[Random, I know. I wrote this sometime last year, thought of it today, realized I never published it anywhere and figured I'd post.]
Why don’t I love Frank Ocean? I’m a music junkie and I listen to a crazy eclectic mix of music across generations and genres. I’ve spent the better part of my career writing about music, and long before music became the central focus of my profession it was the focus of my life.
But when it comes to the music world’s love affair with Frank Ocean, I am mystified. The Ocean lovefest is like a party I’m not invited to. Or perhaps I received an invitation, I just can’t figure out how to get there. Read More
Anyone who follows me on Twitter probably caught my rant about this earlier today. But I wanted to express my ideas in more coherent and complete form.
Rap journalist Ernest Baker recently published a piece for Noisey called “I Had To Stop Interviewing Rick Ross Because He Can’t Handle Hard Questions.” The title is pretty self-explanatory. During an interview, Baker tried to ask Ross a question touching on the rapper’s rapey lyric from “UOENO.” Ross threw a low-key rap tantrum, dodged the question and shut the interview down, presumably so he could deal with a journalist who wouldn’t reference anything but his greatness.
The experience caused Baker to question the state of rap journalism and conclude that “a superstar rapper’s inability to be real is why rap journalism is a fucked up game”…continue reading at Rap Rehab.
Apparently, Nicki Minaj lives in a bubble where all she sees is her ass, her bank statements and her yes men nodding. Because the Young Money rapper has released a new single called “Lookin Ass Ni**a” with cover artwork featuring Malcolm X.
The level of ignorance, disrespect and poor judgment required to release artwork featuring a slain civil rights icon to promote a song about thirsty men is almost unfathomable. Anyone with an ounce of common sense or respect for black history would have immediately shut this down. Apparently Nicki Minaj possesses neither.
In no particular order, here are six reasons why we should be outraged by this cover “art”…continue reading at Rap Rehab.
Trayvon Martin would have been 19 on Wednesday. He didn’t get the chance to celebrate his 19th birthday because he was murdered on his way home from the convenience store nearly two years ago. And on the day that he would have turned 19 had his life not been cut short, all signs pointed to the fact that his murderer, George Zimmerman, will fight rapper DMX in a celebrity boxing match.
It’s so bizarre that it seems like the storyline of some satire about race or an episode of “The Twilight Zone.” And yet, this is reality in the United States of America….continue reading at RapRehab.com
Richard Sherman’s fiery post-game interview and the resulting backlash has brought the word ‘thug’ back into the forefront of American consciousness.
The day after Sherman’s mini-rant following the NFC Championship Game, ‘thug’ was used over 600 times on TV to reference the star cornerback. When asked how he felt about being labeled with a term denoting criminal behavior, Sherman said it was a disappointing mischaracterization that seems to be the accepted way of saying the n-word.
And he’s right. But more than just a sneaky way of uttering a racial slur, ‘thug’ is evidence of a racial stereotype about the dangerous, criminal black man that dates back to slavery and still infects the American psyche today…continue reading at RapRehab.com.
OK so we’re supposed to be writing. Words on paper. Thoughts expressed. I have nothing to say. I feel like everything I want to say is complaining and sad. I wish that things would just work out with xxx or that he would go away. Stop hanging around and making me want something I can’t have. I’ve had enough fucked up relationships in my life that I don’t want any more, and I feel like I deserve to have a loving, supportive and stable relationship at this point in my life. I feel like I’ve paid my dues if you will in dealing with dysfunctional people and dysfunctional relationships and the lessons I had to learn from them. But maybe there are more lessons for me to learn. Read More
I need to write. But I have not been writing. on purpose. I have been stopping myself. For good reason. My words sound stupid, and who wants to be subjected to stupid words? I am a conundrum, a paradox. A writer who does not — cannot — maybe both — write. But is it by choice? And is it better this way? And is it even true, considering I am writing now? What to say next. Writing is like a window into the soul. Also, so are eyes. If that’s the case, then my soul is empty. Or blocked. One of the two. Maybe both. Read More
Kanye West makes it easy for people to hate him. He throws tantrums at award shows, he snatches mics from blond pop princesses, he rants at concerts, he screams at radio hosts who don’t have the answers.
He is often tactless and lacking decorum, and his honesty comes with absolutely no filter. Branding him as arrogant, obnoxious and egomaniacal seems to be the simplest, most obvious conclusion available. It’s just not entirely accurate…continue reading at Rap Rehab.
As a writer I need to write about all aspects of my life: the good, the bad and the ugly. I need to feel like I can express myself freely. When the writing is good, it doesn’t come from me so much as through me; I’m a vessel through which the words flow and I just try to catch up to the thoughts racing through my mind and get them all on paper.
The writing hasn’t flowed like that for some time. I’ve been blocked. I’ve blocked myself. I’ve deliberately avoided writing about certain aspects of my life — namely, the darker ones — or I’ve written about them infrequently and shared them with almost no one. Partly to spare other people, but mostly to spare myself. Read More
[Written sometime in 2011...]
There comes a time when there’s nothing left to say because you’ve said it all before, nothing left to process because processing won’t change the truth. It’s a truth that wakes you up in the middle of the night, a truth that surprises you when you’re driving and your mind drifts to other topics, and you snap back to reality and remember that reality now includes your mother’s suicide. Read More