50 Golden Rap Failures

Supplement 44-1: R. Kelly sings the National Anthem before Hopkins-Taylor

#44, “Back and Forth,” Aaliyah featuring R. Kelly (briefly), 1994

I’m not here to talk about this still-effective R&B/hip-hop jam, the problematic nature of the LP title Age Ain’t Nothing But A Number as it relates to Aaliyah’s mentor/husband for five minutes R. Kelly, the tragedy of her lost potential, or any of that. 

I’m here to talk about R. Kelly’s rap verse at 2:05, a wisp of a moment, all too forgotten in time. 

Here’s the complete lyric:

Hey here’s the formality, get upon the floor, you see Show your personality, be who you wanna be now, tell me

Two semi-dense bars, which rhyme internally but not at the ends. When you hear it, no matter how times you hear it, you expect to continue, if only for a moment, but it never does. Kells never much proper rapped again, though “Ignition (Remix)” and others are rap-sung. 

Supplement 43-1: “Picking Boogers,” Biz Markie, 1988

Just last night, when Kane was getting ready

#43: “Looseys,” Das EFX, 1992

I am an unabashed fan of Das EFX, an act primarily remembered as a novelty act 25 years later who deserved at least somewhat better. Like old Simpsons episodes, the pop culture dense tracks of their first two records have revealed new references to me with every listen, even if we’re talking about Connect Four ads here (”and that’s pretty sneaky sis, oh yes”) and not amazingly deep material. 

DEAD SERIOUS, their debut, is actually a sneaky classic that doesn’t overstay its welcome like many modern hip-hop LPs (and like their bloated 3rd record HOLD IT DOWN), and STRAIGHT UP SEWASIDE, the album where they controversially, briefly, gave up the -iggty style, still holds up well. 

(So well, in fact, that I still like the record even though I was stuck listening to it for hours as my dad and I waited for the tow truck after our car skidded to the side of an icy Connecticut highway, on our way back from buying my Bar-Mitzvah suit. “Krazy Wit Da Books” is that good.)

But in the middle of DEAD SERIOUS, amongst songs primarily and happily about nothing but riggidy biggidy ill rhymes and silly pop culture (my favorite boast from this album: “I figgidy fucked up Sanford, and his fuckin’ son”) there...floats...”Looseys,” a song about...shitting yourself. Not lyrically. In a piece on the album with Mass Appeal, Drayz explains the strategy of...dropping...this song mid-LP.

Drayz: We were big on wordplay. The bathroom instances in the record never happened to us. We just wanted to make light of a situation that could possibly happen. It was like, “Yo, let’s not just fill this album up with raps that brag, brag, brag.” That’s why did songs like “Looseys” that told stories.

Note the never happened to us, because Drayz sure wants you to. And admittedly, true or not, it is the polar opposite of bragging to do a song about shitting yourself while trying to mack a lady (verse 1) or straight up shitting yourself in front of everyone on the basketball court (verse 2). It is also deeply original, and the track’s not bad either; dig that Special Ed sample on the chorus. (He was talking about a girl named Lucy, not...why I am even specifying this?) 

Though nothing is impossible, it’s very, very likely that I will never see a rap act do a better song about diarrhea in my lifetime. This is the Cadillac of songs about pooping yourself, much as “Picking Boogers” is the Champagne of songs about picking your nose and flicking them at Big Daddy Kane. 

Thoughts on That Ben Carson Rap Ad

I’m not even going to get into my thoughts on Ben Carson, a madman mad enough to invent strange beliefs on the Pyramids from whole cloth (most of the craziest of crazies stitch their bullshit together from multiple external sources). But a “bad” rap song is in the news, so I must have some thoughts? (Beat.) Okay,  here are some thoughts.

1) This isn’t that bad. 

Sure, Aspiring Mogul (no, that’s really the name of this rapper, who really is a Republican Christian rapper too) shows no signs of wordplay or wit, but his voice works, as does the way he says “awe-some.” And the track has a bit of bang to it as well. 

2) Are these the most inspiring Ben Carson clips out there?

I’m not the first, er, political commentator to note that Carson’s tenor is a bit...laconic (coma-tic), which makes the juxtaposition of his speeches with this track a little like creating an M.O.P. and Kate Smith mash-up. It’s five-alarm chili and powdered mashed potatoes. If this ad had fully committed, either by having Aspiring Mogul rap Carson’s beliefs on his own (“Big brain/ Those pyramids were used for grain/ My made-up beliefs I must maintain”) or by getting Carson to rap. Ain’t no half-stepping, Doc.

2a) I take part of that last part back: an M.O.P./Kate Smith jawn could bang.

But feel no need to make one.

3) Why are you telling people to vote for you in November 2015?

No primaries are ongoing. Either the message or timing was off here.

4) This is nowhere near the craziest thing about Ben Carson’s presidential campaign, which itself might be nothing but a glorified book tour.

Supplement 42-2 “1-9-9-9,” Common f/ Sadat X and Talib Kweli, 1998

Supplement 42-1: “Fiesta (Remix),” Bomba Estereo f/ Will Smith, 2015

Quick thoughts on this:

1) I’m not very fond of the trend Drake has spearheaded of adding verses to other peoples’ pre-existing tracks, thus creating “remixes” that haven’t actually remixed the song at all and the illusion of creative work when you’re really just scribbling in other peoples’ margins. It’s nice that it gets often unknown artists attention, but it’s still lazy and boring. This falls into that format.

2) Will raps “Hola mamacita/ Go get me a beer-a.” Is cerveza that hard to rhyme with?

#42: “Will 2K,” Will Smith f/ K-Ci, 1999

In case Facebook hasn’t bombarded you with the news that Will Smith popped up to do a verse on a remix of a mediocre dance track (”the wait is over”...because, you know, you’d been waiting and wasting away every day without Big Will), well, it happened. I’ll get into that more on a Supplement post, but more relevant to what you’re reading, Will’s reemergence reminded me of a post I’d wanted to do, but had stayed away from, largely because, between Jaden Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince posts, it would be the third Smith Family-related item on our list of 50.

But fuck it, this song is awful. And, um, the Smiths are a talented family deserving of this many Tumblr post.

People steadily lost interest in Will Smith’s rap career over its three albums (Big Willie Style sold more than Willennium which sold more than Lost and Found, which I wasn’t even aware existed until researching this piece) which means that Willennium is the most important part of the trilogy, where everything goes irreversibly wrong. The samplage of this album’s two moderate-sized hits, “Will 2K” and “Wild Wild West” (which deserves its own entry of the 33 1/3 series) says something about the fatigue of this endeavor: though Big Willie Style’s beats are uncreative track jackings, “Forget Me Nots,” “He’s The Greatest Dancer,” and “And The Beat Goes On” (which became “Men In Black,” “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It,” and “Miami”) were not super well-known songs to your average listen in 1996-7.

But everyone and their grandmother owns or should own a copy of Songs in the Key of Life, so “I Wish” was what came through the radio when wicky wicky “Wild Wild West” came on. Double that for “Rock The Casbah” here. Puff Daddy’s “I’ll Be Missing You,” a similarly blatant rip of a similarly gigantic hit, at least had Biggie’s death to sell it. Will had...the millennium. Or as no one would ever, ever call it, the Willennium.

It’s semi-ballsy, if inevitably disposable to try to make THE millennium song, especially when a skinny motherfucker with a high voice already did it in 1982, but multi-media king Will Smith otherwise has nothing to offer here other than mentions of the clock moving, confetti, shout outs to “Dick Clark holding it down,” and...actually, that’s it. Take a look if you don’t believe me. He actually says “This will be that anthem amongst the cheers.” This is one of the most overt novelty songs since “Pac-Man Fever.”

Supplement 41-2: Genius annotation of “You’ll Cowards Don’t Even Smoke Crack”

Genius is hit and miss and worth all the insults it’s received over the years, but this particular entry has some excellent moments, such as this:

VIPER:  Y'all bustas ain't ballin/ Until you smoke some work and see who really paper calling

GENIUS ANNOTATION:  How can you be successful if you haven’t even smoked crack? Crack will inspire you to get on your grind, and strive for financial success.

Supplement 41-1: “Tune In,” Sensational, 2003

#41: “You’ll Cowards Don’t Even Smoke Crack,” Viper, 2008

I’m gonna come out and admit it: it’s been too long since I continued the sad quest towards 50, and so I’m giving myself an easy one, one that’s been analyzed at length by the outside world and could even be considered a meme already. My justification is that some of you’ll (why is it you’ll and not y’all? could this be the greatest mystery of the song?) cowards haven’t even heard Viper. Even some of the cowards who have smoked crack.

The point of the song, as Chicago’s own Viper, who produces his own shit and plays the keyboards on them (which makes him like a less drugged-up Scott Storch, if you really think about it...but only think so much about it) is explained in the Vice interview linked above: when Viper’s crew sold crack, you had to smoke a little bit to ensure you were getting A-1 shit, so cowards couldn’t roll. Or as he puts it later,  “In a nutshell the motivation behind ‘You’ll Cowards Don’t Even Smoke Crack’ was this: though drugs aren’t for everyone we shouldn’t be judgmental of those who do them ‘cause pointing the one finger at them points four back at us.” (I’ve never heard that expression before, but feel free to use it the next time you need to lie to your loved ones to get out of rehab. Why you gotta judge, Dad?)

The low-rent inscrutability of this track and the poor EQing reminds me of Sensational, but it actually makes Sensational seem skilled. That said, there’s a genuine groove behind the static, and though it takes multiple listens and multiple lyric sheets to actually understand Viper’s lyrics, considering those lyrics seem to be tempting the listener into smoking crack (”You’ll know you want to try it” is somewhere in there), maybe that’s for the best. This song is patently ridiculous, but it’s also highly listenable, beyond just playing it for a joke. I’m not even sure it qualifies as a failure because it very well may be doing everything it’s intending. Except making America smoke more crack. (Maybe.)

INCIDENTAL DEPARTURE: "Desire," Future World Orchestra, 1982

#40: “I Got A Man (Re-Recorded),” Positive K, 2009

Ohhhhh no. No no no. No, don't let this be what remains of Positive K no no no.

While digging around Spotify one lazy afternoon, I ran into an entity I'm not even sure is an album (is there such a thing as Direct-to-Spotify these days, in the way there is Direct-to-Video?), Old School Hip-Hop Greats. It's reminiscent of In The Beginning...There Was Rap, which inspired an earlier, awful entry in our dirty 50, but while In The Beginning gave us hip-hop covers, Old School are only sorta cover songs, because these are, indeed, old-ass songs performed by the old-ass original artists. Well, mostly. Also, for some reason, the beats they're performing over are worse than the originals. Sub-karaoke in some cases.

And yet, some of this bullshit is fun: while a few of the younger artists like Coolio and Vanilla Ice sound weirdly, troublingly aged (I'm not even completely convinced that is Vanilla Ice, honestly, although I don't think he'd be MF DOOM-level clever enough to send a voice doppleganger), J.J. Fad can still clip through "Supersonic," Kurtis Blow hits the punchlines of "The Breaks" differently but well, and Roxanne Shante's performance just makes me wish she had MC Lyte's career.

But good, bad, and indifferent, the only reason to listen to Old School Hip-Hop Greats is to listen to, and boggle at, Positive K.

Although Positive K ended up being a one-hit wonder, that hit, "I Got A Man," is a fucking tour de force. A dialogue between a man and a woman where K performed both voices (with the help of pitch adjustment) over the same classic A Taste of Honey loop used on "That's The Joint," the song is a true flirtatious dialogue, full of jabs, and genuine need, "I Got A Man" isn't literature, but it's not far from it either. 

But that's not what you're getting in the re-recording. What you get here are two rappers (yes, there's an actual lady here) doing haphazard and half-assed karaoke of a song they kinda remember, but don't have the rhythmic power to keep up with. (Though, hey, at least they used the original track.) Positive K doesn't just sound old, tired, and vocally worn; he sounds like his own grandfather, which makes what was always a semi-stalkerish narrative turn into something truly nightmarish. The way our lady victim fails to say the last "I got a man!" of the song, leaving K to say "You got a what?" to nothing at all just makes the man sound still battier. In the original, Positive K played both roles; in the remake, is it possible that there is no girl at all, and K is just imagining himself at the club as he takes an afternoon nap in his nursing home?

Supplement 39-1: "Speak No Evil," Everlast, 1990

#39: "Jump Around? (Acoustic)," Everlast, 2013

If Everlast wasn't named Everlast, he'd probably be named White Privilege. How a rapper of limited interest, a singer of extremely limited range, and a guitarist of that-one-guy-at-your-local-frat-house-with-a-guitar talent got this far can be explained two ways:

1) Basically (two hit singles, one with House of Pain, one as a soloist, will get you somewhere)

2) Directly (the novelty of an Irish rap group combined with a nice DJ Muggs track made "Jump Around" the theme of Bostonians and psuedo-Bostonians everywhere, while "What It's Like" just fit the mood of the same nation that briefly made Uncle Kracker a star)

Take your pick. Anyways, since you last stopped giving a shit about Everlast, he kept making non-rap records to line dollar bins and landfills until last year, he got the somewhat inspired, if well-worn idea to cover his own songs acoustically, including the House of Pain stuff. Thus, this horrible, horrible version of "Jump Around," which not only dabbles in a reggae tongue and forces you to drown in Everlast's dulcet gravel, but also makes the original lyrics of the 1993 hit sound...silly. "I never eat a pig unless a pig is a cop?" So, Everlast eats cops? Again, I never heard the lyric so clearly. So thanks, Everlast.

Supplement 38-2: Maniac Cop 2