Showing posts with label crappy music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crappy music. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

It's Like The Greeks vs. The Trojans All Over Again

I have tried to stay out of this discourse for as long as is humanly possible, but I know now that it would be the height of irresponsibility for me, holding the position that I do in this world, to withhold my influence any longer. I have decided that the time to speak is now, lest the situation become any direr as a result of my continued silence. Friends, esteemed colleagues, and Canadians who inexplicably subscribe to this blog, the time has come for me to jump headfirst into what future scholars will come to regard as the debate of the century. I am referring, of course, to “Kanye West vs. 50 Cent: Decision 2007”, and the consequences of the outcome now weigh heavily on my shoulders. I can only pray that I’m strong enough to see this conflict through to a peaceful and nonviolent end.



The question of which side to support was never an issue for me. I am a person who values loyalty above all else, and my feet have always been firmly planted on the side of 50. A hardworking man, committed to excellence and physical fitness, 50 has always piqued my interest. Without a doubt, his music is unfailingly fascinating, and he has proven himself to be a fascinating man as well. Born unto the rough streets of South Jamaica, Queens, 50 (nee Curtis Jackson) began selling drugs at the age of twelve. Twelve, ladies and gentlemen. This is nothing short of a tribute to Fiddy’s inherent, unrelenting, entrepreneurial spirit. Still, young Curtis dreamed of a better life for himself and, after a stint in prison for dealing (during which time he adopted the “50 Cent” moniker, which is metaphorical for “change” - man, that is so beautiful. It brings tears to my eyes.), he ended his career as a supplier to pursue a more suitable métier: Rapping.

But Fate did as she often does, and, on the brink of that life-altering decision, Fiddy was the victim of a drive by shooting, taking nine bullets in the arm, chest, hand, left cheek, hip, and both legs. By the grace of God, 50 survived the brutal attack. After spending 13 days in the hospital, followed by another six and a half months in recovery, 50 lives on as a testament to sheer willpower, dedication, and, again, physical fitness. He is a true manifestation of the American dream.

On the other side of this debate, we have Kanye “George Bush Hates Black People” West, who by all accounts lived a far more sheltered, pampered lifestyle than a young Curtis Jackson would ever have dared to dream of. Why should we root for you, Kanye, when the worst thing that happened to you in your formative years was that your parents got divorced? 50’s mom was straight up murdered, and he never even knew his father. You attended the frou frou American Academy of Art in Chicago during your high school years. Where was 50? In jail, getting his GED and trying to make a fresh start, that’s where. And while I would never seek to minimize anyone’s suffering, I feel compelled to point out that while 50 was off getting shot nine times (nine times!), the victim of savage, vicious thuggery, your only claim to physical pain was a broken jaw, a jaw that was broken in a car accident that only occurred because you fell asleep at the wheel. I doubt 50 even had a car! And where you selfishly exploited this bit of personal recklessness for your song “Through The Wire", 50 only briefly mentioned his plight in "In Da Club”, and I feel sure he did this as a courtesy to his fans, to let them know that even after the horrific shooting, he is fine – so fine that his swagger isn’t even marred by the slightest hint of limp. And even now, while you delight in Epicurean romps at various disgusting strip joints, 50 Cent toils away in his humble Manhattan office, taking multiple meetings a day – the consummate businessman. To choose between you two would be like choosing between a Cable Ace Award and an Oscar. I think you know which one you are, Kanye. And I think you know which one I’m choosing.

That being said, the reality of the situation is that the deck is currently stacked in the favor of Mr. West. However, in this epic struggle, I have my suspicions about who will come out the victor. While Kanye may currently be outselling 50 (and congratulations to him on that – his little tune, “Stronger”, is catchy in a way that only superbly processed and manipulated music can be), I feel that the man formerly known as Curtis Jackson will ultimately prevail. Kanye can carry on rapping about Kate Moss, calling himself “The Louis Vuitton Don,” railing against the “haters,” and wearing all the Lacoste polo shirts the world has to offer – I guess that's his "truth," and I hope that fulfills him. As for me, I will continue to delight in the man, the music, and, let's face it, the hero that is 50 Cent.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Drop It Like It's Idiotic

I’ve steered clear of FM radio for a few years now, ever since the glorious inception of the iPod, (my own proudly named iPhil). FM radio is just like that wet steak burrito at the local Alberto’s hole-in-the-wall that makes you weep in your hands all night while planted over the porcelain seat. You think it's a good idea but it quickly spirals down and you end up in a heap. Yet, with time, the memory fades until you find yourself one day thinking it would be good idea to give another one of those behemoths a go. Then all of it, the memory and indigestion, come flooding back as you’re plowing through that sucker. It’s then that you realize that not only are you in for a world of hurt in half an hour, but also that you’re an idiot and that’s all there is to it. Well, I, in my never-ending quest to continuously torture myself, thought that it would be interesting to see what music was being played ad nauseam and then trampled to death on the radio these days. What did I find? Why, classic gems with the following ground-breaking lyrics, of course:


Akon – “Don’t Matter”

“Nobody wanna see us together
But it don't matter no
Cause I got you babe
Nobody wanna see us together
But it don't matter no
Cause I got you babe
Cause we gon' fight
Oh yes we gon' fight
Believe we gon' fight
We gon' fight
Fight for our right to love yeah
Nobody wanna see us together
But it don't matter no
Cause I got you”


How tired is the “us against the world” theme in describing relationships, especially when it’s a cross between Sonny and Cher and The Beastie Boys in lyrical intelligence? Trust me, if everyone is against your relationship, you’re going to crumble like a dieter being offered a chunky peanut butter and apricot jam sandwich (those things are crazy good!). I’d stake my whole Korean stationery collection on it.




Fergie aka “The Troll” – “Glamorous”

“If you ain't got no money take yo' broke ass home
You say: If you ain't got no money take yo' broke ass home
G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S, yeah G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S”


Ok, I can accept this chorus. I mean, who likes poor people, right? Not me, that’s for sure. And she’s teaching the peeps to spell words. That so qualifies for community service in my book. Big up. But then she had to go and spoil the whole thing and write a few verses to accompany this fine chorus…

“We flying the first class
Up in the sky
Poppin' champagne
Livin' the life
In the fast lane
And I won’t change
By the Glamorous, oh the flossy flossy”

“I've got money in the bank
And I'd really like to thank
All the fans, I'd like to thank
Thank you really though”


Wait, I thought she didn’t want any broke asses hanging with her yet she’s thanking her guaranteed poorer fans for giving her that money? Whaa? Some of these fans need to organize and riot that charter jet.



Mims – “This Is Why I’m Hot”

“This is why I'm Hot, This is why I'm Hot
This is why, this is why, this is why I'm Hot
This is why I'm hot, This is why I'm Hot
This is why, this is why, this is why I'm Hot
I'm Hot cause I'm fly, you ain't cause you not
This is why, this is why, this is why I'm Hot
I'm Hot cause I'm fly, you ain't cause you not
This is why, this is why, this is why I'm Hot”


At the very least, you’ve got to admit that the rules of hip-hop are simple and finite. That’s admirable. Still, whenever I hear this song, it’s at this point where I want to drive off a canyon road and sail down in a blaze of glory into a steep ditch, but then I heard the first 2 lines of the next verse:

“This is why I'm hot, I ain't gotta rap
I sell a mill sayin' nothin' on a track”

I take it back. It’s all genius.