Eli Porter is a disabled emcee whose high school battle video has become a key hip hop trope. Here is the documentary about the actual footage. Complete with commentary from the internets celebrities.
Tag Archives: hip hop
Eli Porter documentary
Filed under academics, disability, documentary, hip hop, homophobia, learning, media
Why you should buy Weekend at Burnies
It isn’t any secret, I think Curren$y is the best emcee doing his thing right now.
Here is my short list of why y’all should embrace the Curren$y Spitta and buy his new record Weekend at Burnies.
Vancouver rioters after the NHL loss. Gotta admit these guys would look a lot more cool flashing the 'jet plane' hand sign, right?
1. Awkward hip hop fans need something better to do with their hands. We know that most people who listen to hip hop are really awkward rather than cool (myself included). (Hop hop artists, on the other hand, are quite cool). Hip hop offered many non-gang affiliates the chance to have something to do with their hands. Almost all of the ‘west coast,’ ‘east coast,’ pistol signs, or mimicking of supposed crip twisting of fingers is a terrible look.
Admittedly, most of us know Curren$y’s hand sign (which mimics the flying jet) as the ‘hang loose’ hand sign. In Hawaii, it’s known as shaka — a polycultural vaguely corporate ‘greeting with the aloha spirit.” Hey, there are worse things to throw up.
2. Curren$y and his crew seem to be working hard to get better.
I love the arrogant rappers, but it is refreshing to hear someone simply confident in their abilities. Curren$y writes rhymes that don’t alienate the listener with cleverness. He models working at his craft — practicing writing better smooth rhymes. As a result of their work, he and his jets crew: Young Roddy and Trademark the Skydiver, are getting better at not only rhyming, but also sounding better. Witness the enjoyable punch lines and nicely timed pause in Trademark’s verse on “Still” above.
3. Weed songs vs. coke songs or representations of wealth in a depression. Curren$y rhymes about smoking pot. A lot. Living in Humboldt county, this isn’t all that strange to me. Lets put Curren$y’s rhymes about cannabis in the context of the prevailing hip hop culture for self-expression about substances.
You could argue that expressing love for particular substances is part of selling yourself as an emcee. Most commercially successful artists have identified substance use as part of their image through lyrics and album covers. In the case of most so-called gangsta rappers, the discussion is often tied to cocaine trafficking (Gucci Mane, Clipse, Young Jeezy, Dipset, Jay-Z, E-40, Eazy-E, Ghostface Killah, and so on.) This creates a fascinating language used most often to communicate wealth. Lifestyles of the rich and famous articulated in bricks, kilos, birds, scales, Tony Montana . . .
In the artificially inflated economy of the early 2000s, these cocaine rhymes matched up nicely with the garish wealth of a society manifested in colonial wars and represented by an expressly “business-friendly” government. Those years also meant the rise of a massive police state, prisons, and new laws against gang offenses. One reason we keep alive the stories of outlaw dope dealers in rapping is because we live in a society that is increasingly controlled and policed — the idea that some people get to get away with it is immensely reassuring to non-outlaw folks.
Don’t get me wrong — Curren$y is still selling status, wealth and power in his rhymes. Curren$y isn’t rapping about selling drugs, instead he rhymes about how much he has to smoke. I think he has adjusted to the economic realities of a society in a depression and provided a slightly more inviting series of symbols for that power.
4. He sounds good, and has a back catalog worth examining. If you get Weekend at Burnies and find it works for you, here are the rest of my Curren$y recommendations in order.
First –> mixtape: Independence day
Second –> mixtape: Covert Coup
Third –> album Pilot Talk II
Fourth –> mixtape Fear and Loathing in New Orleans
Fifth –> mixtape return to the winners circle
sixth –> mixtape Smokee Robinson
seventh –> album Pilot talk I
You can easily add in the other affiliated projects, I like the “Jet Life to the next life” mixtape, and the wiz/Curren$y mixtape “How fly.”
Filed under capitalism, hip hop, prisons
Killa Mike and Money Makin’ Jam Boys VISUALs
Ah, the joy of quality editing equipment. Most independent hip hop folks can afford to make their vision happen via the easily available technology. When I grew up watching videos, I used to long for more access. Now we have more access than we can handle.
First up, Killa Mike “Burn.” Hell yeah for the struggling Georgia emcee. Mike Bigga is a star, with a nice flow, and a presence. I think the politics are a little vague, but the beat is hot.
And how about Money Making Jam Boys with a video for “tear it down!” I’m in.
As a bonus, here is Lil B explaining what it is like to be a city.
Filed under hip hop
Hovafest bracket
Yeah. When it’s time to nerd out on rap music, why not go all the way? Rembert Brown organized all the Jay-Z tunes based on youtube views. Then he judges each soundclash. Check him out in the second round contrasting two songs from the Black album.
Dirt Off Your Shoulder (3) vs. Public Service Announcement (Interlude) (11): You hate to see the intra-album battle. While both are good, there is a glaring difference between the two songs. I think a number of people could have rapped over that insane Timbo beat and had a hit with Dirt Off Your Shoulder. Ludacris, easily. Lupe maybe. Joe Budden, why not? NO ONE ON EARTH/MARS/PANDORA could pull of P.S.A. other than Jay-Z. You can’t say, “Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is WAKA.” I promise you can’t. P.S.A. is so Jay-Z, it hurts. Example of how insane the song is, a few weeks back a DJ turned on the beginning of P.S.A., thereby alerting the listener that they have 22 seconds to get in position. With about 7 seconds left before the explosion, 5 people stopped their conversations outside the bar and ran inside, simply to scream HOV at the top of their lungs. I was one of those 5 people. I’m always one of those 5 people.
Filed under hip hop
Killa Kyleon: shining
Killa Kyleon is guilty pleasure summer music, and as the weather turns nice you might want to have some Killa on hand. Yesterday he laced the world with a lush video about the pleasures of sitting in his car. Over the 2010 Sade sound, he just does it with ease. “Kevin Bacon kush I’m coughing so I’m on my footloose.”
No question Killa Kyleon has a fantastic flow. Mostly he basically rhymes as if his words were the snare drum, but he has a crisp double speed flow and varies his tone enough to actually match the melody of tunes, not just hitting the beat. What I love is that he rhymes, but he also plays his words — picking consonants at the right places to make the vocals stand out.
I can recommend both of his recent mixtapes: Candy Paint and Texas Paint and Natural Born Killa. Topically, Killa Kyleon will tend to repeat themes about money, sex, guns, cars, drink, and weed. Despite the predictable rap tropes, Killa picks some innovative similes and can really play with the words. Consider the “Moon and Stars Remix” with Curren$y and Big K.R.I.T. is a great tune, and honestly I think Killa K. offers up the nicest verse.
A former member of Boss Hogg Outlawz, Killa K. was introduced as a lyricist. From a 2008 interview with Slim Thug and the rest of the BHO Slim runs down all of the members, describing Killa Kyleon thusly: ” Killer Kyleon is the most lyrical cat. I think he’s up there with Lil Wayne when it comes to lyrics.”
via Slim Thug and the Boss Hogg Outlawz Interview – UGO.com.
I can’t vote for all the verbiage about his “bitches” and “boppers,” but like Curren$y it seems like his sexism is casual laziness. Without excusing or justifying his bias, it is worth talking about the particular frames of sexism presented in Killa Kyleon’s work. In most of his tunes women aren’t really present, when they do show up they are positioned simply as arm candy like the women in the “Moon and Stars” video. Killa is more likely to brag about being pursued by women, or comment that so little time he has for women because he is working so hard (“married to the game, you know I got a bad wife,” from “I live it”). When he does give a full song’s treatment to “pussy,” he shares the track with New Orlean’s up-and-comer Allie Baby for some mild bragging.
I doubt it matters very much what Killa Kyleon says– in the era when Common is attacked as a gangsta rapper, there is really no reason at all for any emcee to second-guess their own prejudicial lyrics. It is obvious that the medium by which you have chosen for expression will convict you even if you rapped about Strawberry Shortcake. But I’m not interested in prosecuting, I’m curious about how entwined the sexism is for Killa’s persona, and it doesn’t seem like it is central to what is going on in his raps.
What is central to his rhymes is the place he lives (Texas) and his car. He joins Texas legend Z-ro for “Swang real wide” on Candy Paint and Texas Paint and the big state automotive smoothness is at an all-time high. Killa: “Big wheels looking like a wagon, buttons on it looking like a suit/maroon paint looking like an agate, butter seats in my candy coupe/I got no top, decapitated, got the ladies infatuated they fascinated with the way I roll but it keep the haters so aggravated.”
Kyleon’s beats are likely to be both head-nodding and sluggish, open canvases for him to write verses filled with expressive comparisons and crafty double entendres. If you can handle the topics and the lingo, then pursue Killa Kyleon for his lyricism and talented rapping.
Filed under hip hop
Absolute victory: Big K.R.I.T
thanks to the apollokidz.com for the photo
Big K.R.I.T. is an astounding musician. His mixtape Return of 4-eva is emblematic of new melodic southern hip hop and the political economy of a rapper on the come up. Return of 4-eva is an album, with musical cohesion, quick skits, and a distinct tape-long flow. It is also given away free.
K.R.I.T. is one of several artists who develop fans by giving away exceptional musical product. It seems like he just wants to make fans. Well in my case it worked. Whatever you put out, I’m buying.
Return of 4-eva is an engaging listen all the way through. The intro track hints at the Charlie Daniels Band as the fantasy of an emcee taking the stage to a roaring crowd is positively cathartic; engineered through clever audio layering into a horn-heavy crescendo. Fade into an alarm clock to the track “Rise and Shine,” boom-bap and an invitation into the worldview of a sincere young emcee hustling to make something happen.
Big K.R.I.T. can make a name for himself with his poetic articulation of consciousness and struggle. “The vent” and in particular “Free my soul” offer a lens on ethics of consumerism.
“I think it was the shine that got us blinded not sure of what we reading when we signing our life away/they say ignorance is bliss well I’d like to stay in the game and test out records and real shit they don’t like to play/you ghetto famous to us, you just Bojangles to them/ tap your feet, tip your brim and sell it back to your kin/ I don’t rap I spit hymns my god’s bigger than them trying to blacken your heart and say we’re children of men/ I sin ‘cuz I’m ain’t perfect but I’d rather save your life than hurt it.”
And of course, the tune “Dreamin'” for which there is a fairly earnest K.R.I.T. narrating while engaging in some custodial work.
Better than the heart-felt K.R.I.T. is the wood-wheel steering old school driving emcee out for a ride in “Rotation,” “Highs and Lows,” and “My sub.” “My sub” in particular is a thumping tune about the value of bass and it might be the best track on the album. It is a good point to note that most of these beats were made by K.R.I.T. himself. The sound is mature hip hop with Southern flavor and a refreshing absence of the pop loops that saturate most hip hop projects. Each track was obviously lovingly crafted to articulate the distinct sound of the emcees or the tune itself.
“Sookie now” positions the Mississippi up-and-comer with the Mississippi veteran David Banner. I guess sookie now is parlance for ‘we don’t believe you.’ Big K.R.I.T. enjoys the chance to drawl out while Banner gets righteously political. “From the land of the Ku Klux/with no masks/and my folks they ain’t never had/ the rebel flag still flying/ bitch you lying if you say we ain’t hanging/from a tree Fredrick Carter Greenwood Mississipi.”
His flow is nice over slow thumping beats. “American Rap Star” and “King’s Blues” are good examples where he can get expressive about his struggles in smooth cadence. There is some casual sexism in K.R.I.T.’s lyrics especially associated with sexual behavior and pimping. Fortunately his rhymes portray diverse perspectives of women and he isn’t a one-note misogynist. There was more of this pimping paradigm represented in his previous mixtape Big K.R.I.T. wuz here.
The “Country Shit (remix)” offers a latent pack of trouble. The beat is rugged (and a holdover from Big K.R.I.T. wuz here) sharp snaps and a bumping bass hit that moves the listeners through verses by Ludacris, K.R.I.T. and Bun B.
Return of 4-eva is an awesome undertaking, a true creation of great musician. Thank you Big K.R.I.T.
Now make a video for “My sub!”
Filed under hip hop
Money making jam boys
There is no doubt that Prestige means a lot to these Philadelphia ensconced emcees. Black Thought is a boom-bap emcee that can gloat over almost any beat. STS isn’t from Philadelphia, but the city seems to like his staccato enough to hold him down. Truck North? It’s like a pleasure to hear his snarl/punctuation. Dice Raw? P.O.R.N.? Yeah.
This is a project about emcees. Thanks to 10deep, we got a free mixtape. If you don’t have it, go get it.
Money Making Jam Boys freestyle for Statik Selektah
I’m feeling the whole tape, but I realllly enjoyed “Look Funny,” “Contract the world,” and “Coming out hard.”
Filed under hip hop
Odd Future: paternalism
There is something about the enthusiastic nihilism of the next generation that makes old people want to save the kids. Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All is a music/art crew from L.A. who seem to have sparked the find the Svengali in the Odd Future story.
A number of recent comments and write ups on the band have emphasized various handlers — usually older white men who have been boosters for the band. Chris Faraone got to interview Odd Future publicist (who also handles the Wu Tang Clan) Barru for one take on this narrative.
Part of it is the desire to discredit young people’s inventiveness. And the desire to attribute Odd Future’s success to the work of industry insiders.
Filed under hip hop
Learning from Pusha T
The Clipse brothers Malice and Pusha T are important parts of hip hop. Simply great rappers. Malice has focused on writing and his emerging career as a post-cocaine era ethicist. Pusha T is rhyming and working with Kanye. Pusha T’s April 2011 mixtape Fear of God provides evidence of the strength of Pusha T as a solo artist. Great beat choice and compelling drug raps. Again again and again. “Feeling myself,” “alone in vegas,” “blow” . . . a lot of hits on this tape.
But honestly the beat from Souljah Boy’s “Speakers going hammer” stuck in my head. It helps that the ending dialogue from the Pusha T version is so expressive of consumer identity and the stresses of entitled masculinity.
“She tells me: ‘oh I thought I saw you earlier. This guy had a Range Rover just like you.'”
“I said Range Rover! Where? This ain’t no motherf**king range rover, this is a G-55, one hundred thirty thousand dollars of winter time throw away money. You must be out your f**king mind. See I can tell you ain’t gonna be around long. You ain’t doing enough homework on your motherf**king n***er. Get it right.”
I was wondering who made the beat (Boi- 1da), so I went to check the Souljah boy original.
Souljah boy has been criticized for his pop sound and lack of depth. I only knew the few hits, and the reputation. But I know he is capable of quality rapping. Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka and Souljah boy rock one of my favorite tracks on “State vs. Radric Davis” “Bingo.” Souljah boy: “Souljah boy tell ’em/I’m icy as an icicle/so much money/I valet park my bicycle.”
But this video is something else. The black and white caricature of a staid white neighborhood. Souljah’s car culture with it’s requisite speakers going hammer and predictable rap video follow. His car speakers blow up lemonade pitchers and blow out windows. Streets->cars->strippers->house party->hot tub.
Souljah boy — the young artist criticized by older rappers (Ice T remains a critic) –manages to continually position himself as a youngster. He encourages and dances with two pre-teens who sneak into his hot tub party. As the DJ on the balcony cuts a couple of records, the camera shifts to extended shots of two kids playing DJ Hero 2.
Pitching the reality TV primed audience Souljah Boy’s simplicity and pop sameness might be marketing genius. To metastasize the now-antique symbols of hip hop authenticity (djing, microphones) into toys that can be purchased and actually used by the audience.
No salt thrown at Souljah boy or his handlers — the track and video are clever and enjoyable. But it also makes visible something important about pop hip hop. For a few frames in his video we can see the transition of old symbols.
Which is part of what makes Pusha T’s adoption of the beat and chorus all the more interesting.
Filed under hip hop
Life of refinement 