dork magazine.

Op-Ed. Who Killed it?

words by Joey of Straight Bangin'

It's become hackneyed and backlash-inducing to complain about the sorry state of hip-hop. I know because I'm a card-carrying hater whose own friends wonder why he has to be so close-minded when it comes to the Lil' Waynes of this world. You need to let it go; hating is boring; this new joint is that crack, and you're crazy if you don't see it. And while it was once even widely welcomed to express one's disdain for the taste-making oligarchy that populates the rosters of critical outlets from the Village Voice to Blender to The Source to Pitchfork, even enthusiasm for that has waned. I mean, tearing apart a hipster critic's encomium about the latest dope-boy rapper now elicits little more than a tepid "right on."

Times appear to be a little bleak for the hip-hop-loving hip-hop hater, but the actual root cause has nothing to do with the weakened intensity of critique or the diminished appetite for dissension discussed above. Rather, the distaste for the zeitgeist that informs the objections that suddenly arouse a countervailing defense of the trends that makes the hater somewhat more self-conscious can all ultimately be traced back to a hater-validating source: the general absence of creativity.

Hip-hop in this era of singles-driven "albums," million-download ringtones, and marketing-trend music is about imitation and derivation. We hear "Grindin'," we later get "Wait," and everyone wants to go minimal. We see the ascendancy of Lil' Jon, we listen to Pharrell on damn near everything that he produces, and everyone is calling out producers on every song. We still can rely on nearly every R&B starlet to lace a remix with some one-verse-at-a-time rapper. There are few large-scale chances taken in rap music.

The end result is a mindset in which notable music--that is, memorable singles, well-promoted artists, and so forth--is met by the benevolent as a welcomed extension of a catalogue with just a few styles and by the haters as more of that reliable bullshit. It's also made the rare instances of inspiration moments during which the senses are titillated and the emotions heightened. People can't get enough of Kanye West--lovers and hater--because whether the music sounds good or not, he at least tries new sounds and ideas. The bad part is that dull lullabye rap such as his collabo with Maroon 5 can get caught up in a wave of hyperbole, but that's a price that even the most jaded hater will pay if it keeps us immersed in a "We Major" or even something as seemingly pedestrian for West as "Wouldn't Get Far." This entire circumstance also helps to explain why Justin Timberlake can penetrate hip-hop precincts and why Hip-Hop Is Dead's weak moments can get excused: in a marketplace awash with recycled, superficial ideas, anything that challenges the prevailing order, through innovation or criticism, garners attention. And I ain't mad at that.