On Rich Boy and the Voice as an Instrument, Part I
The arrival of this piece was prophesied long ago, in the bygone days of November 2009. Enjoy Part I of the Rich Boy Manifesto.
If you’ve spent any time reading YML over the last few months, it should be evident that I love Rich Boy and I love Yelawolf.
So imagine my delight when two of Alabama’s finest jumped on a Jim Jonsin beat together. Here’s “Go Crazy” by Rich Boy ft. Yelawolf.
I have wanted to assemble a long form piece on Rich Boy for a while (and a shorter piece about Yela’s Trunk Muzik is coming), so I’m using “Go Crazy” as an excuse (for the record: it is not the jaw-dropping collaboration I had hoped for, but it’s definitely a serviceable slice of the two rappers’ styles, I want to hear the two of them on a beat like “Boy Looka Here”).
I realize a randomly released song coincidentally featuring two of my current favorite artists is a bit too flimsy to necessitate the tome you’re about to read (or not read, as the case may be). So, instead, let me say that this essay was inspired by a recent rediscovery of Mystikal (fortuitously occurring right before he returned from prison and a slice of the listening public remembered that Mystikal was dope) and downloading of Rich Boy’s Bigger Than the Mayor mixtape which raised a series of interesting question in my mind: how are we supposed to enjoy our rappers? How are we meant to judge them? Is it right that every time the “best rapper” is discussed, an all too familiar set of criteria and artists gets trotted out? Is this hindering our ability as listeners to get past titles and simply enjoy music? Answers in due time.
When I first heard Rich Boy on “Throw Some D’s” almost four years ago, I immediately dismissed him as merely a mush-mouthed Southern rapper with little to offer in terms of listening pleasure or stylistic study.
Wrong.
On Empire State of Mind…Again…
I’ve wanted to put this up for a while, but I’ve been too lazy to actually finish it. I’m not sure there’s much more that needs to be said. Is this song still alive? I don’t know. It won’t die as long as the Knicks, Giants, Jets, Yankees, and Mets reside in New York. And 2Pac help us all if the Nets ever make it to Brooklyn. So here are some thoughts that actually date back about a month, when I was visiting North Carolina and saw people–non-New Yorkers–reacting to Jay-Z’s monster track.
Here it is: “Empire State of Mind” has become something larger than itself. It has stepped beyond Jay-Z and far beyond the confines of Blueprint 3. It is an autonomous entity, a symbol of a rarified, dream New York that now exists in the minds of listeners.
Jay-Z did a brilliant thing.
On Limitations, Yelawolf, and Idiosyncrasies
At last, another long form piece! I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with baited breath. Be sure to stay tuned for an interview with Yelawolf that will be going up tomorrow, which will serve as a nice complement to this piece. In addition, check out my interview with Yela here. Enjoy!
Photo by Chris Shonting
A few weeks ago at Cocaine Blunts, Noz put up an interesting discussion of Pill and Freddie Gibbs’ cache with the blogs. There’s a lot going on in it, but I want to address one point in particular and then make another about one of my current favorite emcees.
In the article, Noz states:
“Pill and Gibbs are artists who have studied their predecessors closely, who have the intellectual capacity and skill level to follow their formula, but have thus far been too wrapped up in those standards to evolve beyond them. Like Little Brother before them, they are able to synthesize just about everything but the flair (dare I say swagger?) of their rap heroes. Their personalities don’t engage on the level of an Andre 3000 or Pimp C. And I’m sure if you were to ask them, they’d tell you of course not, those are the greats. They, like their audience, put their predecessors on an unattainable pedestal, which is a self limiting standard.”
I agree with the early statements wholeheartedly. To my eye, the obvious example of this ensnaring paradigm is the Cunninlynguists, a group who has carved out so comfortable a niche with their smoothed out Oukast-lite sound that they’ve made little progress since 2006’s A Piece of Strange (this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Dirty Acres is one of my favorite albums of the last few years and Strange Journey vol. 2 has been getting regular rotation recently). The major hitch in this theory is the idea that these artists can never move past or, at very least, away from their idols.
Enter Yelawolf.
On Empire State of Mind, New York Anthems, and The King of New York
NOTE: This is not a completed treatise, just a collection of thoughts for the moment. I certainly plan on revisiting this subject once I’ve organized my mind a bit better, but I just wanted to get this out. It is by no means an all inclusive statement on any of the topics discussed in the title. Enjoy. UPDATE: Extended thoughts on the subject here
My Macbook’s dictionary defines an anthem as:
a rousing or uplifting song identified with a particular group, body, or cause
It is impossible to fully explain why any song becomes an anthem. The elements are amorphous–context is as important, if not more so, than the music itself. And who’s presenting the whole thing? At its heart, no matter the particular circumstances or sound of anthem, its job first and foremost is to inspire. This definition is the very heart of Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind.”
Nicolas Heller
gregston
Jonathan Tanners
Gaia
brandoncolvin
leave a comment