TRANSVERSO

- A culture magazine reaching terminal verbosity -

rap

Kendrick Lamar's 'Damn.' Embraces the Complexity and Talent of the Man Behind It

Music ReviewAndy TabelingComment

Perhaps the most cinematic and high-concept rapper in the world right now, for Kendrick Lamar to release a record nearly free of skits, interludes, or interviews with deceased rappers seemed impossible after two major label albums that redefined the limits of what’s expected and acceptable for a mainstream rap record to feel and sound like. While the feature-length follow up to modern classic To Pimp a Butterfly begins with a spoken word track detailing the rapper’s supposed death, Damn. feels mostly like other rap records released in the past few years in terms of thematic material, structure and style. What makes the album special is it just happens to be one of the most talented, interesting and considered rappers in the world making it.

Much was made of the influence of the history of black music on To Pimp a Butterfly as that album was defined by Thundercat’s six-string bass and Robert Glasper’s keys as much as Kendrick's world-class lyricism, but Damn.’s first full-length track “DNA.” doesn’t veer too far from his Los Angeles roots, as producer Mike Will Made It puts on his best G funk impression with one of the albums most inspired beats. That track to some extent misleads the listener of what to expect from the rest of the record. Many of the album’s tracks are more muted than “DNA.," as it and lead single “HUMBLE” create some moments of tremendous energy and force.

The inclusion of a red-hot producer like Mike Will Made It is telling of Damn.’s sonic touchstones. Producers of the highest class are everywhere on this record, as TBAB’s Terrence Martin returns as well as Adele producer Greg Kurstin both supplement familiar faces like longtime collaborator Sounwave. Damn. uses an fusion of styles familiar to Kendrick Lamar already while exploring the world of rap trends. Given the album’s preoccupation with Lamar proving his prowess over others in the rap world, Kendrick’s melodic bars on the hooky and effective “LOVE.” seem a direct challenge to others doing a similar thing (read: Drake) to step their game up. On a track like “LOVE.," which wears its melodicism and sweet simplicity on its sleeve, Damn. deserves credit for embracing pop structure and simplicity without sacrificing Lamar’s core. A brief breezy “YAH.” fits incredibly well in the context of the album, as the pop moments are spread out well enough that they never feel like grabs for radio attention.

In other places, the album would have perhaps done better avoiding embracing modern trends that don’t suit Kendrick’s lyricism and storytelling abilities particularly well. Monster single “HUMBLE.” seems to ape sounds and styles present in the south. Considering Kendrick’s strength as a storyteller and songwriter, the simple brag-rap and repetitive flow rob us a lot of what makes Kendrick unique. Considering “HUMBLE.” was the lead single from this album, it’s a pretty strong step down from a “King Kunta," “Alright,” or “Swimming Pools."

The album doesn’t entirely sound like a pop-rap record, as some of Kendrick’s stylistic touchstones and experimental tendencies leak into Damn., producing again stunning results. Thundercat’s bass returns on “Feel” as Kendrick creates some of his considered and well-constructed verses in years, mostly abandoning storytelling for a nonlinear, near stream-of-conscious collection of musings on faith, family, and fame.

The one-two punch of the playful accessibility of “LOVE.” and the dense, hard-edged “XXX.” is telling of the album’s deliberate structure. The schizophrenic back and forth between calm and ferocity, tension and release, point to an artist deeply concerned the full-length listening experience. Even though the album isn’t broken up with interludes featuring Kendrick's father demanding Dominos pizza, the album’s structure lends itself well to its thematic considerations. The staggering and complex “XXX.” follows “LOVE.,” featuring three distinct sections that showcase some of Kendrick's most powerful lyricism (Kendrick has a remarkable ability to make frequently revisited topics feel fresh at every mention), and some of Damn.’s most ambitious production. The kinetic siren-fueled second section contrasted with the glum, Bono-sung third section is one of Damn.’s finest moments.

Damn. will most likely be remembered as Kendrick’s most spiritual album. Biblical references pepper his musings on success and recognition, and one of the few spoken-word moments is from his cousin Carl musing on God, the Israelites and the plights and struggles of Black America. Along with those religious themes, the tension between spiritual humility and rap excess worms its way into the album in interesting and fresh ways. The modestly produced “PRIDE.” precedes the audacious and swaggering “HUMBLE." While none of this is necessarily new ground for the artist or the genre, because Kendrick is such a clever lyricist, and the songs are either interesting or plain fun, the album never feels repetitive. Considering many of the big picture lyrical themes are present across Kendrick’s discography, Damn. manages to engage to a remarkable degree.

One could consider Damn. as a simpler foil to Kendrick's two major label full-length gems, though a closer listen and examination of the artistry at hand should keep even the most demanding listener appeased with an artist growing to occupy a unique space of accessibility and experimentation, ambition and pop satisfaction. While it doesn’t always reach the heights of the TBAP tracks like “Wesley’s Theory” or “Mortal Man," Damn. is at its best a breathtaking pop-rap record never content with one theme or idea, embracing instead the complexity and talent of the man behind it.

The Emerging Place of Hip-Hop in the Culinary Sphere

EditorialEzra CarpenterComment

Eddie Huang - host of Viceland's Huang's World and owner of East Village restaurant BaoHaus. (Photo: Huang's World - Vice Media LLC)

This past year, two unique television programs under the same network rocked food television with their immense popularity as Viceland’s Huang’s World and Fuck, That’s Delicious built upon the successful template established by the contemporary icon of food TV, Anthony Bourdain. The punk rock, culturally adventurous, and politically daring culinary bad-boy earned the Travel Channel degrees of edge and grit previously perceived as unattainable for the network, an especially notable feat for Bourdain’s No Reservations considering its adjacent air time to the program of lame-dad, defiler of the King’s English Andrew Zimmern. Eventually moving to CNN, who realized Bourdain’s ambitions to film more dangerous locations, Bourdain saw continued success as the host of Parts Unknown, winning four Emmys while redefining the palate for televised food and travel culture.

Both Eddie Huang of Huang's World and rapper Action Bronson of Fuck, That's Delicious have adopted Bourdain's persona as the anti-establishment host with tactful yet unembellished diction. What Huang and Bronson have revamped, to their advantage, is the aesthetic, exchanging Bourdain’s literary punk appeal for a hip-hop oriented experience with an accessible level of sophistication. This immigrant American, hip-hop devotional, and most of all, understated appeal is the primary difference between Bourdain and the two aforementioned personalities. Whereas Bourdain’s shows could easily rely on the chef’s French-style culinary training, Huang’s World and Fuck, That’s Delicious treat their hosts’ formal culinary backgrounds with subtle acknowledgement, presenting Huang and Bronson mostly as home-trained cooks/hip-hop fanatics instead.

Anthony Bourdain (Photo: Parts Unknown - CNN)

Where Bourdain, Huang, and Bronson’s shows win with audiences lies in the authenticity of the hosts. Regardless of punk or hip-hop sensibilities, the congruency between hosts’ televised and real-life personalities has risen in value as a commodity in food television. It is this element of the true-to-form host that has won Huang’s World and Fuck, That’s Delicious Anthony Bourdain’s approval. Though Bourdain’s praise does not reference either host’s character as a hip-hop aficionado, the transitioning popularity from Bourdain’s punk-framed socio-political interrogation of cuisine to the new frontier of hip-hop contextualized cuisine/culture is a trend that is difficult to overlook. And yet, the hip-hop approach to cuisine and culture makes so much sense, as much, if not more sense, than Bourdain’s brand of punk.

As Americans of Albanian-Jewish (Bronson) and Taiwanese (Huang) heritage who embrace hip-hop, the two not only attest to the cultural intermingling which occurs within hip-hop, but manifest it in their shows, and do so shamelessly. Never is there an episode in which Huang isn’t walking the streets of a Eurocentric town dressed in an oversized jersey and Jordans. Similarly, cameras follow both Bronson and his Mr. Wonderful tour supporting posse: the Alchemist, Big Body Bes, and Meyhem Lauren – a multicultural collective who accompany Bronson at all times, even if they sometimes contribute absolutely nothing to the culinary conversation. Through their shows, these hosts advocate the embrace of cultural diversity as experienced through the enjoyment of food. Their outlook exploits the parallels between hip-hop’s transcendence of racial barriers and the expansion of cultural insight afforded by travel-dining. Understanding where these two shows have placed hip-hop in relation to cuisine is best accessed through Huang’s assimilation of the two – food, like hip-hop, is a culture for outsiders who inevitably find a commonality with the broader community.

Action Bronson - rapper and host of Viceland's Fuck, That's Delicious. (Photo: VICE Eats - Vice Media LLC)

My own realization of the appropriateness of hip-hop as a platform for cultural exploration through food struck me, ironically enough, as I followed a destination-dining rabbit hole I discovered in the Montreal episode of Parts Unknown. Near the culmination of my tour de Montréal, I took a cab from the Gay Village to Little Burgundy for my second service reservation at Joe Beef, the highly esteemed feeding ground of choice for Montréalais omnivores, regarded as one of the one hundred best restaurants in the world. I read the dimly lit menu written in cursive French on the chalkboard spanning the entire left wall, extracting what the three years of French I had taken in college thus far allowed me to. I curated my choices with wild game and gluttonous excess in mind, invoking scenes of seared foie gras and copious helpings of black truffles on a table set before Anthony Bourdain and Joe Beef owners David McMillan and Fédéric Morin.

Awaiting my meal at the bar, the ambience of the bistro did its part in stimulating my anticipation. Deep cuts by Mos Def and the Roots played over table conversation, consistent with jazz-based instrumentals accented with boom bap percussion and intricate rhymes by Yasiin Bey and Black Thought. Theirs was the socially conscious and introspective lyrical matter which primed my appetite for true discovery, in this case, the best of French-Canadian cuisine as served by the most famous restaurant in Canada. The intended effect achieved, it was the best meal I’d ever had in my entire life thus far.

I began with oysters from Nova Scotia, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. My waitress Sarah, a fun, helpful, mildly flirtatious Montréalaise girl, then served an expectation-exceeding homemade spinach pappardelle with a red wine ragù and escargot. The broad pappardelle noodle attained a perfect balance between the heartiness of the pasta and the richness of the escargot ragù. “Stop trying to hide it,” Sarah told me as I twirled speckled green noodles around the prongs of my fork, “your smile is from cheek to cheek.” Next I had a venison torte whose layers of venison, foie gras, onions, and a braised anna potato fanned atop the dish were succulent in each bite, melting in my mouth with savory excess.

Anthony Bourdain with Joe Beef owners Fred Morin (center) and Dave McMillan (right). (Photo: Parts Unknown - CNN)

Joe Beef had won me over with the pappardelle, but it was the venison torte which compelled me to commit to what was unraveling as the best meal I’d ever had. Fittingly, “Juicy” began to play on the speakers, imparting a celebratory sense of triumph that could only be experienced through Biggie’s boastful assertions and confident command of cadence on the song. With my bill already nearing 100 Canadian dollars, I ordered a panko-crusted head cheese croquette with a mustard seed dijon, because (in a matter-of-fact way of phrasing it and in homage to a rap legend of my native Bay Area) I was “feelin’ myself.”

I’ve expended all words that could possibly be used to describe the head cheese croquette, mainly because it is hard to describe the denouement of a meal when the last entry isn’t quite a dessert. “I always love a bit of head cheese for dessert” Sarah joked. Fuck it, I knew what I wanted and while I’m speaking bluntly, the head cheese was damn good and didn’t disappoint.

After the meal I had an over-the-bar conversation with the host that received me at the door on who was the best rapper currently active: Drake or Kendrick Lamar. I argued for my West Coast compatriot while my counterpart presented a case for Drizzy. I was surprised that anyone would try to match Drake’s lyricism to Kendrick Lamar’s rhetoric; however, in a testimony to hip-hop’s seamless cultural fusion, I had completely forgotten that I was speaking to a Canadian. Perhaps the ambiguity of national identification would not have been the same had I been speaking to a national of a country across waters, but French-Canada was a particularly striking cultural anomaly not only for Canada but for all of North America.

I learned many things from the meal. Where politics is in some cultures considered to be a topic unsuitable for dinner table conversation, hip-hop, more than other genres of music due to its inherent accommodation of debate, can serve well as a mealtime topic of conversation. To a larger degree, hip-hop has the potential to invite people into culinary exchange the same way it has ushered outsiders into a historically African-American culture. From a music perspective, my meal at Joe Beef demonstrated the ability of hip-hop to prepare an appetite and celebrate the universal satisfaction of a good meal. Whether or not hip-hop can establish a reputation as a genre fit for curating a fine meal is left to restaurateurs across the world to determine, but I know that its potential to establish a dining ambiance is not accidental, nor is it some unnaturally-forced experimentation. I know, from passing the kitchen hallway on my way out of Joe Beef and seeing the words “CD playing” on the soundsystem monitors.


See trailers for both Huang's World and Fuck, That's Delicious below

 

 

Kanye's Original 'The Life of Pablo' Tracklist Analyzed in Three Acts by @NathanZed & @jonnysun

EditorialTransverso MediaComment

This is a guest post from @NathanZed and @jonnysun analyzing Kanye's original The Life of Pablo tracklist.


INTRO


"LOW LIGHTS" (Added Track) - Starts off with “I want to tell you a testimony about my life." This album, The Life of Pablo, is the testimony. See this as the introduction framing the entire album as Kanye’s testimony about his life. 


ACT 1


ACT 1 is Kanye on a crazy high off his fame, with excessive sex, drugs, money, and big egos. All the tracks from "Famous" to "Highlights" are upbeat and mostly bangers, indicating that he’s having the time of his life.

"FAMOUS" - He shows off his braggadocio side on "Famous." The very first verse shows how petty he is when it comes to fame with the infamous Taylor Swift line, "I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex / Why? I made that bitch famous."
 
"FATHER STRETCH MY HANDS Pt. 1 / Pt. 2" - The line “I just wanna feel liberated” is mixed between lines describing excessive sex and drugs. Like that… ”bleached asshole” line…

"WAVES" - Lyrics describing his excessive ego, “Step up in this bitch like / I’m the one your bitch like / Yeah I’m the one your bitch like / And I be talkin' shit like / I ain’t scared to lose a fistfight / And she grabbin’ on my dick like / She wanna see if it’ll fit right / That’s just the wave”

"HIGHLIGHTS" - This is the highest point that Kanye is at, ending the song with “I need every bad bitch up in Equinox / I need to know right now if you a freak or not.”
 
"FEEDBACK" (Added Track) - The first track with a beat that sounds more distorted and less straight forward. Lyrics describe an obsession with money, “Wake up nigga wake up / We bout to get this paper," “I’ve been outta my mind, a long time." This transitions into Act 2.


ACT 2


ACT 2 is him coming down from the high and waking up, having a moment of clarity, and realizing for the first time what his life has become. 

"FREESTYLE 4" (Added Track) - Starts off with nightmarish production. This is the craziest that Kanye's high gets, and he’s mumbling through the track talking about sex. The end of the track you hear him “waking up."
 
"30 HOURS" - Kanye waking up from this nightmare / his high and having a moment of clarity. First lines are,
“I wake up assessin’ the damages / Checkin’ media takeout / Pictures of me drunk walkin’ out with a bitch / But it’s blurry enough to get the fakeout"

"NO MORE PARTIES IN LA" - He’s realizing for the first time what his life has become. He begs “please baby no more parties in LA”.
 
"FADE" - The lyrics speak from themselves, “Your love is fadin’ / I feel it’s fadin’ / When no one ain’t around / I feel it’s fadin' / I think I think too much / Ain’t nobody watchin'" Towards the end, the gospel song “I Get Lifted” is sampled, presenting more gospel themes.


ACT 3


ACT 3 is Kanye then renouncing this life, & turning to God and religion for redemption.

"FML (For My Lady)" - A story of the difficulties Kanye faces as he tries to control himself and stay truthful to his wife, Kim.
 
"REAL FRIENDS" - A look at Kanye’s relationship struggles with his friends and family, which he blames himself for in certain lyrics.
 
"WOLVES" - He compares himself and Kim to Mary and Joseph, presenting more biblical themes. Ends with Frank's verse, “Life is precious / We found out, we found out"
 
"ULTRALIGHT BEAM" - Kanye finally turns to God and religion for redemption. Kanye revealed in his tweets that the “Pablo” in the title is not Picasso or Escobar (or at least not only them), but rather “PAUL” from the bible.

According to his tweets,

Before Paul became who he was, he was “Saul”, a sinner and someone who was persecuting God. “Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples.” (Acts 9:1)

In "Ultralight Beam," Kanye becomes redeemed for his sins across the album.  Take “The addict’s moment of clarity and redemption” and mirror that as a contemporary modern day version of "Saul the sinner turning into Paul." The song then ends with a prayer from Kirk Franklin, perhaps for anyone who can relate to the struggle shown in this album.
 


You can read our full The Life of Pablo album review here and "Closing Remarks of a Reformed Kanye Apologist" here.

Freddie Gibbs Brings His Name Into the Limelight on 'Shadow of Doubt'

Music ReviewSean McHughComment

Not even a year removed from joining forces with 808 doyen Madlib to create one of 2014’s best collaborative efforts, Piñata, rapper Freddie Gibbs has found time to drop two EPs and his most recent full length effort, Shadow of Doubt. One of the more underrated and tireless lyricists on the circuit today, the Gary, Indiana native son has done nothing but further amalgamate his legacy as rap’s most unheralded hero.

Shadow of Doubt is a far cry from the dynamic duet that was Piñata, with Gibbs exchanging Madlib’s singular break beats and samples for multi-producer packaging, spanning the hip-hop spectrum. In turn, the variety allows Gibbs to flex his lyrical musings in an array of fashions – some brimming with machismo (“Forever and a Day”), salty dog syndrome (“Freddie Gordy”), and a possibly self-narrating jilted lover opining over past oblivion (“Careless”). The frenetic emotional energy asserts Gibbs’ ability to separate Shadow of Doubt from any past bodies of work, further cementing the underestimated prowess of his flow.

Gibbs has for some time now been considered one of the more hawkish of his rap compatriots – at times more brute lyrical force than emotional finesse - with such a precedent being torn down by one of Shadow of Doubt’s most powerful tracks, “Insecurities.” Disarming self-awareness laced with an almost regretful tone – “I was ready for whatever, man / I remember I was selling things / I let it go” - allows for Gibbs to present an offertory that is almost unbecoming, had it not been masterfully paced by Gibbs’ classic cadence. 

Another highlight of Shadow of Doubt is the Gibbs’ choice of collaborators. He calls upon his rap contemporaries; take “10 Times,” a more modern approach to hip-hop, ranging from the hazy mediations from Gucci to flipping the of the script to Bay Area legend E-40, who offers one of the more humorous non-Gibb verses on Shadow of Doubt: “Lifestyle, ribbit, ribbit / That’s what I’m going to use when I stick it / She bad, she fat / She gon’ get a ticket / Thicker than a buttermilk biscuit…”

Laughable lyricism aside, Gibbs’ choice to feature grizzled veterans of the game allow not only for the guest MCs to shine, but help heighten Gibbs’ tonal dexterity. “Extradite,” perhaps the album’s strongest feature track, presents Gibbs commenting on the peculiar state of rap and hip-hop, at times jeering at his younger peers’ inability to remain relevant as long as someone of his own caliber. The feature verse, deftly performed by Black Thought of The Roots fame, is the album’s most politically fused, with commentary on recent race tensions and the like, all being juxtaposed by a smooth jazz beat.

Shadow of Doubt is a record that is unlikely to shift cultural dialogue or work its way into the zeitgeist, but that has never been Gibbs’ intentions. Shadow of Doubt acts simply, a rap manifesto of MC’s continual challenges to the rap game, with little to no pushback. If rap has become more emotionally deft, then it has abandoned one of its core principals – lyrical thought to shift the perspective of those who will listen. Modern rap can at times be vapid and sensitive, but not for Gibbs. Shadow of Doubt is an assertion that Gibbs is the only true aggressor who remains in the game.