[NOTE: This is not a review¹. This is just my initial reaction to what will probably end up being my favorite album of 2011.]

One of the titans of Hip Hop has returned to remind us of the sound of greatness. A living legend, a pioneer, an originator is back. Like Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, Pt. II, Kool G Rap proves once again that cadence, flow and punchlines always trump bitches, blunts and auto-tune. Riches, Royalty & Respect is a refreshing change of pace in a genre that has become increasingly stagnant and decreasingly relevant. It is a punch in the face of mainstream Hip Hop, a record that makes your head nod and realize that this is what it’s supposed to sound like.

It’s a gut check similar to the Odd Future hype that’s captivated all varieties of Hip Hop fans over the last 12 months. This doesn’t mean Odd Future is anywhere near the level of Kool G Rap. It is only to say that the rebellion against the Hip Hop status quo present in albums like Bastard, Earl and Goblin mirrors the spirit of Riches, Royalty & Respect. They are both unapologetic, unfiltered responses to the formulaic bullshit that dominates rap music today.

They are similar in the sense that they eschew most modern Hip Hop sensibilities in favor of total self-expression. Yet they differ in the means by which they accomplish this expression. Odd Future relies heavily on pageantry and theatrics perfected by artists like Eminem and The Gravediggaz². Kool G Rap employs a style perfected by, well, Kool G Rap himself.

The methods are different, but the response is the same. Whether we are shocked by the nihilistic violence of Odd Future or awed by Kool G Rap’s technical mastery of rhyme, the important thing is we respond. You can’t listen to it and file it away as riding music, or club music or music for the ladies. Hip Hop, and music in general, is an interactive art form. It is meant to evoke visceral reaction—emotionally, mentally, physically.

However, while Odd Future is a reaction to the homogeny of Hip Hop, Kool G Rap is less reaction and more revival—a return to its roots. Riches, Royalty & Respect embodies that classic East Coast sound—the boom bap beats, gritty storytelling and unflinching realism that, 25 years ago, carved out an inimitable space in the soundscape of a young, revolutionary and divisive movement.

This record is one of those rare instances when a collective of beat-makers work together to deliver a cohesive album. More so, they give G Rap a modern context in which to work. This record does not sound dated or throwback-y. It’s current. It’s relevant. It’s 2011.

Hip Hop production has evolved significantly since the days of Ill Street Blues. And G Rap takes full advantage without sounding out of his element. The marriage of rhythm and rhyme is seamless—from the piano arpeggios on Harmony Homicide to the Feist sample³ on The Meaning To Your Love. The ease with which Kool G Rap flows over these beats testifies to the timelessness of Hip Hop. He doesn’t force a transformation to connect with a specific audience. There is no Blueprint 3 type pandering ⁴ going on here. No big name features or $50,000 beats—just straight rhymes. It’s organic, homegrown Hip Hop at its purest.

Perhaps I’m a biased advocate of this album. Kool G Rap birthed the generation of MCs who provided the soundtrack to my childhood—Biggie, Nas, Mobb Deep, RZA, Big Pun. And for that I will always equate his style to my earliest memories of Hip Hop. But regardless of personal feelings, his contributions to the culture are undeniable. His work with DJ Polo and the Juice Crew was part of the foundation that became the iconic New York Hip Hop scene. Road To Riches, Wanted: Dead or Alive, Live and Let Die are all integral parts of the Hip Hop canon. Even Jay-Z, whom some of you⁵ think of as the G.O.A.T., paid homage to Kool G Rap on The Black Album:

Hearing me rap is like hearing G Rap in his prime.

And we should do the same. Sit down, put away your Lil Wayne, your Nicki Minaj and your fucking Pitbull. Buy⁶ Riches, Royalty & Respect and take the time to respect your elders.

I am not a Drake fan. Not even a little. Aside from fleeting moments on Forever and Over, he’s inspired in me little more than indifference. Regardless, it seems like everyone has been caught up in his hype for the last 18 months. And unlike most Hip Hop upstarts in the aughts, he’s found a way to marry mass appeal to (alleged) authenticity. He’s one of very few to legitimately straddle the fence, fluently moving from collabos with ringtone-rap phenoms like Flo-Rida and Trey Songz to trading verses with lyrical heavyweights like Jay-Z and Eminem.

His rise to prominence completely bewilders me. I don’t understand it. I can’t accept it. Yet for some reason, I can’t completely dismiss it. There’s gotta be something behind it. Even old school Hip Hop heads I respect cosign on the Drake hype. His seven-track EP, So Far Gone, a collection of tracks from his mixtape, sold more copies than Only Built For Cuban Linx, Part II, an album I named in my Top Five of 2009. The buzz surrounding this man is incredible.

But, like I said, I’m not a Drake fan. His mainstream collaborations never held much weight for me. I’m the type of dude that prefers GZA over Jeezy and castration over a Nicki Minaj record. I grew up on that boom bap, mid-90s East Coast revival Hip Hop—Biggie, Nas and Wu-Tang. So all this radio play, club hit, female-centric “hip hop” doesn’t do it for me.

But first and foremost, I am completely in love with Hip Hop. I have been since I heard Slick Rick’s Children’s Story during recess in first grade. So if there is even a shred of legitimacy to this whole Drake thing, it deserves to be recognized. And in the name of Hip Hop, I’ve set out to uncover the Mystery Of Drizzy.

The Good

The best thing I can say about Drake is that he’s not dumb. He’s focused, well informed and knows his history. That alone is more than you can say about most of the young MCs trying to make a name for themselves.

From his So Far Gone till Thank Me Later and in between, he’s had a plan and he’s stuck with it. Understand your assets (pretty boy status). Accept your shortcomings (lack of street cred). Know your demographic (women). Build your base (pop-loving kids with Hip Hop inclinations). Earn credibility by working with established artists (Lil Wayne, Eminem, Kanye). Drake is to Hip Hop what Will Smith is to the movie industry. His career is well-plotted, with an end game in mind. Will Smith may not be the greatest actor. But he is fucking bankable and the general public loves him. Similarly, Drake isn’t the most talented MC or singer, but he makes bank and endears himself to the general public in ways most Hip Hop artists have failed to accomplish.

He also realizes that Hip Hop is more than just music. It is a movement, a lifestyle, a culture. Hip Hop has roots, a deep history and tradition that carries significant meaning for generations of people. Drake seems to understand and embrace this. While he may not represent the struggle from whence Hip Hop was born, he respects those that came before him. Shouts to Dilla, Wu-Tang, Onyx and biting quotes from dead prez evidence Drake’s appreciation for the history of the culture.

As far as the actual music goes, he’s definitely competent. Unlike a lot of the purported MCs out there (I’m looking at you Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em), Drake understands theme, cadence, wordplay and beat selection. Granted, his raw talent isn’t near the same level as many other MCs on the scene or even of his contemporary, J. Cole. He’s still worked with some incredible producers and knows how to ride a beat on occasion. When he rhymes, he says something of significance to him and his audience. Though he may speak of trivialities in comparison to artists like Brother Ali, Mos Def or Immortal Technique; his tracks have purpose.

These components combine to create, if nothing else, an interesting case study on the progression of Hip Hop over the last decade. Drake’s unique positive qualities are what has sparked many a discussion of his merits throughout the Hip Hop community.

The Bad

My issues with Drake are three-fold—lyrical content, style/skills and commercialism.

I struggle to find a Drake track to which I can sit back, bob my head and vibe to his lyrics. I’ve never heard him drop a verse that left me saying, “Word.” I just don’t feel dude. That’s probably because I am not his audience. Drake doesn’t make music for the heads. He makes music for the masses—specifically the female masses. And seeing as I have a penis, I’m not feeling his shit. I can’t get down with a 23-year old Canadian kid, who used to be on Nickelodeon, singing about relationships. If I want to hear want to hear a love song, I’ll listen to Marvin or Al Green.

Stylistically, Drake obviously understands the mechanics of MCing. However, his skills are modest. He rarely has those “Daaaaaamn” moments. His punchlines are adequate at best. He can ride a beat, when he wants. But it’s generally the same, Lil Wayne-esque, staccato flow. He shows some dexterity on a track like Show Me A Good Time, yet those moments are infrequent. There is something to be said about creating a recognizable voice and style, but it does not excuse sameness and repetition. Drake’s a one trick pony that keeps pulling out the same played-out metaphor pattern. His idea of adding variety to a track is singing his own hook. This wouldn’t be too awful if he were Quan. But he’s not. His singing is barely passable. If that’s his go-to move, Drake desperately needs to step his game up. As a result of these limited skills, Drake tracks end up blending together. Individual cuts get swallowed up in their own redundancy.

Most of all, his unabashed commercialism just rubs me the wrong way. Between his Degrassi roots and the Sprite commercial, everything about Drake strikes me as the antithesis of Hip Hop—or at least my Hip Hop. Can you imagine Chuck D doing a Pepsi commercial? Or KRS-One guest starring on Gossip Girl? That shit is ridiculous. His whole persona represents my biggest beef with modern Hip Hop—its transformation from culture to commodity. It feels like he’s shitting on the legacies of Hip Hop legends that he shouts out in sixteens. I expect far more from someone as well-versed in Hip Hop history as Drake.

The Conclusion

Is Drake worthy of the adulation being heaped upon him by the masses? Is my pseudo-haterism justified? I don’t know. It is extremely difficult to find legitimate reasons to hate Drake. There is nothing explicitly wrong with the man. But to say Drake is the next great MC is delusional. There are scores of superior MCs flying under the radar. If you threw Drake in a battle against Vado, Jay Electronica or Diabolic, he would get utterly destroyed.

To really understand and appreciate Drake’s place in Hip Hop, you have look at his work in context. Drake knows who he is:

He’s not Raekwon:

“I avoided the Coke game and went with Sprite instead.”

He’s a commercial, pop artist, focused on success above all else:

“Yeah. I want it all, that’s why I strive for it
Diss me, you’ll never hear a reply for it
Any awards show or party, I get fly for it
I know that it’s coming, I just hope that I’m alive for it I want the money, money and the cars
Cars and the clothes, the hos. I suppose
I just wanna be, I just wanna be successful”

And he’s unapologetic:

“What am I doing? Oh, that’s right I’m doing me. I’m doing me. I’m living life right now, man. And this what I’ma do till it’s over. But it’s far from over.”

He’s not claiming to be anything he’s not. That, in itself, is respectable. You have to judge Drake in the context of a Top 40, pop artist as opposed to an MC. That’s not a crutch or an excuse pardoning his less than spectacular mic skils. It’s just the reality of who he is and who he is trying to be. His image and career will not be built by the streets. He won’t climb to the top through diss tracks or social commentary or raw, unadulterated spit. Drake’s success will be defined by album sales, Twitter trends and MTV Video Music Awards.

Is there anything wrong with that? That depends on your views on commercialism. Personally, I won’t be buying any Drake records. I completely agree with Jay Smooth’s take on Thank Me Later. Shit’s just not for me. I can’t relate to him in any meaningful way. And for me, music, and Hip Hop especially, is about a personal connection. There are obviously tons of people out there who do feel Drake’s music—good for them. And if Drake ends up being their gateway drug to vast world of Hip Hop—good for him.

Last year at about this time, I called Eminem “the biggest waste of talent in Hip Hop today.” One year, twenty days and one track later, I’m here to apologize.

This morning, Slim Shady dropped two minutes and fifteen seconds of straight fire, he calls Despicable. Spitting over Drake’s Over and Lloyd Banks’ Beamer, Benz or Bentley, he reminded us all that he can roast just about anyone head up.

Em hasn’t gone this hard in years. Maybe since Dead Wrong. After the abortion that was Relapse and the rumors of a Relapse 2, I thought he was done; counted among the full-of-promise MCs before him that fell into obscurity after initial success (DMX, Canibus, et al.).

In the past year we’ve gotten a few paltry verses from Shady that lent some hope to his resurrection. He headlined Drake’s Forever and was the lone bright spot on Weezy’s Drop The World. More recently, he gave us one of his more personal verses on B.o.B.’s Airplanes Part 2. But nothing like this..

Despicable is Marshall at his finest—aggressive, clever, honest. He goes in Wu-Tang Triumph style, hitting us with bar after bar of dopeness. Full of both his trademark pop culture references and jabs at his critics, Mr. Mathers has announced to the world his return to the forefront of Hip Hop. And I gotta say, I believe him this time.

According to 2dopeboyz his first single, Not Afraid, premiers Thursday morning on Shady45’s The Morning After and is produced by Boi-1da. Check back then and I’ll post it as soon as it leaks. Recovery is set to drop June 22nd.

Stream Despicable here and peep the lyrics below.

UPDATE!

Here’s the first official single off Recovery, entitled Not Afraid. Enjoy…

Lyrics

I come around like what goes around
What goes up must come down
Anyone who comes up must go down
Might as well go for the gusto now
Better not let up
Better not let them breathe
Last shot, give it all you got
Try to turn me down
Bitch get fucked with a volume knob
Fuck all you snobs
Hoes, I hope you all rot
2 bottles of Lubriderm and box of condoms
Is that all you brought?
And you want a menage a trois, you twats?
Fuck that I’d rather turn this club into a bar room brawl
Get rowdy as Roethlisberger in a bathroom stall
Like a leaf stuck in a vacuum yall
Ain’t nothing but a whole lot of sucking going on in rap
Yeah. But I’m home
Bad to the bone
Back in the zone
Let him alone
You don’t wanna go egging him on
It’ll never be my chair that you own
Crown so tight that it cuts off circulation to the brain, no oxygen
Other words there’s no heir to the throne
When I die so does Hip Hop
Hitchcock did a shit bitch ass doc
Got it zip locked in a bag
You fags ain’t been able to fade me since Kid Rock had a high top
Keep blogging while I’m mind boggling
And I zone like I’m in the Twilight dog
Get off my bone
This is my mic dog
And I like hogging it
Flow so wet I’ma take this beat tobogganing
I’m waterlogging it
I’m sogging it
Pull your verse out the beat and stomp on it
Suplexing it on cement
Like I’m on some Straight Outta Compton shit
Take this dick and chomp on it
I’m so bad I could bitch slap a backhanded compliment
Jackass, eat a donkey dick
The game, I just about conquered it
Like Donkey Kong, I’m bonkers bitch
I’m the king of this honkey shit
I reign supreme in this honkey shit
No sense screaming and arguing
Makes no difference whether a Benz, a Bentley or a Beamer’s the car you’re in

You think you ball?
Well I bomb it
I throw up bombs when I vomit
I throw down in the kitchen
Might hit your mom with an omelette
But you got egg on your face
Now watch me drop an atomic
I should be strapped to the chest of Kamikaze bitch
I’m bat shit as Ozzy, it’s obvious
You can tell right off the bat
No pun intended
But come any closer, I’ll bite off your head
Trying to give me the finger is kinda like giving a spider the web
I’m just gonna spin it
And try to use it to my advantage
I catch a fly in that bitch
You think you fly
You just food
I give as much of a flying fuck as that Superman dude
Guess I just do what you can’t do
I make you look stupid and bamboozled
Confused as usual and you can get ripped
She can open a can too
But you better hope you can handle the heat
Or stay the fuck outta Hell’s Kitchen
I came to cock block like a square, fucking male chicken
Yeah
It’s Shady, slut
The rest can suck on a big one
Cause I’m as despicable as Daffy Duck when I’m spitting

I know these posts are going to piss a lot of people off. Most of you will disagree with me, think me crazy, a fool and boycott sexy gypsy for ever. I don’t care. I’m not saying that these artists are without talent, but only that they are overrated. You got problems? Leave a comment.

Anyways, on to Part 1 of The Most Overrated Musicians of All Time:

It’s the most enduring question in hip hop—Who was the greatest MC of all time, Tupac or Biggie? In the mid-90s this question split the hip hop community in two. It created the, real or imagined, East Coast/West Coast feud that ultimately saw both men die.

And honestly, the whole discussion is/was/always will be ridiculous. Maybe it’s because I’m from the East Coast and my formative years were spent bumping Ready to Die. But, to me, Biggie is hands down, the superior artist.

While Pac was busy building street cred, catching cases for the sake of gangsterism, and stoking the fires of hate with personal attacks and diss records, Big was making hip hop classics. While Pac was making movies, Big was making moves.

I’m not trying to discredit Pac’s contribution to the hip hop movement. He was obviously an influential voice. He helped bring hip hop mainstream and was a poet in the truest sense of the word. But he was not the greatest of all time.

Biggie put out two albums in his lifetime—Ready to Die and Life After Death. Every single track on both albums are completely flawless. His flow—perfection; his vocabulary and word play—unmatched.

2 Pac released five albums. None of which, I would consider perfect albums, though All Eyez on Me and The Don Killuminati came close. He had some bangers, but a lot of tracks on his albums were skits and throwaway songs. The argument is often made that because Pac had such a large catalog of songs, he is better than Big. I disagree. Just look at the dozens of posthumous releases Pac has had, can you honestly say that they’re even average? They’re sure as shit not classics. For someone who is supposed to be one of the greatest of all time, I expect more.

Born of tragedy and betrayal, a villain reigns throughout the underground. An evil genius and hip hop iconoclast, infamous and tormented, he is shrouded in mystery, hidden behind a mask of metal. Few know his real identity. He has been called Vicktor Vaughn, Metal Fingers, Danger Doom, Madvillain and King Geedorah. But to most, he is simply DOOM.

The legend begins circa 1991. A man, calling himself Zev Love X, creates the hip hop trio KMD with his brother, DJ Subroc. Armed with a major label deal with Elektra and heavy play on Yo! MTV Raps and Rap City, KMD was destined for success. Their critically acclaimed debut, Mr. Hood, was their ticket to the American Dream.

But two short years later, tragedy struck. KMD was set to release their sophomore album, Black Bastards, when DJ Subroc was killed in a car accident. That same week, they were dropped from Elektra and Black Bastards was shelved.

Reeling from the loss of his brother and exploited by a duplicitous music industry, Zev Love X became noticeably absent from the scene. Dealing with depression and “recovering from his wounds,” he swore revenge against “the industry that so badly deformed him.” During this time, the unreleased Black Bastards tape was bootlegged and his legend permeated every corner of the underground.

Four long years passed and Zev Love X and KMD were merely memories. Only the Black Bastards recordings lived on. Hip Hop was still recovering from the losses of Tupac and Biggie. And the genre was on it’s way to monetary success and societal irrelevance. It was during this tenuous time, a man began freestyling at the Nuyrican Poets Cafe in New York. He wore a mask and spit fire. A legend was reborn.

Zev Love X was back, this time as MF DOOM. Inspired by the comic book villains with whom he identified, he set out to exact his revenge on mainstream Hip Hop.

DOOM bucked fast growing trends like bitches, bling and fake gangsta posturing. He didn’t show up on 106th and Park with his hypeman and jewels rambling about his $90,000 watch. T-Pain never sang a hook on one of his songs. He never fed the machine of Hip Hop commercialism.

Instead, he embraced Hip Hop’s roots with his masterful flow, turntablism, and sick punchlines. He appeared on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim and talked to a wad of meat. He featured Charles Bukowski on records. He became the epitome of independent Hip Hop.

From 1999’s Operation Doomsday to last month’s Born Like This, DOOM has embodied the authenticity and developed the cultish following major label artists crave. But, not once, did he lose his integrity. Not once, did he deviate from his plan of exposing mainstream Hip Hop as the fraud it had become.

So who won the epic battle of DOOM vs. The Mainstream? Let’s compare:

It’s 2009 and Hip Hop has long been dead. We’ve seen a number of faceless “artists” rise to the top only to be forgotten as soon as the next fad comes along (anyone remember D4L or Baby Huey or Shop Boyz?). Flo-Rida, Soulja Boy and T-Pain dominate the charts right now. But they will be the next victims of a fickle marketplace (teenage girls).

At the same time, MF DOOM has ruled the underground for ten years. He’s amassed 17 solo albums and countless other appearances. He’s worked with Madlib, Rhymesayers, DJ Danger Mouse, J Dilla and many others. Born Like This even debuted on the Billboard Top 100, proving that DOOM can beat the industry at their own game.

Say hello to the motherfucking bad guy.

I woke up this morning intending to finish up our Film Festival videos and doing some actual work. But upon seeing that Eminem had dropped a new single, I felt like I should at least mention it.

Generally speaking, I am an Em fan. I love his verses on Jay-Z’s Renegade, Biggie’s Dead Wrong, Obie Trice’s We All Die Someday, and many, many others. He is one of the greatest mixtape artists of all time. His 2000 release, The Marshall Mathers LP is a Hip Hop classic. He was never afraid to say what he felt and he expressed those feelings with such anger, sincerity and beauty. He had all the tools to become a great MC.

Unfortunately, Em always held himself back by catering to the MTV-addicted teenagers that, on the strength of My Name Is, essentially made his career. Embracing pop-culture references, gay jokes and random fart noises he became a rap parody. And by mocking himself and his craft, Eminem never reached that legendary status he so desperately craved. Granted, he became uber-successful and made millions. But to authentic Hip Hop heads, he fell short of the promise he flashed throughout his career.

I, for one, was eagerly anticipating his latest album. I was hoping for a record less like previous singles and more like his mixtape work—less play, more passion. But sadly, I was wrong.

We Made You is yet another joke from a comedian past his prime. It’s just not funny anymore. It’s tired and played out. Clowning pop stars, name dropping and that ridiculous accent, we’ve heard it all before—ten years ago. If we want to hear a song about Sarah Palin, we’ll listen to a mindless country song about the women of “Real America.”

Hopefully, this track is just an aberration and not representative of Relapse as a whole. Maybe it’s just one last song for the demographic that “made him.” But it just feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy. They made him into this caricature and now that’s all he is.

You can check out the song for yourself at the bottom of the post or watch the video here. And please tell if I’m crazy. But, it feels like Eminem is the biggest waste of talent in Hip Hop today and it breaks my fucking heart.

Listen to the first two minutes of this album and you’ll know it’s hot. Mr. Green jumps off with a snippet from Spike Lee’s He Got Game over huge strings and an infectious beat. And before Pacewon even begins his laid-back, effortless flow, you’re already bouncing.

I love when an MC and DJ decide to create an entire album together. It provides for a chemistry not found on most Hip Hop records. The lyrics come from one voice, unadultered by out of place guest spots. The production is fluid and not just a sampling of beatmakers.

MF DOOM and Madlib’s Madvillainy, DJ Dangermouse and Jemini’s Ghetto Pop Life, Blu and Exile’s Below The Heavens are just a few examples that reflect this intimacy between MC and DJ. Pacewon and Mr. Green accomplish the same with The Only Color That Matters Is Green.

A relative newcomer, Mr. Green really impressed me. He shows huge range throughout the album. Mixing everything from a children’s choir to The White Stripes, he hits you with something fresh and new on every track. He could have released this as an instrumental and I still would’ve bought it. It’s that good.

Pacewon, on the other hand, has been around for a while. An original member of The Outsidaz, he’s been on the mic since 1991. However, his work on The Only Color That Matters Is Green far surpasses anything I’ve heard from The Outsidaz. He has refined his flow and focused his lyrics. Pace tells a story on every track and makes it sound easy. Every bar rides the beat to perfection.

The Only Color That Matters Is Green is a seamless album. Thoughtful, superbly produced and just plain dope. It’s definitely worth a listen.

Four Quarters

The Eye of a Needle

She Be So Cold

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

People are constantly asking me where I find my music. I usually tell them that I’m part of a super-secret organization of hipsters and the music elite. We get together on the third Tuesday of every month at an underground cafe for coffee, cigarettes and pie. There, we exchange mixtapes and participate in a circle jerk of superiority.

But this is only a half truth.

This organization does exist (kinda). But we get together on music forums. We write blogs. We go to shows. We share music online, through Pandora or Last.FM. We are as deeply entrenched in the scene as possible. We don’t watch MTV or BET. We don’t take recommendations from iTunes or Pitchfork. We get our music from real people without agendas. Real people who love music just as much as us. And in this instance, from a random San Francisco cab driver.

I don’t even remember his name. I don’t even really remember the cab ride. It was late. It was raining. And we were all drunk. But what I do remember is the music. This man played some of craziest shit I ever heard. It seriously blew me away. Hip Hop. Metal. Hardcore. It was like I was in a cab with The Gravediggaz. This guy was the Obi-Wan Kenobi of underground bands. One of those bands was Candiria.

At first listen, Candiria has a definite Nu-Metal fee. And back in the day, I was a huge fan of Nu-Metal—Early KoRn, Orgy’s first album, early Sevendust, Nonpoint, Deftones, Incubus’ S.C.I.E.N.C.E, Slipknot’s self-titled album. They all pretty much stayed in my CD changer for most of the late 90’s. And I spent a lot of time at the 9:30 Club in DC watching them play.

After KoRn released Issues in 1999, I started to grow out of that phase. By then, the genre was becoming littered with the shitty second wave of inferiority. Bands like Linkin Park, Papa Roach and Trapt soured me on Nu-Metal. And I moved on to more substantive music.

Occasionally, I’ll hear some really good heavy music—Circus Circus, Fall of Troy, From Autumn to Ashes—get all nostalgic and smile. But I haven’t really explored that world in a long while.

However, Candiria has brought me back. They remind of what drew us all to Nu-Metal in the first place. It’s raw aggression with sick beats. It’s straightforward and provocative lyrics. It’s underrated musicianship (every member of Limp Bizkit, save Fred Durst, could play the fuck out of their instruments). It’s that sound that makes you want to straight hit shit.

Candiria offers the best of that era. But with a mathcore feel and some decidedly Hip Hop sensibilities. They incorporate jazz-influenced drum breaks, solid guitar work and even some MCing seamlessly. This creates a unique and well thought out sound. It’s the grown man’s metal.

Best of all, Candiria is no one-trick pony. They don’t just scream at you. They don’t just mix Hip Hop and Metal. They don’t just beat you in the head with their technical proficiency. They don’t just make hook-laden, metal sing-a-longs. They’re versatile enough to combine all of these elements without coming off as cliched.

They show tremendous range and progression within their catalog. Each album is distinguished, mixing all their influences in new and fresh ways. Their earlier work is very raw and contains more Hip Hop tracks than their later albums. Their latest release, Kiss The Lie, abandons Hip Hop completely and is very clean, almost over produced. Personally, I think their standout album is 2004’s What Doesn’t Kill You…

I just can’t believe they’ve been around for 13 years and I hand’t heard of them till a few weeks ago. So thanks strange cab driver guy! If you’re reading this, please email any other bands I’ve overlooked. It’s not my fault, the super-secret coalition of hipsters has failed me.

Candiria Discography

1995 - Surrealistic Madness 1997 - Beyond Reasonable Doubt 2001 - 300 Percent Density 2002 - The C.O.M.A. Imprint 2004 - What Doesn’t Kill You… 2008 - Kiss The Lie

9MM Solution, What Doesn’t Kill You…

Without Water, 300 Percent Density

Colby, Kiss The Lie

Hip Hop Resurrection Playlist - 2/28/09

Redman/Method Man - How High Talib Kweli - Move Something (featuring Hi-Tek) The Fugees - How Hard Is It? Too $hort - You Nasty Mos Def - Ghetto Rock Madlib - Stepping Into Tomorrow Flobots - There’s A War Going On For Your Mind Diabolic - You Don’t Know Freestyle Pharoahe Monch - When The Gun Draws Jedi Mind Tricks - Genghis Khann Black Milk - Give The Drummer Sum Spank Rock - Touch Me The Cool Kids - A Little Bit Cooler Pharrell - That Girl (featuring Snoop Dogg) Alicia Keys - Gangsta Lovin’ (featuring Eve) The Fugees - Some Seek Stardom J-Dilla - Lightworks Jedi Mind Tricks - Genghis Khann Nas - Nastradamus Diabolic - Shimmy Shimmy Ya Freestyle Flobots - Stand Up Ice Cube - What Can I Do? The Fugees - Living Like There Ain’t No Tomorrow Mos Def - Sunshine (featuring Talib Kweli) Madlib - Montara Pharrell - Stay With Me (Dim The Lights) (featuring Pusha T) The Notorious BIG - Nasty Girl (Jazze Pha Remix) Pharoahe Monch - Let’s Go Spank Rock - Competition Bone Thugs N Harmony - Bone, Bone, Bone Flobots - Handlebars Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Ice Cube - It Was A Good Day