Danny Brown XXX
Serengeti Family & Friends
Open Mike Eagle Rappers Will Die Of Natural Causes
Action Bronson Dr. Lecter
Shabazz Palaces Black Up
Those were my five favorite rap albums of 2011. The first thing that sticks out to me is that I was at best, only marginally aware of any of these acts two years ago. The second thing is that with the exception of Action Bronson, none of these rappers is under the age of thirty. Being that I am over thirty myself, on it’s surface this might not seem particularly noteworthy if not for the first observation. I have a hard time imagining that I have ever discovered so many “new” rappers who were already in their thirties. Of course, “new” is a malleable term, all of the four older rappers in my list have actually been at this for some time.
As Danny Brown related to COOL’EH in an interview last year, he has been knocking on label doors for a long time. Prior to 2011’s Family & Friends, I vaguely knew of Serengeti as an early-mid 2000’s underground novelty-rap act (not trying to be a jerk, had barely heard any of his music, that was just what his name brought to mind) but had no idea he was still putting out music. And while we are on the subject of acts that I thought had faded into history, Shabazz Palaces is a slightly mysterious ensemble but the lead vocalist and public face of the group is Ishmael Butler, perhaps better known as a member of wildly successful early 90’s jazz-hip-hop trio Digable Planets. Digable broke up in 1994, so suffice it to say that no one expected Butterfly would suddenly reappear in early 2010 and within a year, put out one of the best underground rap albums in recent memory. That Rappers Will Die Of Natural Causes is Open Mike Eagle’s second album belies the fact that his first solo album came out only the year before. But don’t get it twisted, Mike was rapping with underground rap stalwarts like Pugslee Atomz and Psalm One way back in 2003 before moving to LA and becoming part of Project Blowed’s “second wave”. Basically, these guys are all underground vets who, in the past, we might have expected to have hung it up by now. Or worse, still be putting out music that no one cares about while recycling the tired tropes of a bygone era [insert anyone who might show up on a Snowgoons record]. Instead, all four put out engaging, unique records brimming with vitality and aimed squarely at rap’s future, not it’s past.
To a certain extent, this is uncharted territory for hip-hop. Of course, the genre has not particularly lacked for elder statesmen but usually they have been long established artists whose best work was behind them. Rap is still a “young man’s game” and that has not changed, whether mainstream (Drake, Wayne, Meek Millz, J Cole, Waka Flocka, Nicki Minaj) or “underground” (Kendrick Lamar, Odd Future, ASAP Rocky, Blu, Action Bronson, Main Attraktionz, Freddie Gibbs), youth holds still holds serve. But as the genre ages into it’s mid 30’s, I think that dynamic is changing and as it changes, so must the music itself. Not in terms of the kind of tired “30-and-grown” schtick Jay-Z has employed since the Black Album, but simply in terms of a variety of voices, subject matter and approaches to said subject matter.
Open Mike Eagle’s Rappers Will Die Of Natural Causes is full of incisive commentary on race, rap and the schizophrenic nature of black identity in America. But this isn’t Ice Cube’s furious polemics, Goodie Mob’s street spirituals or Talib Kweli’s half-baked history lessons*. While there are moments that recall Prince Paul’s irreverence and early Black Sheep’s combination of the intellectual and the profane, OME’s sophmore album is an entity all it’s own. When he is not pointing out that rappers, will indeed, end up dying of heart attacks and kidney failure or decrying his own fate as an overeducated pauper, Mike might make a truly great song about doing the dishes. No, really…doing dishes. At times straddling the edges of the satirical and the confessional, it feels like Robert Townsend’s Hollywood Shuffle, a bit of low-budget genius that has you laughing, thinking and empathizing, all at the same time. It’s important to note that as with all the other albums I am talking about, the production plays a key role in making these albums stand out from the predecessors. We are talking about music, after all, and Mike’s choice of beats is just as progressive as his lyrical approach. Blips, synths and feedback abound but despite abrasive moments, this is not the Cold Vein, everything is rooted in a warm funkiness that, in combination with OME’s West Coast pedigree, recalls a tricked out, A Book Of Human Language re-imagined via Kaos Pad.
Danny Brown’s XXX has been lauded far and near this year, so I will just take it for granted that you are familiar with the Detroit rapper and his penchant for screaming off-tune profanity-laced raps that are far more than the sum of their parts. The title of his album is a double entendre, denoting not only his “adult content” but his presumptive age, 30. And on closer inspection, Brown’s age and the anxieties it engenders are the fulcrum on which this whole album turns. The record content is pretty much divided between three, at times contradictory, categories. Nihilistic, ten-jokes-a-minute verses primarily concerned with Brown’s prolific drug use and sexual exploits. Melancholic ruminations on the sad realities of said lifestyle choices and tracks about growing up poor in the shattered remains of Detroit and Brown’s obvious fears that rap success is his last chance at making anything of his life. Taken as a whole, Brown both revels in his “rap persona” and acknowledges that said persona, even if successful, will probably prove to be his doom but that the only other choice is being a broke nigga back in the “fields”. While none of his sentiments are exactly new, Brown’s perspective as a guy already in his thirties, who can feel failure breathing down his neck, but also is innately aware that his all-out quest for fame is bound to prove quixotic, is.
Even amongst this collection of left-field albums, Serengeti’s Family & Friends stands out as an oddity. Filled with a menagerie of characters, from bored suburban family men to junkies with abandonment issues to an aging ex-UFC fighter and set to spare but evocative music that has more in common with experimental indie rock than your average rap record, Family & Friends is a slippery listen. At times, Serengeti’s ability to drop the listener into the middle of that blend the mundane and the bizarre brings to mind a collection of David Foster Wallace short stories. Weaved throughout these vignettes are themes of regret, lost opportunity, escapism and the individual’s search for life’s meaning. In essence, a middle age crisis.
R.R.
*Ironically enough, 2000 Seasons might be my favorite Kweli song, so, go figure.
