Episode 8 is our Jansport (backpack) special. A tribute to the independent hip-hop movement that helped spawn labels like Fondle ‘Em, Hydra, Rawkus, Stones Throw, Def Jux and ABB records. A time, where the internet played a major role in the music. This era allowed people to DIY, giving them an outlet never had. This movement created dreams, jobs, life-long careers and of course, some amazing music too. Speaking of music, if we covered everything this episode would be 20 hours instead of 2. We picked obscure cuts all the way to classics heard from the late 90s to the early 00s. We got everybody from Mos Def, Company Flow, MF Doom, Murs, Planet Asia, J-Live, Juggaknots, Weatherman, Saukrates, Jigmastas, Cannibal Ox, L-Fudge, Godfather Don, All Natural, Non-Phixon, Cage, Latryx, Mr. Voodoo, K-Otix, and Vakill to name a few. You don’t want to miss this!
Posts Tagged ‘cage’
Weathermen’s The Conspiracy mixtape always hung in a weird limbo. At the time of its release in 2003, in the final sunset hours of the backpack era, many among the target audience were confused and appalled by the thought of their favorite underground heroes rapping over instrumentals concocted in the commercial realm (and thus explicitly off limits to any troo backpakaz.) These days many of these same naysayers have completely broken away from their Rawkus-era affiliations, often if favor of the same rap styles they used to hate in the past. They can only acknowledge the compilation’s existence tentatively, maybe as an addendum to greater appreciation of other more critically favorable music from the same period.
Perhaps I’m being too harsh, as objectively speaking some the songs included have not aged well. In retrospect, some were not great to begin with. The currently embarrassing public images and career developments of several featured artists certainly don’t help. That might sound superficial, but a shitty present tends to put a shitty tint on the past. If there was more El-P, Camu and Brewin in there instead of Copywrite, The Conspiracy might have fared better. But all that aside, there are some things here that are really worth revisiting.
The video is erased from time now. If anyone has a line on the footage, holler @ a player without a bowl haircut. Done Waiting:
Columbus rapper Copywrite videotaped punching Shia LaBeoufâ€™s bff Cage next to a car. This video also has Copy carrying on a phone conversation after the fight with the girl in the video. The conversation is funny bc Copywrite is acting like he wasnâ€™t involved and getting jokes in.
During the actual squabble it looks like Cage is trying to pull something out the trunk and Copy is pounding on his head. Doods used to be friends and make music together. And obviously arenâ€™t and donâ€™t anymore.
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?
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.”
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.
Until next time…..