Weezy’s newest effort is a tragedy. He was obviously aware of it too, because he did just about everything he could to wipe away the hype surrounding this album. On January 23 of last year, he made the mistake of clarifying that Rebirth would be his rock album debut, not a re-release of Tha Carter III as was originally believed. After delaying the album, balking through multiple release dates, releasing four singles, changing the tracklist after an Amazon.com shipping error, it became apparent that Rebirth was never a good idea in the first place.
Weezy’s guitar playing is so bad that it makes this album unlistenable. Lil Wayne should’ve learned to play the guitar before he decided to become a “rock star.” Apparently those rumored lessons with Kid Rock didn’t pay off, to the embarrassment of both men. The riffs and chords on this album never rise above the level of beginner. As his album cover suggests, his “rebirth” is nothing more than the product of several sessions of lazy doodling. If Rebirth is an indicator for Weezy’s influences, he must’ve been listening to the dregs of alt-rock from the past two decades. There are moments of electronic-inspired brilliance, but not enough to force yourself to weather this nü-metal shitstorm. Rebirth should alienate Weezy’s fans; the lack of classic Tha Carter material pushes his core fans away, while the low-quality rock won’t appeal to a different crowd.
Weezy’s flow goes together with rock about as well as journalists with Vladimir Putin. The Weezy formula for success is unbalanced; on Tha Carter albums, Lil Wayne’s smooth and minimalist beats perfectly contrast his arrhythmic, scratchy drawl. On Rebirth, the loud, distorted, and abrasive rock amplifies the more irritating nuances of Weezy’s delivery. The rock songs on Rebirth are so poorly recorded that listening to the record from start to finish becomes an exhausting effort.
By stripping away distortion and dropping the tempo and volume, Weezy’s brilliant flow takes flight. Lil Wayne shines on “Drop The World,” featuring a surprisingly well-suited verse by Eminem. “Runnin” has a slower, less chaotic beat that allows for him to show his more insightful side. Unsurprisingly, the only track to completely stick to Weezy’s old style sticks out like a sore thumb and is one of Rebirth’s best. Sampling Amy Holland’s “She’s on Fire” from Scarface, “On Fire” is a welcome eighties flashback remixed with Weezy’s typical swagger. There are several enjoyable tracks that were inexplicably left off the album, like the guitar-minimalist single released last year, “Hot Revolver,” or the old school, rap-sampling, Beastie Boys-inspired “Fix My Hat” and “I’m Not Human.”
The majority of the album is a heavily-compressed mess. The most popular track on iTunes, “Knockout,” sounds like it was recorded by a crappy, screamo Blink-182 cover band with a chain-smoking lead singer. “The Price Is Wrong,” the final song on the album, is a perfect example of everything ‘wrong’ on Rebirth: low quality punk-metal interlaced with mindless lyrics delivered in Lil Wayne’s best impression of rage.
His rhymes straddle the line between brilliance and idiocy, but mostly fall to the latter category on Rebirth. For instance, from “Get a Life,” quite possibly the worst diss track ever recorded: “I say fuck you, get a life, man I got too much shit on my head to have to deal with all of you…I said fuck you…All I can say is get a life, quit your motherfuckin’ hatin’ n’ get a life, get money and get bitches and get a life, get goin’ get goin’…”
…or this gem from “One Way Trip (ft. Kevin Rudolf): “Woke up this morning with my dick to the ceiling, fell asleep with another chick from my building, kick her ass out and have breakfast like a motherfucker…I’m with another bitch by supper.” Accompany these words with vague genre imitations and uninspired, unoriginal guitar riffs, and you have an album unfit to even donate to charity.
If Tha Carter III is Bruce Lee, then Rebirth is Jean Claude van Damme: a cheap knock-off, a big fat phony, it would be heresy to compare the former to the latter. Let us all close our eyes, purge this album from our memories, and pray that a year in Riker’s Island will allow the cash money millionaire to reawaken our faith with Tha Carter IV.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Grammy Hangover
Musical taste is something that varies from person to person. The appeal of a song is in the ear of the listener. The worth of a song is much harder to measure than scientific breakthroughs or groundbreaking research papers. Even athletic success is measured by effort, skill, and winning. How do we go about measuring the success of a song or album? Music reviews tackle issues of originality, variation, and skill, but traditional formulas can only take you so far.
At best, the Grammys reward the best-selling artists of the year. At worst, they’re an exclusive, elitist, music industry ass-kissing machine that shoves established musical acts down our throats.
The most obvious example of this was the long transition of rap into an “acceptable” form of art. The rap genre, which had been rolling out big hits and had been a central theme in pop culture since 1980, didn’t have a category for best rap performance until 1989 (best rap album didn’t get included until 1996). Even then, the members of the Recording Academy largely ignored more hardcore hip-hop acts like N.W.A. and embraced the less threatening image of Run D.M.C. The snubbed rappers fired back lyrically, disillusioned that the first two rap Grammys went to the Fresh Prince and Young MC. The committee fanned the flames in 1992 by recognizing the white-friendly Will Smith over the far more talented Public Enemy at the peak of their career. It wasn’t until The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill won album of the year in 1999 that rap music was fully recognized. The committee, however, continues to reward rap acts after their heyday and neglect newer, fresher voices.
Remember what happened in 1992? Nirvana took the music world by storm with their second album Nevermind, and their raging hit single, “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Yet, for reasons unknown to anyone outside the committee, the grunge kings were glossed over for an award. Instead, the awards were swept by an undeserving Eric Clapton. I guess Nirvana didn’t get the memo that Grammys will always go to rock legends past their prime.
The first winner for best hard rock/metal performance in 1988 was widely believed to be going to Metallica, yet, in a cruel twist of fate for all parties involved, Alice Cooper ended up embarrassingly announcing that Jetthro Tull had won the award. That’s right, the same flute-rocking medieval-serenading group that reached the height of their popularity in the 70s.
In 2001, Two Against Nature, by the Steely Dan, won the award over Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers LP and Radiohead’s Kid A: one was forgotten, two became classics. This logic also explains best album wins in the last decade by Ray Charles, Herbie Hancock, and Robert Plant, three amazing artists…many decades ago.
Now in an age of endless libraries of digital music and unlimited access to new sounds, the Recording Academy has continued latching on to the familiar and opting for the most painfully obvious mainstream artists.
Is a Grammy a prestigious reward or a reward for prestige? The Grammy awards have now embraced a parallel relationship with the music industry and the billboard charts. They’re still giving the upper hand to chart-toppers and former chart-toppers, even if the latter’s most recent effort is less than stellar. There’s no predictability and anticipation for future awards shows. The excitement is simply sucked out of the spectacle.
Despite this verbal lashing, the Grammys have come a long way to be where they are right now. No one is outraged, as most of the popular musicians are given a chance. High album sales are rewarded with a flash of gold. This brings up the show’s biggest problem. The “best” albums of the year aren’t always going to be the highest grossing (sometimes they’re the most highly advertised or most heavily played on the radio). The verdict: in order to have an exciting and satisfying awards show, the committee must quit counting their stacks of bills and make an effort to explore under the surface of mainstream music. Only then could they start the trends, not follow them obediently.
At best, the Grammys reward the best-selling artists of the year. At worst, they’re an exclusive, elitist, music industry ass-kissing machine that shoves established musical acts down our throats.
The most obvious example of this was the long transition of rap into an “acceptable” form of art. The rap genre, which had been rolling out big hits and had been a central theme in pop culture since 1980, didn’t have a category for best rap performance until 1989 (best rap album didn’t get included until 1996). Even then, the members of the Recording Academy largely ignored more hardcore hip-hop acts like N.W.A. and embraced the less threatening image of Run D.M.C. The snubbed rappers fired back lyrically, disillusioned that the first two rap Grammys went to the Fresh Prince and Young MC. The committee fanned the flames in 1992 by recognizing the white-friendly Will Smith over the far more talented Public Enemy at the peak of their career. It wasn’t until The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill won album of the year in 1999 that rap music was fully recognized. The committee, however, continues to reward rap acts after their heyday and neglect newer, fresher voices.
Remember what happened in 1992? Nirvana took the music world by storm with their second album Nevermind, and their raging hit single, “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Yet, for reasons unknown to anyone outside the committee, the grunge kings were glossed over for an award. Instead, the awards were swept by an undeserving Eric Clapton. I guess Nirvana didn’t get the memo that Grammys will always go to rock legends past their prime.
The first winner for best hard rock/metal performance in 1988 was widely believed to be going to Metallica, yet, in a cruel twist of fate for all parties involved, Alice Cooper ended up embarrassingly announcing that Jetthro Tull had won the award. That’s right, the same flute-rocking medieval-serenading group that reached the height of their popularity in the 70s.
In 2001, Two Against Nature, by the Steely Dan, won the award over Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers LP and Radiohead’s Kid A: one was forgotten, two became classics. This logic also explains best album wins in the last decade by Ray Charles, Herbie Hancock, and Robert Plant, three amazing artists…many decades ago.
Now in an age of endless libraries of digital music and unlimited access to new sounds, the Recording Academy has continued latching on to the familiar and opting for the most painfully obvious mainstream artists.
Is a Grammy a prestigious reward or a reward for prestige? The Grammy awards have now embraced a parallel relationship with the music industry and the billboard charts. They’re still giving the upper hand to chart-toppers and former chart-toppers, even if the latter’s most recent effort is less than stellar. There’s no predictability and anticipation for future awards shows. The excitement is simply sucked out of the spectacle.
Despite this verbal lashing, the Grammys have come a long way to be where they are right now. No one is outraged, as most of the popular musicians are given a chance. High album sales are rewarded with a flash of gold. This brings up the show’s biggest problem. The “best” albums of the year aren’t always going to be the highest grossing (sometimes they’re the most highly advertised or most heavily played on the radio). The verdict: in order to have an exciting and satisfying awards show, the committee must quit counting their stacks of bills and make an effort to explore under the surface of mainstream music. Only then could they start the trends, not follow them obediently.
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