By shelz.
One thing I’ve noticed about the coverage of Lil B’s odd ascension in the music world is the over explaining. In the urban (and sometimes not so much) jungle of rap criticism, basic instinct is magnified. Rappers are ripped to bloody shreds regularly on whim alone; talented guys who wore the wrong thing, picked the wrong beat, and tussled with the wrong writer become casualties in virtual executions frequently.
However, Lil B seems to be dodging the i-bloodsport as writer after writer scurries to explain why they have yet to play lion to his gazelle. The talk is kin to one of those “umm…baby I know I’m sneaking in at the ass crack of dawn, but see what had happened right…” conversations; nervous pontification full of smoke an mirror play. Maybe even a bit of guilt. I don’t ever recall the self proclaimed torchbearers of the genre having such a hard time crafting an opinion. The talk runs in these dizzying circles with no final destination, no closing sentiment. Dramatic, yes. But I don’t believe I’m too far off the mark here because the weirdest thing of it all is very little of this rhetoric is about the music. Weird indeed.
People who I have listened to brilliantly break down a classic song to its emotional core just to chastise the rapper for one weak bar have extended olive branches to Mr. B as a work in progress, a modern wonder of the power of social media. Music? What music? Oh, that music. Well he’s umm… getting better. Rod Serling must be starring down at me right now, winking.
I’m not saying he’s bad, I’ve never really listened. I read a lot though and the trend of dismissing the music for the greater good of his hot like fire image, or boiling it down to some sonic je ne sais quoi that compels legions of teenage boys to shout that they look like Paris Hilton is way over my head. So I hunkered down and threw one of his mixtapes on the iPod.
It’s called Blue Flame. I don’t know if this is one of his better ones, I just picked it because I used to live around the corner from a strip club by the same name. The reviews were sparse. Most of what I found was ambiguous rambling about his energy and the desire of his fans to offer their mothers up as some sort of sacrifice to the Based God. The tape is 20 tracks primarily dedicated to his dick (“Based God”), his swag (“I’m Paris Hilton”) his money (“Rich Hoe”) and all the people who want some of it.
The repetition gets tedious quickly and the lady in me was pretty annoyed at the constant peen references. There’s so much on this man’s dick, it’s hard to keep track; people, cats, mice. Hell if I know. After a while all the words start to run together. He does give props to James Worthy. He gets half a point for that. B’s delivery sways to and fro on the beat like your drunken uncle on the dance floor. Sometimes his words are slurred. There is very little narrative, but a lot of reckless one line abandon. Sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn’t and he takes the idea of rhyming as mere suggestion.
There are some substantive issues considered in songs like “Cold War” and “The Trap.” The evil that fakers do meets parking tickets, oil spills and income taxes in hazy disjointed stories, but B’s wonky vocal construction teeters on the nebulous. Strange couplets are compressed into sections of song while the beat creeps forward unchecked in others. Bad sonic business.
Oh, he sings too (“Like Me”) and it’s gruesome unless this is his attempt at parody, but I find no evidence of anything intentionally comedic here.
This isn’t hood reporting or observations of the harsh realities of the inner city. It’s not fun dance music either. It lies in the dark abyss in between. Blue Flame is random and fantastically hardcore with all kinds of kinky sex references and suggestion. There’s no central theme except even though B’s pants are hella tight, your bitches hand can still fit snugly in his crotch. Even this type of one dimensional presentation can be forgiven with some great delivery, but unfortunately Mr. B just doesn’t have it.
Lil B’s acceptance as the lil wolf packer that could into the fold of an instantly kinder and gentler media is still a head scratcher. I’m even more confused now that I’ve listened to Blue Flame considering how pregnant this thing is with issues and missteps. The kids I can understand. The rudimentary sex themes speak to their libido-driven egos and the loftier attempts at profundity speak to their burgeoning maturity regardless of how badly the song is constructed. For the industry adults who can’t readily admit that they enjoy B’s music but find themselves hyping him anyway, I believe there may be a fear of alienation holding them back. And that’s funny. Considering how often Hip-Hop grabs its balls, its amazing Lil B might be the only one who can find his pair right now.
Lil B – “Rich Ho”
Lil B – “Like Me”
Lil B – “Princess Freestyle”
*And no static because I only listened to one mixtape. You know it doesn’t get any better.
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Lil B’s 6 Kiss is a better introduction to his sound and rap style.
http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/6-kiss/id348303900
Great write-up.