Sunday, September 9th, 2007I have been enjoying some rap albums lately – PE’s new joint, How You Sell Soul to a Soulless People Who Sold Their Soul??? is throwback illness. Kanye’s Graduation is a masterpiece, as far as the production is concerned, and the vocals aren’t far back. The last track in particular, Big Brother, over-proves Kanye’s lyrical worth – a cute ode to his hero Jay-Z, it shits all over the similarly autobiographical tales told on Jay’s lacklustre bin filler. Kingdom… came and wet pretty quick, no?
50′s joint is a lot better than I thought it would be. Like Billy X Sunday, I got the clean version first, and that just didn’t make sense. The, um, unclean version, South Welsh gun trade intro sequence intact, makes much more sense. 50 needs to say “bitch” and “nigger” a whole lot ot make sense. He spends the whole CD threatinging to either shoot, or fruit the listener over well chosen beats, and keeps it entertaining for the most part. I gotta admit that I am now fully addicted to all of the singles, and wake up singing them, apart from that Robin Thicke one which sucks more balls than that lottery machine with all the balls in it and the sucking pipe. Ya diiig?
ANYWAY. That stuff is kind if irrelevant (whatever Rolling Stone says. We all remember Blur VS Oasis over here, but who still bumps Roll With It OR Country House? Quite.) The rap album of the year, one I can’t see anyone messing with on any level, musically or lyrically, snuck up on me like that VAT bill last month. It’s Chamilionaire’s Ultimate Victory. No messing. That ugly dude has made a record that does everything Dead Prez wanted to. It is gangsta. It is revolutionary. It is clever. It is Hardbody, Hardfaced, Hardnosed. It is POP as hell. You’ve banged the whole thing five times in a row before you notice there aren’t any swears on the thing. True story.
I’m even gonna forgive dude for sampling The Final Countdown (I was doing that, asshole!). Why? Cos Chamilionaire is saving hip-hop. Chamilionaire is killing it (rap slang is a funny thing, I know). Musically, he’s on that epic, rap-Bon Jovi via-keyboards, fonky, stank-ass rattattatta drum-fill post Dirty South arpeggio shit I love, that shit you usually only get to hear Lil Wayne and Baby talk about poppin’ bottles on. To hear Cham spit TRUTH on such musical lushness is a fuckin’ joy. Morning News alone is better than every other rap song you heard this summer (yeah, I Get Money was tough. This is tougher). I know some of you fools might not like his fast flow/dubbed every line style, but that’s YOUR problem.
So, I was at Proms In The park yesterday. It was TERRIFYING. I imagine that’s what Klan rallies are like. Pics and more info tomorrow. Sleep tight kids.
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