I read a recent article revolving around the Kanye and Jay-Z song "N****s in Paris" that featured the likes of the blue-haired Siren Katy Perry covering the Watch the Throne hit at karaoke, which of course made it a natural YouTube clip sensation. Now, this particular writer was curious at the start about what form of the "N word" she would use while singing, whether it be the white person appropriate phrase or just n****s in general to adhere to the rules of verbatim in karaoke. She proceeded to use the word ninja, which has been circulated for about 10 years as an "appropriate" substitute.
Obviously, not the most exciting report, but the point was that thrusting whatever gussied up version of THAT word out there does not change the fact that people are thinking about n**** in general, as Louis C.K. famously stated as part of his stand-up act. Why not say it? It does not change the fact that it is there, staring us in the face. For me, when n****s is in the context of a song, I blatantly say it because it has ever important quotations around it, not suggesting any different undertones than what the artist is exclaiming through the majesty of music. It's a quote, and when a quote is tampered with, especially one people know and can recite themselves, it loses its significance. I feel like I'm doing a disservice to the songwriter or singer if I self-editorialize.
My point of reiterating another writer's point? In the same article, Jay-Z was asked a question by this writer if white people came up to him and just said n**** to his face in the context of the song, and if he thought white people just liked having an excuse to say n**** (Consequently, one of my favorite songs is "Real N**** Role Call", by Lil' Jon and the Eastside Boyz, but not because I can say n**** 149x but because it's the dirtiest song I know.) He responded by saying white people should just call it "Paris", which seems to me like there are different sets of rules for different people, so it's essentially reverse racism. We HAVE to edit ourselves for his song, (by we I mean white people of course), despite the fact that he put the word n**** in the title to express the exorbitant lifestyle he and his boy Kanye have crafted for themselves after overcoming the stigma of being just n****s. Aren't we being somewhat racist as white people if we take that word out of the title since we are denigrating the message? People know the song, they know the actual title, and we think about it, so let's just say it. We shouldn't have to edit ourselves and sound like idiots, like Katy Perry undoubtedly did, by switching words that are direct quotes from the mouths of the authors. Also, using the term ninja probably offends all those people who spent numerous hours training to become silent assassins only to be deemed as "in Paris and they going gorillas"
Finally, I come to the meat of my rambling, which will more than likely make me sound so racist I'd probably be the most non-racist individual on the planet. When I think about rap music, in this day and age, it is so much more difficult to be a white rapper than a black rapper, and not for the obvious reasons like lack of rhythm or lack of respect in a predominantly black medium. I feel that crafting rap lyrics as a white person is much harder than a black person because black rappers have the buffer to use n**** in their songs, while white rappers are stuck with terms like honky, which sounds really uncool for a reason. Let's bring back my reference to "Real N**** Role Call" with 149 uses of the word n****. Now, I would never fathom tell Lil' Jon that his masterful weaving of words should be downgraded at all, but 149x? That's an entire verse in some cases, which would make the whole process worlds easier in my estimation. Also, the hardest part about rapping and making it sound good are decent transitions of lines and rhymes, finding genius seg-ways to seem more poetic and smooth. I constantly hear n**** being used as a transitional word, and utilized multiple times in that capacity in the same song, which doesn't seem unique or deft in any stretch, but simple.
A lot of black rappers fall into that category of being unoriginal or unimaginative with their lyrics, which in this day and age really doesn't matter because people really care about the beat and the bass, not the words. However, a lot of traditionalists believe the poetry of painting a picture with your lyrics, whether it be a tale of struggle or success, is vital to the craft. Rap is a craft, and obviously not all black rappers fall into this vein, but a number of them are destroying the craft of rap, making rappers like Eminem seem even more extraordinary because he is not only a white dude who raps quickly and decisively, but with passion and imagination that requires woven intricacies of phrases and sentences to tell a story that only he could cite. He is restricted with what he can say, but you couldn't picture him as having boundaries; he is unique in that people see him as a rapper without looking at his ethnicity first or celebrating his success despite his white heritage. He is a modern bard, and the majority of rappers can't be put in those terms, and most of that minutia are black rappers, so in my mind, black rappers have it so easy that they are challenged even further to be great, making rappers like Jay-Z interesting since, removing "N****s in Paris" from the discussion, which only uses n**** a handful of times anyway, he never relied on THAT word, making him the cream of the diluted black rapper crop. So, talented black rappers have it easy and hard as we will not fault them for using n****s occasionally but we will if they use it explicitly and if they manage to not let it define them and their music, they are seemingly better than their peers who rely on using n****s just to make a song flow. So, for those scoring at home, being a successful white rapper is challenging, being a masterful rap artist and white is incomparable, being a successful black rapper is less challenging, but being a masterful rap artist and black is special. (Someone will likely deem my assessment and divvying out of superlatives for particular racial groups as racist, but I can't Inception myself beyond 8 different levels of racism, although if you aren't black or white and successful at rapping, you are on your own level.)
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
We Have to Move the Island!
"One of these things is not like the other"
I really enjoy quoting failing shows (I took this from a Fringe episode) because either people know the line and thus have been committed to the plot or became aware of its existence later, thought it was too far to get into or probably in its twilight, and didn't bother. So, more than likely those who understand the origin are on the same level of fandom as me, or not worth my time for cordial discussion, so those people can throw themselves into the path of the ever-speeding Chris Brown hate-train, conducted by Miranda Lambert and every woman EVER IN EXISTENCE!
When having these types of philosophical discussions with like-minders, mutual respect seaps out of everyone's pores to the point that we start marinating in it, which sounds delicious but can really ruin the validity of points being made. Antithesis breeds further understanding and more prominent prepardedness by individuals who do not want to sound like Stuttering Stanley when speaking, so I invite anyone (although I can tell from the outset whose opinions I should consider and whose I should file away in my Afterthought Box, along with everyone who has tried to convince me Erin Andrews is hotter than Rachel Nichols) to contradict my views on something I noticed the other day.
In the brief moments of peace I mustered on Friday night from the mischievious imps that are my niece and nephews, I was watching J.J. Abrams' Star Trek, and I thought about all the shows I incorporated into my obviously full life that Mr. Abrams has had a hand in, and especially at this current time, as his fingerprints are smudging network TV like a sub-standard criminal.
Everything will always draw comparisons to Lost, and subsequently fall short like a Drive Shaft reunion tour, but interestingly enough, of the 3 shows currently airing as created by the famed Alias creator, the odd one out, the one not like the others, is the one that will inevitably have the most staying power: Person of Interest.
Now, I'd be the first to say contemporary television is oversaturated with crime dramas (and also documentary-styled comedies, but that's for another day), but PoI has a freshness about it resonating mostly from the quality of the acting and the badass-ness of the character development. How many times can we expect to find something novel in the whole "vigilante framework, working outside, above, below, around, through the heart and up the anus of the law" schtick? Well, how many times can you watch Jesus as an ex-CIA agent taking down mobsters and drug kingpins while only shooting baddies' legs, and being helped and redeemed by the greatest network drama's master manipulator Ben Linus? In my opinion, I could watch that every week, as it brings about a sort of epic overhaul and takedown of, in this case, New York City's criminal underbelly, with even cops and politicians in the tow (OK, not a big leap there). However, all this tenuous two-some have to go on is a Social Security number, as spat out by a government machine that was designed to preemptively determine violent crimes. Who designed this contraption you ask? Why, none other than one man big brother himself, Michael Emerson. Unfortunately, a gimpy leg prevents him from enacting the full potential of the machine, so he plucks Jim Caviezel off the former spy trash heap and provides him with unlimited resources, no real answers to any god-forsaken question asked, and some nerdy wit to drive him to intervene on unsuspecting (or possibly suspecting) New Yorkers' behalves, not knowing if the number is for a victim or a perpetrator.
It's a little contrived of a premise, and there is a constant annoyance that everyone who pops up in Dr. Linus' Mean Bean Machine generally gives up questioning the purpose and circumstances of Caviezel's character's entrance into their growing shit-storms of situations after a single gun shot is fired...
"Are you a Fed or something?" asks an undercover cop.
"Or something." Reese (Caviezel) curtly replies.
(I mean, this happens in every episode, but what would a J.J. Abrams drama be without catch phrases and repeat dialogue)
But I am engrossed each week, to find out what the two main characters manage to find out about one another (as their personal lives are completely blacked out on record) and how the dynamic of the relationship will change once more bubbles to the surface. Caviezel and Emerson have similar personality types in the show, although the way each acts is worlds apart, but two Type-? personalities manage to play off one another, which goes against the concept of every show I have ever watched on television, that opposites attract, and attract intriguing interaction, but for PoI, that doesn't have to exist.
As for the other two shows, Fringe and Alcatraz, they seem to be carbon copies of one another. Law enforcement girl meets loner-ish type male civilian with a high IQ, law enforcement girl recruits civilian boy to work for an agency (in this case, they are both FBI) due to their unique skill sets, and law enforcement girl and civilian boy solve crimes with weird and supernatural tendencies.
I am a big Fringe supporter, but Fox decided to move it to Fridays in an anticipatory move for its inevitable cancellation (I call that TV's Death Penalty, so Fringe was like the SMU Mustangs of this fall). I think it has almost jumped the shark, and it more than likely sealed its own demise when it ended Season 3 (FAUX SPOILER ALERT!) with Joshua Jackson's character Peter getting blotted out of existence because he "served his purpose" and didn't exist, like the universe initially intended before one of the alopecia-infected Observers intervened. Fringe was a cult favorite, but unless it gets a Chuck-like push of fan support, it is more than likely 4 and out.
Since Alcatraz was receiving enormous hype for about 6 weeks before it aired in January, and I promised myself I wouldn't buy into it, but I'm a fickle creature, and I thought, a crime drama with Dr. Grant (Sam Neill) and Hurley (Jorge Garcia) on an island could not possibly tank, so why not try it out? It opened with it's two hour premiere well, but since that time, even with it's prime location after House on Mondays, it has somewhat lost steam. Part of that is due to the uncertainty of what is going to take over Alcatraz's lead-in, as House has been cancelled, and the other, more significant part is it's seeming lack of depth after 6 weeks of existence, despite how closely it wants to associate itself with it's superior predecessor. One of the greatest parts of Lost was how it incorporated it's flashbacks to mirror the plot lines in real time while providing necessary character development that made us root or root against different people every week while allowing this mystery to fester on the periphery. (Why are these people here? Who came before them? Etc.) Alcatraz tries to emulate the intrigue of the mystery without the broadening of the characters, at least as of yet, and while the cuteness of corpulent Dr. Soto (Garcia) being involved in police investigations was fun at first, the novelty has worn off. Since it is a crime drama, new criminals get filtered in and out each week, so we are unsure of who to invest in for a prime villian. Turnover brings about ambiguous feelings for viewers in the context of a television show,and too much can sap out any tangible commitment.
So, the central theme is that while imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, which isn't a textbook case here because the developer for the prototype was also the developer of the copies, it is unfathomably impossible to bottle magic or lighting twice. Lost, at least for me, stands alone atop the pantheon of television artistry, so while it's hard to question the great J.J. Abrams (I think he could make a show entirely about monkeys flinging excrement at dry wall and get it picked up for 22 episodes), I don't think he should try to model his shows after his greatest creation. I cannot watch Alcatraz and not think about Hurley running away from the Others and various alternative dangers on The Island as opposed to the fake island, which is Alcatraz, which isn't really fake because it exists and not Lost's island. Ironically enough, the one show that deviates from the Abrams norm will more than likely continue on past the other two, which I didn't think possible at the time, but you cannot count out the Kobe-Shaq combo that is Jesus-Ben Linus.
I really enjoy quoting failing shows (I took this from a Fringe episode) because either people know the line and thus have been committed to the plot or became aware of its existence later, thought it was too far to get into or probably in its twilight, and didn't bother. So, more than likely those who understand the origin are on the same level of fandom as me, or not worth my time for cordial discussion, so those people can throw themselves into the path of the ever-speeding Chris Brown hate-train, conducted by Miranda Lambert and every woman EVER IN EXISTENCE!
When having these types of philosophical discussions with like-minders, mutual respect seaps out of everyone's pores to the point that we start marinating in it, which sounds delicious but can really ruin the validity of points being made. Antithesis breeds further understanding and more prominent prepardedness by individuals who do not want to sound like Stuttering Stanley when speaking, so I invite anyone (although I can tell from the outset whose opinions I should consider and whose I should file away in my Afterthought Box, along with everyone who has tried to convince me Erin Andrews is hotter than Rachel Nichols) to contradict my views on something I noticed the other day.
In the brief moments of peace I mustered on Friday night from the mischievious imps that are my niece and nephews, I was watching J.J. Abrams' Star Trek, and I thought about all the shows I incorporated into my obviously full life that Mr. Abrams has had a hand in, and especially at this current time, as his fingerprints are smudging network TV like a sub-standard criminal.
Everything will always draw comparisons to Lost, and subsequently fall short like a Drive Shaft reunion tour, but interestingly enough, of the 3 shows currently airing as created by the famed Alias creator, the odd one out, the one not like the others, is the one that will inevitably have the most staying power: Person of Interest.
Now, I'd be the first to say contemporary television is oversaturated with crime dramas (and also documentary-styled comedies, but that's for another day), but PoI has a freshness about it resonating mostly from the quality of the acting and the badass-ness of the character development. How many times can we expect to find something novel in the whole "vigilante framework, working outside, above, below, around, through the heart and up the anus of the law" schtick? Well, how many times can you watch Jesus as an ex-CIA agent taking down mobsters and drug kingpins while only shooting baddies' legs, and being helped and redeemed by the greatest network drama's master manipulator Ben Linus? In my opinion, I could watch that every week, as it brings about a sort of epic overhaul and takedown of, in this case, New York City's criminal underbelly, with even cops and politicians in the tow (OK, not a big leap there). However, all this tenuous two-some have to go on is a Social Security number, as spat out by a government machine that was designed to preemptively determine violent crimes. Who designed this contraption you ask? Why, none other than one man big brother himself, Michael Emerson. Unfortunately, a gimpy leg prevents him from enacting the full potential of the machine, so he plucks Jim Caviezel off the former spy trash heap and provides him with unlimited resources, no real answers to any god-forsaken question asked, and some nerdy wit to drive him to intervene on unsuspecting (or possibly suspecting) New Yorkers' behalves, not knowing if the number is for a victim or a perpetrator.
It's a little contrived of a premise, and there is a constant annoyance that everyone who pops up in Dr. Linus' Mean Bean Machine generally gives up questioning the purpose and circumstances of Caviezel's character's entrance into their growing shit-storms of situations after a single gun shot is fired...
"Are you a Fed or something?" asks an undercover cop.
"Or something." Reese (Caviezel) curtly replies.
(I mean, this happens in every episode, but what would a J.J. Abrams drama be without catch phrases and repeat dialogue)
But I am engrossed each week, to find out what the two main characters manage to find out about one another (as their personal lives are completely blacked out on record) and how the dynamic of the relationship will change once more bubbles to the surface. Caviezel and Emerson have similar personality types in the show, although the way each acts is worlds apart, but two Type-? personalities manage to play off one another, which goes against the concept of every show I have ever watched on television, that opposites attract, and attract intriguing interaction, but for PoI, that doesn't have to exist.
As for the other two shows, Fringe and Alcatraz, they seem to be carbon copies of one another. Law enforcement girl meets loner-ish type male civilian with a high IQ, law enforcement girl recruits civilian boy to work for an agency (in this case, they are both FBI) due to their unique skill sets, and law enforcement girl and civilian boy solve crimes with weird and supernatural tendencies.
I am a big Fringe supporter, but Fox decided to move it to Fridays in an anticipatory move for its inevitable cancellation (I call that TV's Death Penalty, so Fringe was like the SMU Mustangs of this fall). I think it has almost jumped the shark, and it more than likely sealed its own demise when it ended Season 3 (FAUX SPOILER ALERT!) with Joshua Jackson's character Peter getting blotted out of existence because he "served his purpose" and didn't exist, like the universe initially intended before one of the alopecia-infected Observers intervened. Fringe was a cult favorite, but unless it gets a Chuck-like push of fan support, it is more than likely 4 and out.
Since Alcatraz was receiving enormous hype for about 6 weeks before it aired in January, and I promised myself I wouldn't buy into it, but I'm a fickle creature, and I thought, a crime drama with Dr. Grant (Sam Neill) and Hurley (Jorge Garcia) on an island could not possibly tank, so why not try it out? It opened with it's two hour premiere well, but since that time, even with it's prime location after House on Mondays, it has somewhat lost steam. Part of that is due to the uncertainty of what is going to take over Alcatraz's lead-in, as House has been cancelled, and the other, more significant part is it's seeming lack of depth after 6 weeks of existence, despite how closely it wants to associate itself with it's superior predecessor. One of the greatest parts of Lost was how it incorporated it's flashbacks to mirror the plot lines in real time while providing necessary character development that made us root or root against different people every week while allowing this mystery to fester on the periphery. (Why are these people here? Who came before them? Etc.) Alcatraz tries to emulate the intrigue of the mystery without the broadening of the characters, at least as of yet, and while the cuteness of corpulent Dr. Soto (Garcia) being involved in police investigations was fun at first, the novelty has worn off. Since it is a crime drama, new criminals get filtered in and out each week, so we are unsure of who to invest in for a prime villian. Turnover brings about ambiguous feelings for viewers in the context of a television show,and too much can sap out any tangible commitment.
So, the central theme is that while imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, which isn't a textbook case here because the developer for the prototype was also the developer of the copies, it is unfathomably impossible to bottle magic or lighting twice. Lost, at least for me, stands alone atop the pantheon of television artistry, so while it's hard to question the great J.J. Abrams (I think he could make a show entirely about monkeys flinging excrement at dry wall and get it picked up for 22 episodes), I don't think he should try to model his shows after his greatest creation. I cannot watch Alcatraz and not think about Hurley running away from the Others and various alternative dangers on The Island as opposed to the fake island, which is Alcatraz, which isn't really fake because it exists and not Lost's island. Ironically enough, the one show that deviates from the Abrams norm will more than likely continue on past the other two, which I didn't think possible at the time, but you cannot count out the Kobe-Shaq combo that is Jesus-Ben Linus.
Minus the 19th century academic attire, it's hard to distinguish between Hurley and Doc Soto
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