Odd Future: A Rant

Let me begin by saying that I honestly really wanted to like Odd Future.  They seemed right up my alley, a couple of young, fresh faced kids from the hip-hop underground with a growing reputation ready to destroy preconceived notions about hip-hop.  I was completely ready for a latter-day Wu Tang Clan with more smarts.  Yet, while the critical apparatus seems ready to crown them the next big thing, I'm left not just wondering what the fuss is about, but honestly angry that I even gave them as much credit as I did.

Like a lot of people, I was first introduced to the hip-hop collective Odd Future (short for "Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All") a few months ago when the hype they had been generating for some time online reached critical mass and they began getting mainstream media attention.  Specifically, I saw this performance on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon:


It's not difficult to see why I was drawn in by these guys.  Tyler the Creator and Hodgy Beats are basically running a clinic on intensity here.  Plus, from a strictly visual standpoint, they look like no one else in hip-hop.  There are no designer clothes or pretentious sunglasses (yeah, I'm looking at you Kanye), no gold chains or diamond jewelry, none of the stereotypical bling of rap.  Instead, you get what look like a couple of punk kids (and they are surprisingly young) scaring the daylights out of everybody in the studio.  Needless to say, I was excited.  I immediately found several of their mixtapes and began listening to them, excited to hear what I was sure would be some of the best hip-hop I'd listened to in a long time.  I was instantly disappointed.  What I heard was messy, poorly produced and completely lacking the intensity that had initially excited me about them in their live performances.  What's more, the lyrics were completely unforgivable in every way imaginable.  Not only were the lyrics shockingly misogynistic and homophobic, they weren't even well-written.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I wasn't ready to give up on Odd Future yet, I was still desperate to validate my initial excitement.  I chalked up the lackluster recordings to a lack of careful production and decided I needed to give them a second chance.  I also decided that I would reserve judgement until the release of the hotly anticipated album Goblin by Tyler the Creator (the de facto leader of the group) which I told myself would definitely be more on point and would live up to the promise of their live show.  I was also convinced that I was just missing something, that obviously there was more going on here and I just wasn't listening carefully enough.

Well, after giving a thorough listen (following along with lyrics) to as much of Goblin as I could handle, I have the following to say about all of the press that Tyler and Odd Future have been getting:  horseshit.

Honestly, never has an album made me as mad for as many reasons as this one has.  To begin with, it's incredibly disappointing musically.  Every bit of hype I had been reading about Odd Future praised Tyler as the true mind of the operation, a brilliant producer and a gifted lyricist.  Well, I'm not buying any of it.  First, in terms of depth and complexity his lyrics are a complete failure.  Please, do not let anyone tell you that Tyler is a talented MC, he's just not.  To pretend that he is destroys a music that I honestly believe can be incredibly powerful.  If you want to hear a better hip-hop lyricist than Tyler the Creator, there are plenty of options I'd be happy to tell you about if you are interested in hearing about them.  Secondly, in terms of production, I'm thoroughly convinced there is nothing special about what Tyler does on this album or any other I've heard from the Odd Future collective.  I'll grant that his productions are something of a departure from most of hip-hop, and the horror movie ominousness is at least somewhat interesting on its surface.  But that is basically the end of the story when it comes to the beats on Odd Future albums.  To my ears, Tyler is a one-trick pony when it comes to his production skills.  Everything is dark, ominous tones.  All brooding and no direction.

But now it's time to acknowledge the elephant in the room.  Because the most heinous aspect of Goblin or any of Odd Future's output is not the quality of the songs, it's the lyrical subject matter.  Let me first say that I'm no friend of the PMRC and in no way am I advocating for censorship.  It should also be noted that I have never bought the argument that violent lyrics cause people to commit violent crimes.  So no, I am not afraid that teenagers will go out and try to imitate what they hear Tyler the Creator rap about in his songs, and I'll be the first to say that anybody who says otherwise is full of shit.  Furthermore, I'm no prude, and I can more than handle any amount of profanity you could possibly throw at me and could probably dish it out better than most.  So Odd Future's reputation for shocking and disturbing subject matter didn't scare me because I assumed that there would be a point to it all.  But there isn't.  And I can only put up with a rapper casually dropping the word "faggot" so many times before I begin to feel like it's only a cheap joke used simply for shock value.  Worse, the almost incessant number of songs about rape and violence against women without any seeming moral commentary goes beyond what you could reasonably call story telling.  Tyler and the gang don't even seem to have the decency to allow the opposite sex to be called "women," preferring instead to use any number of epithets, of which "bitch" is among the tamest.

I waffled quite a bit about whether I should even write this post, because a small part of me was afraid that I'd be accused of not seeing the bigger picture or over analyzing things.  I've tried to look past my reservations and see some value in this music, but I'm convinced there isn't and I'd be lying to myself if I tried to pretend otherwise.  What's more, I am disgusted by the seeming unwillingness on the part of music critics to actually be critical.  It's downright unconscionable for the people at Pitchfork and elsewhere to act morally indifferent to Odd Future by writing about how the music is "controversial" or "divisive" instead of what it really is: misogynistic, hateful and downright pathological.  Scant few people within the critical community it seems are willing to try and derail the hype machine surrounding this group.  One notable exception has been a recent blog post by Sara of the band Tegan and Sara which criticizes the homophobia and misogyny of Tyler's music.  The post is poignant and essential reading.  Predictably, when Pitchfork linked to the blog post, they did perfunctorily and without any sense that perhaps it was time to step back and take note of what Sara was saying.

I chalk this lack of criticism among the music press up to cowardice.  Perhaps the critics are afraid to get steamrolled by a seemingly overwhelming following that Odd Future has garnered in a short period of time.  Maybe they think criticizing the lyrical content will make them look like prudes who can't take a joke.  Whatever the reason, the complete unwillingness for the critical apparatus to hold Odd Future up to scrutiny is astounding coming from an industry whose entire purpose for existence is to provide subjective commentary about music.  Any attempt at objectivity here is completely misguided and pointless.  At some point, somebody has to have the intestinal fortitude to stand up and call these artists out.  The fact that almost nobody in the power circles of music criticism is willing to do this is shameful.  It's time for the critical community to acknowledge that at best this music is the product of a couple of immature dumbasses, and at worst it is the product of sociopaths with no regard for human decency.

I want to make one other thing absolutely clear about Odd Future.  The notion that there is something deeper going on in this music than the surface level misogyny and homophobia, or that Tyler is making some kind of meta-criticism of society is a towering pile of bullshit.  And the idea that these songs are not meant to be taken literally because they are simply a depiction of what is going on around us is a cop-out of the highest order.  Those things could perhaps be said about some of the controversial artists in hip-hop history (NWA, Ice-T and Public Enemy being some of the prime examples) but at some point an artist has to show a glimmer of understanding what exactly they are doing with their lyrics.  The best rappers (including some of those in "gangster rap") can do this quite well.  Odd Future, however, have not proven themselves capable of this kind of deeper understanding.  When they rap about rape and violence, they do so with absolutely no tact or purpose.  They are shock for the sake of shock, with no real redeeming value.

I'm sure some people might say that I'm being overly harsh, or that I just don't understand.  Perhaps, though I doubt I'm being harsh enough.  And I'm also sure that my ranting and raving will do nothing to curb the hype surrounding Odd Future and would only cause derision and mockery from the members of the group if they were to read it.  But, I'm not going to sit idly by and watch it all unfold without any commentary.  I'll leave you with a little gem from Tyler the Creator's song "Yonkers" which pretty well sums up how he would feel about someone like myself:

They say success is the best revenge
So I beat DeShay up with the stack of magazines I'm in
Oh, not again!  Another critic writing report
I'm stabbing any blogging faggot hipster with a Pitchfork

How lovely.

Review: Lupe Fiasco - Lasers

Lasers, the third outing by backpack rap sensation Lupe Fiasco, is an album that almost wasn't. Fans have been waiting for a follow up to the concept album The Cool since it came out in 2007. Initially, Lupe Fiasco announced that his third (and supposedly final) album would be a three disc release called LupE.N.D. which has since been delayed indefinitely. From there, the album went through several name changes, from the Great American Rap Album, to We Are Lasers, to simply Lasers (in case it isn't readily apparent from these titles, Lupe has never been one for being understated, his concept for the Cool is only further evidence of this,) But the roller coaster ride was far from over. Despite the fact that it had a release date of late 2009 and several singles had been released (some of which never actually did make it onto the album) Lasers didn't actually get released until last month. According to Lupe himself, the album had actually been complete for some time, but was being held up by Atlantic Records. But after several years of waiting, and an online petition to Atlantic to release the record that quickly received 30,000 signatures, Lasers finally hit the shelves. Unfortunately, the head scratching didn't stop there.

For all the anticipation and hype leading up to its release, the actual album turned out to be every bit as confusing and difficult to pin down. Critical response seems to be a resounding "meh," and I can't say I disagree very much. There has been a considerable degree of rumbling in critical circles about the increasing pop sentiment on this album. The Allmusic reviewer, for example, complained of the album's "lumbering, overwrought choruses." While there certainly are some disappointments here that likely arise from the concessions Lupe had to make to finally get this album released, I for one think that to call the hooks and choruses in Lasers a departure is largely ignorant of what Lupe has always done in his music. Lupe's shtick has always been superb rhymes interspersed with hooks painted in broad strokes. Just look at the two most well-known tracks off his debut, "Daydreamin'" and "Kick, Push." Neither of these is devoid of pop overtones. The Jill Scott chorus from "Daydreamin'" is positively infectious, and the strings sampled from Celeste Legaspi's "Bolero Medley" on "Kick, Push" give the song a syrupy grandeur for which any pop composer should be envious.

While the poppier side of Lasers shouldn't be seen as a complete betrayal, there is no denying that the album has its share of disappointments. To my ears, there are two important things missing from this album. The first is trajectory. While the album starts with some strong tracks, particularly the musical indictment of Obama "Words I Never Said," what follows is a sharp decline in quality. The first signs of trouble come on the song "the Show Goes On," which strangles the life out of a sample of Modest Mouse's "Float On." That Lupe would look to the indie rock darlings for inspiration is interesting, but the execution leaves a lot to be desired. Easily the best track on the album, "All Black Everything," comes as the penultimate track on the album. The song imagines a comically absurd alternate reality in which racism doesn't exist. In this world, things are completely turned on their head, Bill O'Reilly eulogizes Malcom X (who dies as an old man) by reading from the Qur'an. Lines like "Somalia is a great place to relax in/ Fred Astaire was the first to do a backspin/ The Rat Pack was cool group of black men" illustrate the kind of lyrical brilliance Lupe is capable of. Any sense of trajectory gained here, however, is completely lost on the album ending "Never Forget You" which features John Legend who completely overshadows Lupe in the worst way possible.

But perhaps even more conspicuously absent from this album is any sense of the quirky nerd-friendly side of Lupe that made him a critical success in the first place. Gone are the geeky rhymes about robots, skateboarding and Japanese culture from Food & Liquor or the grand (if silly) prog-rap sensibility of the Cool. What we are left with is a relatively ordinary hip-hop album from an artist whose appeal is based largely on his ability to be anything but ordinary.

The few bright moments on Lasers make it worth at least a listen, but to see Lupe Fiasco in his more consistent, less adulterated form, first-time listeners should stick to his first two albums.

Confessions of a Kanye Virgin

So, I've definitely been aware of Kanye West's solo career since at least College Dropout. He would have been hard to ignore. And of course, I've heard all of the major singles along the way. I think even most modern cave dwellers have been exposed to the near ubiquitous airplay of songs like "Gold Digger" or "Jesus Walks."

But until only last week when I picked up a copy of Graduation, I had never actually listened to any of his albums (go ahead, let out those gasps of astonishment and disgust). The truth is, anybody as heavily hyped as Kanye automatically makes me wary. Whether it is because of a fear of disappointment or my resentment of being told that somebody is the "savior" of an art form, I'm perennially late to jump on the bandwagon.

But even after listening to Graduation I still don't think I'm ready to drink the Kool-aid. Because no matter how consistently inspired Kanye's productions are, I still find it hard to ignore the elephant in the room: his lyrics. While there are definite flashes of brilliance, it's hard for me not to think that Kanye should have stayed in the production booth and left the rhyming to those more suited to it than him.

This isn't to say that Kanye West isn't talented, his production skills border on the sublime and when he produces songs by more talented MCs (prime examples are Mos Def and Talib Kweli)the results are astounding. But Kanye's own lyrical abilities often aren't enough to carry a song on their own and listeners are left with cringe inducing rhymes like:
So we gon' do everything that Kan like,
Heard they do anything for a Klondike,
Well, I'd do anything for a blonde dyke

And I know by now I should be used to rappers' full frontal assault on the English language and fully expect the kind of slang that causes grammar teachers to seize involuntarily, but a man has to draw the line somewhere. And, frankly, using the made up word "apologin'" is an offense to all things decent in language.

I was talking with a friend recently about my reservations about Kanye's music, and he told me that he enjoys it strictly in terms of sheer ego. For him, just to hear West's elephantine ego play itself out over the course of an entire album was entertainment enough. And I understand that viewpoint, if I didn't I wouldn't have a guilty pleasure for AC/DC. But for whatever reason when it comes to hip-hop, I'm pickier and less forgiving about lyrics. Perhaps I should just take my friends advice and just shut up and marvel at the absurdity of it all.

The Beef with Hip-hop

I used to think hip-hop wasn't music.

That's a strange thing to consider for a person who is now seriously contemplating a career as a "hip-hop scholar" (the fact that such a career path even exists is baffling to some, including myself).

My reasons weren't anything original, I hear the same things from people today. It doesn't have melody or harmony (even though it really does, sometimes in very interesting ways). It's poetry said to a beat, not music. But mostly, I think the younger me was just troubled by the bad hip-hop that of course is what gets the most airplay.

I shared my opinion on hip-hop with my friends in high school. Because I had smart friends, they disagreed with me. It became a common topic of conversation between my friend Dan and I. Dan was, and still is, a much smarter person than I, and he pretty much tore my argument apart. Though I never conceded the point to him, I'm very glad that he pushed the issue and planted the firsts seeds of doubt.

I could excuse my ignorance by saying that I hadn't yet heard of John Cage or any of the other major composers of the "real music" tradition who challenged everything we thought we knew about what constituted music. I was not yet operating under the "humanly organized sound" definition of music that seems to be the norm now (and which still isn't perhaps entirely adequate).

But I won't make any such excuses except to say that I hadn't heard any hip-hop that I thought was of any merit (and frankly, I think growing up white in South Dakota didn't make it any easier for me to appreciate hip-hop either).

I'm not entirely sure when I first started liking hip-hop, probably sometime in college. But I do remember quite vividly the first time a hip-hop song completely floored me. Of all things it was a musical guest appearance on "Chappelle's Show." Mos Def and Talib Kweli were performing as Blackstar. They did a song called "What Beef Is," a track they never commercially released. I remember just being completely blown away by it. It was the first time I understood how powerful hip-hop could be and what a sublime experience a truly great hip-hop performance is. The song had all the in-your-face vitriol that first drew me to punk some five years earlier.

I would say it was probably that experience that first made me really pay attention to hip-hop, to seek out hip-hop that was better than what I could hear on the radio. Of course, what I discovered is that there was so much great music to listen to that I am embarrassed now to think that I ever questioned it at all.

And that's why I cringe whenever I hear somebody say that they like any music except "country and rap." I'd venture to guess that most people who say that haven't sought out anything in either of those two genres beyond what makes top forty radio. I'm not going to pull out the "all the good hip-hop is underground" cliche because it's every bit as wrong as it is tired. It's just that the point of top forty radio is that you aren't expected to actually listen to the music. And that's where I think that people go wrong with hip-hop. They don't actually pay attention to what's going on in the music, they just sort of ignore it and tune in when all the naughty words and misogyny kick in. If people did pay attention, and if they sought out the kind of hip-hop that's intelligent, thoughtful, clever or poignant, they'd be surprised.

I know that not everybody is going to fall in love with hip-hop the way I did. We all have our personal hang ups about music, and some people will never really be able to get into hip-hop. I completely understand, I feel the same way about jam bands. But I do think that just about anybody could find a hip-hop song or artist that they could appreciate on some level if they gave it half a chance.

I could start name dropping here, start a laundry list of all the socially conscious MC's that I love, but the list is too long and people need to discover these things on their own. I'll just say that hip-hop can be extremely powerful. I am constantly reminded of just how powerful it is every time I hear a verse that makes me think, gets me angry or brings a tear to my eye. And if it can do that for me, a white kid with absolutely no idea what life on the streets is like, then I think it can do it for anybody who is willing to sit down and listen for even a moment.