"All the world's ills, sittin on chrome 24 inch wheels"
The more culturally inclined of the readers might see where this is going, and the ones who know me should already do. This blurb will be somewhat of a hybrid between my thoughts regarding Mr. Lupe Fiasco, Hip Hop, and the text-analysis concept I ran with on the Black Star-track. Without further ado, here is the excerpt I'll be working with this evening:
Now I ain't trying to be the greatest
I used to hate hip-hop, yup, because the women degraded
But Too Short made me laugh, like a hypocrite I played it
A hypocrite I stated, though I only recited half
Omitting the word "bitch", cursing; I wouldn't say it
Me and dog couldn't relate, til a bitch I dated
Forgive my favorite word for hers and hers alike
But I learned it from a song I heard and sort of liked
Yeah, for the icing, glamorized drug dealing was appealing
But the block club kept it from in front of our building
Gangsta rap-based filmings became the building blocks
For children with leaking ceilings catching drippings with pots
This song basically summarizes my relationship to one of the most bipolar musical genres in the world. As a young kid growing up in an extremely white community, I don’t have to emphasize the concept of Hip Hop taking lower ground to almost any other genre one could think off. This is where the “used to hate Hip Hop” part comes in, because I really did. I was early recruited to the ranks of the headbangers, listening to In Flames, Children of Bodom and other dark spawn of satanic worshipping (funny how I could write the exact same blurb regarding metal). However, my horizon widened the day I first heard Cypress Hill perform “Insane in the membrane”, I was instantly hooked.
I was never one to restrict myself, so from the moment I was infatuated by this sensational and unknown genre I downloaded everything I could come across. This was back when WinMX, Napster and DC++ was the shit, so we would sit with our 56K internet connection and shine like kids on Christmas Eve waiting to hear some fresh tunes. 7.5 kb/s, ladies and gentlemen, those were the days. But all things aside, I was still a Harvey Dent in my approach to Hip Hop, due to a great number of reasons. Number one comes from the use of profanity in a non-constructional manner, and the glorification of misogyny, materialism and violence. Chris Rock said that he loves Hip Hop, but that he also hates how hard it is to defend it. I’m not going to name names and flame any subcategory, but part of the issue I felt I had a problem acknowledging was the ignorant, club-banger rappers. I don’t mind their existence; I just dislike the fact that for an outsider, the concept of Lupe Fiasco and Gucci Mane can look very much alike.
I was once there myself, and I hate having to defend listening to music like that. And please spare me the “you should listen to whatever you want to, and don’t care what anyone else says”, because we all care way too much. I love being able to discuss whatever with whomever, and preconceived notions and pretences of dismay regarding cultural conceptions are one of the things I rate high on my list of do-not-want. But enough of the negativity, I don’t have enough space in this column to ramble about that for too long. One of the reasons I love Hip Hop as well, is the concept that one has to learn to love it, like most things in this world. Yes, you can like the beat and the voice or presentation of the words spoken, but Hip Hop was more of a beautiful way to portray a story, feeling or concept, where the artist would lay down his persuasion over an instrumental which hopefully synergizes with his vision.
Sometimes this vision is simple and materialistic like money and bitches (the part of Hip Hop I usually resent), and thankfully often more complex, in the matter of political opinions and intricate storytelling. And this is where Sir Lupe Fiasco comes in, the vanguard of modern Hip Hop. Another man with the ability to create clever analogical or allegorical rhymes that could compete with his ones does not exist, and I’m not just being a Stan here. You can dislike the man, or his work or whatever aspect of his being you wish to, but you cannot deny the fact that 75 % of the things he lays down goes over your head. And this is yet another part of Hip Hop I love, the multiple layers of artistic genius that can seem evident at first glance, but repeated listening will unravel shrouded aspects that you didn’t understand before.
And to summarize this text, which came up way too short (I could fill a bachelor with material on my relationship with music, an infatuation I suspect I’m not alone in having), I must say that you all should dig a little deeper into the man Lupe Fiasco, and read some dissections on his lyrics. Try “Failure”, “Dumb it down” or “Turnt up”, and you’ll realize that this guy is smarter than you. And probably everyone you will ever know. How many of your favorite musicians create entire albums revolving a story, with songs intertwining in the most mischievous ways, sprinkled with insane wordplay and excellent beat-selection skills?
One last example of his genius can be found in a song I suspect most of you have heard, “Superstar” from his 2007 album “The Cool”. It seems like a semi-uplifting song with radio hit potential, but beneath the surface we find a story spanning at least half a dozen songs and the theme of the entire album. Most of you probably though the song is about Lupe himself, but you are sorely mistaken if that’s the case, as it’s a continuation on the biography of the fictional Michael Young History, who stands outside of Saint Peters gate, refused entry. “Did you improve on the design, did you do something new?” Michael, aka The Cool, is one of four characters starring this epic saga, and if you’re not already a fan, you should definitely check it out, as it renewed my faith in a tumultuous genre defined by extremists and ample reasons of doubt whether it’s worth defending at all. As long as we still have vanguards like Lupe Fiasco, it’s not so hard defending Hip Hop as a form of art.
Sensei Rydis can certifiably recommend Lupe Fiasco as the best artist in the world. (Yes, I'm a Stan.)
