Posts Tagged ‘Aesop Rock’

The 2009 Register Vol.6: Rob Sonic

Monday, December 21st, 2009

2009 the year of the duck…

There is this duck who lives on the corner of Allerton Avenue in the Bronx who became sort of my best friend and encompassed a hell of a lot about what the year was like for me, what the fuck right?

Well let me explain, see I still make music full time “somehow” despite it being extremely hard to do. I’ve some how managed, save for the occasional bouncer/porter job and trips to Belmont and Saratoga Parks’ I made it through another one on music by the skin of my teeth. Mostly by not going near Manhattan and smoking more regs than exotics so all in all it was s good year. I made quite a lot of music in 09 in hopes of a long overdue (for me) 2010 release, we will see. One thing is for sure, music got made.

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The Demise of Def Jux?

Thursday, December 17th, 2009

Highly incendiary rumors are floating about concerning the collapse of EL-P’s baby, Definitive Jux Records. Aesop Rock on the verge of signing to Rhymesayers? Makes sense taking into account Felt 3 and Ace Rizzle’s permanent jaunt to the West Coast. Another question mark is the claim of $200K+ in debt beleaguering the label. The original post also takes note of Cage’s 180 from white rage to white guilt.

The end of an era? Baseless internet fodder? Anyone know……or care?

Peace,
Employee

SHOUT: Conspiracy Radio

UPDATE: This is Slug’s statement: “there have been no discussions about aesoprock joining our roster.
seems like some unreliable-source-shit is going on.
plus, for a piece that is attempting to bring you the hot gossip, they sure did take some time to give their unfavorable opinions on cage.
whole piece smells like horseshit.
don’t believe the wipe.”

Employee’s Secret 2009 Diary

Monday, December 14th, 2009

Okay……I unintentionally fucking lied. Hard (…pause…). Your notsohumble correspondent is in the buildin’ and he’s feelin’ someone else (with a vagina). 2009 was chock-full of digital bloodshed, bootlegging, hilarious homoeroticism, Dilla corpse pimpin’, self-censorship and other male estrogen tornadoes. This is the first in a three-part series dealing with twelve subjects (one subject for each month of the year…..clever as fuck, I know).


The Soccer Mom Movement

Jay-Z used this year to usher in a new era of mediocrity. Adding “mundane as a mawfucka” to his resume, we were all treated to the metrosexual extravaganza that is Blueprint 3. Let’s forget for a moment the fucking absurd promotional push that preceded BP3‘s reveal climaxing (no homo) with Hova’s appearance on Oprah Winfrey’s daily circus of an hour for white women. The true marker of an artist in decline: Discussing the intricacies of a cocaine distribution network to millions of women across the country discarding Lunchables packaging and counting Girl Scout cookies. The cherry on top, though, was Jay’s decision to pick the prettiest feather/Manchurian Candidate from America’s fedora and feature the miserable sack of shit on the miserable sack of shit titled “Off That.”. If you actually purchased this album, iTunes or the brick & mortar route, your 2010 will consist of manscaping regimens and bikini-cut underwear for men woven in Germany.

The Sexually & Emotionally Reinvented Indie Rapper

One name: Cage. I was admittedly hyped earlier in the year when I caught some YouTube footage of him rocking a new track at what looked like a fucked-up house party from the nineties you forgot about going to. But I guess that’s the splendor of the internet: It feeds your own delusion. I digress. Depart From Me , I imagine, is the closest humans will ever be to audibly witnessing, in the form of music, the angst of a menstrual cycle in a woman entering her early-twenties. This is a powerhouse of a project if you are fond of contrivances, confusion and high-gloss black nail polish. Why is this peculiar? A) Cage was the quintessential self-hating, drug-abusing, wishing-he-was-born-black poster boy not more than a new moon ago, B) There is no way on this planet or any other that Cage’s transition to Jello Biafra’s maxi pad wasn’t calculated in order to salvage a career and C) Pete Wentz’s stunt double is signed to a label helmed by an internationally respected MC and producer who is on record, hundreds of times over, condemning the same bullshit he’s now financing. All we can do now is embrace the audacity of reality and prepare for a new wave of Emo so powerful that both Brian Bosworth and Kool Herc will shed tears.

Time To Chew & Digest My Own Words

Before Felt 3: A Tribute to Rosie Perez even leaked, I wrote it off in harsh terms as an easy method for bank account padding utilized by the contributing entities. Let’s face it, folks: Does Slug sincerely need yet another series of greenback infusions from your teenage, female cousins? Is Murs in dire need of reaping the financial rewards for skirting the laws of political correctness and throwing up numerous affronts to feminism that would land any other rapper in hot water? Can Aesop Rock buy any more sweaters with large, striped, neutral-hued bands of complexity for rapping like a living, breathing, chopped & screwed dictionary? Needless to say, but I’m going to anyway, this volume of Felt is like a lost 3rd Bass LP from an upside-down dimension where the atmosphere (no fucking pun intended) is thick with Lexapro and pornography. Now I’ve personally never been a Sluggie. This isn’t to say I haven’t heard a handful of his songs that are above-the-cut, but not a rhymesayer (no fucking pun intended) I regularly listen to say rhymes. Murs was a favorite of mine pre-2000, but his output in da noo-noo millennium is kinda doo-doo fuh really, son. Aesop Rock, though: FUCK. His beats sound like they were constructed and sequenced by a pissed-off, pessimistic, pedantic-plus Prince Paul. Initially I assumed it was the element of surprise that ultimately grabs you in terms of the production. The second listen was when it took root that with some more ASR-fueled shit of this caliber, he has the capacity be as compelling with a sampler as he is with a microphone.

The Mother Fucker You’ve Never Heard Of Who Should Be All Up In Your Headphones

With damn near 1,000,000 calling it home, if you’ve lived here long enough you know San Jose is no larger than Mayberry to you. Enter 2 Left Feet. Formerly known to long-time residents as Kefing the Asiatic of the once almighty Epic Paradox. Granted, his subject matter and approach have changed to a certain degree. Yet and still he maintains a jovial accessibility and wit so many in his category lack in droves. It is this distinctness that bleeds into his music. Half-hustler/Half-Ho Slayer. All San Jose.

2 Left Feet

Until next time…..

Peace,
Employee

Felt 3 streaming on Rupert Murdoch’s money pit

Thursday, November 12th, 2009

Striggity-Streaming Here.

Peace,
Employee

“Felt 3″: Cash cow and incestuous promo vehicle

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

Rappers turning profits in this day and age are not to be ignored. However, a cursory glance at the tracklist of the latest Felt incarnation leaves me scratching my head. Twenty-One songs. Twenty-One, really? Rapidly nearing 2LP status. And are we expected to believe that we’ll be treated to top-notch performances on all twenty-one joints? It doesn’t matter whether or not this album delivers, because of the name recognition behind it, the hardcore fanboys (they are many and multiplying) will denounce any criticism as heresy.

I’m also left wondering why Aesop Rock is at the production helm this time around. Isn’t there an army of producers worldwide who are equally suited when placed next to Aesop Rock who would be far better served by this level of exposure? Don’t get it twisted, this has nothing to do with Aes Rizzle’s beat bonafides. But he certainly doesn’t need a boost of this magnitude in helping to further establish his brand.

Who knows? Maybe it drops and kids and adults worldwide shit in their pants over its illy. But at this point it simply feels like a cheap and virtually pain-free method to clock indie megabucks before the year’s end.

Peace,
Employee

Steady Hatin’ with Alaska (Featuring Blockhead)

Monday, September 21st, 2009

We live in a world where positively seems to be the call of the day, whether it is the best selling pseudo-positivity of The Secret or medicated haze of positivity created by big pharma, one thing is for sure, Americans are really scared to let the hate fly. Personally I love the negativity. Most times it is well deserved. Faux positivity is responsible for things like Paris Hilton, Puff Daddy, all the programming on CBS and Canada. The world is anything but a beautiful positive place, just pretending shit is sweet does nothing but make it worse. There was a day and age when people had shame, when Americans were held to a higher standard and when “they hatin” was what ugly girls said about cheerleaders to make themselves feel better about smelling like McRib sandwiches. Now its the calling card of the douche and we accept it, because we need to be positive. Fuck that. Its time to let the hate out and thats just what I plan to do.

I hit up my friend and PF mainstay Blockhead to run a few things by him and let the hate shine down.

blockhead

 

Alaska: So Block here is my vision, I am going to give you a series of topics and you will need to let me know what it is that you hate about them.

Block: that sounds perfectly up my alley.

Alaska: The View.

Block: Hating the view is too easy. It’s annoying bitches talking. sure, it’s supposed to show the different types of women and celebrate all things womanly but it tends to work in reverse and ends up being a celebration of three old crows yelling at one , much prettier and much dumber right wing retarded person. The one thing that pops into my head when i think of “the view” is whenever they have an actor on, there’s a palpable uncomfortable vibe in the room from all the strangely flirtatious banter they throw at uhim. It doesn’t matter if it’s brad pitt or tom green. You get the feeling joy bahar is gonna start unzipping flies at any moment. Not a good look.

Alaska: The Lower East Side.

Block: Much like the rest of NYC , my beef with the lower east side lies much more in the people that inhabit it than the actual place. There was a time when the lower east side was a cutting edge area where only people in the know and/or willing to slum it a little bit would go to hang out. then, much like williamsburg, students and out of towners got wind that it’s was a moderately safe place to live with decent rent. Flash to 20 years later and it’s a sea of vertical striped shirt wearing dickbags stumbling down the street on a friday night cutting loose cause the stock market kicked their ass all week. The one thing LES had going for it, even just 7 years ago, was that kind of element stayed away from it. the frat boy types stuck to midtown or the college bars on 3rd avenue. I guess more bars opened up, the long island/jersey/queens/brooklyn contingent drifted further downtown and that’s where we are now.  With that said, it’s still maintains some sort of diversity and occasionally some dumb girl will mouth off to the wrong kid from the projects and get knocked out. at this point, it’s all we can really ask for.

Alaska: Record Nerds.

Block: The thing i hate most about record nerds is that i often get mistaken for one. I know people assume anyone who makes beats is some crate digging uber geek with a crazy music collection but this just isn’t true. I NEVER listen to my records. anything i like is on my i-tunes. on top of that, 99% of the records i own are complete crap. with exception of a bunch of 90′s era indie rap vinyl, it’s all dollar bin records i sampled and threw in a pile never to be revisited again.

The thing about record nerds is that they tend to live by this “holier then thou” existence. they’re the type who won’t dub an rare album for someone cause..well…I don’t fucking know…they just won’t and it’s infuriating. what they need to understand is that they’re just collectors. what they deem to be a special momento from a lost time that should be cherished is , to a normal person, actually just a record. the best it can do is play music that people enjoy. it should be shared. especially when it’s out of print and the artist is in no way getting a penny from said “momento”. I got respect for people who have large collection of music they love. that’s fine. especially if you actually listen to the music you own, but if you just collect shit cause it’s “rare” regardless of how good the music is, you’re a fucking idiot.

Alaska: Kung Fu Flicks.

Block: For as long as I can remember, I’ve never given a shit about kung fu flicks. Obviously, for the majority of this time, I was only exposed to the most typical films of the genre.  So, a few years ago, I thought I should give it a chance. I have a friend who is a kung fu movie fiend. He owns like 200 dvd’s of rare and critically acclaimed jewels only found in dark alley ways in north korea. I told him to pick a few out and lend them to me. You know what? I still don’t give a shit about them. The thing about kung fu movies is that you know what you’re getting. It’s a lot like porn. They’re all slightly different but you basically know where it’s going as far as action and storyline. The difference being , I can jerk off to porn where as, with kung fu movies, it’s just a bunch of dudes jumping around on wires. It’s like a thugged out “De La Guarda”.

Alaska: Aging Rappers.

Block: NOTHING is sadder than an aging rappers. 38 year old , withered , grown men in fitted baseball hats ,dressing the same way as their children, trying to recapture a flame lost over a decade ago. The worst is when they try and keep up with the times by emulating the styles of todays popular rappers. Rappers they themselves are partially responsible for influencing in some distant way. Hearing Kool G Rap  or Big Daddy Kane try and sound relevant in today’s market breaks my heart. These are guys who set trends in the golden era of hip hop but now are reduced to doing cameos on songs with rappers who don’t deserve a guest spot from asher roth. It’s disgusting. basically, motherfuckers need to know when to hang it up. I know , with the existence of europe, it’s real easy to just go there and tour forever but nothing fucks up a legacy like over staying your welcome.

Alaska: Rage Against The Machine.

Block: In the 90′s there was this big rush to mix rap with other genres. jazz, rock, jam band…all of it. It rarely worked and made for some of the most offensive music ever made. At the forefront of this shitty idea (no disrespect to run dmc who really opened the doors to this crap) were rage against the machine. Shitty riffs with shitty social commentary said by a shitty rapper who sounded like a dying rooster.

I remember, when RATM was popular, meeting people who were obviously not into hip hop. They would find out I was into it and immediately try and connect on some “yo, you must love RATM!”. That’s kinda like if I were to say to a guy “yo, you love getting blow jobs? you must love eating a man’s ass!”.

Alaska: Science Fiction.

Block: Now, I don’t dislike all scifi. Some of it is pretty awesome, but the obsession with it beyond “oh, that’s kinda cool” is fucking retarded. Even worse are the people who take it seriously. The fact that people worship “Star wars” and “Star trek” like they do is just obscene. I know people like to escape reality every now and then but to truly submerge yourself in that kind of silly bullshit is just sad. Take it for what it is: some creative shit made for your entertainment. People get out of hand with that shit. I mean, fucking scientology is based on some scifi crap. It’s insane. To me, scifi is the anti-sports. Everything sports stand for, scifi is the exact opposite. I also notice that people who love scifi rarely like sports (or play them for that matter).

Thanks for the enlightenment Blockhead and thanks to you the reader for embracing the hate and making the world a better place one hateful diatribe at a time.  See you next week.

Alaska