Eminem

Eminem is largely hailed as the man that brought Hip-Hop to the white masses. I don’t need to go into this too much, because if you’ve ever heard a record of his (and the only way you wont of done is if you’ve lived under a rock for your whole life) it’s pretty much all he raps about. Indeed, I don’t deny that he defiantly made it more popular with the masses. Maybe just rap though, as opposed to Hip-Hop (see my blog entry “Hip-Hop ain’t Dead” because I’m not one to beat a dead horse) so much so in fact, that even my old man has a couple of his CD’s in his collection. Not cool.

So if he is responsible for bringing rap to the forefront, and without just reiterating what I’ve already said in a previous article, why is my discontent for the man so high? Why do I detest him so much? Why do I find myself in weekly arguments with fans as to explain why he is so rubbish? That I’d rather listen to the cheeky girls? Ok, maybe not that far, but it is close. Let me explain.

It’s not that he’s a talentless hack, no that’s a status I reserve for very few people. Tim Westwood being the first that springs to mind. Eminem, AKA Marshal Mathers, is actually a very talented man. He has a unique style of rap that I do appreciate. He has a business acumen very few people do. He’s also a good talent scout and producer.

This is actually one of the reasons he annoys me. For such a talented man, he doesn’t half talk some shit. Turning the world against you to build an image to sell records is one thing, but Eminem takes it to a whole new level. The amount of controversy surrounding what the man says about other stars is immense. Now, as someone who writes a blog and enjoys a joke in bad taste, I’m not going to be so two-faced as to say you can’t do this. As a firm protester against censorship I’m not going to tell him to shut up. But Jesus Christ man, have some restraint. With Eminem it’s not really a joke as much as it is teaching people that hate with no aim is ok. That picking on a crippled superman is a good thing to do. Making quips is ok, but the line in the sand has to be at least understood. You also have to be able to take it back as good as you give it, but evidence has it Eminem doesn’t react kindly to someone flaming him back.

The second of many qualms I have with the rap megastar lies not with his misrepresentation of Hip-Hop either, but with flip-flop, hypocritical attitude of the man himself.

To start with, Eminem announced in 2005 after speculation that he was hanging up the mic, Quitting rap to concentrate on his family, production, and company, Shady Records. However during may of this year the world saw the release of “Relapse”. This new 20 track album hardly seems the work of someone who had ever quit the business. Further to this, “Relapse 2” has been announced, and is awaiting release.

Next there is the way, in several songs on his last few albums, he mentions how he is fed up with the world staring in on (obviously not enough to stop releasing records) him and his family. Specifically his daughter, Hailie Scott. However, his daughter features in no less than 9 songs Eminem has released. Surely the way to way to remove your family from the spotlight is to –not- mention them in your music?

There’s also the way he dictates how he doesn’t like how violent the rap scene has become. He’s on record in 2004 stating he was disgusted with it, and would quit rap if it didn’t stop. Now, other than signing 50cent (one of the most gun slinging wannabes to ever grace the scene) to his label, he has had his fair share of feuds himself. His war with House of Pain ex-front-man Everlast AKA Erik Schrody spanned many records. Genuine grievance or not, it hardly seems like the actions of someone who wants to remove violence from the rap industry.

The third and final reason I’ll list, isn’t really a complaint with the man himself, more the media and fans that follow him around. Aside from the obvious media talking about him constantly when they keep saying how bad he is and that he shouldn’t be allowed on the radio, despite giving him free publicity. No, it’s more to do with how many people claim he was the first white rapper, and how every white rapper since his debut immediately gets compared to the whining git. Plan B is not the English Eminem. He is just Plan B. King Kool Savas is not the German Eminem. Just King Kool Savas. Asher Roth is not Eminem for college kids. He’s just... well more on him later. Just because they rap and are white, doesn’t make them Eminem. Racisms gone all out of whack. And since when was being a twat the industry standard anyways?

Wow. Three major complaints in, and I’ve yet to mention that his high-pitched voice sounds like the squirrel from Rocky and Bulwinkle. Or that Peroxide hasn’t been cool since Duran Duran. Or that he does in fact, represent everything wrong with rap and trailer trash American culture. Or even that I get pissed off that people call what he writes Hip-Hop. Crap, guess I did mention it after all.

While the world awaits his new release eagerly, while listening to his now best selling chart topper “Relapse”... Actualy, I think I will join them in waiting eagerly. Only instead of an iPod, I’ll be holding an axe. Or a microwave.

Blogger review challenge. Musical Erections. Musical Migraines.

So to really get into the swing of this bloggers review thing, I thought I’d challenge myself.

I don’t profess to know everything about music, like all honest men I’ll openly admit there are things I don’t know, and probably more that I should learn. But I do know a fair bit, and I definitely know what I like.

So here’s the challenge. I’m going to turn to a music channel that I normally wouldn’t watch. Something girly I guess, like... I dunno, let’s go with flaunt. Once there, I will have to write an article on the first full song I hear. So changing over now.

Ok, Paul Van Dyke playing at the moment, so I’ll wait till that’s finished. Oooh, now adverts... great.

And Oh Christ, I remember now why Flaunt isn’t a channel I watch, because this review is going to be of Alina-When you Leave (Numa Numa). So with fingers cracked I have an awful feeling this is going to exhaust me. Either because it will take all of my restraint and tact not to lash out and rip it to pieces, or because I’m actually going to let loose.

Firstly, let’s just explain track itself. It’s a hardcore dance cover of the famous meme, “Numa Numa” (The imaginative name makes it hard to guess this, I know) . So in clubs and discos I don’t doubt this song has everyone jumping up and down to the beat and singing along. I confess that I was in a club and this came on I probably would too. Although some part of me would be screaming and clawing it’s way out. But it’s not something that can be helped. While it’s hardly a work of art, it’s fun, chirpy and cheerful. Cheap and cheerful though. Very cheap indeed.

For a start, the lyrics have been changed so badly it nearly made my ears bleed. Not even the content, although more on that later, there are so many missing syllables and beats in the verses it feels like a car that keeps stalling. It removes the flow of the record, and as such it’s completely held up by the repetitive, and predictable dance music in the background. (Which by the way, is so simple a 7 year old could do it using eJay).

The lyrics themselves were very “look at me I’ve got tits”. For example...

Hello, Salute, it's me, your babe
And I made something that's real
To show you how I feel,

Starts of in an incredibly egotistical way, and then sort of fades out into Linkin Park. What’s wrong with this song goes far deeper than the fact it was based on an already annoying song, popular purely because of internet fads, memes and pisstakes. Something record producers seem to mistake on a daily basis for being actually good. Matter of fact has it that 90% of the population hate the bloody things, but watch them for that “the Office”, Jimmy Carr, someone just fell over, kind of humour.

The rest of the song’s lyrics follow in the same vein, and don’t exactly plunge the depths of human experience.

The singer’s voice itself is... well. It’s not really a voice it’s so far auto-tuned. I know it’s dance music, so it’s expected to some extent, but in my mind there are three kinds of auto-tuning. The first tweaks bum notes. The second is reserved for electro. The third is completely over the top and used for robot voices, and comedy videos like “Auto Tune the News”.

This sliding scale of auto-tuning should denote quite happily how much any music should contain, but this video... well. It’s got more than any of them. If falls straight off of the scale. It goes beyond tuneful and straight into the realm of unsingable ‘nonsongatude’. And yes, I did make that word up.

Then of course, there is the video. No points for guessing what this dance video contains. That’s right, you score no-points. Half naked women, Neon Paint and provocative dancing. So no complaints from me.

Sorry, from my penis. My other brain was turning to ooze and pouring out of my ears.

At the end of the day however, I can’t really complain though. This is the kind of music flaunt plays, and the song was made for the dance floor, where it would have been at home. Ironically, at home, this music isn’t at home. Most people don’t watch flaunt on their own, they might leave it on in the background, but they don’t watch it.

You get what you pay for with cheesy dance music.

At least that’s what I was intending to finish on, but then the next song was Deadmau5. After that I listened to some Fake Blood. You know what? Alina is just shit.

Madonna

Altight, if I’m going to write this article about Madonna, there are a couple of base points that should be made first, so no one is disappointed.

1) I absolutely detest the woman.

2) There will in no way be any compromising twist at the end of this rant.

3) I hate her

4) I hate her

5) I hate her

Before I start descending into gibberish, with dribble oozing from my mouth to puddle into the hair matted on my chin that I call a beard, I guess I should explain why. This isn’t the rambling of some jealous critic-wannabe, just the voice of someone who really dislikes the smug-cow.

I can admit openly, freely, and not under pain of interrogation that maybe, once, Madonna was a talented figure head that lead the pop-world zeitgeist. She was a trend setter. Someone who other people imitated. She was successful, both musically and in an entrepreneurial sense.

However, something changed. Either Father Time, and Mother Nature took a dislike to the queen of pop, or she just couldn’t keep up with the trends.

Madonna has gone from being the one of the most copy-paste-able music pin-ups to a wicked witch of the west, clawing at new fads and ideas to stay above water. For starters, the on stage lesbo-action with fellow pop harlot, Britney “ooh look at me” Spears, was a tragic tabloid headline ploy. Then, at the apex of the world’s attention towards Parkour and urban freeflow, Madonna jumps aboard the bandwagon, following everyone else, hiring Sebastian Belle to work with her on the video for her predictably named “Jump” and then also for the stage performances for her “Confessions” tour.

From being the world’s golden girl, to raping sub-culture for attention, in the span of one very long career.

Nowadays, she looks less like the queen of the popular genres, and more like an ageing aunty at a wedding after one too many sherries.

Madonna has come a long way from the chirpy fun era that saw a younger, more innocent version of her capture our hearts with “Like a Virgin” back in’84. Now, at age 51, Madonna’s recent singles seem like a soundtrack to her midlife crisis, and her live shows, even more so. Watching someone old enough to be your mother (or grandmother for those reading from Chatham) prance around on stage in a skin-tight cat suit or silky leotard is gut wrenching. The day she realises her age, and that very few people in the world find her attractive in this day and age, the sooner she can stop shoving her scantily hidden piss whistle in our faces.

Now, this isn’t to say her music isn’t listenable, it’s just kind of like the plastic, processed cheese you get on a burger in a pub. You can take it or leave it, but we’d all rather have the more filling and quality cheddar, or even the more worldly brie.

But, you can’t spell prima-donna, with out Madonna. And like the age old Opera stars this term was coined after, It seems Madonna just can’t let go, and will carry on chasing the dream she lived as a youthfull pop-star, until the day she dies.

Personally, I think the “zeit” has come for Madonna to give up the “geist” altogether.

Hip Hop aint dead!

K, so I was talking to some guy today about Hip-Hop, and it's just kinda spawned the thought trail leading me here, and to whatever shall fall from my fingers through the keys to be read bellow.

I'm a hip hop fan. That simple, and unashamedly, I love Hip Hop. The ability to rap to a beat, use voice as percussion with melody, and exhibit your views upon the world in that format. It's genius. But I hate rap, and what Hip Hop is becoming.

I heard the phrase "I want the hip hop lifestyle, the guns, bitches and ho's and all that bling" and it disgusted me. To quote Scroobius Pip, "Remember, that guns, bitches and bling were never part of the four elements, and never will be"

So the Hip Hop lifestyle should revolve around turntablism, emceeing, Graffiti and break.I mean, if you think back to the forefathers of modern Hip Hop, yeah there was a certain embellishment, an artistic licence to brag about skills and talents, but it never escalated the level of pomp that Rap currently holds.

I mean sure, Sugarhill Gang laid it down proclaiming TV's, Cars, Money, and the famous like "If your girl starts acting up, then you take her friend" but the song was fun, a quirk of the era.

I hope I'm not being pretentious, but this is just where I draw the line in my mind, and it annoys me when people around me, after being surprised I like Hip Hop, scorn it because they don't understand what Real Hip Hop is. They're used to Eminem, 50 cent, T.I. and everything made possible in the aftermath of Death Row's popularisation of Gansta Rap. But thats it, Gangsta Rap was a new genre to evolve FROM Hip-Hop, but wasn't it anymore, in the same way that Metal is no longer Rock. So today's Rap records should be labelled as Rap, and not just dismissively side-swiped in a related, but completely different genre.

But aswell as frowned upon by my unknowing friends I also get laughed down by my friends who are up on their Rap, as they view it as a childish, pretentious, retro, and slightly dead genre of music. And indeed, to find any sort of recent Hip-Hop (anything not pre-dating Snoop Dogg's first few albums)you do have to tend to go quite underground. Which, as anyone familiar with the underground scenes, does tend to reek pretension in giant wafts.

However, it is out there. Along with the old greats, things like Sugarhill, the Roots, Jurassic 5, Rakim, 2pac, Tribe Called Quest and KRSone, their lurks a new breed of modern-day Hip-Hop greats , just under the horizon, mics posed, and ready to touch with their words, beat and melody.

Listing just a few;
Sage Francis,
Busdriver,
Aesop Rock,
Buba Sparxxx,
Atmosphere,
Non-Prophets,
Immortal Technique,
Ill Bill,
Hilltop Hoods,
Sole,
Dark Cloud,
Soul Position,
Class A.

And this isn't to say I lose hope completely, there are some people in the charts that are dutifully paraded as Hip Hop, instead of maintaining a facade underwhich lies neuvo-rap-infused-RnB-derived-pomp.

Figures are rising to the forefront with weight and udnerstanding. Kanye West, Lupe Fiasco, Flobots and Scroobius Pip, for four.

So I don't despair in the genre totally, I've know it's there, and I've found the music that I would call Hip Hop. But, I'm just waiting for the rest of the world to realise the difference too.

Lily Allen.

Lily Allen. I guess I should start here by saying, I am in no way a fan. Britpop, for me took a massive nose dive when “Mockney” entered the charts. For the longest time, I’ve thought her fame and meteoric rise to the top had been brought around soley by her relation to Keith Allen, her father, who must have pulled some chains with his contacts in the business. If I was listening to the radio and “Smile” or “LDN” came on, I would jump from my chair, and through anyone in my way to change station.

Her video’s didn’t make it easier to like her either. “LDN” for those TV stricken, features her walking through London, wearing a beautiful red dress, and the ugliest white trainers I have ever seen. This coupled with her massive gold ear-rings immediately gave her about a 9 on the chavometer. All throughout the video everything around her seems to turn to dust and depression, which must have been the producer’s in-joke stab. Her lyrics too, reek of pretension and the annoying attitude that seems to of infused itself with people who shoot to the top.

So to reiterate, I don’t like her sound, style, or even the way she talks. However, her new single, “The Fear” I like, and for no small reason. The start of the record, doesn’t sound like a Lily Allen song, with an acoustic guitar hook, strangely echoing something akin to the “Juno” soundtrack.

When she start’s singing, it’s still her voice, but the words she’s using and the sentences they form must be some of the most honest she’s ever used. The record is full of self-reflection and a down to earth lyrical review of the music business.

It’s still Lily Allen, but the solemn attitude mixed with the danceable beats that the single has, seem to work, making it sound thoughtful, yet mindlessly foot-stomp-able at the same time.

Hopefully this is a sign of an artist turning of age, maturing and being ready to face the crowd with integrity, and still keeping the sound that has made her popular to her fans.

Melon Head Man...

Whenever I go to rock gigs nowadays, I despair. I find that I am surrounded by 15 year old Simon Amstell wannabes, in their skin tight jeans, fuzzy hair, and bootleg band T-shirts. The naughties have been incredibly harsh on this, dying genre of music.

Indeed, if you approach one of these teens in their “Iron Maiden” tees, and ask them to name 5 songs by the band they have chosen to have proclaimed to be a fan of through their clothing choice, they’ll either name two albums, then stop, or fail completely. Either that or call you a pedo and walk off, leaving you feeling weird and slightly tarnished.

So it was with great apprehension and anxiety that I let a friend of mine drag me to a rock gig this week. A feeling it seems, that was completely misplaced.

“MelonHead Man” were an awesome band. Incredibly retro, but in that good, clean way, that hasn’t been set up by popular media as a demographical tactic. From the moment the front-man picked up his American flag guitar, sprawled with confederate flags, to the moment he put it down, shouting at the crowd, “Thank you in the front, and damn you sat down” (pointing to a middle-aged man, now spluttering his Bishop’s finger) I was enthralled.

An hour and a half had gone by while the band was jumping up and down, playing their hearts through their instruments. Rocking out in a way reminiscent of a youthful Metallica, mixed with a sort of “Dallas” appeal. Their songs were loud, brash, risqué, and most importantly, crowd pleasing. The audience were hooked on their every word, every note and every motion. Jumping up and down in time with the drum beats and singer. They included everyone in the trance-like state they played in, from the 16 year olds who had snuck in, to me and my group of 20-something friends at the front head-banging to the beat.

They knew how to play their crown, to pander to them leaving them pining for more. And that’s what matters with music, what really counts. That you can follow the band, not what some radio controller is telling you to like, but that you can feel the presence of something truly great as the band plays. That you can feel like you’ve lost something when they stop, and it’s time to go home. That when the band announces they are selling their CD out of the back of the truck you will rush with them down a dark alley to buy it, not caring that you can’t now afford a taxi home.

So, it’s from a dark alley somewhere in Canterbury, stranded with no way home that I tell you, go see MelonHead man. Now, how do I get home?

Oh, and for those of you intrested in more, Be sure to check out the bands Myspace page.

http://www.myspace.com/melonheadman

First Blog.

At this point in time, I don't have much to write home about, and havn't really planned to write much down here. But hey, here goes nothing...

So the past few months have been weird for me. Aaaaand I guess a lot has happened, although not to many people but me.

I've dropped out of uni, moved back in with my parents after three years away, and amd trying to find a career in.... something. I'm working as a Chef at the moment, but I don't think it'll pan out long term. It's not something I could see myself doing for an extended period of time. The place is pleasant enough, as is the job itself, it's just not glorious enough. I guess I'll carry on writing, hence the start of this blog.

I plan to write reviews up here, post some music and what not, and work in that way. I mean, I've hit rock bottom right? 21 and living back at home after 3 glorious years of freedom? So I guess I'll carry on writing.

Cheers, Sven.