First off, I refuse to post that picture of Wale wildin’ out with lindsay lohan. I’ll bet money that she calls him “whale,” and since we’ve all graduated from calling kanye, “kane,” I think it’s time to move on.
For those of you who haven’t heard, Wale is the biggest hip hop star to come out of D.C. since…I don’t even know. As a matter of fact, I haven’t ever heard of a hip hop scene in our nation’s capital, which is odd considering it’s 56% black population, which is huge for a major city. New Orleans, by comparison, also had majority black population at 67% (before Hurricane Katrina), but it is by no means lacking in hometown hip hop: just go ask the best rapper alive. But more on that in a future post.
I caught on to Wale first with Nike Boots, when it was featured as a free single on iTunes. I confess that at the time, I only gave it a cursory listen, dismissing it as another piece of trash rap from an unrecognizable rapper glorifying his shoes. Alas how wrong I was. I didn’t even catch the line in the chorus where wale explicitly states “this ain’t a shoe song, this is a crew song.” He didn’t need to make that statement, given the content of his lyrics, but that just goes to show how little attention I paid him in the first place. Yall know what I mean when you play a song in the background and hardly listen to it at all, not catching a single line, phrase, word, or utterance, dismissing it off hand without giving it the proper time and consideration. It’s hard to see a diamond in the rough (and at this point, the hip hop game ain’t pretty), but once you do find something you like, that’s worth listening to, that’s worth downloading, that’s worth your respect, then you have to be sure to give it up. pay respect where it’s properly due. so wale, here’s your due.
I’ll focus my critique (=critical acclaim) on just one song off of Wale’s recently released, free mixtape The Mixtape About Nothing. This Seinfeld-themed masterpiece of a mixtape is almost genius in its creativity, combining Seinfeld’s trademark humor with Wale’s considerable lyrical skills to create the rare mixtape that has coherence and comedy and critical commentary on society, all in one refreshing package. Do yourself a favor and cop this mixtape and listen to the beginning, middle, and end.
One standout track on the mixtape (there are too many to mention, plus one or two that he released at around the same time that aren’t even on the mixtape) is The Kramer. Like Seinfeld episodes, every track is preceded by “The.” Don’t ask me why. Anyhow, this song serves as a thoughtful, articulate response to the ridiculously racist episode that Michael Richards, the actor who plays Kramer on Seinfeld, had at a comedy club after being “heckled” by some black folk. Kramer doesn’t take the heckling well and starts spewing out racist comments about ‘n*ggers’ and lynchings and pitchforks. It’s absurd and disturbing. Wale begins this track by playing an audio clip of the meltdown, then, twenty-something seconds in, some otherworldly, heavenly choir/synths starts singing, and Wale comes in hard, with heavy drums, and immediately addresses the issue: “the color of my skin, content of my character…” The first verse takes a macroscopic view of race relations, with Wale pleading for someone to listen to him as he recounts the “dark content for those of dark complexion.” He wonders who will stand up and defend his people in theis “race war when it’s us against all of them.” His claim against being a conscious, backpack rapper is bolstered by the sincerity of his “speaking heart with a conscience.” The racial challenges that Wale must face applies to him whether he is rocking a backpack or not. The arc of the song is the use of the word ‘n*gger’ in society and the connotations and consequences that the word carries with it. In the first verse, Wale speaks broadly about the on-going racial context of society; in the second verse, he goes on to examine specifically the movement to ban the word n*gger from usage, particularly in hip hop, specifically by Master P. Wale counters that regardless of whether or not he said the word, he would still be viewed both by society and by himself as one, and he would still be treated with discrimination. Instead, Wale points out, black people took a term invented to institutionalize their degradation, and twisted it, such that the word once used to humiliate them was now their own to employ. Yet, the etymology of the word continues as it is popularized and perpetuated in rap songs that sell to a mainly white audience, and yet rappers hypocritically expect white kids to exclude the use of this single word from their vocabulary while the rappers themselves use it liberally. The ultimate victim of the vicious cycle is the lone black classmate who, because he ignored or tolerated the use of the word ‘n*gger’ one time, has now given a free pass for its use by white peers all the time and is now subjected to it a thousand times over.
All of this, Wale manages to encompass in a single rap song (and he didn’t even have to title it N*gger, ahem Nas). Think about that. He describes the complexity of the issue around the word ‘n*gger’ in a clear and intelligent manner, taking different sides into account, placing responsibility on everybody rather than putting blame on a single person. He does not offer a solution (perhaps there is none) but he sure as hell sparked discussion on a higher level. He even ends with a little bit of introspection. The drums stop abruptly, the choir/synths turn mournful, and Wale spits the single rawest, most sincere line I have heard in a long time. This one line seems to punch me down and lift me up at the same time with its brutal honesty: “any kinda connotation is viewed many ways, cuz under every n*igga is a little bit of Kramer, self hatred, I hate ya, and myself. N*igger!“
Hey Nas Escobar, take notes. If you’re going to make a song about this hateful, hurtful, powerful word, I want it to sound a lot like this. Be a N*gger Too is not cutting it for me.
first post done.
-k.t.
