[a] religious moment at OutKast’s ATLast

1. I went to church Sunday. Giant congregation, full of diverse peoples, all celebrating the spirit of our religion. Churchgoers raised their arms, waving them up and down when agreeing with particular points in the sermon. Communal neighbors shared in spirits and substance, quick to offer new friends whatever wealth they could. And when church finished, with no promise of an encore sermon, we went home renewed of mind and soul.

Some might simply say OutKast ATLast was spiritual. And dope. It was assuredly that.

2. Music sounds different wherever you are. I’m not talking context (which can be huge, too) but physical location. Usually, that difference of experience is between songs in the club versus tracks pumped through headphones. But there’s something to be said of how certain music sounds of a city or region or place. Those songs and albums that reach the outside remind us of that place. Heard within their proper context, music can deepen and sharpen, bringing new meaning to the tracks.

People say this about Jay Z and New York all the time, but damn if it isn’t true about OutKast and Atlanta, too.

3. Ever since moving to Atlanta, I’ve committed hard to ATL hip hop. Jeezy, Future, Young Thug, Migos, but mostly OutKast. I can’t get enough. All these artists represent what’s so invigorating and downright fun about Atlanta hip hop. Booty-shakin’ bass, nonsensical lyrics, club bangers, whip riders, and that attitude.

For a long time, Atlanta wanted to be heard (and respected) in hip hop. They felt ignored and you can hear it in the music. It’s not an “us vs. them” thing, but more an “us” and y’all can join but don’t say we ain’t got no voice thing. Don’t disrespect us. ’Cause the South got somethin’ to say.

4. OutKast sounds like Atlanta, but not in some specific way like other artists. They capture all of Atlanta: the bigness of its boundaries and separation of its boroughs. Their music drives straight through all of that, attempting to connect with everyone, of all different backgrounds.

That’s why, at ATLast, you can find more white dudes getting crunk with blacks, Asians, Hispanics, and every other background imaginable. Nobody (really) looks differently upon one another, like everyone’s right to OutKast is the same. Because if you feel OutKast’s music, and not just the singles played on the radio, you’ve likely felt like an outcast once or twice. It’s an obvious interpretation, but the only way to explain the broader sense of community on display at ATLast.

(Side note: I may or may not have been one of the white dudes trying to get crunk.)(Okay, yes I was.)

5.I wish you were there. If you’re reading this, you likely wanted to be. Hearing Andre and Big Boi storming out with “B.o.B,” chanting “Uh-huh, hush that fuss” on “Rosa Parks,” then throwing your hands in the air to “ATLiens.” Listening to Big and Three Stacks tease the crowd in that hospitable, Southern way, so you know it’s out of love. Groovin’ to “Hey Ya.” Singing along with “Elevators.” Vibin’ to “International Players’ Anthem.” I wish you were there for all of that.

Oh man, I wish you could’ve heard Erykah Badu wail on “Humble Mumble.” If the opportunity to listen to Ms. Badu croon ever presents itself to you, drop everything and take it.

But yeah, y’all should’ve been there.

6. Killer Mike called OutKast “the Rolling Stones of rap” at ATLast. That feels right. Except OutKast likely won’t be touring year-in, year-out, cashing them checks on people’s nostalgia. Big Boi could maybe do it, but Andre 3000 never looked completely comfortable on stage. He enjoyed himself, but never seemed to let go, transform within the moment of the performance. It’s okay that he didn’t. It probably wouldn’t have felt right if he did.

7. It’s the community I’ll miss, though. How connective OutKast’s music is to its fans. I haven’t been here long enough to root myself deeply, to establish connections with the people and places, but I’m starting to get it. My favorite part about Atlanta is how resolutely weird everyone can be, how of themselves they are. Nobody really cares about the empire of “cool” around here.

OutKast brings that out in everybody. With Andre it’s obvious, but people never give enough credit for how equally strange Big Boi can be. (Actually, people never give enough credit to Big Boi at all. Stop that.) That’s why they’ll always be Atlanta’s own.

8. OutKast let you embrace yourselves, I think. Maybe I’m reaching, I don’t truly know. Maybe I’m high off the experience and still can’t distinguish it properly. But whatever this is, I’d like to hold onto it as long as possible.

Re-review: Ab-Soul’s “These Days…”

Re-reviews is a series that looks at music after the initial buzz dies down and see if we can find something new about it. Sometimes we succeed, sometimes we don’t. But it’s all just an excuse to keep the conversation going, right? Previously: YG’s My Krazy Life

Here was the plan: I wanted to write about Ab-Soul’s These Days… and its panoramic portrayal of hip hop/music these days, slightly parodying some of it in the process. That was the crux of it, at least.

I’d write how Soul validated some popular rap, but ethered others. I’d written these sentences two weeks ago:

‘His point with These Days… is to (kind of) prove that Black Hippy and acts connected with TDE produce the best music these days. Soul kind of goes kamikaze in the process, committing a little much to some of the worst songs like “Nevermind That,” “Twact,” and “Sapiosexual.” These days, yes Soul, there is a lot of crappy music on the radio, but I’m not sure why your fans needed reminding of that. Traditional hip hop has stal(l)ed, particularly in 2014, but why add to the problem instead of solving it?

Soul tries to elevate with his style and lyricism and production and callbacks, but it just doesn’t work. The album as a whole doesn’t make sense.’

I felt pretty good about that. Then I got distracted with other projects and work and two things happened: a) I kept listening to These Days… despite my initial disappointment in it and b) Soul essentially said everything I planned to write in an interview with HipHopDX.

HipHopDX: Is that what you did on These Days…?

Ab-Soul: Absolutely. And that’s why it is called These Days…That album is what I feel like these days sound like, in my own right. Of course, it was no mockery, but it was. I used a lot of references of today, of present and past, because that’s popular too. You listen to YG’s album, and he makes a lot of old references to Short Dawg or Suga Free or whatever, because that’s popular right now. And that’s paying respect. That’s letting the old generation know that they’re not going.

I felt dumb because I thought my opinion was unique. But like usual, it wasn’t, so let’s reprogram and try this again:

Ab-Soul has always been surrounded by music since his childhood, working at his parent’s record store, then decided to rap post-high school graduation. Early on, his cerebral-minded lyrics and word-twisting abilities earned him some critics’ attention, and he buzzed alongside his fellow Black Hippy Crew. People got excited about them. They were a movement, returning hip hop to its nutrient roots—new school rap mixed through old-school West Coast beats and drums slightly updated for a more contemporary sound.

Each member got big to a degree. Ab-Soul didn’t truly burst onto the scene like the others, despite being the group’s best lyricist,* but his following jumped considerably after Control System. Having “Illuminate” as a single plus the bloggers’ darling, cathartic “Book of Soul” with its Bobby McFerrin-sample ensured that. He was marginally successful, but not quite popular.

*Calm down. Kendrick’s the better rapper in all other ways, but Soul’s got him on lyrics. Soulo gets more intricate, more referential, more poetic. Check out the end of “Tree of Life,” he can flip a word to its syllabic brink, shifting its meaning each time along the way. Not that Kendrick can’t do that, just not like Ab-Soul can.

Rap played on the radio often gets a bad rapt. It’s (mostly) trite music, intended to be popular, instead of some expression by the artist. But to a large demographic, this is the only rap music they listen to; Rick Ross and Tyga and Wiz Khalifa are representative of their entire makeup of hip hop. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with these artists—there might not be anything wrong at all—but there might be better stuff out there, or other stuff that deserves some attention.

Which leads us back to Ab-Soul: This a dude who loves music, respects it, but hr e doesn’t get enough love on these streets. Unlike his Black Hippy crew members, ScHoolboy Q and Kendrick, Ab-Soul wasn’t signed to Interscope for whatever reason. (He’s a weird cat, that’s the reason.) All of this is to say Soul was in a very complicated spot musically: Should he “sell out” and make a studio-sounding album* or double down on crafting ‘respectable’ rap?

*Hi, ScHoolboy Q. (I’m joking…slightly.)

He did neither. He went in between, deciding to slam together his persona and mindful lyrics into these popular, ‘radio’ sounds, documenting all the recently booming subgenres along the way. ‘Oh there’s the pseudo-DJ Mustard sound, and okay here’s some trap, and wow he appropriated the MMG/Rick Ross luxury backdrop with Rick Ross on the track.’

But it’s deeper than that. He’s not copying these guys or even trying to create pop music; he’s trying to discover and emphasize what makes these sounds worthwhile (or not). He’s contradicting himself purposefully across the album, simultaneously boasting and lamenting rappers showboating ways. It’s like Soul tried to strip popular music to the musical essence of it all, which sounds a bit grandiose, I know. For the first half of the record, when he’s really attacking these pop sounds, it does feel that way. Though Soul can’t help himself to be, well, himself: The first eight tracks (except “Twact”) all end with some flip or new song after the song or shoutout that’s in most cases somewhat more likeable in some ways.

Here’s where I’m going to do the critic thing and guess what Soul’s doing here: In some ways, it’s a sacrifice, but more so he’s killing that part of himself that wants to make pop/studio music. (Or maybe he’s killing that part of himself that’s jealous and doesn’t understand why this music gets to be radio hits.) Not that he doesn’t desire to be popular, but he seems driven to a bigger purpose. How else do you explain this?

And there’s my personal favorite song on the album, “Just Have Some Fun.” It follows “Twact”—where Soul is so obviously making fun of Tyga and his hit “Faded,” even going as far as recruiting the same producer for the track—and where the album turns. On “Just Have Some Fun,” he lets go and throws together all these contradictory dimensions of himself with a fuck-it attitude and just goes for it. It’s an upbeat, party track that has Soul spitting real lines like “Met the devil in God’s elbow” and the “new drugs that got a nigga trippy these days” isn’t DMT or Molly, but fame for Soul that rushes him with “dopamine, I mean dope.”

It transitions to the outro “These Days,” which is like a Bon Iver song that didn’t make the cut from Bon Iver and has Soul using that Migos flow, referencing Drake, all channeled through Soul’s (third) eye. If this album is intended to capture music these days, and what’s great about it, Soul proves it with this track.

Following “Kendrick Lamar’s Interlude,” the record loses a bit of momentum. I get why “Closure” comes afterward, with Soul letting go of past relationships and feelings (including toward what Black Hippy used to be)*, along with what “Sapiosexual” is supposed to be doing, but the album doesn’t pick back up until “Stigmata.” (Hey, I never said These Days… was/were perfect.)

* Any usage of ‘music’ on the album, like on “Closure,” really could be replaced with ‘music.’

He ends the album on a decisive note with “W.R.O.H.” that has Soul spitting too-real lines like “And it might not be such a bad idea if I never went home again / Fucked all the same hoes again, bumping ‘Druggies Wit Hoes Again’ / With my bros again / No”. And that’s to say nothing of the battle rap with Daylyt, deserving of its own blog post, but for now I’ll say it’s impressive how Ab-Soul held his own against Daylyt, a true battle rapper (though Day did win).

After the battle, you can hear the crowd cheer and chatter, and someone proclaims “Hip Hop is not dead.” For someone who’s professed his fandom of Nas, that comment must be intentional. As long as battle-rapping and Top Dawg and Ab-Soul himself are around, hip hop can’t be dead.

The Perpetual Arrival of Jay Electronica and his Secret Society of Fools

I’m going to admit something in the comforts of this blog that I normally wouldn’t say aloud: Sometimes, I believe in Free Masonry. Other times I believe in the Knights Templar. And yes, some times, I think the Illuminati is real. I really do. In a way, how can I not? Often, secret societies seem the realest aspect of 21st-century life. And no, we’re not talking Edward Snowden-NSA or anything tangible or truly threatening to our current, functioning reality. That’s what THEY want you to think about. That’s what THEY use as a distraction. But I’m talking Jay Z, Jay Electronica and BK Hip Hop Festival–the stuff THEY don’t want you to hear.

That Jay Electronica was headlining a promoted hip hop festival was news enough; then he had to “bring out” Mac Miller, J. Cole, Talib Kweli, Muhammad My Man, and Jay Z, who had a quick break in between stops of his “On The Run” tour with Beyonce to make a showing. All that matters is Jay Z. All that matters is that Jay Z bestowed his highly-scrutinized and -publicized “5-percenter” chain to Jay Electronica, who was dressed in full Fruit of Islam regalia. All that matters were the line of young men who stood in FOI uniforms emotionlessly and wordlessly behind Jay Electron like a mime-squadron ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Don’t belittle this moment. Don’t besmirch it with your ironic attitude. You are, I can tell. Chaining Days hold special meaning in rap, especially when chained by King Hova. J. Cole even recorded a whole melodramatic song about the concept–and he never does that. It’s supposed to signify a passing of the torch, a generational blessing from rap’s statesmen. It’s a special day. But it’s an event when done with a 5-percenter medallion to an FOI-dressed man signaled as rap’s Second Messiah; a man who’s perpetually arriving, appearing just when the public could have forgotten him, but otherwise existing forever in rap purgatory comfortably.

Jay Electronica is a man who cannot be described easily. He’s an eclectic, enrapturing, exasperating enigma who has carefully constructed his persona to create such a description. He’s a musician who doesn’t care to release music. The last time he did, it was at the behest of a fan on Twitter. And Jay Electronica obliged simply because he was in a good mood at SXSW.

He dated hip hop queen Erykah Badu, had a child with her, and is currently dating real royalty in Kate Rothschild. A freakin’ Rothschild! Don’t tell me secret societies might not be legitimate when a man who boasts of a past as a homeless wanderer, belonging nowhere and existing everywhere, who holds incredible underground celebrity but little public attention, who was handpicked by Jay Z as heir to his throne privately and now very publicly with only releasing less than 20 songs in like five years, is dating a fuckin Rothschild. I don’t think I’ve emphasized that last point enough.

Sigh. Allow me to remove my veil, at least temporarily. There seems to be a lot of confused emotions right now–anger, confusion, sadness, surprise, horror–and that’s just my emotions. No idea how you’re feeling here. All this is a rouse to express the burning necessity that Jay Electronica release his debut album, an album that’s supposedly been recorded since 2010, teased in 2012 with an iTunes tracklist, and dubiously confirmed with the release of “Better in Tune with the Infinite.”

What plagues hip hop is lack of stars who can capture the public’s attention and have something worthwhile to say. Only two rappers from the past five years–Drake and Kendrick Lamar–could claim that distinction. However, those rappers seem momentarily disadvantaged by the soaring monuments of stars like Jay Z, Lil’ Wayne, Kanye, Eminem, et al. They can’t escape their shadows, at least for now. Jay Electronica can and does. He’s one of the few rappers who can hold a stage with Jay Z as an equal presence, even Kanye can’t do that. Ye looks like Jay’s little brother up there, Jay Electron feels like a lost cousin who’s earned his respect.

And so what I’m truly saying here is that moments like this weekend, when Jay Electronica reaffirms this hope by demonstrating just how truly skilled he is and how much others within rap’s elite community respects him, it has become a painful reminder of what exists but isn’t known. He’s a secret society in and of himself. At this point, it’s no longer a jesting game, a wonder of what is and isn’t. What’s worse is that this won’t die on both sides for the foreseeable future: He’ll keep toying around while fans endlessly wait like willing fools.

In the state of Kanye West vs. Your Parents, we present Exhibit C

If you’re under the age of 40, you likely enjoy the musical creations of one Kanye West. You find his music consistently interesting and groundbreaking. You know the upcoming summary paragraph of Kanye’s career, but just as a reminder:

He reintroduced “soul” sounds to popular black music (Blueprint, various others), effectively destroyed gangster rap’s legitimacy on his debut album (College Dropout), recontextualized orchestral tones to sound urban and hip (Late Registration), stole rock music’s big-ness and stadium static for hip hop purposes, usurping rock’s present popularity in the process (Graduation), created a new subgenre within rap of emo-pop beats and minimalistic, soul-searching lyrics delivered through robotic auto-tune vocoders, constructing a new lane for a fresh batch of artists to occupy like he had on his debut album (808s & Heartbreak), demonstrated how far he could push his artistry and maximalize every last modicum of his skill and talent to regain the public’s love (My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy), dropped one of the best rap duo collaborations albums ever—while creating a new subgenre of luxury rap (Watch The Throne), and he…well, you’re not quite sure what Yeezus is, but damn it’s provocative. It gets the people going.

But you likely knew all that because you’re under 40 and care about music and this type of stuff. You’re culturally aware. You scout Twitter for illegal download links when new albums leak, have likely seen all or almost all of Orange is the New Black AND House of Cards, and you have strong opinions about Wes Anderson movies. You enjoy being in the know about pop culture. You do this because you never want to be seen as ‘ignorant’ and dismiss new stuff outright. In fact, you think searching for new culture and entertainment is ‘fun’ and ‘cool.’ You have a good eye and ear for music, film, TV, etc. You’re a good judge. A fair judge. You know what’s quality and what’s kind of crappy. This is why you like Kanye West because*, regardless of his political and social outbursts and his rants and interviews and all this stuff, you recognize he produces good music.

*And this part is key.

Unfortunately, your parents do not. Parents don’t understand Kanye, especially your parents. They hate Kanye West. Hate him. “That Kanye’s a jerk, man. A real jerkoff. How could you like a guy like that?” you can almost hear them saying right now. At every family gathering, you’re put on trial for enjoying Kanye West, as if you represent his legal counsel. “How could you respect him?” “How could you defend him for (various social outbursts)?” “Did I mention he’s a jerkoff?” You always hear these statements. You’re sick of them. Tired of these perpetual attacks. This referendum on your character.

We know this pain. We get it. We want to help you. And so we’ve written this for you, cultured person under age 40, to present the next time a parent or uncle or boss criticizes you for liking Kanye West.* No longer will you toil under their oppressive ignorance. No longer will you need to fearlessly battle for yourself and/or Kanye. No longer will you be misunderstood. All you need to do, cultured friend, is hand this to them, filled out accordingly, and all will be fine with your world.

*Exhibit C is not applicable in debates revolving around and with regards to Kanye’s ranking and status within the hip hop realm. Exhibit C will not prove Kanye’s comparative worth to Jay Z or Scarface, simply that Kanye has worth at all. We hope this satisfies your needs. If not, we advise you seek legal counsel elsewhere.

And now, we present Exhibit C.

UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT
DISTRICT OF PUBLIC OPINION

Kanye Haters, Persons over the Age of
40, Persons who don’t engage in pop-
ular culture yet sermonize on it, your
family members, et. al

Plaintiff(s)

vs.

Investigation No. 773-MBDTF-47

Kanye Supporters, Persons under the
Age of 40, Persons who enjoy and
respect popular culture, you, et. al

Defendant(s)

EXHIBIT C

(Insert relative’s name(s) here)

Plaintiff, hereby referred to as Hater, are upset with Kanye West because of (Hurricane Katrina telethon incident/Taylor Swift incident/Recent interviews/other) (hereby circle all that applies).

This upsets you, Hater, because (lack of respect to fellow human being/I’m a diehard Republican/I’m secretly racist/country fan/other people seem upset so I am, too). Now, we understand you have individual value and personal opinions regarding society. We see that in you. A standing pillar of our great democracy lies in the individual and his/her freedom of speech. However, according to our client, you were recently recorded as saying (Insert applicable Kanye-bashing quote here) (e.g. “Kanye West is a fucking piece of shit douchebag. How could you respect someone who’d do that to a pretty, white girl on a national, public stage?” Or “George Bush does care about black people! What a goddamn loser for him to say that.”)

Now, hater, we will forsake questioning the validity and worth of such a statement. Instead, we ask of you of your mistakes as an individual. Like that time (Insert drunken outburst mistake here) or that time (Insert workplace outburst here, i.e. yelling at boss out of frustration, losing job as a result, family struggles mightily for 6-8 months while looking for a new job, human souls are tested.).

And we ask of you, hater, if your mistakes throughout life are not redeemable. We will not ask you if they are comparable to Mr. West’s mistakes for that would be a trappable court room fallacy that this case could not recover from because of course your mistakes and his mistakes are in no way comparable for multiple reasons including, but not limited to, his status and public nature of his mistakes which amplitudes them, that Mr. West may or may not be completely mentally stable like most great artists, that you are of a different upbringing of him (likely of white American origin) and cannot understand the competing forces within society that work against Mr. West, and because Mr. West has a habit of doing very, very publicly foolish things that 99.99% of the public does not have a habit of doing.

So we will not ask if your mistakes are comparable, but instead if they are redeemable. (Insert long-winded response where hater argues yes they are redeemable but attempts to hint at some comparability to Mr. West’s transgressions.)

(Court room quickly devolves into parties interrupting each other, talking over one another, etc.)

Stop—please, no sir/madam, please I’m insis—No but you simply don’t understand. You can’t have it both ways like this…I know. No, I know. Kanye West may not be the most respectable human being, but he is redeemable because redemption is basic constitution of Americ—so what he doesn’t get the same rights as you and me?…Fine, he sucks or whatever. I’ll let you have that.

But could you at least admit his music is pretty good?

(No, hater almost always will respond.)

Well fuck you then!! I move that this case be tossed out due to the fact that this hater will always be a hater and culturally unaware and who’s opinions on popular music simply don’t matter. They reject new ideas only because they’re new and live in their old, nostalgic world. And in this court of public opinion, where we are constantly trying to improve and progress and build a better society, that is simply unacceptable!

Wait…what? I can’t yell “Fuck you!!” to the plaintiff?

I knew this was a losing battle and engaged anyways? I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and moved on? We’re supposed to shake hands, retreat amicably, and accept our differences? That’s your ruling.

Damn. No one man should have all that power.