Dead End Hip Hop

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Thank You, Mac Miller

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Thank you Mac Miller.

And I’m sorry. That’s the first thing I want to say and I’m sure it’s something a lot of us would say to Mac Miller if any fan got to see him before September 7, 2018. Because as of that day, we lost one. More specifically, I did.

There are plenty of artists I have grieved for and still do whenever I play their music; however, when it comes to Mac Miller he was different. He was someone that helped me acclimate to my new life.

In August 2011, I moved from Dallas, TX to Greenville, NC to live with my dad. It was just before the start of my sophomore year in high school. It was a time where I didn’t know anything, really, because I was still trying to understand who I was in the world. While I had been in the area before, I didn’t live there. I had no friends. All I had was my dad and music.

I was nervous to talk to other kids but the music was my entry point to other people. I could speak about it and my presence was known.

I was on every new release but it wasn’t until Blue Slide Park came out that I couldn’t join the conversation. The discussion had shifted to someone who I had no clue about. I had to ask my classmate, Kelsey Holder, who he was. Come to find out, he’s a rapper from Pittsburgh who was only 4 years my senior. I had to find out what all the talk was about so I downloaded the project, listened, and found something and someone special.

I was on a bit of a high horse when I was 15 and didn’t listen to rap like that. What did some white kid from Pittsburgh have to teach some fifteen-year-old black kid trying to figure it all out…? He helped me find a part of myself I had lost in trying to find other things. From there, I went back and download K.I.D.S. and Best Day Ever with the latter being one of the projects that really shot me over the moon. “Wake Up” was the morning jam I played on the back of the bus.

As the years went by and I got older, so did Mac. Growth that I don’t think anyone expected him to show emerged; he gave us steady, progressive change that was reflective in other people’s lives. It’s part of the reason he resonated with so many younger fans and opened doors for older fans to appreciate him. Before most, he was one of the first real, relatable guys of the new school. He was unabashedly human.

But of course, like anyone who ages in hip-hop and isn’t on top, jokes were thrown his way. A lot of them too. Not reflective of his character but any white rapper that appeared on any preppy frat boy’s playlist was ridiculed. Ask Asher Roth. Even if they have shed that persona ages ago, it’s an easy point to pick at for any “hip-hop head”. It was unfair but life doesn’t care about unfair.

Stating himself that fame had been one of the reasons, Mac struggled with depression and substance abuse. He never strayed away or hid it from his fans. It was a fact he made clear on 2014’s Faces. It was my last year of high school and by then I wasn’t listening to Mac as much as I used to but I still respected him a lot. It was the year I finally tried to get help for my depression. Mac was open for anyone to look and see him. He also advocated for bettering one’s self even when he was done. It was another part of himself that he didn’t have to share but he did. And I wanted to do the same. So I gave part of myself to others to find love.

Now it’s 2018, I have graduated from college. Mac Miller has long graduated from the young class to a young vet with almost 10 years into the game. We had both made strides in our life. Still struggling but working through demons. It’s August 3rd and Mac releases Swimming. His fifth studio album. It so happens to be on a day that also has the major releases from Travis Scott and YG.

It’s a hectic hip-hop day but instead of listening to the others, I want to listen to his project first. For the simple reason, that I might find something in it that’ll help me again. Why? Because it’s the Friday before I made another big transition of my life by moving from Greenville, NC with my dad to Decatur, GA that Sunday. I thought more so than those other projects, that I would find some solace in his because I was in a rut. I didn’t have a job yet and I only had enough money to last me a month. Like that album in high school, I needed something. So I went to Spotify and pressed play. While it didn’t make me feel the same way Blue Slide Park did in high school, it did something else for me instead. It made me feel okay and that was all I needed.

Fast forward to a little over a month later, I’m at work. It’s a slow day and I decide to check my phone just because I was bored. So I go to Twitter and I’m scrolling and I see Mac’s name. Thinking it’s a new song, I scroll back up. But instead, the news brings tears to my eyes: “Mac Miller has passed away at 26”.

I keep checking my timeline to see if it’s true and I was unfortunately right. It was real. My throat was dry. I couldn’t speak. I was in a daze. My co-worker asks me if I’m okay. I said, “I don’t know but did you know Mac Miller?” She says no and I start to describe him and the tears well up some more and I have to go to the restroom for a sec. Just to wipe my eyes.

Mac had helped at two pivotal moments in my life. I never went to a concert and I wasn’t the biggest die-hard fan but his death hit me. More than I honestly thought it would. I didn’t expect someone four years my senior to suddenly pass. It made me think about death and the brevity of living but then I listened to his album again. Like I am now. Even with water welling up my eyes, I know it’s going to be okay. He gave too much and changed too many lives for me to wallow in sadness. It wasn’t what his music was about. He was more than that. It’s obvious to see when no one has anything bad to say. Hip-hop and fans alike collectively mourned for a soul that made them feel better without trying.

I salute to Mac Miller because he didn’t know it, but he helped me grow and find parts of myself. If there is a heaven, I hope you’re finally at peace.

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Tyler Jones is a freelance writer based out in the ATL area.

 

Hip-Hop Steps Outside of Himself: White Supremacy & Hip-Hop

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I don’t trust white people. I have lived long enough to know that feeling any empathy for them can and will kill me. The stakes are high for Black folks in America and I don’t have time to waste. Hip-hop works in similar extremes, with little grace and generalizations that serve its own survival. Hip-hop works to find ways to reinvent itself all the time; whether it be Gogo music, mumble rap, or random subcultures, Hip-hop has always meant varying things to Black people—all made at the expense of needing to find joy and a voice out of the muck of this world. Hip-hop at its core is about Black culture and the ability to subvert the systems that work to try to kill us.

Yet, it would be naive to think Hip-hop doesn’t exist in a world of labor exploitation. A world ready to make any song, person or trend cultural capital for the next ad agency, all the bite pulled out with the bones barely hanging on.

I read The Tanning of America by Steve Stoute when I was 16 years old. At the time, I thought I wanted to do the same thing as Stoute. I wanted to break glass ceilings and get into those boardrooms that made the big decisions. It took 4 years and some life experience to realize Stoute was wrong; that Hip-hop is, in fact, Black in every way possible and is an act of resistance in its primal state. However, it is still, in many ways, a good ol’ boys club. I began to realize that Hip-Hop throughout history wasn’t growing to hold more ideas of blackness but that it was simply becoming a beacon of capitalism that I never knew to fear.

Via Youtube

It feels like blackface in action to see a white person rap and be given more praise than the people who put bone to concrete to build this thing we call hip-hop culture. How did they learn to speak our language? To steal a thing we kept hidden? To have successfully stolen our tongue and I have to bob along to the music. Not because I want to but because I could be killed for questioning why the white person is even allowed in the room…most times by the black men in the room. Rap is a sport—a sport that favors those in power; one where I have to write about how we should give Macklemore another chance while black queer artists are still ignored regardless of their talent. It is a balancing act, to be in the culture but also on the chopping block.

I can never really tell if white artists care about the culture or are simply good at avoiding questions. And If I’m being honest that’s what it feels like…a convenient costume that can be altered to make it in this industry.  Where they can be on a Coachella stage one year and then next defacing the thing that put the silver in their mouths. Normally it takes an EP or at least a solid project until I can buy into the idea/notion that a white artist isn’t repeating the legacy of colonization that has plagued black and brown folks for centuries. But most times my cynicism stops me from giving most a second chance because I know the culture will praise them regardless of my opinion.  

That white boys with grills in their mouth, humble beginnings and enough lyrical talent to make it to the stage are praised for doing the bare minimum. A bare minimum that gets lower day by day. White supremacy shows up in how little grace we give to women in rap to fail, it’s about who we let in the door and most times it is never black queer artists.  We can see it in how whiteness is centered even when it isn’t in the room. It shows up when you try to pitch to publications about black queer rappers but editors only want to hear about Lil Dicky’s latest single with Chris Brown.

It is exhausting but I can’t run away from it.

Capitalism and White supremacy are big words but they show up in similar ways.  Capitalism tells us we can only work with what makes the most money and that thing is always whatever is closest to whiteness or has the most cultural capital. Capitalism is always looking to silence those of us who have no choice but to have to write the thing anyways. Who have bills to pay and not enough clout to say no. There is no space in hip-hop to question white rappers, to ask why they are here? To ask why they can spit 16 bars on Hot 97 but can’t speak on their own privilege? To take and never give back?  To critique why we feel awkward questioning the racial elephant in the room that we didn’t create?

That’s the joke of it all, that black folks have ownership of anything, that even the black folks running the culture are also selling us down the river. The world tells black folks that we have to be accommodating.  That we have to let white folks get a piece of the pie even if we never asked them to join in. White supremacy looks like white men running hip-hop critique, looks like only using black writers when it allows the most clickbait but never a staff position, it looks like black women in rap supporting abusers in order to stay relevant, it’s a 17-year-old black rapper falling for the lie of upward mobility while sitting in an empty mansion.

via Gazette Review

It’s all a joke really if you think about it, a system set up for us to fail, a tragedy in many parts, white women becoming hip-hop influencers as they step on the backs of black women, realizing most of the best rappers in history have all abused the women in their lives.

It’s hard when you realize the culture you love will never love you back.

It’s all a joke I never get to laugh at. 

 

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Clarissa Brooks is a Staff Writer with Dead End Hip-Hop. You can tweet at her here

PNTHN Brings Us Their Sophomore EP “Potluck”

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I love how my generation is determined to continue the tradition of the rap collective. Here, the easy comparison would be to measure PNTHN (pronounced ‘PANTHEON’) against BROCKHAMPTON or Odd Future, but the collective genius group from San Marcos, Texas possess far too much potential to sideline them with what we’ve already tasted. Since their formation in March of 2017, the rap group has to come be a sonic amalgamation of Southern rap, 90s hip hop, soul music and new school sounds. In a city already rich with culture, PNTHN is carving its way in the bubble of Texas hip hop that’s getting ready to burst. The ten members of the group — seven rappers and three producers — work together to seamlessly blend New York-style rapping over Texas-style production, creating a unique style the region has been waiting for. It’s a flavor I’ve been waiting on too.

‘Potluck’ opens with the low-swinging, high-hat, heavy bass “CHUMBUCKET”, a song that effortlessly sets the tone for the 6-track EP. Imbuing all the delight and grandeur of youth, easily my favorite track on the EP, “VILGANTES”, which lulls its audience with a gorgeous background of pianos and synths. I would declare here, one of PNTHN’s greatest superpowers is the ability to move as a single collective voice through various bodies, yet it never feels rehearsed. There’s a natural synergy, a single thread, which binds them all together. Perhaps you could even call it a trust fall of music, how each vocalist knows when to pick up the song right as the other passes off the baton. Another delight in this song are all the allusions to some of childhood loves: the legendary Pokemon, Zapdos, Spiderman, Dirty Bubble (from Sponge Bubble), Aqauaman, Man Ray, Barney Rubble (of The Flintstones), etc. and also this gem of a bar: “I hate to save the day when I barely just clocked in”.

Some tracks are more playful than meditative such track three “MEWTWO”. An anthem brimming with bravado and bombast declarations, each voice delivers the hook at a more erratic pace compared than where the EP has been headed so far. Much like a group of young men horsing around and seeking to impress one another, each voice on this track is much more distinctive, seeking to prove their ever-growing greatness. “VALENTINA” picks up the upbeat pace once again with sharp high-hats and the transition between the previous track and this one shows me emotional range is one of PNTHN’s greatest assets. Tyler, The Creator here feels like a heavy influence on this specific track.

Six tracks proves to be the exact sweet spot for PNTHN’s sophomore EP. This choice shows me two things: one, the collective is very aware of who they are in music, they’re  aware of their strengths and weaknesses, and two, it makes me wonder if they too feel they still have lyrics to go. Overall, I found this EP to be exciting, playful, and rich in sonic dexterity. I’m so fascinated to watch their growth as a group and I can’t wait to see what other offerings they have to give the world.

You can listen to ‘Potluck’ here:

 

Back cover of “Potluck” including the producer’s name

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I.S. Jones is a writer living in New York by way of California. Please send her pizza, not nudes. Her inbox (on Twitter) is always open, so send her a track or a hello. She is hanging in there and is grateful for hip-hop. Tweet at her here

 

Honcho Supreme: When Negro Spirituals and Hip Hop Collide

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Often I think about the legacy of Black people across the diaspora and it seems to be the case we have a remarkable ability to spin gold out of table scraps or tragedy. From Negro Spirituals, to the Blues, Rock, and Hip-Hop, Black people have found salvation in music. When there wasn’t a way, time and time again we made one. We made our tragedies so extraordinary with music and the written word, the world had no choice but to listen. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve done all we can with this genre, if hip-hop has reached a plateau, but then a newcomer reminds us this just can’t ever die.  Honcho Supreme (or Honcho Pop, as he is called on his mixtape), a rapper hailing from Marrero, Louisiana, reminds me hip-hop still has so much to show the world.

In a stripped down version of his song “Dedicated”, which opens his project DEDICATED, Honcho Supreme‘s deep, scratchy voice is reminiscent of what I imagine a gathering around the fire on the plantation would have been like–the knee-slapping, snapping, chest-beating to conjure the beat, that ancient, guttural, howling pain only music can soothe–except now the Spiritual has left the plantation, surviving centuries of iterations to come alive for this moment.  But there is hope here that better times will come. I’m officially, unofficially coining this–what I would boldly call a new sub-genre of hip-hop–Hood Spiritual.

“Baby momma kicked me out for the last time so it’s back to the trap for me” is the bar that opens DEDICATED. From there, the rapper walks us through a tour of the broken sidewalks, boarded-up windows, and destitute image of his situation. While many, many rappers before Honcho Supreme have doled out bars about having a harsh life, it feels as though the rapper is pulling from the past while blending elements of trap. Maybe these are Trap Spirituals? Hood Spirituals? Who is to say just yet. Maybe this was complete happenstance that Honcho and his homies Zacquiri King (@ZacquiriKing_318 on IG) and Poka Bantana (@PokaBoi on IG) were just high, playing around and stumbled on gold. And isn’t that how many brilliant musicians find their genius?

Being frank, this stripped down version is much, much better than the original. I say this with all love: I believe Honcho Supreme more in this version compared to the original. Before this, he was hiding behind beats which are not in service to him and his lyrical caliber. At. All. This version shows a rapper who knows his voice, who knows who he is, and isn’t fazed by what competition may come his way. I melted when I heard this Honcho Supreme. I want more of this and I hope he delivers.

You don’t have to take my word for it. Again, here’s the link for the project. Video of the stripped version is below. Enjoy y’all.

 

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I.S. Jones is a writer living in New York by way of California. Please send her pizza, not nudes. Her inbox (on Twitter) is always open, so send her a track or a hello. She’s still catching up to her 2017 to do list. Tweet at her here

No Post Malone, You’re Wrong, and Your “Apology” is Not Accepted by @MILFENCE

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Image result for post malone hip-hop comments

 

“If you’re looking to cry, if you’re looking to think about life, don’t listen to hip-hop.”  – Post Malone

Well, if you’re a hip-hop head like myself, you were probably outraged by that statement. This was said by auto-tune crooner, Post Malone (apparently he calls himself “Posty”) in an interview in Poland a few days ago. Post then went on to say that he chooses to listen to Bob Dylan for those situations rather than hip-hop. He also acknowledged that while he’d rather listen to Dylan, there were still good hip-hop songs…just not any currently:

“There’s great hip-hop songs where they talk about life and they really spit that real s***, but right now, you know, there’s not a lot of people talking about s***…”

Ah. I see. I guess “Posty” must have missed DAMN., [4:44], At What Cost, ALL-AMERIKKKAN BADA$$, Big Fish Theory, 4eva is a Might Long Time, The Never Story, IWASVERYBAD, Packs, Saturation I and II, Brick Body Kids Still Daydream and the countless other mainstream and underground hip-hop albums I haven’t mentioned that have dropped this year, filled with substance and content. And I haven’t even mentioned last year’s releases.

Post Malone is completely out of touch with the genre, and it is so GLARINGLY obvious.

I’m not going to deny that a lot mainstream hip-hop right now lacks substance. That’s obvious. But at least even artists like Drake and Future have acknowledged their influences (Future actually has ties to the Dungeon Family), are aware of hip-hop history, and most importantly, RESPECT their predecessors. Also, mainstream hip-hop only makes up a small percentage of the entirety of the genre. There’s a PLETHORA of artists outside the mainstream that are making excellent, thought-provoking content without nearly the amount of recognition that artists in mainstream get.

Not only does Post BARELY fit in the category of hip-hop (another labeling problem within itself), but I honestly don’t even think he’s knowledgeable of the genre he’s in. He’s CLEARLY not knowledgeable of the fact that hip-hop was founded off of social commentary.

One of the most annoying things about this whole fiasco is the fact that there some people who are still defending him due to the fact that he said that there were, in fact, some “great” hip-hop songs. Just because he made a weak attempt at acknowledging those in the genre who, according to him, make good music, doesn’t make what he said any less insulting to those who bust their ass and pour their heart out in their music. Not is it only disrespecting to the entirety of the genre, but it’s also disrespecting the existing mainstream hip-hop artists that make emotionally-tinged music (ex. Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole, etc).

I would also like to bring up that this isn’t the first time Post Malone has disrespected the genre. Way back during the selection for the XXL Freshman cover for 2016, XXL had supposedly reached out to Post Malone about being on the cover. Ultimately, Malone never ended up appearing on the cover. In an interview on the Breakfast Club, the XXL Editor-In-Chief, Vanessa Satten stated that, according to Malone’s camp, he was heading in entirely different artistic direction and didn’t want to be associated with hip-hop. Apparently he was going in a “rock/pop/country” direction (check out her statement here). You can certainly hear the rock and pop influence in his music already. Considering most of his stated influences include alternative rock bands and folk artists…this shouldn’t shock anyone in the slightest. So…he makes “hip-hop”…but doesn’t want to be associated with the genre? In his “apology”, Post stated that he loved hip-hop and that his last album (referring to Stoney) was hip-hop, and that his next album was going to be hip-hop…yet he also stated awhile back that he doesn’t make rap music…what?

So why does Post Malone even make “hip-hop” in the first place?

Money.

Post Malone has completely taken advantage of a genre he doesn’t even respect. He’s making trendy music and thriving because he knows he can. And yes, the color of his skin plays a huge factor into his popularity. All these factors combined allow him to get to a place where everyone knows his name. His music is already becoming less and less like hip-hop, and I predict that trend will continue as long as his career lasts. He’s simply using hip-hop as a stepping stool to the top, so that he can eventually make the music he’d prefer to make and still sell records.

To conclude this rant piece, I would just like to remind everyone that this genre of music is incredible and has so much to offer. Hip-hop is one of the most diverse and creative outlets on the planet, filled with so many talented artists with stories to tell. It is also black culture, and should be respected to the upmost degree. As a white guy, I am privileged to be apart of something like this. I am a mere “guest in the house of hip-hop” as Lord Jamar put it. Post Malone is also a guest, and should never make statements about the genre like he did.

So in the words of Kendrick Lamar, I say this to Post Malone, “Sit down. Be humble.” And keep hip-hop out of your f*cking mouth.

 

The Trouble With Classic Albums…

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Hip-hop is extremely special to me, and I love it more than anything. But one thing I noticed about this genre and its listeners comparing it to other genres such as rock and r&b, is that the bar for excellence changes so much over the years. One thing that bothers me about this and with fans is that the fans are so extremely passionate about the genre, sometimes to a fault. What I mean by that is the overuse of the word “classic”. Allow me some time to explain please.

If you use any sort of social media I’m sure if you’ve seen it. An album comes out by ANY rapper on a Thursday night, and before the night is over, the fans are calling it “classic”. And boy oh boy is it troubling and down right annoying. I’ll litter a few examples in here. About a month Jaden Smith released his highly anticipated SYRE album. Solid body of work from a young kid who still has room to grow. But sure enough when it was released, hours later, the fans on Twitter were calling it a classic album. What pissed me off about this is that I hadn’t even gotten a chance to listen to the album yet. I know what you’re saying to yourself. “But JORDAN, you’re just being a hater! But JORDAN, what about instant classics?! What do YOU think is a classic?” Allow me to explain the issue with calling everything “classic”.

Image result for rap album covers

There are VERY few “instant classic” albums. Period. Let’s get that out the way. How does one define a classic? Does it define a sound, a year or even an ERA? Is it high quality music? An album with absolutely no skips? Is it about time and longevity? Is it about numbers? Is it a mixture of all of those? Well the short answer is yes. Albums such as the Wu-Tang Clan’s “36 Chambers“, Nas’ “Illmatic“, Jay-Z’s “Reasonable Doubt” and Kanye West’s “College Dropout” are held in such a high regard and are called undisputed classics because they have some sort of beautiful mixture of all of the aforementioned qualities in them.

“Okay Jordan, so what’s the problem?”

Well the problem comes when the rappers and fans sling the term around so much. The word “classic” should be reserved for art that earns it. I know I’m not anyone to be telling people what they can and can’t think is classic, but the genre begins to get watered down when everything that comes out is considered classic before we even give it a chance to breathe. Listeners don’t even bother to digest the album good before asking for more music. Rappers (most of them, anyway) work extremely hard to give us product to listen to and people should learn to love and live with an album before the slap a label on it and move on to the next work. Listeners are fans of rappers and people, such big fans that they will do anything to put that rapper on a pedestal with other top tier artists that have multiple classics under their belts. Example? Don’t mind if I do.

I am the biggest fan of Kendrick Lamar. Kendrick, Drake and others like them consistently give their fans quality albums every couple of years. But they have risen to astronomical levels of superstardom to the point where anything they drop is put on that level of “classic” because they’re so well loved and fans want one to be better than the others. Hip-hop is by far the most hyper competitive genre, period, and no other genre pits their stars against each other like rap does. Don’t even get me started with Kanye West’s stans.

Calling everything a classic is really watering down something that should be special. There is nothing wrong with appreciating an album while we have it before moving on to the next. This is why I love when rappers take their time with the music and don’t rush the product. And let’s be honest, trolling or not, nothing can be a classic before you finish listening to it. That’s silly! By the time y’all finish reading this…let me guess…”CLASSIC”.

…..Y’all are aware that this is just my opinion, right…?