trez260
ILLIEN
ill o.g.
a long but worthwhile read.
Written by Andreas Hale
andreas_hale13@yahoo.com
myspace.com/andreas_hale
It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you, without a dope editorial to argue about” © Andreas Hale aka The Gotdamn Editor-In-Chief mangling Rakim
So I’m driving down to the local spot to get some food to fill me up after a long days work. I pull up to a red light and there goes Brother Ishmael slangin’ them Final Call newspapers. No disrespect to the hustle, but I just gave family a few dollars the other day and I knew he was gonna bust his hump over to my vehicle and try and open my door to shake my hand (some of them cats are bold as hell). Just as I prep myself to tell Brother Ish “Nah cat, I just ‘donated’ to you yesterday,” I hear a tap on my passenger door and here’s another dude trying to get my attention.
My first thought is “Gotdamn…they done double teamed your boy,” but upon closer observation I notice that this cat isn’t suited up like Brother Ish. He’s got his little fake bling on and holding a stack of CDs. Now I’m sitting here with Ish’s gotdamn Final Call poking in the driver window and this other cat and his fully extended arm dangling in my passenger window spinning tales of how he’s “the best thing since sliced bread” ,“the CD is only $10 for 39 tracks…help a brother out” and various other one liners I know you have heard 3 or 4 million times this month. It’s like Super Mario Brothers and I’m looking for a gotdamn warp zone as I’m waiting for this light to turn green (doesn’t it always seem like forever when this happens?). “Nah fam,” escapes my lips and before Ish says “Peace my brother” (or fuck this nigga) and super emcee GutterSlutBang can prepare his rebuttle, the light turns green and I peel off leaving them both coughing in a cloud of smoke.
As I wipe the sweat from my brow and laugh to myself like a near death experience, I notice that this isn’t the only dude hustling his CDs. The next street has the Pimp Trick Gangsta Click annoying drivers while down the block Lil’ Talkstoomuch is trying to coerce a bus stop full of patrons to give his CD a listen and they’ll know why it’s worth $10. I shake my head and as I speed through like Tom Cruise in Days of Thunder to snatch my grub, a thought crosses my mind and proves to be my new mantra entering 2007 and beyond…
STOP RAPPING AND GET A JOB!
Some of you have seen this slogan on my myspace page while others have seen a few T-shirts with it emblazoned across the chest area. For someone who works in this industry, who the hell am I to dash someone’s dreams with such a bold statement? What gives Andreas Hale the right to tell anyone who remotely cares about the art to put down the gotdamn mic? You really want to know why? Because for those of you that seek the pot full of grillz at the end of the rainbow - ain’t no gotdamn money in the record business! But allow me to explain my position before you emcees out their explode with anger…
When Hip Hop was just a “fad” that suits didn’t take seriously, there wasn’t as much of an aspiration to get in the game. In order to spit a hot 16 some sort of skill was required and even then it meant nothing more than being a starving artist outside your local bodega. Nothing was promised if you could spit an ill rhyme. There was no million dollar check at the end of the Hip Hop rainbow. Hell, BET was just getting started while MTV didn’t even have the balls to play most black artists except pop kings Prince and Michael Jackson.
But somewhere between Run DMC rocking Adidas and NWA's "putting in your culo a .38 slug" something happened. Corporate suits figured it out – what people don’t understand they will at first be scared of but will later consume. NWA was a prime example of the infatuation of what most people would never understand. While Ice Cube and DOC were in the background scribing the street’s journal, the suits salivated at the thought of commercializing and profiting off of a culture that they originally thought would go away.
MC Hammer was one of the rappers that profited off of his lame mic skills but ill footwork. Vanilla Ice wasn’t too far behind and by then all bets were off. Hip Hop was commercialized and projected through millions of homes as a means to sell everything from Taco Bell (remember Hammer parachuting down rocking those nutty leggings while chomping a burrito?) to Sprite (the Grand Puba commercial is still dope). It became a way out of the hood for young black men everywhere. Forget the “other” hood dream of picking up a ball, picking up a mic required no college education, no physical gifts, just the ability to rhyme words over a beat.
Now the tricky thing about this is MC Hammer and Rakim. Who was more popular and why? The obvious answer is Hammer. Needless to say, Hammer was wack as fuck on the mic. But to junior aspiring emcees across the globe, a feeling of “I’m better than him” began to sweep the nation. Rakim, on the other hand, was such a lyrical wizard on the mic that kids (and adults) praised the gift this man had with the understanding that his gift was god given and couldn’t be learned. He was a superb emcee who made people think. And here’s therein lies the dilemma – most people just aren’t smart.
Say what you want, but 75% of you (yes… even your dumbass sitting there reading this thinking “he ain’t talking about me”) are dumb as a brick. This isn’t about book smarts, this is about easily digesting information. But when it comes to music, many just don’t want to think for whatever reason and the suits don’t really want you to learn from some black guy named Rakim or Chuck D how to “Fight The Power” (similar as to how the media learned that giving Malcolm and Martin airtime was problematic. Hence the reason why Cam’ron speaks about “Snitching” on 60 Minutes rather than Michael Eric Dyson). They’d rather have you jumping around like Hammer or doing whatever lame dance that keeps you from planning the revolution. Slowly but surely the wack emcees superseded those with skill and the door opened for everyone from Diddy to Nelly to spew whatever the fuck it is they yarn about and make a buck.
So what is there to keep those of you at home from looking at a rapper like Yung Joc (who blatantly says he can’t rap) and not think you can rap better than him? Shiiiiit….I can rap better than Yung Joc. And if spitting wack rhymes can get you all the cars, bitches (yes…bitches), houses and jewelry your heart can desire, why not try to rap? Aha! The money…
I’m sure most of you have heard this before but never really wanted to believe it but here it is…
THERE AIN’T NO GOTDAMN MONEY IN RAP MUSIC!
The well is dry people! The milk has gone bad! The corporations have squeezed every last dollar out of our collective hip hop souls. And the best they can do to keep you thinking that Hip Hop is as glamorous as it looks is by investing into creating these images that sustain the perception that rappers are rich. Journalists don’t make it any better with their terribly researched reports of $50 million deals and $7 per record sold. Truth is that these are all unverified numbers. Nobody is really clearing $7 per record sold at Koch. Manufacturing costs alone make this figure unreal. What it takes to make an album, clear samples, clear appearances, pay producers, make videos and various other behind the scene costs which aren’t public knowledge have made the money making aspect a lost concept.
The object of the game, like many corporations, is to make the most money they can by spending as little as possible. So if they are paying you more than 50% of the gross profits (not net), wouldn’t it make that concept a moot point? You want to know the truth? You can’t handle the truth but here it is…
YOU HAVE A BETTER CHANCE MAKING IT IN THE NBA THAN MAKING BIG MONEY AS A RAPPER!
Yeah…I said it! Sounds silly? Let’s put it in perspective…
There are currently 491 players in the NBA (courtesy of nba.com) and the average salary was $3.7 million back in 2003 (usatoday.com). The minimum salary at that time was just over 300k. That’s the minimum kids. There are over 30 players who make over $13 million. Hell, you don’t even have to play to make that much loot (word to Steve Francis and Allen Houston).
Now, can you even name 491 current rappers who make (or appear to make) a few hundred thousand? Hell, can you name 491 rappers? For the fun of it, name 491 rappers, producers and singers! Regardless of how you look at it, there is actually a better chance of going pro than making it in Hip Hop. You can argue about being the next Jay-Z, 50 Cent, Diddy, Russell Simmons and the many others who have made lucrative careers off of Hip Hop. But upon further inspection you’ll also find that the previously mentioned names dabble in more than just rap. They take those ends that aren’t promised tomorrow and make their futures look promising (real estate, investing in franchises, creating businesses, etc).
For those of you who piss and moan about me not being a rapper and think I haven’t a clue as to what is really going on, I’ll insert a quote from an artist who has been on both sides of the industry (signed and unsigned) and will tell it like it is…
This rap shit is uncertain, yo. And with the industry being in the state of transition that it is now, its even worse. My heart goes out to every one of you pursuing your dream of making music in this digital age......I couldn't imagine what its like to be a brand spanking new MC trying to be heard in 2007. Trying to make it as a rapper in today's marketplace is like trying to convince a woman who's been raped to have sex with you. I mean, imagine a woman who's been beaten, brutalized, sodomized, pissed on, Wesley Pipe'd, fucked in and out of every hole, forced to perform any and every depraved sexual act you can think of...........and here you come, the nigga with flowers and candy whispering in her ear and telling her that with you 'things will be different....' - Phonte (½ of Little Brother)
I know, some of you think you can lay more proverbial pipe than Wesley (and talk shit while doing it) and your flowers and candy on CD will convince people to buy millions. But the truth is that there are way too many of you doing it for all the wrong reasons. If the truth were let out that there’s no money in Hip Hop, maybe the field would rid itself of all the nonsense and those who love their craft would rise to the top. In the meanwhile, the suits would go bend over another genre (is that Country music I hear?) and long dick its pockets empty.
I don’t mean to insult those of you who love Hip Hop but I love it too. Yall just need some gotdamn rules (see below). To see so many talentless schmucks lobby about having the hottest shit with album covers made from Crayola and construction paper and beats by Fisher Price, makes my blood boil. Wouldn’t you agree that if Lil’-Yung-Pimp-Thug got his ass out the game you wouldn’t feel better? Now you shouldn’t feel so bad wearing a “Stop Rapping And Get A Job” T-shirt or adopting my mantra (don’t worry…its universal…I won’t sue you).
So the next time you see Jr. reciting his rhymes in hope of being the next Jay-Z, tell him to put down the mic and pick up a ball (or *gasp* a fucking book). Better yet, teach your kids that there are many other occupations that can net him a decent salary… rapping just doesn’t happen to be one of them. But I’m just a critic…Who The Hell Am I?
RULES 4 ASPIRING RAPPERS by ANDREAS HALE
#1. Give your shit away – Look…I know you think that $10 is gonna make you Trump status but the truth is, why the fuck am I gonna buy some shit I haven’t heard before? Give it away digitally or in the streets with all your contact info inside (too many of you forget this important point) and maybe those folks will come back to BUY your next one.
#2. Stop the myspace flooding – Fool…I don’t know you! Stop talking to me like you do! I don’t want to hear another myspace artist ever again. If I hear about your shit through someone else that I trust, I’ll then seek you out. Otherwise…LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.
#3. Do more shows – The more shows you do, the more people will hear you and decide whether they like you or not. This is where you sell your CD. Not next to the kid selling bananas and beside the old guy pandering faux minks.
#4. Get a publicist – If you don’t know what one is, look it up. These are the people with connections that can get you heard by the right people. Doing it yourself is cool and all but if you don’t know anyone, you’re pretty much at a dead end. They get you those little magazine articles and website write ups that begin your journey to success.
#5. Stop making shit for “Everyone” - If I hear another gotdamn rapper tell me “Yo son…I got a joint on here for everyone,” I may sock that fool in his chin. Do you. Don’t do somebody else. If you set out to make a girly song or an ode to the streets it will definitely sound like you are trying too hard.
#6. The path to greatness that you see cannot be used again – You will not make it trying to do the same shit as Kanye West, Cash Money or Jay-Z. That door is closed playa. You must find your own way. Inspiration is great, duplication is pathetic.
Written by Andreas Hale
andreas_hale13@yahoo.com
myspace.com/andreas_hale
It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you, without a dope editorial to argue about” © Andreas Hale aka The Gotdamn Editor-In-Chief mangling Rakim
So I’m driving down to the local spot to get some food to fill me up after a long days work. I pull up to a red light and there goes Brother Ishmael slangin’ them Final Call newspapers. No disrespect to the hustle, but I just gave family a few dollars the other day and I knew he was gonna bust his hump over to my vehicle and try and open my door to shake my hand (some of them cats are bold as hell). Just as I prep myself to tell Brother Ish “Nah cat, I just ‘donated’ to you yesterday,” I hear a tap on my passenger door and here’s another dude trying to get my attention.
My first thought is “Gotdamn…they done double teamed your boy,” but upon closer observation I notice that this cat isn’t suited up like Brother Ish. He’s got his little fake bling on and holding a stack of CDs. Now I’m sitting here with Ish’s gotdamn Final Call poking in the driver window and this other cat and his fully extended arm dangling in my passenger window spinning tales of how he’s “the best thing since sliced bread” ,“the CD is only $10 for 39 tracks…help a brother out” and various other one liners I know you have heard 3 or 4 million times this month. It’s like Super Mario Brothers and I’m looking for a gotdamn warp zone as I’m waiting for this light to turn green (doesn’t it always seem like forever when this happens?). “Nah fam,” escapes my lips and before Ish says “Peace my brother” (or fuck this nigga) and super emcee GutterSlutBang can prepare his rebuttle, the light turns green and I peel off leaving them both coughing in a cloud of smoke.
As I wipe the sweat from my brow and laugh to myself like a near death experience, I notice that this isn’t the only dude hustling his CDs. The next street has the Pimp Trick Gangsta Click annoying drivers while down the block Lil’ Talkstoomuch is trying to coerce a bus stop full of patrons to give his CD a listen and they’ll know why it’s worth $10. I shake my head and as I speed through like Tom Cruise in Days of Thunder to snatch my grub, a thought crosses my mind and proves to be my new mantra entering 2007 and beyond…
STOP RAPPING AND GET A JOB!
Some of you have seen this slogan on my myspace page while others have seen a few T-shirts with it emblazoned across the chest area. For someone who works in this industry, who the hell am I to dash someone’s dreams with such a bold statement? What gives Andreas Hale the right to tell anyone who remotely cares about the art to put down the gotdamn mic? You really want to know why? Because for those of you that seek the pot full of grillz at the end of the rainbow - ain’t no gotdamn money in the record business! But allow me to explain my position before you emcees out their explode with anger…
When Hip Hop was just a “fad” that suits didn’t take seriously, there wasn’t as much of an aspiration to get in the game. In order to spit a hot 16 some sort of skill was required and even then it meant nothing more than being a starving artist outside your local bodega. Nothing was promised if you could spit an ill rhyme. There was no million dollar check at the end of the Hip Hop rainbow. Hell, BET was just getting started while MTV didn’t even have the balls to play most black artists except pop kings Prince and Michael Jackson.
But somewhere between Run DMC rocking Adidas and NWA's "putting in your culo a .38 slug" something happened. Corporate suits figured it out – what people don’t understand they will at first be scared of but will later consume. NWA was a prime example of the infatuation of what most people would never understand. While Ice Cube and DOC were in the background scribing the street’s journal, the suits salivated at the thought of commercializing and profiting off of a culture that they originally thought would go away.
MC Hammer was one of the rappers that profited off of his lame mic skills but ill footwork. Vanilla Ice wasn’t too far behind and by then all bets were off. Hip Hop was commercialized and projected through millions of homes as a means to sell everything from Taco Bell (remember Hammer parachuting down rocking those nutty leggings while chomping a burrito?) to Sprite (the Grand Puba commercial is still dope). It became a way out of the hood for young black men everywhere. Forget the “other” hood dream of picking up a ball, picking up a mic required no college education, no physical gifts, just the ability to rhyme words over a beat.
Now the tricky thing about this is MC Hammer and Rakim. Who was more popular and why? The obvious answer is Hammer. Needless to say, Hammer was wack as fuck on the mic. But to junior aspiring emcees across the globe, a feeling of “I’m better than him” began to sweep the nation. Rakim, on the other hand, was such a lyrical wizard on the mic that kids (and adults) praised the gift this man had with the understanding that his gift was god given and couldn’t be learned. He was a superb emcee who made people think. And here’s therein lies the dilemma – most people just aren’t smart.
Say what you want, but 75% of you (yes… even your dumbass sitting there reading this thinking “he ain’t talking about me”) are dumb as a brick. This isn’t about book smarts, this is about easily digesting information. But when it comes to music, many just don’t want to think for whatever reason and the suits don’t really want you to learn from some black guy named Rakim or Chuck D how to “Fight The Power” (similar as to how the media learned that giving Malcolm and Martin airtime was problematic. Hence the reason why Cam’ron speaks about “Snitching” on 60 Minutes rather than Michael Eric Dyson). They’d rather have you jumping around like Hammer or doing whatever lame dance that keeps you from planning the revolution. Slowly but surely the wack emcees superseded those with skill and the door opened for everyone from Diddy to Nelly to spew whatever the fuck it is they yarn about and make a buck.
So what is there to keep those of you at home from looking at a rapper like Yung Joc (who blatantly says he can’t rap) and not think you can rap better than him? Shiiiiit….I can rap better than Yung Joc. And if spitting wack rhymes can get you all the cars, bitches (yes…bitches), houses and jewelry your heart can desire, why not try to rap? Aha! The money…
I’m sure most of you have heard this before but never really wanted to believe it but here it is…
THERE AIN’T NO GOTDAMN MONEY IN RAP MUSIC!
The well is dry people! The milk has gone bad! The corporations have squeezed every last dollar out of our collective hip hop souls. And the best they can do to keep you thinking that Hip Hop is as glamorous as it looks is by investing into creating these images that sustain the perception that rappers are rich. Journalists don’t make it any better with their terribly researched reports of $50 million deals and $7 per record sold. Truth is that these are all unverified numbers. Nobody is really clearing $7 per record sold at Koch. Manufacturing costs alone make this figure unreal. What it takes to make an album, clear samples, clear appearances, pay producers, make videos and various other behind the scene costs which aren’t public knowledge have made the money making aspect a lost concept.
The object of the game, like many corporations, is to make the most money they can by spending as little as possible. So if they are paying you more than 50% of the gross profits (not net), wouldn’t it make that concept a moot point? You want to know the truth? You can’t handle the truth but here it is…
YOU HAVE A BETTER CHANCE MAKING IT IN THE NBA THAN MAKING BIG MONEY AS A RAPPER!
Yeah…I said it! Sounds silly? Let’s put it in perspective…
There are currently 491 players in the NBA (courtesy of nba.com) and the average salary was $3.7 million back in 2003 (usatoday.com). The minimum salary at that time was just over 300k. That’s the minimum kids. There are over 30 players who make over $13 million. Hell, you don’t even have to play to make that much loot (word to Steve Francis and Allen Houston).
Now, can you even name 491 current rappers who make (or appear to make) a few hundred thousand? Hell, can you name 491 rappers? For the fun of it, name 491 rappers, producers and singers! Regardless of how you look at it, there is actually a better chance of going pro than making it in Hip Hop. You can argue about being the next Jay-Z, 50 Cent, Diddy, Russell Simmons and the many others who have made lucrative careers off of Hip Hop. But upon further inspection you’ll also find that the previously mentioned names dabble in more than just rap. They take those ends that aren’t promised tomorrow and make their futures look promising (real estate, investing in franchises, creating businesses, etc).
For those of you who piss and moan about me not being a rapper and think I haven’t a clue as to what is really going on, I’ll insert a quote from an artist who has been on both sides of the industry (signed and unsigned) and will tell it like it is…
This rap shit is uncertain, yo. And with the industry being in the state of transition that it is now, its even worse. My heart goes out to every one of you pursuing your dream of making music in this digital age......I couldn't imagine what its like to be a brand spanking new MC trying to be heard in 2007. Trying to make it as a rapper in today's marketplace is like trying to convince a woman who's been raped to have sex with you. I mean, imagine a woman who's been beaten, brutalized, sodomized, pissed on, Wesley Pipe'd, fucked in and out of every hole, forced to perform any and every depraved sexual act you can think of...........and here you come, the nigga with flowers and candy whispering in her ear and telling her that with you 'things will be different....' - Phonte (½ of Little Brother)
I know, some of you think you can lay more proverbial pipe than Wesley (and talk shit while doing it) and your flowers and candy on CD will convince people to buy millions. But the truth is that there are way too many of you doing it for all the wrong reasons. If the truth were let out that there’s no money in Hip Hop, maybe the field would rid itself of all the nonsense and those who love their craft would rise to the top. In the meanwhile, the suits would go bend over another genre (is that Country music I hear?) and long dick its pockets empty.
I don’t mean to insult those of you who love Hip Hop but I love it too. Yall just need some gotdamn rules (see below). To see so many talentless schmucks lobby about having the hottest shit with album covers made from Crayola and construction paper and beats by Fisher Price, makes my blood boil. Wouldn’t you agree that if Lil’-Yung-Pimp-Thug got his ass out the game you wouldn’t feel better? Now you shouldn’t feel so bad wearing a “Stop Rapping And Get A Job” T-shirt or adopting my mantra (don’t worry…its universal…I won’t sue you).
So the next time you see Jr. reciting his rhymes in hope of being the next Jay-Z, tell him to put down the mic and pick up a ball (or *gasp* a fucking book). Better yet, teach your kids that there are many other occupations that can net him a decent salary… rapping just doesn’t happen to be one of them. But I’m just a critic…Who The Hell Am I?
RULES 4 ASPIRING RAPPERS by ANDREAS HALE
#1. Give your shit away – Look…I know you think that $10 is gonna make you Trump status but the truth is, why the fuck am I gonna buy some shit I haven’t heard before? Give it away digitally or in the streets with all your contact info inside (too many of you forget this important point) and maybe those folks will come back to BUY your next one.
#2. Stop the myspace flooding – Fool…I don’t know you! Stop talking to me like you do! I don’t want to hear another myspace artist ever again. If I hear about your shit through someone else that I trust, I’ll then seek you out. Otherwise…LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.
#3. Do more shows – The more shows you do, the more people will hear you and decide whether they like you or not. This is where you sell your CD. Not next to the kid selling bananas and beside the old guy pandering faux minks.
#4. Get a publicist – If you don’t know what one is, look it up. These are the people with connections that can get you heard by the right people. Doing it yourself is cool and all but if you don’t know anyone, you’re pretty much at a dead end. They get you those little magazine articles and website write ups that begin your journey to success.
#5. Stop making shit for “Everyone” - If I hear another gotdamn rapper tell me “Yo son…I got a joint on here for everyone,” I may sock that fool in his chin. Do you. Don’t do somebody else. If you set out to make a girly song or an ode to the streets it will definitely sound like you are trying too hard.
#6. The path to greatness that you see cannot be used again – You will not make it trying to do the same shit as Kanye West, Cash Money or Jay-Z. That door is closed playa. You must find your own way. Inspiration is great, duplication is pathetic.
