Complacency and the Infinite Blandness

 Just as the best jazz is no longer made in New Orleans, hip-hop became Uhmerica's dominant form of pop music by quickly outgrowing the bounds of its birthplace.  But that hasn't stopped the East Coast Bias machine from cramming mediocre New York rap music into our ears at the first sign of competency.  Case in point is the proclamation of Jay-Z as the "greatest rapper alive".  Jay-Z is really the most agreeable rapper alive, elevating the innovations of others to mainstream status and reaching the widest audience possible. 

Put it this way:  if Jay-Z is the greatest rapper alive, Jay-Leno is the greatest talkshow host alive.  Few have sold CDs like Jay-Z, and few have dominated ratings like Jay-Leno.  But Jay-Z has never topped Illmatic and Jay-Leno isn't even funny.  They both should have retired for real, and stayed that way.  Sure, Jay-Z could continue to appear satisfyingly in Beyonce hits, and Jay-Leno could probably voice characters in Pixar movies.  Instead they are subjecting us to inescapable dreck.  While Jay-Leno's current crappiness is well documented, not enough has been said about how bad Jay-Z's latest single is.

First of all, he brags about living in the NIMBY-celeb shithole that is Tribeca, but still claims to be 'hood forever'.  Yeah, and J-Lo is still Jenny from the block, we know.  But he then assures us that indeed, he would often travel to 145 st., buy cocaine from Dominicans, and cook it up at home.  Then we are hit by the chorus, full of so much saccharine cheerfulness that Christmas music seems comparatively palatable.  We can think of another song that is much, much more representative of living in New York City.  But which song will be played ad-nauseum at Yankees games?  Jay-Z's New York is the one enjoyed by outsiders, and you know you are in a tourist bar when this song comes on.  Nothing else brings Jersey kids to the dancefloor with such fury, and makes us leave after finishing our beer with such urgency.