Nas - Hip Hop Is Dead
MusicMash Rating: not rated yet
Pitchfork Media Rating: 7.8
For all the youngsters and dabblers out there, hip-hop is
not dead, so calm down. If anything, hip-hop is deaf. Rappers, bloggers, and
fans have become so averse to criticism that the mere title of this album flung
them into defensive hysterics. So, Nas' plan worked. People are at least
trying to come up with reasons why hip-hop is indeed alive instead of just
stealing an album per week and dropping weird science on the internet. He wants
us to care again, to think when we listen instead of simply consuming, because
his career and the survival of the culture depend on it. Nas couldn't be a pop
guy, even with Puff's help. He couldn't write a club song if his life was at
stake, which, after "Oochie Wally" it probably should have been. And he
certainly isn't going to make any money off his crew (see also: "Oochie
Wally"). Nas is a writer, and he needs our attention. He needs us to read
lines, between the lines, put it all together. He
needs us to give a fuck about the art, the history, and the craft or we won't
get what he's saying. Hip-hop isn't dying because Nas hates it; it's dying
because not enough people love it. If that sounds corny or offensive, well,
there's the rub, and Hip Hop Is Dead is
made for you. If you lecture on rap forums all day, post daily pics on your
blog of Lil' Wayne kissing people, wonder why we write about hip-hop on this
site, or just want to know what the best rapper alive really sounds like, listen
to this album.
For everyone else, the standard Nas disclaimer: Hip Hop
Is Dead is not Illmatic. Nothing ever will be. Nas and I are roughly the
same age, so when his debut came out in 1994, it was a humbling experience for
me. I was struggling through term papers while this slightly older dude from
Queensbridge was writing the great literature of our generation and
collaborating with producers I considered legendary. Pete Rock, Gang Starr's DJ
Premier, Tribe's Q-Tip, and Large Professor of Main Source had produced a dozen
or more of my favorite albums by the time they worked on Illmatic, and each dropped a gem on Nas, a rookie. (The Black
Album was not the dawn of Dream Team
production.) AZ, the only guest, got one verse on "Life's a Bitch", a verse so
perfect it still haunts him in the same way Illmatic's every verse haunts Nas. It's a flawless album, my personal favorite, and I can
listen to it today and not be bored for a second. Unfortunately, every album
subsequent to Illmatic contained
increasingly longer stretches of boredom, mine and Nas'. Even his recent "comeback"
albums (aren't they all?), including the infamous "Ether"-ing of Jay-Z on Stillmatic, were better in theory than in practice-- the go-to
criticism of Nas, his poor taste in beats, holding true for every failure. But,
he was also getting lazier, less-focused, saying things without
thinking and probably smoking way too many blunts. It was largely a lost decade
for Nasir Jones.
When Nas signed with Jay-Z's Def Jam, I didn't guffaw. I
didn't care. I was happy that Nas was making money, but I didn't believe rumors
of a Nas/Premier reunion or the Return of Nasty Nas. It was what it was: a
business deal. Whatever that deal promised Nas, though, pays off on Hip Hop Is Dead.
He is, in fact, extremely nasty on almost every track, as committed and
consistent as he's been in a long time. Beginning with the L.E.S. & Wyldfyer-produced royal
rumbler, "Money Over Bullshit", Nas leans into the mic and doesn't fall back
until he's said his last word on the a capella "Hope". The two tracks with
Kanye West are exceptional for both artists, confirming the chemistry of Late
Registration's "We Major" and bracketing
the meditative middle of the album. On either side of that soulful stretch are
"Black Republican", the fantasy duet with Jay, and "Hustlers", or, Make-a-Wish
for the Game. Jay and Nas are so ridiculous on a track together, it's almost
depressing that it took this long to happen, and the Godfather II sample is inspired. The Game, in what should be his
template, sounds great rapping on a song with the rapper whose name he is
dropping, especially when it's Nas, whom the Game most closely resembles. The
closeness of their voices actually makes the Game more tolerable by osmosis.
A few of the beats are mediocre, which, again, is Nas'
Achilles Heel. But if I'm going to talk negatives, it's really only necessary
to mention one song. Will.i.am produced three on the album, and all of them, at
least his contribution to them, are decent to good. However, "Who Killed It?",
Will's odd nursery-noir beat, is the worst concept song in the history of
hip-hop music. Normally, I'm with Nas any time he wants to inhabit a
persona or inanimate object, but here he assumes the voice of-- I shit you
not-- character actor Edward G. Robinson (kids: think Chief Wiggum). The first time I heard it, I
was genuinely shocked. The content is irrelevant. Truly, deeply embarrassing,
but that's what the delete key is for, people. Let's hope it was the Black Eyed
Pea's idea.
At least Nas is trying again, though. He's pushing himself,
and that's what his appeal has always been. He's a...
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