ocaelo

Editor’s Note: FEATURED: The Resurrection of Scott Mescudi and The Birth of Black Alternative!

By: Patrick Boyer

(Editor’s Note:) Ahem…

So…I like Patrick Boyer’s writing.

That’s why you may have seen his piece on Alabama Shakes’ Brittany Howard featured a couple of months ago. It was one of the first pieces I ran on the site and I really enjoyed it— it was witty and honest. And from the looks of my Google analytics page, a lot of you did see it and a lot of you enjoyed it as much as I did.

But right now Patrick and I are having creative differences, as everyone in the creative world does at one point or another.

Patrick wrote something about Kid Cudi that was slightly different than what was initially posted here.

Our original post came to the conclusion that hip-hop, a musical genre with deep, virulent black roots was getting in it’s own way when it failed to recognize the innovative offerings of rappers, like Kid Cudi, as part of the genre. It also came to the conclusion that these barriers were put up by hip-hop purists, people who perhaps think that Biggie and Pac or Nas and Jigga will neva eva eva be overthrown as G.O.A.Ts.

What Patrick said, which is below in all of its unedited glory, was different. He made the point that black people, who he does not distinguish from one another or from hip-hop listeners in general, are getting in the way of hip-hop innovation by dismissing Kid Cudi’s work. 

It’s his opinion but it’s not one that I share. I think that black people vary— just like white, yellow, brown, beige and green people vary— from Alabama to Aquitaine from San Francisco to Suez. I also think that hip-hop listeners vary, it’s a growingly universal interpretation of a universal medium— who wouldn’t love it?

I do agree that hip-hop purists, people who don’t like the reinvention the genre was born from, get in its way, all. the. time. 

But not every black person is even a hip-hop listener, let alone a hip-hop purist, and not every hip-hop listener is a hip-hop purist or a black person.

But, I digress.

Ocaelo is a place where the great minds of our generation can have great conversations, whether or not they are conversations that agree with the mindset of the editor-in-chief. 

So, please, read Patrick’s piece. Re-blog it. Comment on it. Tell us if you’re a hip-hop purist or a hip-hop listener, if race matters or if it doesn’t.

That’s what we’re here for. 

                                                                                                     - Celeste 

I am in the sauna, bordering on the edge of delirium. It is hot needless to say and my skin feels as though it is melting from my bones. The only thing that brings me solace in this oven is my iPhone which flashes an overheating warning as it blares, “Young Lady” by Kid Cudi. I pay no mind to the warning because my phone is shot to hell anyway. With countless cracks and dings, a peaceful death maybe just the thing it needs to accommodate a life of sporadic trauma and abuse. But that is not the moral of this story. So, as I teeter on the brink of physical exhaustion and begin to slip into a lucid dream, I could think of only one thing. This song is fucking amazing!

“Young Lady” is a Hybrid of sorts. Pulse pounding percussion shows roots in hip hop while the steady stream of electric guitar pays homage to the punk rock days of old. This clash of two audible styles which embody the voice of two distinctly different sets of socially oppressed youths come together and create a frenzy of emotion.  This emotion is monumental and fitting for the song’s  subject matter. “Young Lady” tells the story of a young man who admirers a beautiful, smart, and warm hearted woman from afar and is scared to tell her what he thinks of her. Though the sound of the song uses several motifs found in hip-hop, the subject matter is one that is foreign to the urban sensibility and sways more in the direction of its white suburban counterpart. This notion is evident as the rapid flow of words like “feelings,” “mature,” and “admire” show a complete abandonment for the bravado and machismo so prevalent in Hip-Hop. This unique juxtaposition of style and content creates a sound that is fresh and powerful and completely absent from the music scene. This song is a microcosm for Kid Cudi’s entire third studio album fittingly entitled Indicud.

Now here’s the moral of this story! Many Hip-Hop purists or even the general African American public for that matter would listen to this album and say it isn’t “hip-hop” or it isn’t “black” enough. And I know this  because it was the same consensus that was reached when Kid Cudi’s “Creepers” appeared. on the G.O.O.D music collaboration Cruel Summer. (And this would be a good time to point out that it was this general consensus that led to Kid Cudi’s departure from G.O.O.D music.) But here’s my question, “Why does it matter?” Why can’t an artist do something that’s a little “White” (If that makes any sense) for a change? When it comes to stereotyping, I can’t fathom how many times I heard black people say, “Don’t put me in a box.” The only problem with that statement is when it comes to arts and entertainment we put everything into a box. I feel that this has hindered our growth and ability as a race and culture to create art that is universal and timeless. We need more artists like Kid Cudi who aren’t afraid to shed the identity of being black to create art that in the most genuine way tries to attain truth. A truth not just for black people, but for all people.