The Post-Rockist

It’s quite possible that this wasn’t the best year for hip-hop. Now, I’m no expert on the subject, but it’s hard to ignore the curious lack of crossover hits this year appearing in the onslaught of year-end best-ofs compared to years prior (critically anointed golden boy Kanye West not withstanding). And when the journal Foreign Policy starts publishing articles explaining why American-made hip-hop is on the decline because the genre as a whole has failed to globalize at the same rate as other musical styles, then you know you’re in trouble.

But we post-rockists try to be optimists in matters musical, so we’ll chalk the whole “off year” debacle to poor timing. With some of the biggest names in the business waiting until the last two months of the year to put out their new records (Jay-Z, Ghostface, and the remaining Wu-Tang Clan, to name a few), many listeners haven’t had a chance to pick these albums up, yet alone give them time to soak. So, without further ado, these next few posts will be devoted to these latest offerings by hip-hop icons that we should have already covered.

Jay-Z - American Gangster

Jay-Z - “Roc Boys (And the Winner is…)”
(from American Gangster)

American Gangster is a film I’m probably never going to see, yet for some reason I own the Jay-Z album by the same name. Thankfully for me, though, the Jigga man focuses more on recapping his own personal life and accomplishments instead of the film’s central character, Frank Lucas, so it’s easy enough to talk about this document on its own accord (only about half of the tracks here were “inspired” by the movie). The bad news is that Jay-Z’s American Gangster sounds mostly like a phoned-in Black Album, but the good news is that a second-rate Black Album is still better than Kingdom Come, and that’s given everyone cause for celebration.

There are a few things that give me pause on this album. For instance, the heavy use of Marvin Gaye and Marvin Gaye-styled samples throughout (e.g., “American Dreamin’” and “Say Hello”) for a film that (presumably) glorifies violence and street crime (Carter’s lyrics certainly do). While I had always assumed that Marvin Gaye was outspoken against such things, perhaps there’s a more complex message that Jay-Z is trying to convey that I’m just missing out on, aside from opting for easily identifiable period samples. My other concern is Jay’s insistence on being compared to other businessmen (i.e., Frank Lucas) instead of other rappers (i.e., Ludacris). As an aesthete white boy raised on the motto ars gratia artis it’s a hard concept for me to swallow that these songs aren’t personal statements expressed in a creative fashion, but rather manufactured items mass-produced for our consumption, much like a car or a pair of sneakers.

But like finding unexpected diamonds on a cubic zirconium wristwatch, it’s the least congruous tracks that really shine here. Take “Hello Brooklyn 2.0,” for instance. Eschewing soul entirely in favor of stripped-down, club-hungry bass and hand claps, Bigg D’s production is exciting and raw and entirely out of place from the rest of the album. But it’s Lil Wayne’s chorus that really knocks it out of the proverbial ballpark — I have no idea what he’s trying to say, precisely, let alone if it’s even a complete grammatical thought, but the way he spits it out just sounds so right that I imagine it’s become the unofficial greeting for all current Brooklynites (our Brooklyn readers can feel free to either confirm or deny this claim). Or, on the other hand, you could look at the album’s highlight, “Ignorant Shit,” which manages to musically mesh with the rest of AG with Just Blaze’s Isley Bros. samples, but narratively veers into whole ‘nother realm of self-reflexive cultural awareness (I won’t get into it here, but head on over to Marathonpacks for quite possibly the most well thought-out single track review of the year).

But somewhere in the middle, straddling the line between Jigga’s street-smart swagger and 1970’s revivalist soul party, is the celebratory, back-patting track “Roc Boys (And the Winner is…)” (”Mazel tav,” spurts Sean Carter, “it’s a celebration bitches! La heim!”). It’s nothing new, content-wise, just the same ol’ tired tale of street hustler striking gold and basking in all the jewelry and women and Porsches that his drug money can buy, but Jay-Z is an expert at weaving these sorts of tales and his flow is so sprite and fresh that any qualms I might have harbored just flew out the top of Hova’s limousine’s skylight. And the horns, well, the horns they seal the deal. Just listen to them; it’s the most exuberant sound I’ve heard all year. “This is black super hero music right here, baby,” he says at the end. Damn right. I’d love to hear 30 Odd Foot of Grunts pull off anything this smooth. The saucy Aussie has no right being affiliated with this much soul.

-Posted by Todd