of gully and then the confident quip of confidence at the end continue to be addicting. Admittedly, this is well done bravado, artistically well done (even if not escaping the offenses that bravado can bring). It's not the blunt, often uninventive stuff you often hear now. There's definite talent being employed here.

The second verse continues the absurd over-confidence with "Even if it ain't sunny - hey, I ain't complainin'/I'm in the rain, doing a buck 40, hydroplanin'" (I said to my brother once, and I repeat now, "hydroplaning"? Who rhymes that??).

And almost as another blatant show of confidence, he pulls off using "shit" several times in a row on the ending, stressed rhyme:

 

Ya feelin' it? To all the girls that bought a girdle to conceal my bricks
No doubt, they can vouch, my life is real as shit
95 South and Papi on the Hill and shit
And all the towns like Cambridge that I killed with shit
And all the thorough-ass niggas that I hustle with
Throw your joints in the air one time and bust your shit
These fake rappers can't really know I'm lovin' it; ya feelin' it?

 

Yet notice that last line. They can't know that he's really loving it? Since when, once, in this song did he lead us to think otherwise? In fact, he's made it seem like the totally best thing in the world! From being able to drink Crystal until you can't stand up straight, to being as real as it gets with all the illegal activity - I thought he was living the life, right??

Enter the third verse. Interestingly enough, of all things, he bring up his mother: "I keep it tight for all the nights my momma prayed I'd stop/Said she had dreams that snipers hit me with a fatal shot". Yet he brushes it off immediately with, "Those nightmares, ma..." And yet, he immediately contradicts his claims that there's no reason to worry with, "Those dreams that you say you've got - give me the chills/But these mils, well, they make me hot. Y'all feel me". But I don't think we do at this point. That statement of "Y'all feel me" sounds more like a weak attempt at reassurance.

And notice that. For a character who was confidently telling us what to believe, what we should do in terms of him, he's now asking us for reassurance. It's not a demand anymore - it's seeking confirmation. His statement are no longer (really) rhetorical, though he might be trying to pass them off as such.

And then the interesting line - "Enough to stop the illin', right?" I personally think he's referencing a desire to turn to drugs. Yet the connotation is clearly negative here. Illin' is now being used as a negative phrase, a desire for drugs, acknowledging that they hurt your body. And yet the irony is delightfully there - usually illin' is used as a slang for "killin' it" or something of that nature. Or you're "ill" if you have tons of money. But this line is immediately followed by "But at the same time these dimes keep me feelin' tight". Sounds a little confusing, right? He agrees. This is immediately followed by this almost diminished, "I'm so confused..."

Wait, hold up? What happened to our ridiculously pompous and confident individual? The confidence is completely gone. The character is confused, backtracking over what he's said and retracting statement. If you want anymore evidence, look at the next bar: "Okay, I'm getting weeded now: I know I'm contradicting myself/Look, I don't need that now". He seems paranoid (which might make sense, seeing as that line is followed by: "It's just once in a blue moon when there's nothing to do...and/The tension gets too thick for my sober mind to cut through").

When I first noticed this, it seemed far too important a distinction to let go. I mean, think about it. We're used to rap by now. We're used to the notion of bragging and saying you're the best. We're used to singles (this was a single when the album came out) being used to generate buzz and fitting a certain format. In fact, clearly Jay did, seeing as the clean (e.g. censored) version of the song actually has a completely different ending. Without spoiling too much in the next paragraph, let's just say that the fantasy he dreams about is presented as real in the clean version. And that's significant! Even he knows that won't sell. You have to be determined to put this in here and you have to be aware that you are completely undermining the very instrumental and hook that you're using.Are you feelin' it...I'm actually calling into question entirely what I've just bragged about. Umm, what? Most radio listeners don't like introspective (leastwise, not too much) characters. They want it nice and easy, black and white.

But it gets better. After puffing some weed, Jay gets

 

...to zonin': me and this chick on the L and then we're bonin'
I free my mind; sometimes I hear myself moanin'
Take one more toke and I leave that weed alone, man
It's got me goin'! Shit...

 

Whoa. Did he just admit to masturbating to himself while high? Mr. "hit these niggas with some shit that'll light they life up"? I don't think that's what they had in mind, Jay.

And that's the beauty of the track. It builds up this overly confident, borderline unlikable character - just to utterly rip him down. That's the life? Masturbating in your room alone, dreaming about a girl because of the stress? I particularly love (and, of course, his delivery of) the line, "I free my mind; sometimes I hear myself moanin'". It perfectly catches that emotion notion - that idea of accessing his own emotions. He frees his mind and sometimes he can hear himself moaning. It's an eerie image. But it notes that he's hiding from his own activity. And yet, that activity is the only recognition of his own feelings (when he's, otherwise, pretending life is just peachy for everyone else). He's hiding from it but at the same time he sounds like he's looking for it, trying to find it. It's ambivilent.

And it's such miniscule details like that that make this track so delightful. And, in its own way, it captures it all. If you wanted a track which got at the reality of black life (in this case, hustling drugs), this is the type of track that does it well. That "feel this dick" line doesn't sound so harsh to our sensibilites because we know it's a cover up, a show. We're allowed the bravado while really getting to the inside of the character and understanding him, given the reality with the fiction.

 

Complex, artistic, perfectly executed and well done, plus musically sound - THAT is what rap should be. Screw that commercial junk.

     Good God, it felt so much more full and fulfilling when it was empty.
     Kerianna stumbled down the stairs, partially due to the fact that it was 2 in the morning and she hadn't slept much the night before anyway, partially because of the impending crash she knew would come from downing 3 or 4 cans of Coke, and partially because the empty subway ensured that she didn't need to concern herself with possible embarrassment.
     Righting herself at the bottom, she curtly nodded to the sprawling graffiti that snaked and winded itself over the tiled couch it lay on. For whatever reason, it was always on the other side of the tracks. Scuffling her shoes on the concrete, she wondering why no one had bothered to paint on the immediate surface that made up the waiting station. But she supposed that authority had a way of making people do dangerous things. Lazily, she tottered over to the tracks for a closer look.
     Her parents never used to let her close to the edge that prefaced the rail when she was younger. Even at seven, she always thought the bigass yellow line would be evidence enough to stay away, but, apparently, they figured their daughter willing to throw herself onto the rail even then. Sitting down so that her legs dangled over, a bit of empathy for their situation crept up on her. Kerianna had always been small-statured; at the current moment, at 5 feet, she weighed 130 pounds, likely an easy task for the currents that cascaded through the thick steel below her.
     "Shit, motherfucker..." she muttered softly, rolling her fists into her eyes in an attempt to gouge them out. With any luck, she figured, she might be able to reach the source of her surging and ebbing headache through that entrance. At any rate, all it was reminding her of now was the pounding pop music in that dark and stuffy room she was at just 15 minutes ago. That and how she wished she had another can of Coke with her at the moment, even if it just fought back the grief for only so long.
     She glanced down at her favorite plaid (unbuttoned) button-up over the simple purple shirt she was wearing and regretted being too lazy to bother getting up from the dirty concrete, ruing already the musty smell they'd soak up. The jeans she could take, even if they were that rare dark, mellow blue that she could spend all day staring at. She sighed bitterly: she wasn't tired enough yet to forget that the button-up had been nicely ironed straight before she left for the party.
     She didn't blame the concrete, anyway. She liked the thick, rectangular pillars that enclosed her so familiarly. Or that dull reflection that fought to shine on the metal in a train, despite the flickering the bulb insisted on anyway. Happily she thought of the groggy struggle from a late trip that reminds you that this sack of flesh, bones, fat, and muscle is beating and that the smell of the gum, dirt, dust, and other miscillanious objects shoved in that crevice between the wall and where the window slides has a smell so acute that you can vividly have it invade your nostrils, if you want. Without even looking, she could run her hand along that metal wall and feel where others had attempted to cut some coherent message in, even there. And, of course, that satisfying hum and vibration of the train beating along the track, going forward in a determined and steady race, leaving behind the parents at the counter buying more pills for her persistent "head cold".
     She sighed in abject disgust as her hand fell into something wet and sticky that soaked a good portion of the couch cushion Kerianna had been planning to sit on. Rapidly wiping her left hand on her pants, she headed over to the cooler again for another Coke. Cramps and an unrelated mood swing was not the idea she had of a good time when she had decided to come. Not that staying home was a better option; all that was guarenteed from staying home was looking at pictures and icons that could hopefully provide an excuse for her being single and blasting Atreyu or Slipknot in an attempt to try to explain her current aggitation. She cut back a hiss after she jabbed her knee into the table, jostling the bowl of chips toward the edge slightly. Why make out on the floor when there was a perfectly good couch? The dull lights in the relatively small basement room along with the blaring Miley Cyrus was starting to get to her. She thought about going upstairs, for a change of scenery if for nothing else.
     Then again, on second thought, upstairs probably wouldn't have this boy next to the cooler, Kerianna noted, fishing out a can while attempting to descreetly look out of the corner of her eyes from time to time. He looks bored too, she nagged; she ripped out a can from the bottom of the cooler.
     Doing a 360°, she plopped down on the arm of the couch he sat on, working to open her can. "Great party, huh?" she asked, glancing down with a smirk. He chuckled, looking briefly around before glancing back at Kerianna.
     Her can open, she took a quick swig, wincing slightly from the sharp stap at the back of her throat as her leg stopped twitching. She glanced down at him again, and then crouched down to his ear, breathlessly staggering,
     "C'mon, let's get the fuck out of here. There are better places to breath."

-------------------------------------

     "Why do you write?"
     "Why do I breath?"
     "To live?"
     "To not go insane."

-------------------------------------

On a completely unrelated note, Orla sounds so much better when she sings in a lower pitch, using (for her) an almost husky voice. Just listen to that emotion there:

EDIT: Orla has, without notice or given reason, made the video private. I'm going to take her not responding to my question of why and if I could get an mp3 of the track as tacit approval to upload an mp3 here myself. 

So, Eminem, Li'l Wayne, and Drake performed at the Grammys, I was informed:

On the comments of this video, someone had said, "Great moment in hip-hop."

Is that so?

For a genre that was founded on pushing boundaries and trying to bring awareness to issues that - quite frankly - the country didn't give a damn about hearing, it's kinda embarrassing as a rapper to hear Wayne censor every two words of his song. Now, of course, he's not (by any means) using cuss words in any purposeful fashion. Jay-Z's immortal "I kept feeding her money until her shit started to make sense(cents)" both utilizes the words for double entendre and are aptly appropriate for the character construction in the song. Further, since cuss words are words of frustration, often enough they can be utilized for the appropriate show of anger.

But fine, it's not the ideal use of the words and, let's face it, you can't hope to go mainstream if you don't censor yourself a bit. Plus there are ways to subvert this concept through censorship.

Let's focus on the quality of the verses instead. ...haha. Other than Eminem, they SUCK. And I feel I have to be that blunt, that big, that obnoxious about this, I really do. Because rap is a beautiful genre which really calls on the voice as an instrument and speech as a form of rhythm and delivery in a skilled fashion - yet we are utterly unaware of this.

Yes, rap became commercial, hit the mainstream, etc. Yay! But at what cost? Alright, the songs are somewhat angsty. Teens like angsty, right? Forget actually knowing what they're talking about, it sounds nice, though. No, seriously, I mean, did you hear Drake's rhyme schemes? Anyone who starts off with "Last name 'Ever'/First name 'Greatest'" should not be allowed to touch a mic again. You call that wordplay?? And then you continue that pace of rhyming for the rest of your short verse??

I know Wayne got famous for his use of wordplay - but I don't hear any. Honestly, Em puts these two to shame. Intensive rhyme schemes and unique flows, he's the only one pushing himself in this current music industry as an artist (even if his subject matters are treading old ground without the same amount of focus often...).

Alright, fine, but this is just rap. The commenter said hip hop (as in the culture), right?

Now, I'll admit - I actually like the polished, computerized beat. I like the harmonized singing which is pure pop. Culturally speaking, these are not hip hop (though they are hip pop). Actually, I wouldn't mind them becoming a further part of hip hip (and, let's face it - computerized beats are pretty much hip hop by now).

Admittedly, I really like alternative rap. I like lyricism. For me, I like hearing words rhymes. Show me how you move around the beat, give me an impressive flow. That's why Linkin Park's Reanimation is still something I listen to. More of a hybrid between what's emerged as rap these days and old school hip-hop, it's got fantastic lyricism for a lot of its songs, plain and simple. I can't understand most of what Curse is saying - but Hell, the guy knows how to rhyme and that's a pretty damn impressive flow:

And, yes, Flobots doesn't sample (though using live instruments gets a similar result, the point is that it's different from the cultural roots of rap in terms of creation), but they're pretty insane lyricists.

But rap in terms of the culture has changed greatly. As HipHopDX put it about Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique, an album like that can never happen again. The amount of samples used can't be recreated simply because of copyright laws. Whereas beats used to be taken from carefully chosen drum work on different songs, now they must be created on the computer, making them mostly sound the same and not as authentic.

Nas's New York State of Mind or Jay-Z's Can I Live (it's the song playing on my profile page) or Brooklyn's Finest are very hard to come by again.

Further - well, the subjects just aren't the same that they were. I'm not saying we need to bring back Afro-centric lyrics, though they did bring out the plights of the ghetto and racism, just as the Hip Hop Renaissance brought out the frustrations of the crack generation, poverty, and even larger increasing crime (even if not in as focused a manner as the Golden Age of Hip Hop did).

And it's there that the notion of this moment being great for hip hop becomes downright ridiculous. Lack of any genuine revolutionary change, a major departure from the roots of the culture, a crowd cheering at these things with (likely) a complete lack of knowledge of the culture and its roots, and reduced and skipable subject matter - this is a great moment for hip hop for you?

Hell, in terms of rap, even - it's pretty bad. Like I said, Eminem's the only salvageable piece of this. Reasonable Doubt being performed at Radio City by a live orchestra was a great moment for hip hop. This was not.

Just for a reminder of flawless music:

I must be slipping. There're so many ways for opposition to misread this, so many ways for miscommunication, or the need for explanation. Yet...well, this girl's my hero for the day:

I find it interesting these days when I talk to others about relationships and what they hope for in love. This is largely because how I understand the concept has very radically changed from simply half a year or a year ago.

It’s interesting to see, almost, the way that these concepts of a relationship are continually painted as being very easy, natural, and almost as if expected.

“You can all fall in love; it just is a matter of time.”

Or my favorite is the one where the two walk past each other and just happen to be struck by this realization. It’s nice, and it’s sweet, it really is (my voice is actually not supposed to be heavily sarcastic right now like it usually tends to be).

But you go through enough relationships and you realize it really isn’t like that. Actually, they’re just at the surface and there’s a depth more to look through.

Hmm, how can I properly get these thoughts across? I suppose it’s the difference from entering a relationship thinking of an end and then entering a relationship knowing it probably won’t work out. Heh, it sounds somewhat downing yet that’s the fact of the matter. The point of dating is for enjoying the moments that happen. As I’ve said previously, my past exes do share an importance and a lot of that does lie it the memories they’ve given me and the lessons they’ve taught me. There are people I adore because of what I’ve learned about them during that time of higher intimacy.

But it probably won’t last. Usually won’t. And you’ve got to understand that. In all brutal honesty, I expect that I won’t end up with anyone in the end. And I’m alright with that. Not everything ideal in life works out. As soon as I get capable of supporting myself and others firmly with no fear of otherwise, if not involved with anyone else, I’m going to adopt. I’m not going to slow my life around this.

Now, of course, this is a worst case scenario. To what degree things lean in that direction regardless, it’s the point you realize that the past moments and connections were very much worth it and understanding that clinging and expecting all payout from the Goal and final ending is unrealistic.

The other aspect is knowing what to expect in a relationship and from the person. When we’re young, we have basic expectations. Generally, they’re very, very minimal. As things go on, they may get slightly more specific. They need to be gentle, caring, smart, etc. etc.

But we don’t think about the little things in the relationship.
     Are things awkward when you’re with zir (gender-neutral pronoun; think “him or her”) or do they flow in a way that’s satisfying for both people?
     Do the cons outweigh or are totally not bothering to us or do the pros outweigh (we’re so used to thinking ze’ll be so perfect there will be nothing which you dislike. Hehe…think again)?
     Can ze support you? Meaning, is ze enough to keep you sustained or are you left wanting more, feeling like something’s missing?
     Better yet, can you recognize when it’s that you’re missing something and when it’s simply that you’re being naïve or expecting more than ze can give you or than you ought to expect realistically?

The common theme between all of the above? They’re gray areas. And they’ve all been even simplified here. They’re far more complex, individual, and dependent on specific situations that I cannot begin to even think of them all. Further, I’ve only listed 5, which is a far lower amount of those gray areas than there are.

A relationship – while I largely do still believe, and will continue to argue, that a relationship is very much flowers and compliments and cute gifts – is the nitty gritty. It’s “Does this bother you?” It’s making sure you’re able to properly articulate what bothers you to the other person (which is a lot harder than you’d think) and both of you being able to handle it. It’s making sure you’re open to each other and making sure you both work to making the relationship work. It’s the boring little details that are more than just gazing at each other lovingly or teasing and laughing with each other.

Again, I stress, those things are not unimportant – rather, they’re as important as the other stuff I’ve added. But you must have both in must, must deal with both, when dealing with a relationship.

And when you’ve realized this – well, I find that this difficult, irritating, tiresome and energy draining, time consuming, complex ordeal is all the more astounding. It’s all the more worthwhile. Hats off to those who manage to make it work, because it’s quite a daunting task which I’m not even sure I’ll ever accomplish.

Suddenly that person is all the more dynamic. Suddenly that the two of you work is more puzzling, more thankful and enjoyable. Alright, I think that’s enough of abstracts that are failing to get across what I’m trying to say anyway (hence why the list of them). I can’t really get at what it’s like.

But it’s that weird moment when you aren’t actually bothered by the difficulty or that the odds are stacked against you. I don’t look at relationship with this expectation to “succeed” anymore – I just want a glimpse of the person I’m involved with (and, hopefully, to have that develop even further and further into a solid friendship) and to have no regrets come that crash. If things are gonna burn out in flames, I want those flames to be so fierce and bright that those at a distance are taken in awe. Let me get wasted out and remind me that I’m alive, that I feel – that it all actually meant something, that’s why it hurts so damn bad.

Now, obviously, that’s not the ideal ending. Ideally, if things do end, they should end on a peaceful note. But don’t just waste it. Don’t mourne because it ended, or maybe unhappy because it wasn’t more, that it didn’t end up being love but just maybe two weeks – appreciate that nonetheless. It meant something, does mean something.

A friend asked me what I wanted in a companion. I responded:

And, in light of this, I understand that, really, so simplistic of wanting for a relationship and in a person is difficult to acheive. But that’s what makes it so damn amazing. That really doesn't explain it. But I'm starting to think that in order to understand, you've just got to witness it yourself.

A related video. If only all pop stuff this complex and non-simplistic (or formulaic) – basically, intelligent – and I might not actually hate the stuff so much then.

And, because who doesn't need a bit of Scrubs all the time?

For whatever reason, today, I had a sudden flash of memory of the movie Radio. The trailer is below if you're not famliliar:

That, in turn, made me think of Flowers For Algernon (please tell me you all remember reading this way back when?? If not, you can read it here, in blog format: http://flowers-4-algernon.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2007-10-15T12%3A12%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7 - start at the bottom and then work your way up the page to earlier and earlier entries). And my childhood comes flooding back to me.

May 20

I would not have noticed the new dishwasher, a boy. of about sixteen, at the corner diner where I take my evening meals if not for the incident of the broken dishes.
They crashed to the floor, shattering and sending bits of white china under the tables. The boy stood there, dazed and frightened, holding the empty tray in his hand. The whistles and catcalls from the customers (the cries of "hey, there go the profits!" . "Mazeltov!". . . and "well, he didn't work here very long" which invariably seem to follow the breaking of glass or dishware in a public restaurant) all seemed to confuse him.
When the owner came to see what the excitement was about, the boy cowered as if he expected to be struck and threw up his arms as if to ward off the blow.
"All right! All right, you dope," shouted the owner, "don't just stand there! Get the broom and sweep that mess up. A broom . . . a broom, you idiot! It's in the kitchen. Sweep up all the pieces."
The boy saw that he was not going to be punished. His frightened expression disappeared and he smiled and hummed as he came back with the broom to sweep the floor. A few of the rowdier customers kept up the remarks, amusing themselves at his expense.
"Here, sonny, over here there's a nice piece behind you...."
"C'mon, do it again."
"He's not so dumb. It's easier to break'em than to wash'em. . ."
As his vacant eyes moved across the crowd of amused onlook-ers, he slowly mirrored their smiles and finally broke into an uncertain grin at the joke which he obviously did not understand.
I felt sick inside as I looked at his dull, vacuous smile, the wide, bright eyes of a child, uncertain but eager to please. They were laughing at him because he was mentally retarded.
And I had been laughing at him too.
Suddenly, I was furious at myself and all those who were smirking at him. I jumped up and shouted, "Shut up! Leave him alone! It's not his fault he can't understand. He can't help what he is! But for God's sake . . . he's still a human being!"