10. action bronson & party supplies - blue chips 2//big sean - "control (prod. no i.d.)"

Over the last twenty days of December (and obviously 2013), I’ll be writing about my favorite twenty albums and songs of the year, one a day.  Not best. Not most influential.  Not most likely to land on a Complex slideshow.  Just my favorite, ranked in order.

10. action bronson & party supplies – blue chips 2

Collaborative projects are Action Bronson’s bread and butter; it’s only been a little over two years since he became one of New York’s most buzzed-about rappers and he already has five under his belt, with some of the most talented producers alive.  But while each of his collaborators prods something new out of Bronson (he’s got a voice made for Statik Selektah’s scratch hooks), Party Supplies is the only one that’s willing to match Bronson blow-for-blow.  Each ridiculous punchline is met with an equally ridiculous sample flip, disregard for the standards etched all over the tape.  Blue Chips 2 is just a track shy of twenty but it feels a lot shorter – the liveliness isn’t just restricted to a couple songs; it runs rampant across.  Bronson’s the rare rapper who can be constantly nudging you and winking with his lines, almost making light of his music, without trading off entertainment for quality.  At his core, he’s got the flair, wit, and breathless delivery of an elite rapper.  Not too many alive that can keep up with Bronson’s wordplay once he really gets the ball rolling. But he doesn’t keep it quite that simple, or that boring.

10. big sean – “control feat. kendrick lamar & jay electronica (prod. no i.d.)”

Without its star main attraction, “Control” would be relatively average as a song.  It’s heavy, heavier than most of the songs Big Sean makes, and it’s the most astute and gripping Sean’s been on a song since G.O.O.D. Fridays – but it hardly sports an instrumental that plays to Sean’s talents, and the only reason he doesn’t seem like a mixtape rapper leagues out of his depth is that Jay Electronica managed to phone in his worst verse in what seems like years.  But what really keys this song in, and what really keeps it stuck in repeat rotation, is Kendrick.  While “Control” has hardly been the end-all that seemingly every rap blogger, fan, and their mom seemed to be proclaiming it as, the fact remains – it’s been years since a rapper of Kendrick’s caliber and stature has fired shots into the crowd this openly.  As many have noted, it’s not exactly a diss track (hard to consider his lines threats when he closes them by noting, “I got love for you all…”), but to see a rapper like Kendrick declare himself the king of a city across the country? That’s the type of competition that makes rap entertaining.  No one really relevant fired direct shots back (besides you, Papoose, we definitely still care about you), but no matter.  It’s one of the best rappers alive flexing his bars over a thirty-two, hijacking a track with two of his rivals, asking who’s gonna step up to him as king of rap.  Drake tried the same case earlier this year with “5AM in Toronto”, only for K-Dot to walk all over him.  You gotta admit, Kendrick has quite the convincing case.

The Rapper Report Card

Art’s a weird thing to censor, because a seemingly integral part of art is the fact that only the artist truly understands it.  Art’s a form of expression that doesn’t just permit absurdity, it’s one that revels in the inexplicable and seemingly irrational.  Who are you to dismiss Marcel Duchamp’s infamous “Fountain” (or, The Urinal that Shook the World) or Jackson Pollock’s drip painting?  Art is an umbrella that only spreads wider the further you debate its borders, because it’s a one-size-fits-everything label.  Expression is a solo endeavor.  And to an extent, art’s lack of definition isn’t an issue.  Sure, it might be annoying that people care so much about a mounted urinal, but it doesn’t actively invade your personal well-being.

But music’s the sole, crucial exception.  Most art that could be considered potentially harmful or disturbing is effectively restricted through R ratings and limited access - they’re not impossible to circumvent, but they’re effective enough.  But music?  Sure, stick Parental Advisory stickers on any album with the word “fuck” in it and keep explicit music off the radio, but music has a way of being pervasive that’s unmatched across art forms.  It’s almost impossible to effectively censor it - you can take it anywhere, you can hear it everywhere.  There are far more kids that know who Drake is than have watched The Dark Knight.  And so that means the discussion of music’s power is a lot more pertinent than that of the power of movies or of TV shows – music is much more universal.

Music is often fictional, but there’s something “real” about a song that isn’t replicated in a TV show.  If you watch The Dark Knight and The Joker’s murderous rampage, it’s very clear that he’s entirely fictional.  No one is watching that movie thinking of him as an actual person, and that applies to all movies - so it’s easier to file away the violence and sex in a movie to the drawer labeled “fictional” in your mind.

But music is more ambiguous.  Music isn’t necessarily autobiographical, not is it entirely conjured up from false memory; it primarily lurks between the two, and so it’s entirely realistic to cast Miley Cyrus and Tyler, The Creator in the light of a role model in a way that you might not with a fictional character like The Joker.  Sure, it’s doubtful any of Eminem’s listeners legitimately think that he’s a murderous, violent rapist, but you won’t find many kids reciting and memorizing lines of The Joker, will you?  Eminem’s the one on posters in kids’ rooms, he’s the one whose lyrics are going to be written on arms and committed to memory, and he’s the one that kids are going to be looking up to.  It’s easy to separate actors from their characters - not so much with musicians and their real selves.

So does that put a kind of social responsibility onto rappers and singers, if they know that their music is capable of influencing millions?  Lupe Fiasco: “Rappers influence your shooting sprees/Turn around and publish bars like it ain’t got shit to do with me/Easy to record so ruthlessly."  Ethics and art are always intertwined, but the parallel is really brought to the forefront with a form of art like music that’s virtually inescapable - very few girls between the ages of eight and thirteen don’t know who Miley Cyrus is.  So does that mean Miley Cyrus has to censor her music under the knowledge that kids are following her example?

And does that standard extend to hip hop, a genre that’s arguably more rife with "bad influence” than any other?  My love for hip hop aside, it’s a subsection of music that can get very difficult to defend in its unapologetic misogyny and encouraging of violence and crime.  Whether hip hop is justified in that type of portrayal is a whole different article (short answer: I say yes), but you’d have to be severely deluded to suggest that, generally, hip hop isn’t more provocative in its material than Taylor Swift.

If it isn’t clear already, I’m dealing heavily in generalizations - this is an argument that’s difficult to make otherwise.  So deal with my occasionally absurd generalizations for a little more, because it’s crucial.  Hip hop also heavily appeals to a demographic that’s devoid of “typical white American” heroes, inner-city minority youths - and so it’s natural that they’ll look past traditional hero figures towards the celebrities that’ve fought their way out from their own shitty inner-city environments into fame and fortune and prominence in white America.  So it’s a two-pronged issue - hip hop isn’t just a bad influence, it’s possibly the most important one.  Would you dare tell someone thatChief Keef isn’t pushing forward Chicago crime after watching a sixteen-year-old Chicagoan freak out after finding Chief Keef is out of jail?

So the influence of mainstream music stars is almost impossible to debate - Chief Keef isn’t the exception, but the norm.  Most artists can do whatever they want skirting unacceptable and scandalous while hiding behind the impenetrable shield of “artistic choice” - but because of the way that music is proliferated across all forms of media, that’s not necessarily a choice that musicians have.  Can Miley Cyrus twerk away without a care in the world, knowing that whatever racial insensitivity and ignorance she’s displaying is being replicated by kids across the United States?  Can Tyler, The Creator (or Eminem) rap about rape and murder while knowing that his nihilism is the mantra for millions of teenagers?  Should Big Sean spend all his time rapping about asses with the knowledge that he’s a role model for every kid in Detroit’s inner-city?  That’s the real question.

Now, everything logical points toward social responsibility - art’s lack of boundaries is a terrifying void, if you think about it (imagine what an artist even more unhinged than Eminem could wreak on society).  But I can’t bring myself to advocate for censorship, and not for any logical reason.  I just can’t write words defending the idea of restricting art in any way.  Sure, lay it on with the censorship and restrictions to access and whatever else you can throw at music, but don’t force artists to stop making the music they’re making for the sake of the children.  Who am I (or anyone, for that matter) to tell a musician that the music that they’re spending countless hours and tears on isn’t socially acceptable?  A world saturated (contaminated?) by controversial and potentially harmful art isn’t exactly ideal, but a world where art, one of the most important forms of self-expression, is limited is even scarier.

Maybe the problem isn’t that Chief Keef is rapping about gang violence or that Big Sean really enjoys asses, it’s that we’ve fostered an environment that lets artists with purportedly “bad” subject matter thrive.  How can we criticize when we’re indirectly supporting with our iTunes money and ad-watching and radio play?  Ultimately, there’s a truth we have to come to terms with.  Art’s not sentient - it can only affect us to the extent we allow.  It’s only manipulative when we let it be.  That’s its beauty.

10/9/13