• » Name: Meka Soul
• » Location: Los Angeles, CA
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

New York Won, But Not Really

Before I even start this shit, I have to honestly say that this mixtape should garner mad Justo awards. If not, that’ll be a greater injustice than Lupe Fiasco getting snubbed for that fake-ass B.E.T. Award.

Anyways, with all the talk of shitty record sales, punches at brunches and this, that and the third region falling off at this section of the Internets, it’s easy to miss the fact that although there hasn’t been a single rap album that’s crossed the gold barrier [1]. The only saving grace, however, is the fact that many good albums have come out this half-year, perhaps more so than there were in the entire year of 2006. And perhaps surprisingly, most of them have come from east (north?) coast-based artists.

That’s not to say that the other coasts haven’t had good albums either. I’ve already mentioned that Devin The Dude probably has one of the best hip-hop albums of the year, and I’m pretty sure my Left Coast blogging brother from another mother Brillyance (or is it Brillyance Star?) could tell you of some of the bangers that came out from our neck of the woods. But at the risk of sounding like a South-hating bastard (because we all know I’m not), there’s been a shitload of God(dess)-awful music that’s been pumped out of that region this year that’s clogged the ears of those who yearn for good hip-hop.

The  (not-so) worst part about it is that the forerunners of the South scene have all but disappeared. While most humps are quick to blame it on the overall drop in record sales that is affecting the rappers, I beg to differ; it finally seems that people are waking up and realizing that they were bullshit artists in the first place. Young Jeezy and his merry band of crack carriers bricked, while T.I.’s newest joint is nothing more than a coaster for my nightly cups of Ovaltine. Perhaps if this shit sammich doesn’t sell, he can blame the whole thing on his “alter-ego,” or whatever the fuck he’s jabbering about. But when some random-ass Internets Celebrity with too much time on his hands creates a parody of Lil Wombat that’s better than any of the original’s mixtapes, something is definitely wrong.

It’s really a shame, however, when some of the better artists aren’t doing the numbers they should be doing despite their critical acclaim, simply because the music doesn’t resemble current “tastemakers’” sounds. In this individual’s honest opinion, the person getting the greatest shaft is Pharoahe Monch, who not only has two near-classic [2] albums under his belt, but he can rap circles around your favorite Southern shitbag artist. Honestly, I’ve never understood why critics and fans alike would consider a mixtape of all things a “classic,” but I guess in today’s misguided scene anything’s possible. And for all the yelping everyone will do (go buy his muh’fuckin’ album sucka!) we all know Pharoahe’s gonna tank worse than Keith Closs’ career. Sad, really.

[1] And no, R. Kelly is not a rapper. He’s a geriatric degenerate/dyslexic genius who’s too old to be rocking cornrows.

[2] I really hate using that word in that manner, but compared to the other turd burgers I’ve listened to, his shits are like Pepto Bismol to those other fuckers.

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