Chimera Star Junction

• My “I sound like I’m bitching but I’m just whining aloud like Drake does” post
• My “Hits and Fails of 2011” post
• Give a shit that 2011 is now 2012…

You know, with the new year on me, a lack of textual whining, no discernible accomplishments from the previous year, no post on how I think Herman Cain qualifies as the most important person of 2011, and even now just a load of questions with no answers so much as a mental database of music that accompanies my draining mind state (thank you Yasunori Mitsuda), my very demeanor is so very… blah.

Apathy is death.  These words from Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic 2 stick with me because the further and further I get through life the further and further I think I’m falling into the trap of not caring enough about things, or even caring period about many things, and steadily I can see myself becoming the very thing I hate: the people that don’t want me to be like them.  Motivation is an illusive thing and ideas flourish but the drive to see them anywhere but in the perfection of my electrical impulses is overpowering.  Everyone says the first step is the hardest, but we try to avoid all pain in an effort to stay in relative comfort.  We say we’ll go back to church one day, just not next Sunday.  We’ll go on a diet after the chicken wing dinner next week.  We’ll have that screenplay written by the end of the year, just gotta wait for the right spark.  I know three people that haven’t accomplished those above goals yet and I can say they all need a good shot of “Ass Kicking” to get going.  I can get on two of them right now.

Maybe the biggest reason I don’t feel bad about this lack of momentum is because I haven’t actively sought anything this year, except for maybe a few video games.  My anger comes from me not pushing myself, and that’s more annoyance than anything else.  Everyone has the idea that they’ll have A, B and C done at this point, this being age 17 or age 21 or age 28 or age 35, who knows?  All I really want to be able to do is say that I’ve been able to actively contribute to a collective of talented writers (which I can), sampled some of the city’s finest things (which I do) and erased any regrets I may have had (and there was only one… and that’s ongoing).  All in all, I can’t say I’m in Japan hobnobbing with Miyazaki (but that would be SO COOL!) but I’m not in a bad position.  I just have to admit I’m surrounded by extraordinary people who aren’t happy just moving ahead of the pack but light years ahead of it.  Hey, y’all have fun doing that, I wish y’all the best.  Truth be told I’m already on my cosmic treadmill, though: you cats are catching up with an old man whose seen the world but didn’t want it.

I joke.  Well, not really.  Don’t want a throne; just a home one day.  What’s the point of me saying all this?  When I get back to Atlanta I’ll still be a hopeless romantic of a dreamer, I’ll still be thinking about kicking someone in the teeth over old stuff, I’ll still be procrastinating on projects I claim to be in love with, and if I’m lucky I’ll have something set up so my summer isn’t just in ATL but in Florida too (we’ll see).  When I look at it like that, however…

2011 wasn’t a bad year.  I had some good music, good food, good drink, only threw up once, only wasted a bit of money, not too bad really.  Can’t really say I wish I did things differently: that would imply regret.  No regret.  Ah hell, who cares?  My year end thing will just come at the beginning of this year.  My good ol’ Hits and Fails piece.  I’ll just go ahead and give the biggest one here:

The DiZ’s 2011 Person of the Year is…

Yes, businessman, Baptist minister, Morehouse Man, GOP hopeful and all around Smiley Rogers impersonator, Herman Cain gets the DiZ Award for Excellence this year for Person of the Year.  Ladies and gentleman, this man simply has it all.  He’s well spoken, well traveled, well read, well dressed, well… hmm?  I’m sorry, what’s that?  He stutters when he talks about African nations?  He’s never actually been outside of the country?  He… wears the same suit repeatedly?  Ah… I see… well then, after a quick recount thanks to Mr. Gregory Abernathy of Florida, it seems that the Person of the Year Award for 2011 actually goes to…

Rick Ross, ladies and gentlemen, for the oft-thought impossible task of making the following guy go from terribly lame go-go conscious rapper to almost tolerable lame and bland go-go strip club crooner:

Being a producer of value is hard in today’s realm of hip hop.  Your Kanye West figures and Justice Leagues (not to be confused with the relevant-to-this-review Justus League) are big because they either produce for big names (Rick Ross, and yes, pun intended) or for themselves for their own opuses.  A pure producer is a hard line of work in today’s landscape, but they also get the money.

9^th Wonder serves a special role.  He’s one of the more acclaimed producers of 21^st century hip hop, produces as something of a “little brother” if you will to the late J. Dilla and the legendary Primo, and has cosigns from both big name underground types and big name mainstream cats, from the collective he once produced for: Little Brother, to one of those who told us to watch the throne (Jay-Z).  Alas, as a producer he has remained in the backdrop, just putting out dope beat after dope beat and seemingly effortlessly finding dope artists to put dope rhymes to them.

This is why producer albums are so interesting.  They function as showcases of the repertoire and ultimate skill of the beatmaker, and as a result work as non-essential “fuck you” messages to the diehard fans.  This sounds like a bad thing, but it’s a more or less rude way of saying that they have total freedom versus trying to fit into a mold set by outside forces.  This method wins fans, loses others, etc.

Let’s talk something really important before we get into this prototype review: this is NOT 9^th Wonder’s first album.  Dream Merchant, Volume 2 came out a few years back and Volume 1 was a mixtape before that.  This is arguably his second album, and one of the many questions you immediately ask is “Did the sophomore slump hit 9^th after all these years of wonderful delay?”  I hope this review answers your questions.

This is an experimental piece, where instead of just saying what I like and don’t like I’m going to ask a few questions and elaborate on those very questions a bit, which should manifest into an interesting and worthwhile post, with a brief paragraph or two before the actual queries.  Thus, let this Q-and-A review of 9^th Wonder’s The Wonder Years commence. 

The Wonder Years is the result of years of work from professor 9^th Wonder.  Released on his own label, the beatmaker has delved into the depths of his skill and inspiration to produce an album of wide ranging feels, styles, moods and emotions that have manifested into an impressive, if off-balanced, collection.  Is it good?  Is it bad?  The answer can be given through general questions.  So, question one.

Question 1: When did rappers begin thinking it was okay to not rhyme?

I don’t like 9^thmatic.  I don’t like it when producers take to the microphone as a means of “expressing themselves” (need I remind you of Swizz Beatz?) when they do it just fine – and BETTER – on their productions.  When 9^th takes the microphone he “raps” and he isn’t winning any verse of the year awards anytime soon.  To be honest, I like how personal he is with his style, but that doesn’t mean he needs to actually BE on the microphone.  The opening track, Make It Big, features producers 9^th Wonder and Khrysis rapping, and to my surprise Khrysis CAN rap.  Cue the heart attack. 

This is problematic, 9^thmatic, because other rappers and singers on the album deliver on average.  Phonte and Median prove that they have natural chemistry again with Band Practice and newcomers like Kendrick Lamar show up on tracks like Enjoy, but like I said: on average.  Marsha Ambrosius on Peanut Butter & Jelly doesn’t do much to increase her presence in the musical world and Mac Millerdelivers a lazy hook on That’s Love despite passable verses (which are more attributed to the track itself, I admit).  The real issue with this is that 9^th becomes more of a median performer on the album because he isn’t the weakest vocal factor, which is still bad.  I’m just glad he only has one song he raps.  Moving on!

Question 2: Do American producers intently listen to international producers?

One of my favorite hip hop tracks was produced by the late producer Nujabes, on his album Metaphorical Music.  The song is called Lady Brown, and the rapper is from Florida-based group CYNE: Cise Star.  I say all this because I swear I get the same vibe of that song from 9^th Wonder’s Never Stop Loving You, featuring singing Terrace Martin and underground legend Talib Kweli.  This isn’t a question of criticism, just wondering. 

That’s it.  Yeah, I’m just thinking out loud.  Plenty of songs on this album, whether focused on lyrical exhibitions like Skyzoo, Fashawn and King Mez on Hearing the Melody or expanding on the jazzy flows with the nightclub-like One Night, carry the spirit of many generations of music and styles.  This is a plus to the album as a whole.  Yep.  Next question.

Question 3: Where is “So Sincurr”?

When The Wonder Years was first announced, the Big Treal and Tyler Woods track So Sincurr was one of my favorites.  Dirty, nasty, just a total mess, it was beautiful.  It’s a terrific song.  One of my favorite lines: “…and your robust ass can drop coochie juice on my mustache”. 

Question 4: Where the fuck is “So Sincurr”?!

I’m serious, that song was great!  Come on, 9^th!

Question 5: Why so many track features?

Now let me elaborate on this question a bit.  As a producer, you HAVE to have a buttload of features on the album, but my question is why are there so many features PER TRACK.  A lot of these tracks could have benefitted from one or two less artists on them.  Streets of Music is an okay enough song, but perhaps the trio of Tanya Morgan was too much for the track.  Same goes for Piranhas where you have the mysterious Blu rapping alongside unknown Sundown, or No Pretending with Raekwon and Big Remo. 

Stop.  This doesn’t mean that the song is lesser without them; on the contrary: the verses are usually worthwhile, but they seem to stretch the song to lengths or powers they have no business being.  Speaking of which…

Question 6: Why are so many tracks so long?!

Hearing Erykah Badu on a 9^th Wonder track is usually immaculate.  Honey was great.  The best thing it had going for it was that it was at a good length that coincided with Badu’s voice.  Hearing her with Rapsody on 20 Feet Tall is good, for the first few minutes.  Repetition is a cornerstone of hip hop (we call it a hook) but combine it with a somewhat dull beat and it becomes “Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.”

I take it back: it’s not a dull beat, just an unrealized one.  This is the case for many of the beats: the track length doesn’t mesh with the verses and the track itself.  Compare it to looking at a massive mosaic that just barely works as a whole.  This is a consistent case, but not always a deal breaker.  Though I admit, it does bring us to my last question.

Question 7: Why isn’t it as defined as “Dream Merchant, Volume 2”?

This is the meat of the argument I have with this album.  I don’t dislike The Wonder Years but I don’t love it either; it lacks the focus and consistency of his previous effort.  Compare it to the stock market.  Dream Merchant was like a steadily rising stock, not deviating too far from the general feel of the mood of the album as a whole, whereas The Wonder Years has plenty of stark rises and steep drops.  Those of you that invest in the stock market in any capacity know that you have to take risks sometimes, and sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t.  Dream Merchant was safe, but it was a steadily rising safe.  The album worked on a whole because everything blended together so well and made such a perfect impact.  Think of it like a satellite launch: it goes up and has no intention of coming back down.

The Wonder Years isn’t so charitable.  There are peaks and valleys, hills and puddles, and ultimately Make It Big comes full circle to A Star U R and plays like a roller coaster back at the gate. 

In this respect, I can’t fault 9^th Wonder.  He, like I said earlier, has free reign to do what he pleases, and he took some serious risks.  Many artists do this, and the reaction and staying ability of the fans proves their fandom.  Personally, I can’t say I’m too thrilled with The Wonder Years, but it’s worth a listen or two.  Our friend here stepped out of the box and tried something new, but the result is mixed at best.  It’s not 9^th’s best work, but it’s a decent album.  Worth the wait?  For one or two listens, sure.  Here’s hoping his next effort properly portrays 9^th as the star he already is.

The DiZ Score: 3.5 out of 5

“Only thing that keeps Phonte out of everyone’s top 5 is no solo album, period.” – Anonymous.

What can we say about Phonte?  The Little Brother frontman, one half of the Grammy nominated Foreign Exchange, eighties pop music aficionado, self-proclaimed ‘lationship counsla’, and even – and probably best of all – only living relative of the tragically deceased Ladies’ Champ Percy Miracles.  He is all these things and one fucking good rapper to boot.  One of the finest Southern lyricists to ever bless the genre of hip hop, Phonte falls into a category with Philadelphia’s Black Thought or Atlanta’s Big Boi.  All of them are lyrically gifted, dismantle beats, and sadly live in the shadows of the group that they are associated with.

Despite this, however, Phonte has managed to break away from the shade of Little Brother, much like Big Boi did with his solo effort and Black Thought is apparently on the road to doing.  Phonte branched out with Foreign Exchange, remaining part of a group while crafting his own identity.  Still rapping but heavily adding singing to his repitoire, some of his fans turned a deaf ear to him and others cried in loud voices for Phonte to return exclusively to the role of the emcee.  Apparently they never listened to his rhymes intently…

“…heard Phontiga carry a tune and assumed he done got soft/They didn’t understand it was my next direction…”

But the people clamor, and they cry and they beg and they all shed tears and whine intently until they get what they want.  But where some artists concede to their fans, those who subscribe to Justus take their time.  Phonte, in the shadow of Little Brother and the Foreign Exchange, took the mantle as one of the South’s finest but because he wasn’t going for dolo on an effort he lacked the singular indisputable claim to the title.  But no longer.  After a long wait, Charity Starts at Home comes to our ears it was well worth the wait.

“‘Tigallo for Dolo’ is one of his finest verses.  He ain’t gonna reach that level again.” – Anonymous.

The album can be loosely divided into two parts: lyrical exhibitions and the aforementioned ‘lationship counsla’.  This goes much deeper than just rapping Tae and singing Tae.  Part of Phonte Coleman’s appeal has been a natural gift to seamlessly meld together humor, wordplay and relatable subject matter in every line of every verse.  With this gift he addresses blue collar mentality (The Good Fight) and relationships, specifically his marriage and the monogamy therein, a welcome and refreshing shift to the common theme of bitches and hos.

However, when Phonte wants to show off his wordplay, he delivers.  He bursts out of the gate with force with “Dance in the Reign” featuring Sy Smith where he reminds us that he’s on that “separate excrement” and doesn’t let up with “The Good Fight” where he says that he is told to never sell out but asks “what the fuck is selling out when ain’t nobody selling?”

Lyrically, especially on his own exhibitions, Phonte never seems to let up, dropping line after line like sheet after sheet of sound, but he maintains such a relatable tone and appeal that it all flows like water for the listener.  After four exhibitions, Phonte switches to his “lationship counsla” and begins a sequence that goes on for four songs, from “Sending My Love” to “Gonna Be a Beautiful Night”.

“He done shifted almost all his focus on singing now.  His album ain’t finna be shit.” – Anonymous.

These tracks work in a significant and, frankly, charming way.  “Sending My Love” details a man nearly falling to infidelity but choosing against it while “Ball and Chain” does something of a 180 and details the very paradoxes of such a relationship he decided not to betray.  “To Be Yours” is an interlude and “Gonna Be a Beautiful Night” is just what the title says, featuring vocals from Carlitta Durand, and almost like an apology from the transgressions from the song that began the sequence.  This plays out so well, and displays Phonte’s singing prominently while also showing that he can be a capable rapper under any circumstance AND puts into words the plotline of Atlus game Catherine, considering you’re the complacent monogamous type. *coughs*

But what really makes this album?  Phonte’s words alone have the capacity to carry the album, and the singing vocalists are welcome additions, but Phonte shines twice as bright with the production and the guest emcees, all of whom enhance the songs without overshadowing the man in charge.  The highlight of the features comes from “The Life of Kings”, featuring Mr. Slow Flow himself and impressive newcomer Big K.R.I.T.  9^th Wonder handles a grand scope of the production but varies up his style to a degree that it sounds like he’s producing a solo album versus an extension of the Little Brother canon.

“Yeah, ‘Not Here Anymore’ was aight.  Charity Starts at Home might be aight too, I don’t know.” – Anonymous.

All these elements come together to a cohesive and fleeting album.  There’s a question a lot of people had for me personally: does it support your own claim?  It’s true that I am a huge fan of both Little Brother and the Foreign Exchange, and I do claim Phonte as one of my top three rappers of all time, but I’ve never been one to kiss ass.  The question they asked me was if this album would solidify my claim of Phonte being one of the greatest rappers ever.  My response: kind of.

For the fan, this album delivers more of the no-frills observations and humorous metaphors that Phonte has been hitting us with for years, just in a more focused and absolute manner.  For the other listener, it serves as a welcome introduction to a fantastic rapper.  Does it serve as a definitive album?  The answer, yet again, is kind of.  Partly because he sings during that sequence on the same scale just as much as he raps, partly because of other factors that can be felt but not spoken or written.  The constant phrase of “New Tigallo” spoken throughout carries great weight despite it becoming a bit annoying throughout the entire album.  What he’s spitting and singing isn’t new, but it’s might well be another incarnation of his “next direction”.

“Who the fuck is Phonte, Chris?!” – Anonymous.

Who?  After listening to this album, a (still) hungry emcee and one talented musician all around.  While it’s nothing new, it’s old territory treaded on an unbeaten path.  Wicked wordplay and real shit come together to produce something as familiar as your bed at home.  And Phonte was charitable enough to give us a friendly reminder of that charity.  *WARNING: terrible application of title* That’s what it’s all about, right?  After all, charity starts at home.

“Nigga got a Grammy nomination, why WOULD he rap at this point?” said DiZ.  “Because he’s one of the greatest to ever do it, and this may not convince you, but it’s one of the best damn albums to come out in a minute, and hip hop is better for it.  That’s why it’s a five out of five.  Now I’m gonna go get a Woodchuck and some stale Fritos.”

(Written while sober; last quote spoken while slightly inebriated.)

So my friend Mitch is engaged.  I’m happy for him, more than you might actually believe.  Nothing more beautiful than two people in love.  However, since I’ve been with so many love story ideas lately (some happy, some sad, some capable of putting me in a fetal position and crying) I can’t help but ask that simple question: “Will the curse of Chelsea Blue ever be lifted off of me?”

I mentioned and even elaborated before on the Chelsea Blue thing, the series of horrifying dreams I’ve had which featured a conglomeration of all women important to me in a romantic sense as one single being.  I gave it the name “Chelsea Blue” as a tribute to the song by Terry Callier of the same name, and consequently the pain I feel every time I hear the song. 

It’s a damning reality we (second person plural) put on ourselves, holding on to baggage that only we ourselves know about.  Chelsea Blue and, because I know how to hide my past exploits when I really want to, any woman related to her have a special place in my mind as unfinished symphonies, not the forgotten memories that they could, or if I had my way SHOULD, be. 

I think it’s funny how candidly and easily this comes to me to write.  It’s not a thought process, just straight flowing, almost like a terrific freestyle rapper on the roll of a lifetime.  Last time this happened was when I was talking about my “No Sanitation Workers with PhDs” theory, and that was the closest I’ve ever gotten to the fine line between George Carlin (RIP) and Lewis Black. 

But Mitch, known him for a while, can’t put into words how happy I am for him, but that also makes it painfully clear that I’m single right now.  When I say painfully I mean I can’t help but notice.  And I admit, while I do enjoy seeing love in the air and hearing those sappy love songs about how we all wish that birds would suddenly appear, this specific moment, 8:16 in the evening on 8/25/2011, as I write this, I’m actually pretty damn happy to be single.

Yeah, surprised?  A good chunk of my friends are hooked up with folk, one getting married, TWO actually, and while I’m that guy who was once called (no lie) a “lationship counsla” I’m sort of like Frasier Crane for the moment, minus the very, VERY heavy load of women dated.  Hell, I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’ve literally DATED any woman, just fooled around enough to give it the meaning.  Maybe?  Hard to say.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not wishful.  I am, very much so indeed.  One of my best friends, an old friend from VA who you may know as 808sandDreamscapes, or the Genius, or as somebody who “ain’t shit”, may just be the only person that can properly appreciate what’s going through my head right now.  Why?  Because he’s in a similar boat, I think.  Maybe not.  Haven’t spoken to him properly since he told me to get in contact with that girl at… oops…

But like I said, I’m wishful, and like all guys (straight guys, lesbian women, non-misogynistic assholes and douches) I look forward to the day that I meet that special woman that commits the perfect crime of stealing my heart and holding it for ransom.  From what I understand, or at least try to understand (I’m not expert but fuck, who is?) this is the woman that makes me want to be a better man, the woman that makes me wanna change.

Uh… yeah, I’ve yet to meet the woman that makes me want to do ANY of that.  In fact, I keep thinking that the only way that’ll happen is if she has a constant desire to kick my ass.  Then again, I’m at a point now, in 22 years of life, that I’m convinced that I couldn’t fall in love with any less of a woman.  Take that however you please.

I don’t know why I felt like posting this.  Maybe because Mitch is getting married.  Maybe I’ll be invited and I can go and I can raise a glass of champagne, do an impromptu toast in my best Zapp Brannigan voice, and because of what would appear to be a drunken state, get reprimanded by this woman I fall for.  It could happen.  Right?  Lol.

I don’t claim to know or understand a lot of things.  No, I don’t claim to do that at all.  I don’t claim to know why game pieces are stationary in the board game Battleship when actual ships are in constant motion.  I don’t claim to know why Nazi is a sub-genre of porn or why incest is suddenly all the reggae in the same category.  I don’t claim to know why people love Zack Ryder.  What I do understand, Tom Harkin, is that nothing in the realm of life is fair.  My best stories come from my feelings of heartbreak, my greatest passion comes out when it is most threatened, and my standard success sadly comes from pissing on the pathetic ashes of those who tried to succeed in the very same thing. 

It’s cold, this world.  We encourage helping one another in a society where your worth is determined by how many toes you step on.  The very people that hate Darwin’s theories are the ones who follow it in a cultural and economic sense.  Individuality is praised only when in the scope of others of the same individual sense of self.  I don’t claim to know much but I can at least comprehend hypocrisy.

If you have money then you go to school, on money that you don’t pay yourself.  If you don’t then you work forty times as hard for the same pleasantry, and if you fail then you work eighty times as hard to pay off your undeserved sin.  If you commit a crime then the average African-American mentality is to respond to being caught by doing more and more until you’re either feared or caught for good.  If you hear a gunshot as an African American then you run to it.

I lack understanding, but I have the understanding that I lack it.  Just a few hours ago someone in my neighborhood committed a crime, more than likely the boredom and fearlessness of youth.  How he’ll react to people calling the police is beyond me.  But regardless of the outcome, I have an understanding that it’ll be dumb.  That much I understand.