Gucci Mane - The Burrprint 2: HD [REVIEW]

Gucci Mane. A genius to some, a retard to others. Very few rappers (outside of Lil' Wayne and Cam'ron, who're his most contemporary peers) have ever attracted this much split affection/hatred, and very few can actually grasp the idea of him as an artist. On the surface, he's a very shallow artist, who can't stop rapping about his jewelry, cars, women, or trap-roots. He's hard to decipher (at times, nearly indecipherable), because his accent is rooted in an Alabama slur, he has a lisp, and his delivery, which varies on nearly every song he appears on, is a slivering, sliding, snake-like whisper which rarely breaks free from the monotony of his inflection.

His character is that of a real life villain. He has killed at least one person in his life (in self-defense), he's stolen pretty much every dude in Atlanta's girlfriend for at least a night, he wears more jewelry than Liberace, he has more money than the last five generations of your family tree, and he probably sold crack to your grandma. He's a very easy target for hip-hop purists, and he's simply a very easy individual to hate. He's an asshole, and he doesn't give a fuck what you think; honestly, he's that bad-ass that almost every man has wanted to be at least one point in their lives. 

But he's also probably one of the most honest, and unadulerated artists in any genre of music. He's gained an extremely loyal cult fanbase that rivals that of the aforementioned Lil' Wayne and Cam'ron, and last year, after all that grinding, he finally broke into the mainstream and he's now getting the attention he deserves. He's honestly one of the most personable artists I've ever listened to; when you listen to Gucci's music, you feel like you know him. How can you get so attached to someone that's lived a life that makes most others look insignificant in comparison? Because at the end of each album, mixtape, or song, it is abundantly clear; Gucci Mane is no super villain, he's merely a human. 

He's as fragile, and frail as the rest of us; but he is simply a survivor. Listening to Gucci lets you live vicariously through his lyrics; each song is a triumph in itself. His self-depreciating lyrics, deadpan sense of humor, and very understated intelligence makes him one of the most vulnerable artists in hip-hop. At the same time, his "don't give a fuck what anyone thinks" attitude pretty much tells you that you can try to take a swing at him; but you're likely to end up dead behind the local middle school if you do. That same attitude also allows him to make some of the strangest, experimental, and quite simply avant garde rap the genre has ever seen. Don't misunderstand that, this isn't arthouse rap; this isn't music that's trying to be smart. This is very self-aware trap rap that is merely a veil for a man who's afraid to get too personal on his records, so he merely drops the struggles he's faced in his life amidst all the gun and jewelry talk, usually to the point that if you're not listening (and most Gucci fans AND haters aren't listening) you'll completely miss it.

In all of his interviews, you see someone that's nothing like the Gucci Mane character that is so predominant in his music. You see Radric Davis, the thirty year old who is soft-spoken, well-educated, and surprisingly wise beyond his years. He's lived five lifetimes in those thirty years; this is a man who had to grow up from the time he was just a child, and never had the opportunity to look back. And maybe this is why his fanbase is so loyal, so attached to him; because he's just so damn relatable.

Gucci's in jail right now, and this is a compilation of songs that he recorded late last year, all of them showing the VERY huge leap he took as an artist from sometime in mid-08 until late-09. There's about a dozen guest features, yet it doesn't feel like it; maybe because over half of them are on the all-star trap anthem "Coca Coca." This mixtape combines all of Gucci's styles, and flows, and puts it in an easily digestable format. From the intro, which is a live freestyle from jail over the phone (including the "One Minute Remaining" message for authenticity), until the very last song, this is a journey into Gucci Land. Weird metaphores, outbursts of singing, GENUINE singing on Antisocial, which is one of the strangest songs in all of Gucci's huge catalog, a whole dictionary full of adlibs, some of the best beats in modern hip-hop supplied by Drumma Boy, Fat Boi, and the rest of Gucci's usual suspects.

There is far too many songs to do a track by track analysis, and honestly, Gucci is the type of artist who is better understood by listening to a full album instead of listening to individual tracks. Simply put, there's something for everyone on hear, and this is just some of the funnest music you'll hear all year long. It's obvious before he got locked up, Gucci was feeling on top of the world, and this mixtape shows that. But then again, when isn't he?

Support the kid. This is some of the best music you'll hear all year, and just makes the wait for him to get out even more unbearable. At least until then we have The Burrprint 2; another defining statement by one of hip-hop's most misunderstood artists.

Next Day Air [REVIEW]

Heavy cocaina shawty. Next Day Air is the first film in awhile to revive the coke-flick, and one of the few to take a comedic approach to it. It's no Scarface or New Jack City, and Benny Boom, a great music video director, is certainly no Brian De Palma or Mario Van Peebles; however, the lighter approach taken to the genre is refreshing, and the cast of black and hispanic actors are all up-to-standards, and in certain cases, above (why doesn't Mike Epps get more roles like this? Why doesn't Mike Epps get a genuinely good comedy script that focuses on him as the star? Such a squandering of good talent).

Next Day Air is collage film that takes cues from the Tarantino-style of film building, meshing together multiple stories about gangsters and gentlemen (or in this case, NDA workers who smoke too much hashis on their deliveries), and have them all meet up in the end for the obligatory shoot-out. Some directors have made a career out of this Tarantinosplotation; Guy Richie being the most famous, and successful of these, Joe Carnahan another. While many try to immitate Quentin to mockingly bad results, Benny Boom makes the adaption to the big screen transition much smoother than I originally expected. Although none of the film-making is breath taking, or even down-right compelling, the sense of comedic-timing is there, and most of the shoots are decent enough, especially the derivative shoot-out near the end.

As I said before, the acting is very competent, something rarely seen in these types of comedies outside the obvious notable exceptions (Friday, uh... Barbershop?). Mike Epps is fantastic in his role as Brodie, and his homeboy, Guch, played by Wood Harris. Donald Faison, of Scrubs, is humorous in the lead role, although not nearly as eye-grabbing as his fellow NDA associate, Mos Def, is in his few scene-stealing moments. Yasmin Deliz is beautiful, and provides her job as eye-candy throughout the film; she's a decent young actress who I hope to see more of (and I mean that literally). Omari Hardwick is the real star of this film though; he has a presence that most of his peers on this film lack, and his character, Shavoo, is probably my favorite in the film. He reminds me of a young Denzel, and with roles in both Kick-Ass and the A-Team in 2010, it looks like he's on for far greater things.

Not this great, though.

The score is nothing memorable, and the movie does lack that laugh-out-loud type of humor that it so desperately craves; it's a good film, which provides a few smiles, but at times it may've sufficed better with darker humor. The characters were mostly too hardened to believe they were as genuinely stupid as they were portrayed, but I guess at the same time, if this film wasn't light-hearted it's comedic approach might've gotten lost in all the drug-dealing shenanigans. Although I appreciate the approach at a cocaine-comedy, it really turned out about as well as you'd expect it to; unless you're listening to Gucci Mane, it's hard to find trapping funny. And this movie lacks all of the deadpan hilarity found in a lot of the hip-hop based on the same subject matter.

Overall, Next Day Air's definitely worth a watch if you can find it cheap, as it's a decent comedy, and even better if you're interested in the genre this film falls under. I'll be watching it again, and can see myself enjoying it more upon consecutive views; however, it's nothing groundbreaking, and it doesn't set out to be.

Trap Goin' Ham

Maybe it's because my favorite rapper's in jail (Gucci Mane), and everyone else I bumped last year is either there with him (Max B, Lil' Wayne, Lil Boosie), recovering from getting shot (Waka Flocka Flame), losing any insight of what made their music infectious (OJ Da Juiceman, Gorilla Zoe, Shawty Lo), or just, not doing anything at the moment (Drake, Kid Cudi, Jay Electronica, Kanye West), but I've been reaching out for new hip-hop artists to check out; not neccessarily new as in the unheard of sense, but emcees I haven't given a proper chance.

Maybe it's because since then, I've been listening to lyrically lyrical acts like Atmosphere, old Mobb Deep, Mos Def, Curren$y, and the like - those rappers the rest of the blogosphere wet their panties for everytime they mention a new project. I'm not a fan of most of these rappers, as the skinny-jean hipster demographic isn't the one I belong to, even if some of my favorite rappers fall under that horribly mislabeled sub-genre. Which is why duke I'm about to cover (ayo) today seems like a perfect fit for me; a street-level rapper who seems to be bewilderingly adored by journalists who listen to Animal Collective and Aesop Rock, and probably knew who Owl City were long before that fucking Fireflies song gave me the urge to kill each and every nuthuggingdenimfaggot out there.

Pill - "Trap Goin Ham" from The Educated Villains on Vimeo.

Dude's name is Pill, and he's the (former) weed-carrier of (former) OutKast weed-carrier Killer Mike. Despite the fact that he was once a weed carrier's weed carrier, and hardly even third-tier in the hip-hop echelon, Pill has recently become more relevant than his mentor Killer Mike, and even, dare I say, OutKast. At the very least, Pill gets more media attention everytime he drops a new track than Big Boi does, mainly because Pill's actually going to drop his debut album, and Sir Luscious Left Foot feels like a pipe dream that'll never come to fruition. The above track, Trap Goin' Ham, is the track that caught Pill all this love in the New York Times and the New Yorker, amongst other credible sources for what Starbucks-going, beret wearing folks should be listening to when they want their tastes to be a little more "multi-cultural."

I was not feeling this track, nor Pill, at all when I first heard it. To me, it feels like Pill is trying far too hard to be a lyrical trap rapper; a dude who wears baggy jeans, sells crack, and rolls around the hood fucking underage bitches (well, basically) with a bandana sticking out of his pocket who still appeals to hipsters because he feels kinda bad about it. A trapper the blogs could champion because he's not as pop as T.I., as materialistic as Gucci, as raw as Jeezy, or as fake as Ross; despite the fact that all four of those rappers are much more engaging, and generally, better overall artists.

Basically, he's like Waka Flocka, if you stripped Waka of his adlibs and personality, and gave him a conscious and a dictionary. Most people would derail me, and have me hung upside down from the Sears Tower if they saw me make such a comparison, but it's the truth. Both are stylistically similar, both are from Atlanta, both of them trap; shit, they almost look alike, if you don't take into account that Waka's 8' tall and Pill hasn't done a photoshoot that hasn't involved a box of Ritz crackers.

 

Gutter.

However, as evidenced here, and on the rest of his 4075: The Refill mixtape, Pill actually is a great rapper. Although he's not the most interesting of rapper, and seems to fall under the Pitchfork/okayplayer umbrella simply because he's an impoverished youth who channels the pain in his hood and virtually nothing else (as great as he is, Pill reminds me a lot of Mobb Deep on the Infamous/Hell On Earth; a gritty hustler who has no semblance on the idea of "having fun"). It also helped that Andre 3000 co-signed him (but didn't he technically co-sign DJ Unk, too?).

So, yes, my hate of hipsters trying to steal my music has once again made me ignorantly reject a talented emcee; I issue an apology to Pill. Although he's not the God-send folks make him out to be, Pill is a highly-skilled rapper who has the concept of song-making down and also has more than one-dimension to his being. That's something a lot of his peers can't say, especially the song-making part. Give him a chance.