#rap writing

With that said, here is a rap I titled The Letter.

The Letter

All that to say I may share a few of them here. Here's the first one; it's titled Shallow Moon.

~~~

*The the the the the the mist is, in a thousand different scents.

^I just can’t take it to night. Ou-ou-ou-oua

But you gotta waft it. Um-m-m-ma, you’ll profit. Know it?

I’d watch for the colors. How the swirl and thrive here she goes... She the magical rainbow.

~ Y-y-y-y-yo

You bitches been trippin.

D-d-d-d-d-don’t wanna know.

What you thinkin.

Need shinkin

I’m go over to the thrown

(Bang Bang)

^ Ochboddy

~I’ma gonna occupoddy yeah

(Let me in yanking on the door)

(Pull out the door handle)

*Wow

^The mental conclusion

^O Nick, I mean with an e, no i

*so the gonna outta bottle

^Can’t take em to night

*In a thousand different scents.

^ Are you peps in here

*I got the power and I’ll play it like a king.

I gotta little pride, not gonna hide

*Be-be-be-because it time to match the breas fly.

~Not gonna lie uh but youze gotta hide awase, before it’s too late I’ma look back at the degrenrous Queen you’ll see be lookin for. Before you’ll shut that door. Now get on the floor. I see you all wanna have it look at it’s just a bad naplat.

*Watch it, I don’t want it. Can’t take it want fake it.

wow

*Oh watch the colors (hold)

Watch it flow and share.

The Color (Hold) ue

^Now that a sniff

^Because of what I’m swearvin (long hold normal tone)

~Um yo you gotta go away.

I’m not gonna show.

You know.

*There’s sparkles inside

*It a lass of time

*I’m not sure I’m gonna survive.

it's now 2k14, which means that i've been surfing the music (more specifically rap) blogosphere for officially six years now. weird. within that time frame i read a lot about rap, and simultaneously developed my own writing style in reference to the genre. there was rap music that i wanted to promote that, in my opinion, wasn't being written about enough, so i went ahead and started writing about & promoting it myself. i think back then it was (or at least felt like it was) more about the writing and less about the page views/clicks, but now, it's a fucking mess. big blogs will blatantly rip small blogs (and vice-versa) word-for-word for certain posts. popularly known "rap blogs" are throwing up miley cyrus clips for some extra ad revenue. the overall journalistic integrity is lacking and everything's starting to look the same. and by that i mean you can probably guess what the top 5 most clicked on posts are at a handful of pubs/blogs today. i guess that comes with our quickly evolving generation and the immediate need to be satisfied (being "first!) also attached to it. it's more content out here than actual rap writing, and that both frustrates and worries me. i've noticed that i've quit visiting blogs altogether and follow all of my favorite rap/music writers on twitter to keep up with rap i actually like and read good writing on a consistent basis. maybe that's just where i'm headed -- where maturation/becoming an actual adult has taken me regarding rap and the internet. in the past i've written pointless news blurbs ("_____ sneak dissing _______?! click here to find out!") and i get really mad at myself for ever doing shit like that. because i believe that if i'm really serious about gaining some sort of respectable/loyal readership, i need to put serious efforts into writing, not simply posting. anyone can post, not everyone can write about music, especially rap. and i for damn sure rather have people follow me for my own writing/taste than have people follow my blog for the large amount of random content. so the new years resolution for 2k14? fuck a content aggregator. i'm out here and i'm gonna keep typing away about the rap that i fuck with and the culture surrounding it. if you rock with that, cool. if not, that's cool too (jk go read hypetrak).

Michael Quattlebaum Jr is a poet and performance artist who, by night, transforms into a Hip-Hop diva. In the past year Mykki Blanco has found internet stardom being a focal point of Pitchfork's story on the rise of gay Hip Hop, a recent NY Times article and a host of blogs. Going against what most accept as Hip Hop, Mykki while fully dressed in long wigs, tight fitting shorts and make-up, goes hard as any respected emcee in the game. I first got hip to Mykki by watching a Youtube short doc of her performing in NYC trains totally absorbing the cold stares, as well as listeners bopping their heads. Last weekend in Boston, I got to witness the phenomenon for myself as she became possessed on stage, leaving the crowd in a trance. After the show, we chilled outside of the venue and I got to pick Mykki's brain. Check it:

Who is Mykki Blanco and how did you evolve into this artist that we see now?

Mykki Blanco: Mykki Blanco started out as a video art project that I did on Youtube and Facebook. Then I started to write raps for the videos and I decided one time to perform the raps so the name and persona were born.

You seem to have an emphasis on performance. Speak on the importance of performance in your full body of work and how being in front of a crowd makes you feel. 

MB: I was exposed to performance art at a very young age. I was about 14 when I started a performance art collective called Pick It while I lived in North Carolina and we'd put on plays for the community. So when I went to college I already had an emphasis on performance in my work. Now with my rapping and being in front of crowds of people, I think that background in theatre is what influences what I do and makes me want to give people a really good live show.

A lot of people see Frank Ocean's coming out letter as a monumental event for Hip Hop. How do you feel about it?

MB: I guess that's a really big deal. I think people really appreciated his honesty and keeping it real. He broke a barrier.

Where are you from originally and how has the place molded you as an artist?

MB: I'm from both Raleigh, North Carolina and San Mateo, California.The bay area is a really liberal and open-minded place and Raleigh is a liberal, southern enclave and also a big college town. So that free and intellectual background influenced me when I was really young and it's why I wanted to have this cosmopolitan career.

I know that you have a background in poetry. How does your approach of crafting a piece of poetry differentiate or favor the way you put together lyrics for a song?

MB: When I write a poem it's a very organic experience and it just happens. I haven't written poetry in while although the raps I've been writing are really poetic.The new songs I've been writing are like poetry, just a bit rougher.

Do you think that there's a real difference between poetry and rap? Or is it just a difference in feeling as you write both? 

MB: Poetry is a bit softer but rap can definitely be poetic.

You live in Harlem now so are there any rappers from Harlem that influence your work? 

MB: Definitely Cam'ron. I like Jim Jones and Dipset. Not a lot of Harlem emcees. Defintely New York emcees as a whole like Ghostface, NaS, Jay-Z, Bushwick Bill, Lil' Kim, Foxy Brown and Mos Def.

How has travel influence you as an artist and as a person, in general? 

MB: It definitely opens up your perspective and once your realize it's so many different ways of living, I think you start to mellow out a bit more. You realize you can have more choices in life. I performed in London last year and it was crazy. The audience was so uninhibited. It was an amazing show.

For the past twenty years, Hip Hop's subject matter has been relatively the same. As an artist representing gay culture, do you feel like what you have to offer is the change that Hip Hop needs?

MB: I try to be really honest in my raps and really aggressive but I'm not changing any popular pronouns. I'm definitely calling myself a bitch and I'm not censoring my use of a street aesthetic. I've been around the block a couple times so I'm not a sheltered person.

On "Join My Militia" you said, "Many fiend for that pop recognition/But babe are heavyweight for the competition?" Can you elaborate on that and how it applies to Hip Hop now?

MB: I'm saying a lot of people want to be famous but are you really good enough? It's a lot of gimmicks out here. But what are you gonna do? The real is on the rise, though. I think people miss lyricism and storytelling. I mean, even a mainstream rapper like Meek Mill has the realness in his voice and it shines through everything he does.

What do you have in the works?

MB: I have two videos coming out this month. Recording all the tracks for my album that's coming out in October.

If you were an animal what would you be and why?

OJ Da Juiceman Juice World 2 and 6 Ringz 2 review for XXL. (Written by Lawrence Burney): 

“He had everything a rapper wants when he came in the game. So he don’t have the drive that a starving artist would have. He’s not as passionate about the music as he is about the money; if it’s money, then you have 100% of Juice’s attention,” is what Gucci Mane said when asked about his former protege, OJ Da Juiceman, in a Breakfast Club interview late last year. Juiceman’s career has been as inconsistent as one could be in a relatively short amount of time. His debut on Gucci’s 2007 street-hit “Vette Pass By” generated national interest and when Gucci had to do time in 2008 for an assault charge, he went into mixtape overload. “Make tha Trap Say Aye” got radio play in New York, he was featured (along with Swizz Beatz) on Jadakiss’ hit “Who’s Real”, and his Culinary Art School mixtape showcased Juice at his best. He seemed poised to claim a spot in trap rap only second to Gucci. His “AYE, OK!” ad libs and love for dark meat shark fin didn’t quite match Gucci’s flamboyance and flare, but OJ’s style was unique enough to build something solid off of, it seemed. In 2010, buzz surrounded his O.R.A.N.G.E. mixtape, but its impact was minimal compared to his work from 2009 and earlier. Somewhere around this time, Juice’s spot in 1017 Brick Squad suddenly became Waka Flocka Flame’s, who had previously had been nothing more than that skinny kid with the messenger bag in Gucci and OJ’s homemade freestyle videos.

Gucci Mane made a successful comeback in 2012 with Trap Back, I’m Up and Trap God, all of which had a nostalgic feel of the 2009 endless-motor version of himself. Maybe that return had some rub-off effect, because while no one was paying attention, OJ released two mixtapes on the same day earlier this month. 6 Ringz 2 and Juice World 2 both arrive at least three years after their first editions. The latter’s intro “Life On The Edge” starts with a barrage of snares while he says in the first few bars, “Juice you ain’t focused. Dawg what you saying?/I’m in the hood daily with my fork in the pan.” Seems like he’s been taking note of what Gucci had been saying. There’s a refreshing quality with the tapes that gives the feeling that skill and energy were never the issue or cause of Juice’s stalling; it’s a lack of motivation. Throughout both tapes he continues to make it clear that his loyalty is to the streets and money, not to the rap game. On 6 Ringz 2’s “I Do This”, produced by Pops on Da Beat, he confesses over a creepy sequence of keys: “Soft and the hard, nigga I do this/ Fell in love with trapping, got struck by Cupid”.

OJ’s formula is pretty much the same as well; he has beats from two of trap’s staples, Zaytoven and Lex Luger, amongst a slew of smaller names. He’s still trappin’ at the Texaco (shawty), has 6 cell phones, eating calamari, rockin’ like cut off stockings and interrupting his DJ mid-song every chance he gets. Best of all, the outrageous metaphors are still there: “Basketball money but rarely do I fumble” is how he appropriately mixes sports on Juice World 2’s “Mix”. He shows his ability best on “No Hook”, where signature trap synths and bass accompany lines like “All these waves in my head, yo’ girl done got seasick/Took her for some calamari, bitch done ordered cheese sticks/ Million dollar nigga but I stay up on some street shit/ Hit a nigga line if you lookin for some cheap bricks.” He also pays homage to a fallen great on “Pimp C”, where he samples the late UGK member’s “Smokin out, pourin’ up, putting dick up in your slut” line.

Why do I deserve having to put up with all this stupid shit?

I’m leaving, good bye, that’s it, it’s over

You can kiss my ass, like it’s a four leaf clover"

“The first ni**a with a Benz and a backpack.”

That’s a line that launched a thousand reviews. Nowadays, it’s weird and heady to look back at the initial impressions of College Dropout. Kanye West seems like he’s been with us forever, like an Ozymandius who delightfully refuses to wear away. Just as contemplating the time before your birth makes you queasy, it’s somewhat uncanny to think about the world of music without Kanye West.

Rolling Stone’s Jon Caramanica was almost alone in not mentioning the line (though the magazine fixed that omission in its decade-capping write-up of the album). Along with virtually every other review, though, Caramanica noted the heterodox nature of Kanye’s debut: “‘Get Em High’ could be the only song ever to reference both Beck and Pastor Troy.” Many reviewers seized on the same sonic touchstones: sped-up soul samples were, of course, de rigueur critical mulch. But who noted which sample varied as much as, well, the album’s samples themselves: some cited Chaka Khan, others Gaye and Bolton. Pitchfork’s Rob Mitchum was the only one to mention Mandrill, I think.

Another aspect of College Dropout that’s (maybe just to me) under the radar these days, but was notable in 2004, is the guest cast on the album. Jamie Foxx, Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Common, Ludacris, Jay-Z: these were not only some of the best artists of the day, but it’s also a motley crew. Back to that backpack angle, who would have thought Talib Kweli and Common would be on a song about getting chicks high to fuck them? And that Ludacris, just a few tracks later, would do therefore follow in their footsteps? Or that Kanye would be outgunning Jay on the mic almost from the start?

Paradox, self-contradiction, incoherence, chipmunk soul, a sleigh of sounds, guest verses out the ass — these all made up the main critical talking points on College Dropout. It was the rare album where the constituent parts corresponded perfectly with its overarching narrative: a super producer makes tracks for the industry’s finest, gets a record deal, and calls in some favors to get a great supporting cast. He uses his hot beats to make, well, a hot record.

I mean, in hindsight this seems obvious maybe, but College Dropout was extremely well received. Like, right off the bat. When My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy got a highly visible 10.0 on Pitchfork, it seemed like maybe people thought Kanye had finally arrived. But College Dropout was itself a wildly successful and well-received album. It got a (then) rare XXL rating from the titular mag. It was BNM’d by Pitchfork, and it was Stylus Magazine’s album of the week. For whatever its worth, the album was nominated for 10 Grammys. The album was also a springboard for a lot of heady discussion (don’t say ‘thinkpiece’).

In the Village Voice, Hua Hsu asked a prescient question:

 Is hip-hop—captor of hearts, minds, and the attention of presidential candidates—finally facing up to the awesome responsibility of its power?

Christgau, of course, said something very perceptive about West’s 2004 iteration:

His Alicia Keys and Talib Kweli hits are pretty bland, and neither his voice nor his flow could lead anyone into sin. So he’d better conceptualize, and he does.

In The New York Times, Kelefa Sanneh goes further and calls College Dropout a concept album (which it never really feels like, even though once you hear someone say it, it obviously is). Pop Matters’s Dave Heaton invited us to call the album “over-ambitious”, and the AV Club’s Nathan Rabin said the album “boasts enough conceptual ambition to make Mr. Lif jealous”. Outsized ambitions are no stranger to our conception of Kanye West, so it’s fun to see critics confronting these without a preexisting expectation of them. When Stylus’s Josh Love says, then, 

Most importantly, you find Kanye trying to reflect the entire spectrum of hip-hop and black experience

he doesn’t have to make any qualifying handwaving gestures that apologize in advance for enjoying West’s high artistic aim. 

College Dropout marks another key intersection in music: let’s pause for a moment and look at those names: I don’t think it’s meta-critical obsequiousness to say that Rob Mitchum, Kelefa Sanneh, Hua Hsu, Nathan Rabin, Jon Caramanica, and many other reviewers of the album are, you know, pretty successful too. Maybe none of them wrote a perfect piece on College Dropout, maybe their reviews were just one of many pieces they filed that week, but they all went on, like Kanye, to keep turning out good stuff. College Dropout marked the beginning of a golden age of writing about music on the internet, and especially rap. At this point, the outsized musical personalities musico-cultural trends became almost more interesting to talk about than the music itself. It’s not like Kanye started that, but let’s say that it’s similar to how Harold Bloom argued that Shakespeare invented the modern human. I’d argue that Kanye West helped invent the modern music critic.

I wrote in my first essay about being a basically pseudo-poptimist from the get-go, and that I might still be. Well, if anyone was going to appeal to someone like me, it’s Kanye West. There’s something essential to Kanye West and his aesthetic that breaks down (largely artificially discursive) walls between rock and pop.

It’s both sort of funny and also myopic to think that having a “Benz and backpack” is some game-changing move in rap music. Right now we have a dude like Gucci Mane who raps about driving around in Ferraris; at the same time, he obviously suffers from some form of mental illness that stamps him as sad and vulnerable in ways backpack rap still barely touches. And right from the beginning, as Jay-Z says in Decoded, Ice-T, KRS-One, Boogie Down Productions, NWA — the forefathers of rap — made “songs [that] were exciting and violent, but they were also explicitly ‘conscious,’ and anti-hustling.” It’s sort of scary to me that people seem to forget that rap is intrinsically a social consciousness movement. There’s a strand of thought that seems to lead to condemning violent music, and then there’s another one that concludes with Cam’ron, Clipse, and trap rap being a real ethical stance against a whitewashed, conservative America.

I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but there’s a passel of charged assumptions about authenticity, race, and culture tied up with breaking down the Benz/backpack dichotomy. Just look again at Tom Breihan’s ‘defense’ of rap music in the Village Voice: 

Indie-rock supposedly prides itself on open-mindedness and liberalism and independent thought, not knee-jerk antipopulism and received wisdom and genre gatekeeping. So it’s deeply troubling to see people who love this stuff unwilling to look outside their shitty little ghetto and consider the merits of art made by people who don’t share their experiences. 

This is a smart observation that cuts to the core: I think Kanye probably exaggerated the importance of his backpack pedigree — it’s not like De La Soul and Black Star  were either 1) unknowns or 2) widely disliked circa-2004. I also think College Dropout’s rock music signifiers (guitar hooks, melodic bass lines, recognizable vocal samples) contributed more to his far-reaching cultural accession than his socially conscious lyrics. You shouldn’t forget that Ye follows up the Benz and a backpack line by saying, “Always said if I rapped I’d say something significant/ But here I am talking about money , hoes, and rims again.”

The thing about Kanye West that helped create contemporary music discourse is on the one hand obvious: 2004 to 2006, the early phase of his career, coincided with a boom in contemporary music blogging, and the new generation of rap-minded critics all mentioned above. The predominance of rock-minded criticism waned, probably, as the genre itself started showing its age: who wants to read another Lester Bangs-esque disquisition on the Velvet Underground’s influence on Pavement, The Strokes, or The Arcade Fire? Kanye was the perfect emblem for a change in musical taste — someone who might be a certified genius-level musical talent (a rockist trope) who happened to make ostensibly socially conscious music (so you can file it in between *3 Feet High And Rising* and *Under The Table And Dreaming*). It’s no wonder this was the angle publications mostly took.