I fell in love with hip hop around 2013 when I listened to my first rap album, Drake’s Nothing Was the Same. To me, hip hop is an art of storytelling, rooted in struggle and triumph. It has its haters and it is not perfect, but it has also saved and changed countless lives.
In the tradition of the 1970s New York City DJs and MCs that founded the genre, the guardians of modern hip hop are innovative, creative and heartfelt. Anyone can pick up the mic and tell their stories. As fans, we just need to turn up the volume on game-changing artists.
Buddah Abusah is a Hamilton-born and raised creator spreading a message of peace and love. He began writing at the age of 11 and rapping seriously at the age of 16. Haviah Mighty is a Toronto-born, Brampton-raised musician who is also a member of the rap group The Sorority. She began rapping at the age of 12, combining her seven years of singing lessons with her newfound interest in hip hop.
I spoke separately to these two local rappers about their thoughts on hip hop. Both artists spoke about the importance of the genre not only because of the music, but because of the culture.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bo7s8IlnRTJ/
Buddah Abusah: My inner city message is letting all artists know that no matter where you're from, [as] long as you put your mind to it, you can be successful in your way. [I want to] show people [that if you] put your mind to it and indulge yourself properly, you can get yourself to that gold, platinum status [that] Canadians are doing more often now. Also… the message I want to give out is that all my music is to peace, love and equality. No matter what goes down, just treat it with peace and love because at the end of the day that's what everybody needs.
Haviah Mighty: I definitely like to pull from the rawest, truest points of my life to try to create the most effective message possible, which is usually the things that are most important to me. The narrative will always change based on the shifting of the energies around us and things that are happening. But I would definitely say… just being a Black female, I am political in nature. The hair that I have, the skin tone that I have, the gender that I am and what I chose to do for a career are to some people very oxymoronic. I think naturally just my look and my delivery and my vibe is a little bit of an empowering, stepping out of your element, believing in your true self kind of message before even opening my mouth. I don't think that's something I can really escape or run from and I'm actually very happy to naturally represents that. I feel that people around me resonate with that.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bt8_KYXAXM5/
BA: Best part is the growth. For me I love seeing individuals or an individual put their mind to something and watch it come into fruition. Right now I'm doing that with a couple people/groups. I've worked with some of them in the past and just watching them help the culture of [Hamilton] is the best part because I know this city will get there. Like everybody knows the city is growing. And it'll be interesting seeing Hamilton have their own culture and their own sound like how Toronto has their own sound. Hamilton is far enough where we see Toronto and we want to be like the [greater Toronto area] and be included like the GTA, but we still want our own.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BorVUiiHLRt/
HM: The best part of the hip hop community is the community. I think hip hop is very cultural and the community is very culture-based… [W]ithin hip hop in my experience, you can go to different venues and it's like these are people that you've grown up with because at the cultural level, you guys are so connected. It might be the same for punk music and rock and stuff [but] I'm not as embedded in those communities to know. I think for me it's the beautiful marriage between the sonic vibe of hip hop and then just like the community of hip hop and how different yet similar those two things are.
BA: I'm going to be releasing new material spring, summer time. I've just been working with other artists, doing some production, audio engineering. And other than that, I'm just taking my sweet, sweet time. I'm not trying to [give] you the exact same trap sound that you're always hearing on the radio or that your friends play. I'm here giving you something completely different. I'm giving you good vibes, I'm giving you vibes for strictly hippies… My goal with this is creating an entirety of a sound for the city.
HM: I have an album coming out. I'm hoping that this can really open up some interesting conversations. I'm really hoping that we can see some shifts in female hip hop and what we expect from being a female in hip hop and what we expect from I guess just the gender expectations. I would love to see some of those surpassed with some of the stuff I'm coming out with. But definitely just trying to contribute positively to the hip hop community and that hip hop culture and to tell good, impactful stories that can make some good change.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp-dJixASg6/
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Our Digital Media Specialist Aaron de Jesus sat down with Sean Leon prior to his Welcome Week performance to talk about his experiences, founding the @ixxi.co and the rapper’s approach towards his music.
https://www.facebook.com/TheMcMasterSilhouette/videos/479064049255367/
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Take a moment to reflect on a time in your youth where you were unsure of your identity. If you were anything like the rest of us, you’ve probably made some bad calls re: what you wore. It’s okay. We’ve all had dark times. When one is not yet comfortable in their own skin, they’re more susceptible to the toxic influence of trends, or what everyone else around them is wearing. Remember spending $70 on that moose-adorned, Abercrombie & Fitch plaid shirt in grade nine? I rest my case.
To those who have not been living under a rock (or the pile of unfortunate clothing they once spent actual money on), you may recall the release of Drake’s Hotline Bling video this past month. The video spawned a bevy of dancing Drake memes and the Internet was quick to react with their affection or discontent. Perhaps the most important things that came from this fantastic video, however, are the rapper’s fire ‘fits — in particular, his #cozy grey turtleneck. Turtlenecks are hype.
While Drake still has ways to go to be deemed a “style god” (he is no Kanye, Pharell, or A$AP Rocky after all) Hotline Bling Drake is a Drake who has great taste and is confident in his aesthetic. Drake is a great rapper. Some may even call him a hip-hop icon. Regardless your take on the 6 god, the man is capable of making some solid bangers. It’s cool to see the evolution of his style — it’s nice to know that he didn’t always wear En Noir and look this good. He’s had moments of self-doubt, too. He’s just like the rest of us.
1. Degrassi Drake
Baby Drake, a.k.a. Aubrey, can be seen sporting the slouchy hoodie and sweats combo typical to any student roaming the halls of Degrassi High. He’s just one of us. *prayer hand emoji*
2. So Far Gone Drake
With the release of his third fire mixtape, Drake’s star rose with his style game. He now sports designer brands like Comme des Garcon PLAY, rocking a preppier vibe.
3. Thank Me Later Drake
In interviews, Drake has boasted of his “obscene sweater addiction.” After the release of his debut album, Thank Me Later Drake frequented high-quality, designer sweaters.
4. Take Care/YOLO Drake
Take Care spawned “The Motto,” which popularized the acronym “YOLO.” Take Care Drake was also hyping up his own brand, OVO, and was often found sporting one of his own pieces.
5. Nothing Was The Same Drake
This is street goth Drake, a Drake who is really getting into the streetwear scene. En Noir, Hood By Air, Rick Owens and, of course, his own OVO gear were closet staples.
6. If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late/ WATTBA Drake
Drake collaborated with Future to stun the world with WATTBA. Aside from popular streetwear brands, this Drake frequented simple gold chains, Jordans, and cool tees.
7. Hotline Bling Drake
This is the era of Drake we have all been waiting for. The 6 god is sporting dope brands in subtle ways and rocking streetwear the right way – subtle, not flashy. All of his outfits in the Hotline Bling video are fire, from the Moncler red puffer jacket and Timberlands to the super cozy Acne Studios turtleneck. Way to go, Hotline Bling Drake. Way to go.
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What a time to be alive indeed. If you’re not a corny old-head who thinks the height of rapping is astute grasp lyricism, your favourite rappers right now are probably Future and Drake. With the pair coming off of absolutely massive years in which their only competition has been each other, it makes sense that they’d pool their star power together link up for a full-length project.
Although Drake was effusive in his praise for Future at OVO Fest, no one could have seen this one coming and the internet was thrown into a frenzy by the announcement. Recorded in a week in Atlanta, What A Time To Be Alive bears the marks of its impromptu creation, but still boasts a fair bit of quality.
Whenever Drake has linked up with Future on tracks like “Tony Montana” and “Shit,” the pair’s joint efforts have always seemed a tad disjointed. While getting in the studio together may have brought them closer as friends, it hasn’t helped their scant chemistry in the booth. Certifiable stars in their own respective lanes, when the two get together on a track it can sometimes feel forced.
Take the mixtape opener, “Digital Dash.” Future immediately entrances listeners with some mumbled lyrics and ad-libs, but we’re left waiting for Drake’s verse, which is slotted into the last minute. “Big Rings” is quite awkward at best, with Drake drowning in the swells of the beat and his own shoddy hook.
Things pick up on “Live From The Gutter,” where the two MC’s seem to find their rhythm before they absolutely crush the next song, “Diamonds Dancing.” It’s the first track that seems them working in tandem rather than just tacking on their own bars to the end.
Perhaps an ode to Drake’s deal with Jordan, “Jumpman” is the clear standout of the mixtape and not just because of Metro Boomin’s insane production. The song boasts amazing one-liners like “chicken wings and fries, we don’t go on dates” and “jumpman” is really fun to say consecutively.
WATTBA is not without its flaws, but they are more ideological than technical. Both rappers will remain problematic favourites for their fans, with the pair still degrading women to no end. In many a way, they have both risen to mainstream fame via their misogyny; Drake with the boo-hoo nice-guy simping that has made millions of bros believe the friend zone is a thing, and Future with more rampant hatred like the pettiness found on Monster, the mixtape he made following his very public breakup with Ciara (see “Throw Away” for a brilliantly tortured five-minute summary of their relationship).
We must also must have willingness to listen to the black male experience and attempt to understand where there pain is coming from rather than just critique how it is expressed. Very often, the angst that they are misguidedly dumping upon the women in their lives is motivated by familial and financial loss. One only has to look to “Blow A Bag”, a single from Future’s Dirty Sprite 2 to grasp this. On the anthemic track full of boasting, Future takestime in the first verse to expose some of his personal demons: “I know I came from poverty, I got my name from poverty, I know for sure, for sure, if my granddad was livin’, I know he be proud of me.” That said, one can always hope that artists would find a better place to dump their frustrations than on the backs of women who suffer enough at the hands of patriarchal society.
If you can excuse the cringe-worthy chauvinism, you’ll be able to appreciate the few really good bangers that the tape yielded. Think of it less as an album and more of a stocking stuffer to compliment the massive presents that Future and Drake’s full-length solo projects were to music fans this past year.
When I first met Jazz “Jacuzzi La Fleur” Cartier in 2014, he was still relatively unknown to those not tapped into the Toronto rap scene. In the crowd waiting to get into the A$AP Ferg show, my eyes would have been drawn to Cartier even if a mutual friend hadn’t quickly introduced us. The rapper was sporting a murdered-out fishing vest with what I think were Gucci loafers, and naturally stood out from the masses.
At age 22, Cartier comes off as a man beyond his years both in his lyrics, and in casual conversation. The son of two parents whose nomadic careers led them across the world, Cartier moved around a lot in his youth. By the time he was 16 Cartier was living on his own in his native Toronto, and dealing drugs to get by. A club connoisseur, Cartier could be regularly seen enjoying the nightlife downtown.
His first album, Marauding In Paradise, is an expression of these dark influences. The cover artwork references the Adam and Eve creation story, and in many ways the album’s release saw Cartier reinvent himself from a guy people knew for his drug-induced debauchery to a promising musician. It was a difficult path, with the album taking many different shapes since work began on it in 2011, but one that saw Cartier come into his own as an artist. Cartier wasn’t alone in his development, as his long-time friend and executive producer of MIP, Lantz, has been working with him since they were teenagers.
While I wanted to profile him before the album dropped, things never seemed to pan out. When I finally get the chance to reconnect with him, it’s through a FaceTime call he takes from a studio in Toronto. While Cartier is polite throughout and eloquent in his responses, he shows little interest in reflecting on past achievements for too long and seems to be itching to finish up press and start recording.
Aware of the platform Marauding In Paradise has given him, Cartier exudes a businesslike urgency about what needs to be done to take his career to the next level. The discipline he’s shown in this past year is something he sees as a product of the maturity that he picked up living alone and continually working towards something that he takes seriously, unlike some people who take up rapping as a hobby after they’re done school and stuck in their parent’s basements.
“A lot of people still live at home with their moms. Not to discredit them, but you can’t really flaunt independence or exude some kind of character when your whole support system is based on the fact that you have stable living conditions at home. I think living on my own since I was young has given me a bigger perspective on life. I see things a lot differently now,” said Cartier.
Much has been made of Drake, who lived with his own mom in Toronto’s opulent Forest Hill neighbourhood during his early days as an artist, so one can understand why Cartier would seek to subconsciously distance himself from the so-called “6 God”. While Toronto is now a household name thanks to Drizzy’s exploits, the picture many have of the city is at odds with the grittier version Jazz has been living, far from the reaches of the city’s north end.
One similarity that Cartier has with Drake is a close relationship with his favourite producer. Where Drake had 40, Cartier has Lantz. The latter duo can be assumed to be on much more personal terms as they’ve been working together since they were 15, and it shows. With MIP coming off as a polished debut, Cartier is eager to see where their professional relationship takes them.
“If something were to ever happen to Lantz, it wouldn’t be the same. As long as he’s breathing and I’m breathing, I think we’re gonna be working together. It’s even hard for me to work with other people now because I’m just so used to our relationship and how fluently we work… He’s the furthest thing from a yes-man and I’m the furthest thing from a yes-man, so we get at each other a lot. He’s the kind of guy I can text at 5 a.m. with a random idea.”
Keeping things in-house is the utmost priority for Cartier at the moment. In an era where rapper’s personalities are normally diffused throughout a massive homogenous crew, Cartier’s brashness and single-handed commitment to his own vision is refreshing. You know that when he tweets something, it hasn’t been watered down and you can appreciate him for his willingness to stick his own neck out.
Given the nature of his songs, where crazy parties and ensuing late-night trysts figure prominently, one could wonder what his recording process is like. Cartier is quick to denounce the idea that he indulges in any drugs while behind the mic or on stage.
“Everything I talk about is usually just from going out at night. In the studio, and when I perform, I keep things one hundred percent professional. I don’t drink before I get up on stage so I can keep a clear mind. Now, I’m in the studio every day, so I don’t have time for parties. I’m like full straight-edge,” said Cartier.
The music industry is fickle in its propensity for casting aside artists as quickly as it hypes them up, but Cartier doesn’t appear to be putting himself under pressure to release a quick follow-up only to sacrifice losing the fans he gained from his intense first-person narratives.
“This year I was just starting out, but next year I’m gonna snap and I’m gonna make sure the wave is felt, because I’m not content with staying where I’m at right now.”
Unwilling to speak on a solid release date, Cartier simply smiled and said his sophomore record would come out “when it’s ready and the time’s right.”
Cartier often calls his own number on tracks and says his own name in the midst of spitting bars like he does on MIP-standout, “Switch.” If he continues to thrive at the same quick pace, he’ll soon have arenas full of people shouting along with him.
Aside from watching Chelsea thrash their Premier League competition, writing is easily one of my most sacred rituals, in that I let nothing get in the way of my enjoyment of it. Such was the case when my little brother’s impassioned mini-sticks game with his friend disturbed my writing-induced revery two weeks ago, so I packed my things up and walked to a nearby Starbucks to continue my article. Irritated that I had been displaced, I grew even more perturbed when my book review musings were muddled by a conversation that refused to be blocked out by my headphones.
Two bros were having a conversation about the state of music and how the current day output was inferior to that of the past — a point that boring, lazy people make all the time and one that reminds me why I try to never stay in coffee shops long enough to hear others like it.
After bemoaning how music that people make on computers couldn’t rival that made with “real instruments” — at which I stifled a yawn — one of the two, who I understood to make music on his own with a guitar (what a compelling narrative), went on to say that he wasn’t a fan of hip-hop anymore because it had ceased to be a “voice for the oppressed” and was instead littered with references to girls, money, and violence.
While his critique was obviously snobby, what irritated me more was that he cited Public Enemy’s “Don’t Believe The Hype” as a barometer for what good hip-hop should sound like, and even rapped the title to his friend, eliciting an eye-roll from me. This song, he said, was important in how it implored the public to see that things weren’t as great as the government would have everyone think. Rather fittingly, he had no modern-day example to support his point.
Aside from the fact that I consider these kinds of hip-hop “fans” a great bore and a negative influence on the genre, his sweeping generalization still angered me as I walked back home. While I greatly enjoy Public Enemy, I understand that they are so idolized because they broke away from the norms with their gritty production and lyrics (Chuck D’s hatred for John Wayne and his conservative agenda is something I wholeheartedly share). Maybe the guy had written a thesis that dealt with the “oppressed,” but that didn’t give him licence to posit what’s best for them.
I was also angry at how he swept all modern rappers under the rug. Much of the rest of his conversation with his friend dealt with his distaste for capitalist society; maybe if he hadn’t been wanking off into the pages of his copy of Walden for the entirety of 2013, he wouldn’t have missed the release of Kanye’s vehment critic of the same capitalist society in Yeezus.
Kanye is a decidedly mainstream artist based off the length of his reach alone. While Yeezus wasn’t a groundbreaking album for those who already followed the producers that ‘Ye gathered in Paris to make it, the Middle America that he referred to on “Black Skinhead” was put off by both the grating electronic production and angry lyrics that confronted them. Yeezus took the seething anger that white media castigates Kanye for and turned it up “a whole ‘nother level” (*Pusha-T voice*) to a decibel rate that you couldn’t ignore.
The video for “New Slaves” literally premiered upon the face of establishments that didn’t serve to further black status, with it being projected onto the walls of places like Toronto’s Royal Ontario Museum. While Kanye’s Watch The Throne compatriot Jay-Z has dealt with racism in passing — “put some coloured girls in the MoMa” — Kanye’s effort was less intent on cleverness and more on getting his message across. The video was sparse to the point that its straight-on view of Kanye resembled a mugshot. The fact that some of these video installations were shut down by police before they could happen was an ominous foreshadowing of the violent turmoil that would come in 2014.
Perhaps the guy might point to Bobby Scmhurda as an example of how rappers today glorify violence. Schmurda’s single “Hot N*gga” was one of the biggest of 2014 and featured the New York MC bragging that he’d been selling crack since the fifth grade. While I enjoyed the one-liners that the song produced — “bout a week agooooooo” — I was also struck by the chilling nature of Schmurda’s revelations about his GS9 gang’s exploits. The lyrics apparently weren’t all talk, as Schmurda was arrested by the NYPD last December. Although Schmurda may have promoted illegal activities with his music, he was rapping what he knew in the same ways that white boys who idolize Hemingway write what they know. Schmurda’s music was a hard-hitting depiction of the life that he was confined to in the hood, and he confessed to knowing no other way of lifting himself out of it than through music.
To take rappers just looking to craft a hit song to ensure a record deal and ensuing escape from their surroundings and hold them up as a detriment to the progress of their genre is unfair and more than a little misguided because many of them use their status to help those still suffering in the conditions they rose up out of.
Perhaps deterred by how his angry comment against George Bush brought the conservative media down upon him, Kanye didn’t show face at Ferguson. But there were other rappers like J. Cole who did. While I don’t harbour too much affection for Cole — his lacklustre bars don’t prove him to be the lyrical messiah some people say he is — there is no denying that his appearance in Ferguson gave its citizens a boost and his subsequent album, 2014 Forest Hills Drive, was a reflection of Cole’s life and thus immensely relatable to African-Americans.
Supposed music lovers need to take a step back in 2015 and reassess their feelings towards rap as a genre in order to understand whether their distaste for it is due to an issue of lack of quality and depth (my bone to pick with country music, but that is for another time) or a form of racism that has become subconscious. While we all want to impress our friends, a general rule of thumb if you don’t know anything about what you’re talking about is to just shut up and educate yourself when the opportunity presents itself.
When Nicki Minaj announced her third studio album, The Pinkprint, she declared it to be Jay Z’s The Blueprint for female rappers. While the album is by no way a classic, it actually should be seen as the gold standard for a female rapper looking to make it big. It’s not blatantly pop (Iggy’s The New Classic is neither rap nor a classic), and doesn’t feel the need to prove itself, unlike Azealia Banks’ Broke with Expensive Taste.
Minaj has polarized her fans throughout her career. Her mixtapes were great showcases of her hip-hop sensibilities, but were so lyrically aggressive that it came off as a girl trying too hard to join a boys club. Her studio albums represented the other end of the spectrum, as her ear for pop hooks and playful raps launched her into Top 40 stardom to the dismay of her early fans. The Pinkprint finally lands the sweet spot; it’s a cohesive, if overlong, album about heartbreak where “Super Bass” and Minaj’s verse on “Monster” could coexist.
The most impressive aspect of The Pinkprint is Minaj’s success in pulling together a roster of very different genres, productions, and features. “Feeling Myself” is a swaggering highlight that sees Beyoncé taking her riskiest dabble in hip-hop. “Get On Your Knees,” featuring Ariana Grande awkwardly smudging her squeaky-clean image, provides subtle commentary on gender expectations in that its sexually aggressive lyrics feel uncomfortable simply because it’s from a woman’s perspective. “Want Some More” sees Minaj at her most lyrically dexterous and is a great showcase for her ability to move effortlessly between flows. Then there’s “The Night is Still Young,” a sequel to “Starships” that’s lyrically darker and much catchier than the pandering original.
Surprisingly, her singles contextualized in the album are its weaker tracks. “Pills and Potions” is impersonal when compared to cuts like “Bed of Lies.” “Anaconda” is still only a banger when you’re drunk at a party. “Only,” despite featuring Drake in his most unintentionally hilarious and thirsty verse, is underwhelming when compared to the far superior “Truffle Butter,” which also features Drake and Lil Wayne.
The Pinkprint is the standard for female rappers because it is authentic. Minaj is vulnerable and honest in a genre that demands bravado. She is firmly in control of her presentation as a brand, but also shows that she is more than that. The pink wig is gone, and we’re all the better for it.
This time, Childish Gambino spared us the full-fledged multimedia attempt at bringing together his writing, rapping, and social media skills that made Because the Internet the clunky and confusing mess that it was.
Still, he didn’t spare us all the drama. STN MTN / Kauai was released as a dual-sided concept album, following the same character from Because the Internet. It begins with Gambino dreaming that he’s running Atlanta and the last track, “Go DJ”, transitions into Kauai’s first track, “Sober”.
In STN MTN, the storyline is hard to follow and other than in the first and last tracks, the dream motif fails to give the track the dream-like and surrealist feeling you would hope for. If anything, Kauai sets a much more surrealist and mellow vibe than STN MTN. In STN MTN, Gambino’s style and lyrics sound like nothing more than mainstream rap with its misogynistic lyrics and not-so-subtle bragging, which don’t always fit with his voice or tone.
It’s clear that Gambino wants to be different, and his creative endeavours are appreciated, but STN MTN’s generic lyrics won’t serve him well in this pursuit.
Despite STN MTN’s shortcomings, Kauai sounds like what Gambino fans (or at least this fan) expect from him. “Sober” is a beautiful and soft R&B song. “Retro” combines some of Gambino’s best musical talents: his singing, his falsetto and his witty lyrics. “Pop Thieves” is a great example of Gambino finally finding a cohesive way to explore different artistic mediums, featuring spoken word by noted mathmagician Jaden Smith.
Overall, Kauai is gorgeous. The recurring beach sounds do what STN MTN couldn’t in maintaining a theme throughout the album. While it definitely has some questionable choices (did I mention Jaden Smith?), it’s worth listening to, if only to experience Gambino’s musical progress since Because the Internet.
