*no thinking cap required

No shots. Not even warning shots. Just saying...


Hip Hop, rap music more specifically, is mad mundane nowadays. That statement alone is one of the reasons Raekwon's 'OB4CL2' & Slaughterhouse's self-titled albums were so well received by the critical public at large. Also, this is why they didn't sell an ass load of albums, either. More on that later...


The Hip Hop fan has grown accustomed to a certain formula. Brainwashed, perhaps. We've graduated from accepting a mediocre beat, if the lyrics were hot (the '90s) to accepting a bland mixture of okay rhymes & so-so tracks (the '00s) to now, the end of 2000's first decade, & rap music is boring as fuck, for the most part. Sans a handful of artists who genuinely craft witty raps without a bunch of unnecessary violence &/or fantasy lifestyle, & it's the same song, over & over again. It's common knowledge that to be a successful rap guy, your chains, your guns, your cars, & your ability to get bitches ranks higher than your song crafting skills. If we get nothing else, that we get. Multiply that complete lack of originality by some trunk-thumpage that the hood rats & socialites alike can shake their tail fur at, & best believe, somebody somewhere will play your shit, loudly & often, however uninspiring it may be.


"Rewindability" is virtually non-existent at present, unless we're talking about DOOM, Slaughterhouse (as a collective), U-God & Ghostface Killa. Ghostface, not so much because he astounds with the verbiage, but because I don't smoke dust blunts. & even with some rewinding, most dudes still have no idea what the hell he's talking about, unless it's his dick. Pause. If I did smoke the leaf that dare not speak it's name though, something tells me he'd be the illest MC ever to grab the mic. I guess Eminem earned a spot in that group as well, but unlike most rap fanatics, I'm willing to admit that somewhere along his audio journey, Marshall Mathers hit me in the brain with so much awesomeness that I'm now hard pressed to be in awe at the majority of his current masterpieces. His genius has leveled off into normalcy, so to speak. He's more Kobe, less Lebron, if you smell my cologne. Once "greatness" has ascended to such an unattainable altitude, we come to expect nothing less than the best. Which, oddly enough, is detrimental to a degree. I guess that's why you don't mack a female with unmitigated A+ game in the first few months. God forbid you two fall in love, & you used all the heavy artillery just to score some trim. When she gets bored, you can't blame anyone but yourself.


Of course there's more than just who's on my preemptive list, but I'm only attempting to scratch the proverbial surface, not take roll call. This is literally a conversation that could last days, & thousands of words, which neither I nor your attention span is willing to commit to.


Now, you have some artists who by all means have the propensity be great, but operate under such a self-defeating agenda that they refuse to let their own light shine. Lupe Fiasco comes to mind, but he's so much smarter than the rest of us that maybe all this is part of a plan, & his plan is coming together like 2 lesbians on a double-edged deluxe gyrating vibrator. Ha! Kid Cudi is cut from that same cloth, also. In a strange turn of events, his quasi-depressing, melancholy approach at Hip Hop music has become his way of life, knocking cats the eff out & getting thrown off of ridiculously lucrative tours all in the name of anti-love. Toss in a Charles Hamilton, & not only do we see the dark side of "the Force" that Kanye West exposed to the world, but also the reason gangsta rap is on life support. Emo-thuggery is running rampant. Skinny jeans may not be able to conceal weapons, but man-bags & Louis Vuitton backpacks can carry guns, as well as plaid ascots & cashmere mittens.


I, for one, miss the days where I almost had to concentrate on rap music to enjoy it. As of late, it's more like having public conversations with some of my terribly less intelligent homeboys, over loud-ass 808 kicks that only muffle their ignorant jaw-jacking, but unfortunately not quite enough to drown them out entirely. There's no imagination, no drive, no real competitive spirit, outside of viral campaigns, tasteless personal attacks, & episodes of 'Candid Camera', with *insert your favorite rapper* doing his best Alan Funt impersonation. Hip Hop has allowed itself to go from two young, amped up tough guys smoking weed & intensely playing Chess, to two lethargic older cats drinking cheap cognac over a game of Checkers, in between nods & space-out moments. Even when they pick up a piece (no pun intended), everyone knows their next move. It's no wonder people get bored & stop watching them play.


Before the hoopla starts, I'm not one of those golden age veterans, who rubs miscellaneous bottles in hopes that I can wish us back to 1992. Hell, in 1992, I was still a virgin, so, yeah. But, I do wish that more effort would be put into making today's rap a sport again. Not a contact sport, because niggas don't fight any more, but a battle of wits, war of words, per se. Legend has it that, in their hey day, MC Ren & Ice Cube would sit in the studio & write against each other, for the same song. Whoever won that impromptu challenge, won the right to pen Eazy-E's verse, in addition to their own. Or, picture Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney working on 'The Girl Is Mine'. Cats may not hit the bowling alley for beer pretzels & White chicks after the studio session, but best believe they pushed one another to do their best, even if their best was only second place. I'll take second place over last any day of the Christian week.


There seems to be a growing surge of rappers who embrace the basic ethos that separates entertainers from MC's. That's a good look for the culture, plus it's not like folks are running out to drop hard hustled recession dollars on physical albums anyway, even when the record is a genuinely good buy. Ask Raekwon & Slaughterhouse. Might as well give the people what they need, because what they want isn't always what's best for them. Like prostitute sex, regardless how good she looks, she's still a hooker, & we know you can do better than that, mayne.

Fans vs. Heads: The Battle For Hip Hop

Yes, there is a difference. Contrary to popular belief, just because one is a "Hip Hop Head" doesn't make them a "fan".

Most "Hip Hop heads" are generally pleased with the omnipotent presence of rap music, in all it's forms. Even if it's not their prescription, the hypnotic instrumentation & amalgam of verbiage is soothing to their collective soul(s). The "head" is drawn, like a moth, to all that the music entails, even if it's only to bathe in the hatred that surrounds it. To a true head, the ambiance of the music & artist is loosely interchangeable. Audio-whores, if you will. If it's hot, the head will support. Nary is there a decent rap song that gets by them, & their overall vagueness keeps their hands in numerous cookie jars, musically speaking.

On the same token, the "Hip Hop Fan" is clearly targeting specifics. A fan memorizes verses, attends concerts, supports the music vocally, financially & physically, & sticks by the artist they are the fan of through hell & high water. A fan of hip hop has delicate taste buds only satisfied by the artist(s) they feel their connection with. Like mind sex. Pause to the last 1.5 sentences. Generally, a fan of an artist adopts the emotions of their cherished leader. For example, when 50 Cent said "Fuck Rick Ross", a million e-gangstas yelled the same thing at their respective computer screens. Similarly, thousands of cyber-thugs referred to 50 as a "mungkhey" once Ross mumbled it on a WorldStarHipHop(.com) video clip.

The most notable difference betwixt the two is what they are doing to Hip Hop. Both groups profess undying love for the culture, yet one group allows thriving & productivity, while the other blindly chips away at what makes it a viable living for those who chose Rap as a profession, rather than competition or sport.

The head downloads. All he/she's concerned with is a cacophony of Rap's greatest hits & misses at his/her fingertips, to brag about with the other heads. The fan goes out & purchases, ensuring that, at the very least, he/she's helping to keep his/her favorite artists' bills paid. Which one are you?

SlaughterHouse's self-titled inaugural album "topped" the charts, after one week, with roughly 20,000 copies sold (give or take). Now, the group [Crooked I, Joell Ortiz, Royce Da 5'9" & Joe Budden] itself is lyrically superior to the majority of heavy-hitting rappers in today's regular rotation. Yet, they lack the promotional inertia that a lot of their weaker counterparts have. But, for all their superhuman linguistics, they barely scratched Rap's fiscal surface.

Based on Hip Hop blogs/websites, they should have scanned at least 250,000 copies, physical & iTunes. Truthfully, that's hard to do without posters, in-store signings & advertisements of some sort. Some die hard fans, who were actually heads, claimed they'd be purchasing two copies, when in actuality, they illegally downloaded the album a week in advance.

I'm 1/8th comp geek-I know how we gets down....

Right now, Hip Hop needs FANS; those willing to understand that Rappers don't do this for fun. In a perfect world, heads & fans could co-exist & attend the Gucci Mane & Charles Hamilton concerts in unison. But, until then, what better way to stick it to the industry than to SUPPORT what we like, IGNORE what we don't, & let Jimmy Iovine sort out the rest.

Everybody can't go to E1, because the way things are looking, it will be the next Priority Records. Remember them?