Posted on 04/18/2008


Dear Unfortunately Named Artiste,

I was privileged to have your record slipped to me via interoffice mail last year. After listening to it during "Girlfriends" commercial breaks last evening, it pains me to inform you we have no room for your work. No vacancy. The pool is full. Though your solid lyricism and heartfelt observations of social ills is a breath of fresh air amongst the myriads of ‘bling this and rims that' I normally receive, our number one priority is to edutain, and your plain-as-day commentary is a bit stale for our purposes. You see, the problem with you ‘real' hip-hoppers is that you claim to ‘bring hip-hop back' yet omit the excitement and pizzazz that made hip-hop great in the first place. The album was so promising at the start with the energy of "Last One Standing" and "My Place, My Taste" with strong assertions as to the role of real emcees and blasting the wack ones, but from there it was the same generalizations about your third eye and how dedicated to the game you are. Good beats (they even inclined my shoulders to move up and down in a rhythmic fashion) and talking about the government doesn't automatically make you the new voice of the people and much of the presentation here falls short of your rebel music claims.

You seem to have a lovely speaking voice. Perhaps you could give spoken word a try. It has proved a humble sanctuary for many well-intentioned emcees such as yourself. Or maybe you should consider trap rap. An album this dull could use a few gun claps and a little drug talk to liven things up. Please understand, I'm only making you aware of your options beyond this opportunity. It was, however, a clever touch to switch up beats halfway through several of these songs to reclaim the listener's attention. The African drums sneaking in, and finally dominating, the latter half of "Cool Off" took me to another place and topped off a track where you didn't try so hard to convince your listeners of your sincerity.

You seemed to harness a spark on "Tell Me (What Happened to the Game?)" and I rather enjoyed your comment on your closing track, "Claim Heavens," "Yes, addicted to hip-hop, it's in me/Burned in my skin like "Good Times" with Penny." That one was definitely worth a chortle and a half. However, one snicker versus many snores just isn't what we're looking for at this time. I'll be sure to keep your submission on our shelves in case of an opening.

Your Nig,

Hip-Hop, Inc.

 

- Candace L.