Just like any other year, 2011 was a musical hodgepodge. We had our queen bees and our wanna be’s, our good, bad, ugly, uglier, and everything in between. I don’t want to give too much away, but let’s just say this year brought the tears, the pain, the Acid, and the rain. And then of course, there was “Ni**as in Paris.” On that note, I’ll leave you with the music. Ladies and Gentleman, the Soundtrack of 2011:
If Miami had a beat, Urban Noize produced it. After years of tirelessly remixing tracks by the best artists in Urban and Pop Music, the Miami-based twin producer duo has perfected their version of the Mash Up.
Graduation is that “October Song” masterpiece: a piece of art that needs no external interpretation because it is complete in and of itself. At the most superficial and benign level, Kanye is Alec Trebeck and Graduation is Jeopardy: a series of answers engaging you to question. It is a fact that when immersed in the surreal, people’s ability to make sense of the world around them is increased. The fragmented fantastical enhances our ability to connect themes and build structure — when given fantasy we are best equipped to perceive reality. Thus is Kanye’s Graduation. An artist of West’s caliber is beyond “this world;” his ability to connect words, ideas, art forms, the abstract and concrete is unreal. Nowhere is this more present than in his masterful encapsulation of modern life – above and below: Graduation.
Venturing out of the kaleidoscopic jungle fever pitch of M.I.A.’s Arular we find ourselves at the concrete crossroads between Brooklyn’s Marcy Projects and London’s Abbey Road with DJ Danger Mouse’s brilliant return to basics, the masterful Jay-Z versus Beatles mash-up, The Grey Album. The Grey Album is a cataclysmic crux of two epic absolutes: The Beatles’ White Album and Jay-Z’s Black Album with the rhapsodic rodent at the helm. Burton blurs the lines and illuminates the bonds between good and d’evils to create a gritty grey area – platinum records sans the shine.
Right now it seems we are caught in the midst of a massive sea change, most glaringly evident in our Transatlantic home-away-from-home… time and space clash radically across the pond’s many currents… on one hand we have a tale of two cities upon a hill: London on behalf of Mother England, and DC on behalf of Lady Liberty… on the other we have a tale of two soundtracks… Watch the Throne versus The Adventures of Slick Rick… as Jay-Z and Kanye tout the impact and rap/hip-hop’s monarchical status of late – literally now - it would seem as if the future looks back to its golden age. As our generation’s defiance was defined by a one Posted Bill’s existential debate over “what the definition of ‘is’ ‘is’” – young subjective somethings mulling monotone over the “whys” of contemporary ills, micromanaging small fires, hyperfocusing on the nuanced semantics, preserving their fame, sealing their shame, and talking themselves out of a hole they inevitably talked themselves into needlessly… Essentially, just as Slick Willy’s surgically precise wordsmithing paved the way for triumph through hazy abstractions, it seems now as we spearhead our generational voyage towards an age of post-post-modernism, so we shift focus to our literal forefathering England – five hours, and seemingly lifetimes – ahead for ear-to-the-concrete countercultural guidance…
Welcome to the world’s nightmare: hold it against me – we about to go H.A.M on Grey Poupon. Bourgie girl, grab her hand, f-ck that – she dont wanna dance; excuse my French, but I’m in France… I’m just saying: when in Rome – if you weren’t born a Caesar, might as well bard with Brutus #empirestateofdemise So do as the Romans do, and in such sit among those the elite who naturally bleed blue. Prince William ain’t do it right if you ask me, if I was him I woulda married Kate and Ashley – #jiggerishthings. Overt supremacy, with strong undertones of servitude to the throne of inherited American royalty at its most Shakespearean… Britney Jean Spears – don’t let she get in her zone, #toxictragedies Louisiana-style Lady Macbeth, Ophelia, Juliet… the illiterate that could write an American tale of nouveau riche royalty; Hov and Yeezy – Othellos in tow. Miami swelter, Carribean vibe, Bahamian drum and bass, Bermudian Triangle of Pop – inverted everything. Hov would never share the mic with Spears, but Yeezy would – and did; though they are at two ends of the spectrum, Hov and Jean earned their passports the old fashioned way: crime pays, sex sells – passports please. They played to our devious vices, you are the company you keep: welcome to The Crackhouse; where this is a problem, this is not music/I hope you find it – ‘cos we about to lose it.
Welcome to VMA 2011: no host, west coast, teenage dreams, saccharin-infused schemes – welcome to the odd future #bonjournaggers
“How many people do you know can take it this far?” Beyoncé howls on the second track of the collaborative effort of Jay-Z and Kanye West. Her soulful bragging about going to Mars and being magnificent is accurate, though. We live in a generation with very few and select bonafide superstars. Kanye West, Lady Gaga, Jay-Z, and Beyoncé are in an exclusive group of musical forces that not only garner success, but to whom people look to see the new wave of where pop music will be orbiting.
Pop is pastiche at its finest; sometimes you need nothing more than to collect the right pieces and be the sound canvas. Half of Pop is creating the story, the other half is capturing the stars in that momentary align when the stories converge to recognize themselves…
This one was supposed to be easy. A new album from a star as bright as Beyonce is supposed to sell itself. Albums like 4, are more akin to moments in time that will define the era perfectly in retrospect, than just 14 mastered tracks on a disc.
How Jay-Z Turned The First Legitimate Revolution Of Our Generation Into A Very Profitable T-Shirt
When news first broke last week that Rocawear was releasing their “Occupy All Streets” line of t-shirts I was skeptical to say the least. As most of us know, Rocawear was at one time Jay-Z’s insanely popular clothing line- so popular that for a few years Jay found more success with fashion than he did with music. It was impossible to go anywhere without seeing the company’s trademark flame emblazoned across the front of t-shirts, sweaters and bomber jackets worn by everybody from toddlers to grandmothers. But times change and as Hip Hop’s collective taste shifted, Rocawear was no longer perceived as being a leader in fashion and was quietly sent away to die in the dark corners of TJ Maxx discount clothing stores. Jay, being the smart businessman that he is, saw Rocawear’s run coming to an end and sold the company, keeping a sizable share for himself and staying on as the face of the failing label, which was more than likely the only way he could offload the clothing line since any prospective buyers would need his image in order to drive sales.
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