This Is Not a Goddream
Last weekend, after sending out a series of TED Talk-adjacent letters of motivation that made almost no sense, Kanye West and his newly reactivated Twitter page took a turn. "I love the way Candace Owens thinks," he wrote last Saturday, when he improved the profile of a far-right icon who believes the Black Lives Matter protesters maintain a "victim mentality." That was just the beginning. Driven by the inevitable backlash, Kanye spent his week expressing his love for a xenophobic, misogynist president, spoke of "dragon energy" and posed selfies in a MAGA hat. On Thursday, Noisey editor-in-chief Eric Sundermann asked what western fans should do about this apparent turn to the right.
Seeing Kanye come to terms with a powerful white man using xenophobia as a pillar of his platform is as devastating as it is disappointing. This is not about political parties, even if it looks like Chance the Rapper . This is about something bigger ̵
J. Cole ignites the discourse machine
Hey, J. Cole has a new album out! It's called KOD, and that can mean one of three things: children on drugs, King overdosed, or killing our demons. These facts alone are enough to make most people angry. There is no middle ground with Cole now. You either think he's a GOAT-level genius worthy of defending in the strongest ways, or you think he's a stupid guy who's barely worth the meme to drill holes in his person. Lawrence Burney thinks there is a good chance that you will not approach the rappers in North Carolina at all, however:
The approach of rescuers to Cole's music was not unjustified. At the top of this decade, The Warm Up and Friday Night Lights mixtapes brought him to be referred to as the Nas of the new generation. His debut album contributed nothing to this type of coronation, and his successor Born Sinner drew most of its duration. And since then, he's somewhere in the middle of the idea of being a top-class rapper and someone who's damned little able to grab people's attention for an entire album. People tend to see J. Cole only in these extremes. You can not wait to cling to every word, or you can not bear to listen at all. But as one who barely deals with the social media universe, it's never clear how the North Carolina rappers absorbs all of this – and if he does, as his music informs.
Yes Yeah Yeahs' Influence is Still Felt
15 years ago, SoHo icons Yeah Yeah Yeahs released their restless debut LP, Fever to Tell. The record was born to determine the aesthetics and sensibility of a generation: the East Coast, lean-tempered, coolly disinterested in your shit, probably still down to beat you in a sweaty moshpit. But in contrast to the perfectly-styled indie bands, who turned up with frontwoman Karen O in the nightclub's spotlight, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs never made it to stadium shows or the ubiquity of the post-scene. Instead, they had an inescapable impact on the mass of concise guitar rock that followed them. As Kim Taylor Bennett writes in her review of the album, the trio always stands out from the crowd:
In 37 nearly perfect minutes, it still bleeds both hedonism and heart. It is also a record that boldly cuts off every track from their self-titled 2001 EP, the Microphone Fell, DIY punk collection that broke all. In retrospect, Fever to Tell surpassed expectations and weakened the skeptics in the background who sniffed the Year Yeah Yeahs bric-a-brac. Outlaw live shows served as a pure smoke screen for style and substance. "It's our time, Sweet Babe / Breakthrough / It's the year that's hated," Karen sings on the debut EP's debut EP. Perhaps prophetic, but ultimately it was a triumphant mockery.
High Fidelity is partially responsible for a generation of Shitheads
Looking back, the indie / emo scene looks at the second wave, which took place in the early 2000s – a movement that generated a torrent of internationally acclaimed rock bands, many of which are still revered today – were suspect. The text always bordered on violence against women, and there was seldom progress from one plate to the next. Much of this has been explained by the impasse of the protagonists in each story, but depressing as it is, recent events have not done much to confirm the innocence of the words of these bands. In his essay published on Wednesday, Dan Ozzi suggests that the cult John Cusack has a lot to answer for with the 2000 film High Fidelity:
High Fidelity Rob Gordon introduced the world to sad-sack music -Obsessive, which is always in the middle of the breakup. For the kind of "nice guys" who grew up appreciating pop culture knowledge about athletic ability, the character became something of a cult hero. From the perspective of the people who still live at home, Rob had an enviable lifestyle: he had the dream job of owning his own record store, by default he was the least socially vulnerable member of his social circle, including Jack Black's Todd Louiso, and, most impressively for romantically incapable music fanboys, somehow managed to routinely sleep women who were much hotter than he. Gordon was either the coolest nerd or the coolest guy. But despite a lifestyle that music freaks should strive for, Rob Gordon was not a personable admirer. Rob Gordon was indeed a terrible person – a sociopathic womanizer, a stalker ex and a shitty friend.