Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts
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A Dedication to Drake and Emotional Rappers Everywhere


THIS JUST IN: DRAKE WRITES SONGS ABOUT LOVE 'SHAKE AND BAKE,' RELATIONSHIP BAGGAGE, BUT RESENTS 'EMOTIONAL RAPPER' LABEL...STILL

A few months ago, Drake sat down with Canadian broadcaster Jian Ghomeshi of CBC Radio and broke it down for the people: “I’m so sick of people saying that I’m like lonely and emotional, and associating me with this like longing for a woman,” he explained. “I hate that, it bothers me so much…’cause I do make music that makes you feel something, but I’m actually not that guy in real life, I’m happy…I’m very excited, my life is constantly exciting, it’s not some sad depressing story.” He went on to say that, “As far as the soundscapes go,” Drake continued, “That’s just the music I chose to make. I make music strictly for the purpose of driving at night time.”

I’m sure by now you’ve seen the plethora of memes on Facebook, and the websites dedicated to their creation--Drake holding random baby, Drake striking a model pose, Drake hunched down against a wall with big brown puppy dog eyes, Drake forlorn. Accompanying each photo is some sort of emotionally mocking, tongue-in-cheek quote action. All I can say is...haters gon' hate. But I'm a hater, and I love to hate to love Aubrey Graham, because, he's made a fortune off of being the "soft guy." But in a world of gimmick-ruled hip hop, isn't everyone going "soft" nowadays? Drake is one of the few "newcomers" who has at least managed to maintain the same image over the course of his success (Hopefully he isn't mentored by Snoop Dogg who "found the light" all of a sudden and became Snoop Lion or P.Diddy who went through like, five name changes and just continues to hop on other artists' steezes instead of stitching out his own). Who doesn't love a kid in a wheelchair. What woman radio listener is going, "He cared too much and shit!" No woman, I have yet to meet, anyway (though I'm sure they still exist).

Negativity initially poured in from the masculine hip hop perspective, because pride is something to be cherished--they're all keeping up on who's getting the most ego boosts per day and who's crown jewels are getting polished by which video vixen at the moment. Which brings me to another question: how does one acquire "street cred" in the industry, is it meaningless within the scene now, with all the Tygas running around making pop tracks with Justin Bieber figures and Mileys shaking their ass next to Mike-Will-Made-It and Juicy J? It just seems like an overly obvious route to take in order to increase numbers. It's clear that, today in mainstream hip hop, you need a game plan. One can't rely on talent alone; you must have a back story, an oddity, a controversy.

Drake has all of the above. You also must stay current on all new trends, hip hop and non-hip hop alike, or you will get devoured. Hip hop has made it's way into all aspects of private and public life, from lingo to dress to movies to philosophy and mannerisms. People on the outskirts yearn for that very street cred that has been lost within the scene. It's the cross-genre chameleon transcending racial and socioeconomic boundaries, a force twerked forward by singers like Miley Cyrus. And the hip hop world embraced her. It is the new dirty pop; it fits into whatever context/trend relevant at the moment. The genre's reputation has undergone several face lifts over the years, and so has its mainstream fan base. With the idea of "street cred" out the window,the line of distinction has faded. If all hell is breaking loose, why can't Drake continue to shed a tear or two in a song without people accusing him of "emasculating" the entire game? Leave Aubrey alone!


I wanted to reflect on this whole Drake meme craze that has been going strong on the internet for about two or three years now. And by "reflect" on I mean make fun of...for funsies. Nothing more, nothing less. These “Drakeisms” have been going on since 2011/2012 (Complex mag’s got 15 hilarious ones right here). Drake memes also made it to the number 15 spot on Complex’s list of Biggest Internet Sensations of 2013 (Miley Cyrus makes the number two spot, that’s a post in itself (I could name the top five twerk incidents that should never happen in public again. She would be on the list, not because she shouldn't do it, but because she's doing it wrong, but shall refrain). I decided to play around with the "Drakeism" thing myself. I have no meme powers, but I DO have an indulgent mind, and Drake just happens to be my muse of the minute. I therefore posed the question to fellow hip hop friends: can you feed my Drake habit and send me your corniest, emotionally nauseating Drake bars? Responses did not flood in (Guess "street cred" matters in the underground of talent (Lil Wayne doesn't count, already checked). My really good writer friend, however, was all for it (We share this Drake meme fetish...and a love for the outlandishly spontaneous). She was totally down for some senseless fun. And so it started off as a battle of girl-on-girl wit:


She came with a second round of heat seconds later:


A random Facebook scroller was astounded by our amazing Drake lyric quick draw and blasted us away with his social commentary:


We were so damn hyped we just couldn't help but drag some local rapper elites into the whole deal...Chaotik Stylz goes in...#CYPHER!!!!:


After a few exchanges it was evident, that, one really can't take Drake too seriously. He's as soft as a snuggie (And knows quite a lot about feminine hygiene products):


BUT THEN Kevin "Frigid Giant" Delgado smacked us in the face with a more realistic portrayal of the rapper in song, a verse Drake himself would be highly proud of, and could actually use:


I suppose if Drake cared about street cred, he could toughen up his image, zipper up into a deadmua5 suit and start twerking on stage at the Country Music awards, which would arouse excitement in any and every country artist who has ever had the devil on their shoulder taunting them into incorporate a rhyme or two in one of their songs. Hey, Drake's all for it (#streetcred). But he's doing him right now...



Last name Ever, first name Greatest, like a sprained ankle boy, I ain't nothin' to play with, started off local, but thanks to all the haters I know G4 pilots on a first name basis, UH




Jessica Brant
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Album Review: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Push the Sky Away



The Internet. The great game-changer and life-leveler of modern existence, sticking the world to its wide web.

As the entire compendium of human knowledge (or at least the illusion of such a compendium) becomes a click away, does the value of knowledge itself go down? Why learn anything when you can Google it and forget it? Why write anything when it has been written before and posted on Tumblr? Why develop real human relationships when you have Facebook friends, when you can IM or Skype those you never need to hug or shake germy hands with? There are a hundred million porn sites to edify all sexual desires and fantasies, a hundred million shopping sites to remove any need to stand in line, a hundred million gaming, video streaming, and torrenting sites to provide centuries of free entertainment, all for your personal convenience.

In a digital age where human personalities are willingly stored on servers, where genetic code becomes HTML code, how can art hope to adjust?

By pushing on with a trembling Kierkegaardian faith in an uncontainable, uncodable sublimity, according to Nick Cave’s fifteenth Bad Seeds release. Cave has stated that Push the Sky Away is meant to “question how we might recognize and assign weight to what’s genuinely important” as the Internet floods us with gigabyte upon gigabyte of random information.

On “We Real Cool,” Cave sarcastically sings of “Wikipedia’s heaven,” where “the past is the past and it’s here to stay.” Similarly, “Higgs Boson Blues” provides a “Desolation Row” style stream-of-consciousness intended to reflect the Web’s postmodern pastiche, the hodgepodge erudition and pop culture sputtering of the collective human scatterbrain. The extended ballad blends speculative physics with the legend of bluesman Robert Johnson, the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, and the escapades of Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus across Africa.

Bleakly humorous at best, Cave’s ruminations feel gray regardless of colorful word choice and subject material. Each low to mid-tempo song is somber and dirge-like in tone. The heavy rocking of Grinderman and The Birthday Party, bands Cave once energetically fronted, and the youthful punk yelping of the Bad Seed’s early albums, are utterly absent from Push the Sky Away. A rainy day record conjuring Leonard Cohen at his most viciously tortured, the album reaches with wispy fingers of doom, promising rainier days to come, a “simulated rainy season” with no reprieve.

 Cave writes with the grim literate dreaminess of a 21st century T.S. Eliot, associating the sea with fleeting, frustrated, fading sexuality on “Water’s Edge” and “Mermaids.” His speaker succumbs to hypocrisy and drowns in degradation on “Jubilee Street” and its self-conscious Sufjan Stevens-inflected follow-up “Finishing Jubilee Street.” Elsewhere, the chatspeak-titled album opener “We No Who U R” introduces a recurring image of flaming trees that “burn with blackened hands” as it speaks of a graceless era where all is known, the private made public domain. Cave is an old soul in a brave new world, trudging through an unfeeling digital Waste Land devoid of authentic connection.

 Not all is hopeless, however. The albums ends with Cave “preaching in a language that’s completely new,” urging listeners to follow the suggestion of the record’s name and “push the sky away.” Championing self-overcoming, Cave ultimately abandons his concerns with Internet realms in favor of real life’s immediacy. Hiding melancholy love songs in sweeping works of social satire, he chooses to be as heartfelt as he is relevant, as thoughtful as he is crafty. At 55 years old, the Australian singer-songwriter continues to evolve, adapt, and reexamine his role as one of our planet’s most necessary artists.

 In closing: This review has been brought to you by the Internet. Now shutdown the computer, pick up Nick Cave’s record, and go live life.

Grade: A



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