RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Wednesday, August 8

MNZ: URB July/August 2007

Cover story was Wu Tang’s triumphant return to sucking. If you are excited about the new Wu Tang album, you are dumb fucking asshole. “Triumph” sucks by the way, you dumb fucking asshole. 8 Diagrams might as well be called 8 Diaphragms because that shit’s gonna be mad pussy, and will probably just be the latest chapter in RZA’s “I’m like a Gordon Liu character but in real life for black folks” ego stroke which will eventually completely envelope the entire Wu Tang mythos and history in it’s ever-expanding wacky wackness.
Also, they had a story about MURS going major label. I was gonna save this talking point for the stupid monthly Expert Whiteboy Analysis list, but fuck it. We should all learn from the lesson of Pharoahe Monch. Dude is underground legend, hooks up Rawkus and strikes lightning with that “Simon Says” song, which is not to say he sucked the rest of the time, because lyrically he’s always been more than respectable. It’s just that one song was the one time he so obviously slammed nobody could get all philosophical and wax or wane music critically about how overlooked or underrated or slept on or whatever the fuck he was, because that song obviously kicked a motherfucker’s ass. He sorta lays low/disappears, and comes back on this long-term “great rapper who never made it” PR campaign before this last album of his comes out, which gets leaked like seven times over, and then finally comes out… and is a big ol’ piece of shit with flat beats and no urgency really. That same more than respectable lyricism is there, but what the fuck? Not one song is something that if I had an ipod I would feel compelled to make sure was on there. That shit was more than forgettable. I mean, to be honest, I can’t even remember the name of it (oh yeah, actually once I couldn’t remember and started typing that sentence I remembered it’s called Desire… or was it Eardrum?).
Anyways, I’m all glad when a great unheralded rapper like MURS gets paid or whatever, because I always just assumed he was like every other interchangeable totally awesome west coast indie MC until recently when I started being a MURS mark. Now he’s gone major label, and I’m not on some “You Sold Out! You Sold Out!” indie doofus trip, but seriously, even if this dude got a small advance, I’d be surprised if he ever made enough back to pay for his first video they end up doing. And I’m sure they’ll spice him up with some R&B shit hook or a fuckin’ piece of shit blip-bloop Polow da Don beat or some crap like that. Then two days later after the video comes out, Lil Wayne will be on some mixtape rapping over the beat about Sportscenter and Barry Bonds and hydrocodone and it’ll all sound so raspily cute and wacky that it’ll overshadow the actual MURS song. Which means he won’t recoup shit, and then he’ll actually owe some major label Jews tons of cash he’s got no way of making other than being a rapper, which has obviously already been screwed up. So then the passion will be gone.
So yeah, other than all that, URB is a fucking stupid magazine. I was glad I bought it though because it gave me tons of stupid self-pretentious shit to laugh at, in a very self-pretentious manner.
(Also, I hate stupid assed magazines that you have to circumnavigate their flash-heavy website for thirty-seven minutes to never find a picture of their goddamned cover. I MIGHT'VE SOLD YOU DICKS A COUPLE OF SUBSCRIPTIONS! Probably not, but the cover was extra funny and I wanted to have it, but never could come through with it. My bad anonymous returning visitor.)

No comments: