Tyler, The Creator
Goblin
XL :: 2011
Odd future helmsman Tyler, The Creator gets the nod for latest effort Goblin if for no other reason than his being the begetter of 2011’s burgeoning DIY hip-hop movement.
XL :: 2011
Odd future helmsman Tyler, The Creator gets the nod for latest effort Goblin if for no other reason than his being the begetter of 2011’s burgeoning DIY hip-hop movement.
It’s been fascinating to watch this crew rise from obscurity to become the biggest thing in (underground?) hip-hop since now defunct Def Jux came onto the scene. But what do you call their brand of rap? Is it Backpack? Emo? Horror Core? It’s pretty much impossible to categorize Odd Future, but their music is decidedly dark. Not quite so dark as the stuff of Brotha Lynch, but nonetheless dismal enough to deter any casual pop music fan.
Thematically, Tyler is out there, but to call his raps vitriolic and leave it at that is a woefully insufficient classification. Gritty introspection is Tyler’s bread and butter. Goblin is deeply personal, and not exactly an “easy listen,” but a worthwhile one if you have the fortitude.
The dirge-like “Yonkers,” which sees Tyler musing on suicide, among other things, can only be described as grim. While indifference and withdrawal are writ large on standout ‘therapy session’ set “Nightmare” as Tyler leers, “My only problem is death/ Fuck heaven, I ain’t showing no religion/ respect.” Save a for a track or two, the bouncy “Analog" namely, the rest of the album plays out in similarly bleak fashion. Basically, the kid’s got issues, or so he’d like us to believe, at least.
Regardless of the veracity of his lyrical content, Tyler does possess an uncanny ability to communicate a sense of foreboding alienation on every track. You will feel a little dejected after hearing the album.
That said, this record’s extremely personal nature might put off some listeners at first listen. Tyler’s album persona is a wreck, but there’s something endearing and familiar about his anguish that seems to beckon repeat plays. Then again, it’s also quite possible that I’m just a misanthropic weirdo who likes scary music.
Jay-Z and Kanye West
Watch The Throne
Def Jam :: 2011
As much as I’d like to leave Jay and Kanye’s shameless tribute to black excellence off Ultimate Salt’s best of the year list, I can’t bring myself to. Believe, I wanted so badly to hate this release. Then I heard Lex Luger’s tight production on H.A.M. and, as is so often the case when I get around to heaping scorn on an album that is months away from completion, had to eat a word sandwich.
It’s not a release without flaws by any means (see: “That’s my bitch,” or don’t), but on the whole the duo churn out a pretty interesting record, especially given the haste with which is was put together. Then again, this is Kanye and Jay we’re talking about.
Not surprisingly, there’s a fair amount of esoteric name-brand dropping that goes on, and enough braggadocio about having lots of coin to sustain roughly seven Kanye records (nevermind that many of their listeners can barely pay the rent when it’s due) but these guys also take time to speak on real shit, which is kind of endearing and adorable.
On “No Church in the Wild," Jay tackles some pretty serious moral quandaries, pondering the Euthyphro dilemma in song as only he can, but all the lofty lyricism goes to waste here, as the instrumental goes way too hard for anyone to give two shits about the song's lyrical content. The duo’s lamentation of black or black crime on the wistful “Murder to Excellence” is about as deep as these guys delve into anything that could be construed as politically driven, though they seem earnest enough.
It's “Made in America,” the duo’s ode to the come up that gets my nod for best sleeper pick in spite of its egregiously trite chorus, but ultimately it is the triumphant sound of “Otis” that defines the album's bent toward brazen self-love, and keeps us coming back for repeat listens.
Main Attrakionz
808s & Dark Grapes II
Mishka :: 2011
Take one part ambient mood music, add two parts vocal vehemence a la Bone Thugs N Harmony, somehow get all three hopped up enough on weed and liquor to partake in some depraved orgy a la Eyes Wide Shut, tamper with the condom, wait approximately nine months, and—voila—you’ve got cuddly, (not to mention remarkably well-adjusted), avant-garde hip hop group Main Attrakionz!
The group’s latest album 808s and Dark Grapes II is basically a master class in DIY hip-hop done right (move over Odd Future). A word of warning: hipster kids are going to eat this shit up, and give you cause to hate it very soon.
The production on 808s, which is unlike anything I’ve ever heard on a hip-hop record, can only be described as gorgeous, pitting lush, ambient sound beds against heavy kicks and crisp snares (see: “Chuch”).
Lyrically, rapper/producer Squadda Bambino and rapper MondreMAN sound pretty pedestrian, and probably won’t be winning any rap battles in the foreseeable future. In fact, the album is laden with the same thematic fluff you’d find on any other rap release this year. That is to say that Main Attrakionz, like so many of its rap cohorts, is very fond of blowing herb and getting bitches, not to mention hell bent on coming up. These tropes are hip-hop mainstays at this point.
But it would be wrong to write these guys off on account of their occasionally succumbing to the trite trappings of their milieu, as they are at times unexpectedly thoughtful and introspective. What’s more, in a truly refreshing rap scenario the likes of which I’ve yet to see in a while now, neither rapper tries to upstage the other on this album. The result is an effort that is surprisingly cohesive, and a sound (who knew ambient music and snares meshed so well?) that is totally their own.
Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire
Lost in Translation
Mishka :: 2011
Saltie frontrunner Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire’s 2011 release Lost in Translation marks the welcome return of the RZA pioneered boom bap sound that put Shaolin land on the map but with a bent toward gritty introspection. As a point of reference, think Wu Tang’s production meets Biggie’s flow meets MF Doom’s unabashed alcoholism.
This album’s content is as antithetical to commercial hip-hop dross as you’ve heard in a while; you won’t hear any boasts of smoking “rapper weed” on this release. Rather, eXquire raps mostly about drinking too much and feeling hopeless, or what I like to call “real shit.”
Don’t get me wrong, I love trite boasts as much as the next guy (Watch The Throne is one my favorite releases this year, mind you), but regrettably, at the end of the day I have too few champagne problems to really sympathize with the likes of Kanye And Jay.
Do I really care that Kanye got so fucked up on French Champagne that he’s constrained to wearing expensive sunglasses all day lest his wittle eyeballs bother him? Not the least bit. Curse “No Church in the Wild” for going so hard. Kanye and Jay are about as real to me as the tooth fairy. In other words, their reality is not my own. Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire is, on the other hand, a very relatable guy with tangible problems that are hard not to sympathize with as an underemployed and generally sad person.
On Lost in Translation, you get the feeling that whenever eXquire isn’t eating bad food, he’s medicating with Georgi and dirt weed; endearing stuff when you’re as resigned to despondency as we are at Ultimate Salt. On the whole, a very solid, albeit murky, release.
Danny Brown
XXX
Fool’s Gold :: 2011
Danny Brown is a rapper from Detroit, a city that has become synonymous with urban decay and crime, and a place that is writ large on Brown’s homage to addiction, excess, and general hopelessness, XXX.
The production on XXX, which veers between sounding something like dub step and hip-hop, is decidedly dark and gritty, with beats from the likes of Frank Dukes, Skywlkr, and Brandun Deshay, among others, and is the perfect backdrop for Brown’s screechy vocal style.
With that said, some listeners might stumble on Brown dissonant delivery, but the toil is almost always worth the spoil, as Brown’s storytelling pays dividends to those who are willing to listen.
Stomach his harsh style and you’ll be treated to copious amounts of clever wordplay that rivals that of anybody in rap music right now (insert favorite rapper here) amid some pretty compelling, albeit bleak, yarns of life in the D.
Whether he’s musing on dying like a rockstar, leering, “I got that Kurt Cobain type of mind frame, feeling like Keith Moon’s ‘shrooms in my dressing room,” or pilfering copper and wiring from vacant buildings to make rent, Brown’s words never fail to transport you to the places of which he sings, for better or worse.
Being that he is from an ailing Detroit, it comes as no surprise that songs that delve into drugs and despair weigh so heavily on this album. Fans of one-time Definitive Jux stalwart Cannibal Ox will find familiar footing in its subject matter, but it's not for everyone. Nevertheless, XXX is a standout record, and one that portends good things to come for Brown and hip hop music.
Honorable Mentions
Elzhi, Elmatic (self-released)
Nas' Illmatic with a Motor City twist a la former Slum Village member Elzhi? F'real? Yes, please.
Kendrick Lamar, Section.80 (Top Dawg Ent.)
Oft mired in sanctimony, socially conscious, message driven hip hop is back without the pretense. Thanks for doing that, Kendrick.
Childish Gambino, Camp (Glassnote)
Insecurity and self-deprecation rule on Donald Glover's highly relatable ode to the travails of fame and young manhood.
Curren$y, Weekend at Burnie's (Warner Bros.)
Weed rap frivolity at its best. Curren$y looks to be on roll with this release. Jet life.
Phonte, Charity Starts at Home (Foreign Exchange)
Heart felt, neo-soul flecked hip hop for the backpacker in all of us. LB's better half (no disrespect to Pooh) couldn't choke if he tried.
No comments:
Post a Comment