Here’s some classic (1997) Clipse, before they were angry at record labels (or maybe before they were mad at lackluster sales?)
So there’s a mini feud going between Tom Breihan (formerly of Status Ain’t Cool, the last remnance of worthwhileness at the village voice, now of http://dipdipdive.blogspot.com) and The Clipse about Breihan’s review of the Play Clothes Mixtape, another fun yet sadly disposable download brought to us by VA’s greatest. Their previous almost real album length releases WGIFC vol. 3 and Clipse Present: Re-Up Gang were worse than this new bit, I have to admit, but this little feud has brought to life a debate I remember having with, or well, being the middle man between it felt, a couple of my former college newspaper editors.
Note something for a second, with the exception of the blog where I was informed of this whole spat* I havn’t provided links to any of the above. That’s how little I think of said mixtapes and my former college newspaper, which hasn’t put an issue online since May of this year. I’m actually at home sitting out my college alumni holiday party to be home blogging on a Friday night pissed off that people still talk about music as appealing to one gender or another.
Thing is, once upon a time, Clipse were able to do girl records, or something like them, anyway, in a way that didn’t just turn the songs into morbid jokes. With breakout single “Grindin'”, Malice and Pusha established the dead-eyed coke-talk they’re still running with six years later. But they also made “When the Last Time”, one of this century’s greatest club jams. On that and a handful of other Lord Willin’ tracks– songs released in 2002, when the duo had something to do with the commercial rap landscape– Clipse seemed totally genuine talking about how club night was one of the reasons they loved life, and their cold monotones worked just as well on frothy dance-pop tracks as on harshly mechanical tough-guy shit. That was them on Justin Timberlake’s “Like I Love You”, after all.
Breihan at Pitchfork in his 7.3 review of Road to Till the Casket Drops
And then someone from the Clipse camp, probably Malice or Pusha, came back with a post here, and the money quote of that We Rap Fuck Everything Else being:
The Clipse used to make good girl records? The Clipse have always made good records, period. Unlike many of our peers, we don’t get in the studio with the aim of making a club record, or a record for the ladies. In fact, if you’ve followed our career, you’ll note that even our most popular, club-celebrated joints contain dangerously hard subject matter.
But it’s not even exactly about what one gender wants, it’s actually about danceable records, and whether or not that comes naturally in one’s music and can one have a career without making club records.
Currently, Clipse are having a rough time making a career either way, I guess you could say. I mean everyone’s having trouble selling like they used to these days. Britney sold 505K and that’s supposedly a brilliantly executed comeback. And then, there’s Busta Rhymes, the actual focus of my anger, who rumor has it is trapped in that Tom Cruise confined location, who made a single called, believe it or not, “Arab Money.”
Here’s the Official Video:
And then there’s this absurd clip from a recent Busta Concert, where the washed up homophobic lyricist does the silliest thing he’s done ever, he dances while waving his hands in the air, but his gut swings more than his arms do:
Okay, Busta, is this your attempt to do a dance record? No need to answer, we all know what’s up here. You made the laziest dance since the Lazy Susan One Step. I seriously want someone to check Busta into rap rehab (make him listen to, my least favorite song of all decade, The Sweet Escape, until he promises never to try to make a club dance track again). Or better yet, Busta: RETIRE ALREADY. You’re past your fucking prime and even worse your expiration date. Sure, for some reason Sasha Frere Jones draws attention to “Don’t Touch Me (Throw Da Water On ‘Em)”, which would be decent if it would have been released on some WWF entrance music cash-in. Yes, Busta’s best work is basically Pro Wrestler Entrance Music now. Ugh. Wake me up when ‘Till The Casket Drops comes out.
* Made you fucking look. Yes, I said spat, now scroll back up and progress.