You know what? I’m the best Tiddlywinks player in the world...Bitch
Yeah, I know you didn’t ask, but I thought you just needed to know. I could flick you so hard I’ll make your grandkids dizzy. Yeah, and what? I’m into the cup faster than Mel Gibson at an open bar. So what you gonna do about it?
Okay, that was a lie. Truth is I’ve never actually played Tiddlywinks: I probably don’t have the wrist strength from all those years staring at a screen in a fit of sweat, desperately, furiously playing Xbox* (you sicko). However, If I was a champion at Tiddlywinks (or any other sport, for that matter), this kind of smack talk would be frowned upon as bad sportsmanship. It seems strange then, in a world which sees arrogance as a negative quality, that rap as a genre has always held boasting as one of its core values: the two have been joined at the hip ever since the first rap artists forged their musical foundations in the early 1970’s.
One possible explanation could be that rap music was never, in fact, the champion proclaiming his own talents, but rather the scrappy underdog talking trash to promote himself into the big leagues. Early hip-hop used egoistic language only as a means to support progressive attitudes, thrusting a new genre into the limelight with an over-zealous confidence. A quick look at the sales records of pivotal rap artists such as Public Enemy and Big Daddy Kane will give some justification to their in-your face ambition. However, despite their incredible commercial success, major recording artists today such as Kanye West, Jay-Z, 50 Cent and Eminem all continue the tradition of almost constant self-promotion, using their music as a primary way of advertising themselves.
There is one artist in particular who seems to embody these virtues of arrogance and constant self-recognition: Lil Wayne. The rapper, who last week released his eighth studio album ‘ I Am Not A Human Being ’, is best known for his delightful insights on the role of women, use of substances, importance of rap music as a genre and (of course) his own talents. There are many terms often thrown around to describe Lil Wayne: ‘talented’, ‘misogynistic’, ‘misguided’, ‘exceptional’ and ‘homophobic’, to name but a few. However, I hope you don’t mind my taking liberties, but I’ve coined my own term for the rapper: a ‘wangker’** ( wæŋgkə(r) noun. colloq. – obnoxious male who frequently refers to his own genitals )
As a wangker, Lil Wayne’s main roles are discussing his own sexual prowess and general boasting, both of which he does tremendously on his latest album. Content wise, the record is an exceptional mix of drug references, direct violent threats and sexist slurs rough enough to make a caveman blush. There are prime examples of Wayne’s regressive lyrics throughout the record, so let’s just take a sample from the first verse of track one:
“I bet I could fuck the world and make it cum hard,
Yea, you boys is washed up, and I’m shittin’ on them like two girls and one cup,
Weezey baby, a.k.a. bring the money home,
Pull out an AK and pop you in your funny bone”
Aptly named ‘Gonorrhea’, the track seems wrong even at a quick glace and prolongued contact will no doubt leave you feeling dirty. It’s one thing to think “Ok, he’s a bit shallow but it’s good club music”, but just think for a second: Last year, Lil Wayne is estimated to have earned $18 Million, a figure overshadowed by only a handful of other recording artists. So while Liu Xiaobo (this year’s Nobel Peace Prize winner) was being sentenced to eleven years in prison for speaking out for basic and fundamental human rights, Lil Wayne was being paid thirty-four Dollars a minute to sing “I don’t want your Gonorrhea" to an audience of thousands.
Lil Wayne (real name Dwayne Carter) is undeniably a man with exceptional business and networking abilities. Besides the million dollar sponsorship deals, he has released singles featuring the likes of Eminem, T-Pain and Busta Rhymes. The rapper also had a hand in Jay Sean’s BMI Award-winning anthem ‘Down’ earlier this year. Rappers of that calibre generally pride themselves on their ability to be articulate and astute on the mic, rhyming with speed, clarity and wit. Luckily, Carter has opted out of the whole ‘talent’ trend on his latest release, elongating every word in a plea for more track time. There are moments on ‘ I Am Not A Human Being ’, where his contributions sound less like rapping and more like the desperate slurs of a stroke victim. But this isn’t just me being bitchy, oh no. Carter has confessed about his own lack of lyrical talent on numerous occasions, even admitting “I’m a horrible rapper.”
Despite the hollow content and self-professed lack of talent, there must still be a reason that Dwayne Carter is earning millions while you’re licking chocolate-flavoured lip balm just to stave the hunger off for another hour, right? Some might accuse him of coasting on his looks like the other 90% of L.A.: he was no doubt an attractive enough man at one point, fresh faced and straight out of high school. However (please excuse the claws here), with the addition of forehead tattoos and a silver-toothed grimace, the man now looks like his face was created with the single aim of advertising burkas.
The thing is, I was happy enough being relatively oblivious to his existence, switching channels whenever his music happened to come my way. All was going fine, that is, until Lil Wayne released his ‘concept’ album earlier this year, entitled ‘Rebirth’.
The record was intended as an ‘experimental’ crossover, fusing the world of rock music with Lil Wayne’s distinct abilities. Unfortunately, the end product contained nothing but a superficial slice of all that is wrong with modern rock music, hurriedly recorded behind the rapper’s slurs and fifteen layers of vocal effect. The album indulged in over-the-top distortion, cymbal-heavy percussion and enough fake teenage angst to make Conor Oberst cringe (see ‘Prom Queen’ if proof were needed). If this weren’t bad enough, Lil Wayne retained his characteristic boasting, giving more testicle references than a commentator at the porn Olympics***.
Carter appeared in no less than three music videos for the record, playing guitar with more leather-clad gusto than Brian May and The Edge combined. That’s all well and good, I suppose, except for one small fact: HE CAN’T PLAY GUITAR. Sure, he can hover his finger over a string and squeal out two distorted notes like nobody’s business, but I taught my friend Adnan to play ‘Smoke On The Water’ and he’s got just one finger. The tracks recorded for the album have a mix of arpeggios, chords and notes which involve more than one string, none of which Lil Wayne comes close to playing. Instead, he pretends to play, like a six year old strumming air-guitar on his knees at a wedding disco, dizzy on a sugar rush from one too many French fancies. I’d be the first to support more live instruments in commercial rap music, but pretending to possess a musical talent is an insult to both the fans who pay for the music and to genuine musicians, some of whom work for the majority of their lives to perfect a skill, just to see Lil Wayne jumping about like a prat and making a mockery of their efforts.
Those wanting to see Lil Wayne pretending to play guitar can do so here:
For the daring who want to see what his actual playing ability is, you can do so here (warning, scenes may offend viewers with ears).
Ego and rap music were inevitable partners that have long since merged into one entity. However, there are many artists that display confidence without having to hold on to aggressive and outwardly vulgar values. Those looking to have their faith restored should look no further than the likes of Kano, Mike Skinner, Wiley or Estelle: all are British performers who produce music with sincerity and a deep understanding of wit and subtle reflective tones. More importantly, none are afraid to write about topical values rather than the prescribed discourse of guns, violence, sex and drugs.
People looking for a change of pace from the likes of Lil Wayne should also take a look at up-and-coming London band Clement Marfo and The Frontline, who released their debut single ‘Champion’ earlier this month. The track is an uplifting, dance-friendly number with insightful lyrics and more flow than an off-shore wind farm. Using an eclectic mix of instruments and musical styles, the band form a truly original sound: definitely one to watch out for. More importantly, the message is one of inspiration and pride rather than aggressive arrogance: It may be a case of the unstoppable tide, but hopefully skilled artists of this stock will be given the platform in the future, silencing the brash negativity of Lil Wayne and friends.
‘Champion’ may come over as a bit too rose-tinted Hollywood for the more cynical listeners (think Rocky and some Philadelphia steps and you get the picture), but the video for the fantastic single can be seen here:
*Also a lie. Apologies, I couldn’t resist the willy joke.
**Ok, I’m sorry, that’s two penis references in one article. It’s purile and it won’t happen agian, I promise.
***...screw it.
