Reviews
The Slaughterhouse Backlash
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There are few momentous events in the world of online music, so specialized and sequestered that it often draws more fanatics than fans. But when they happen, be still the beating heart.
In 2008, “Swagger Like Us,” something of a Holy Grail for hip-hop websites, premiered on the precious web turf to waiting clickers. For zealous teens and aging enthusiasts alike, NahRight.com, 2dopeboyz, and the Smoking Section, provide the hype machine for deluxe songs that feature heavyweight artists. “SLU” (shortened for effect) featured the most skilled and talented rappers on the scene (Kanye, Jay-Z, Lil Wayne, T.I.) trading verses over M.I.A.’s looping vocal sample. Like most rap songs with incredible rosters, it was both a sparring session for notables, and a fan’s ultimate “best of” list come to life. The websites helped to promote the song, and then fans took to it like ravenous beasts before the radio spun-dry it to annoyance. Cycle of life notwithstanding, everyone got what they wanted out of the release. T.I. increased his cache with a powerhouse single, blogs were able to maintain exclusivity and demand by pushing the leaked song first, and fans could rejoice over the quality of the hit.
It stands to reason, then, that internet hype could help lesser artists generate a similar buzz by combining their forces like Voltron. Of course, the names Joe Budden, Joell Ortiz, Crooked I and Royce da 5′9 are hardly part of pop music’s glossary. Even so, the four rap artists, who dominate the internet landscape with quality mixtapes and prolific work, were poised to create their own history by seizing on the long-suppressed fans of lyricism. All of them had come off releases that informally endeared them to fans. Joe Budden’s “Mood Muzik” series and Crooked I’s Hip Hop Weekly Freestyle Series in particular recaptured the hearts and minds of the aggrieved with verbose manifestos of supposed greatness. All of them had dealt with some unfair label situation that began with enormous promise before degenerating into shelved albums. All of them had something to say about being counted out.
None of them had the musical prowess to carry an album’s concept to completion on a larger scale.
Royce da 5′9 has wowed with his lyrics since he burst on the scene with his insanely famous Detroit brother, Eminem. Joell Ortiz also impressed with his expansive knowledge of the Big Pun catalog, and his homage to a style of rhyming that mashed syllables, hopped flows and discarded the pretty. But the defining quality of rap music that distinguishes it from pure poetry is its integration with a beat. Nary a rapper among them could craft a worthwhile album in their combined decades of work because their ear for beats and syncopation was faulty. Not much has changed in that regard. The Slaughterhouse Mixtape, an album follow-up, marches through a wasteland of slimy production with only rhymes as equipment to sort the muck. Slaughterhouse uses the lyric as a combat weapon in a war against “fake hip-hop” rather than as a means of making lasting music.
Joe Budden can’t spell the word mixtape without conflict, chalking up one loss after another on songs, cracking a lifelong vault of jealousy and feuding. “Pain In His Life” is part of an ongoing battle with Saigon, and no more interesting because of it. Ortiz’s “Bout My Money” takes on the yeoman’s plight by describing the Average Joe’s work day, gruffly conceding that any work will do. But the total playlist registers like a lyrical tantrum, a thinly veiled attack on music industry politics and perceived enemies. Only Royce and Crooked are able to transcend in moments like “Crooked Go Hard,” the West Coast version of Jay-Z’s Brooklyn anthem, and “Part of Me,” Royce’s romance morality tale. The rest of the tape takes years to proceed (it seems) because of the bulky production, forced metaphors and outright complaints. “Move On,” for instance, should be the pinnacle of the emcee tandem, but the eight minutes drags as each man tries to outdo his last verse with one more labyrinthine and less subtle. If any of these artists were good poets, they would blend weak and strong rhymes, and venture more acutely into the world of double meaning. Joe Budden has created an internet campaign around his artistry, failing to see that he breaks the simple rule of telling instead of showing on his songs. Lacking images to support his style, he clumsily packs punchlines where they scarcely fit.
The hype machine for Slaughterhouse hasn’t got enough fuel to support this vehicle that is less than the sum of its parts.
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