Fresh Cherries from Yakima

“weed’s played out, they on that pill shit/a bad mu’fucka, where the MILF’s at?”

let me start off this article by telling you what wale is not: wale is not the next biggie, jay-z, or nas. he’s not the next kanye or lil’ wayne. he’s not the next lupe fiasco, or ‘pac, or whoever. as he asks on his flawless mixtape about nothing, he’s answered his own question: he’s carved his own lane. in a feat growing more and more sparse in the hip-hop community, wale is a rapper slightly unlike any rapper before him, he’s the first wale.

however, just for argument’s sake, i’ll have to say that wale is most like college dropout-era kanye [you know, the one who tipped his hat to beck and name-dropped pastor troy in the same verse], only without the educated middle class disposition and, quite frankly, he’s head-and-shoulders above ‘ye in lyrical skill. this is a guy who can not only bob and weave through verses with complicated rhyme patterns [like lupe, probably his closest peer in mainstream rap, only clearly lacking lupe’s vague whiff of pretension], but will drop fly punchlines metaphors involving basketball players and bart simpson’s nerdy sidekick in succeeding bars, and the charisma permeating from the speakers [once again, like college dropout-era kanye] absolutely sells the bars, whether or not you catch the reference. not to mention, there aren’t many rappers outside of MF DOOM who has a reference base as wide as wale’s. peep game: oksana baiul, the konami contra code, former WCW cruiserweight champions, the source magazine, shrinking-fit levi’s [i love my 511 skinny’s, though], street fighter II [”i’m off the wall like vega”(!!!!)], lindsay lohan’s nostrils, the critic [yeah, shout out to john lovitz], charles s. dutton [remember roc? anybody?] and a barrage of others.

“and by the way, i seen the i-tunes hatin’/i think it’s more racist than ratings…”

on the ironically-titled mixtape about nothing, wale steps up to bat with a plethora of topics, including downloading and bloggers [”the perfect plan”], neighborhood cats asking for a handout [”the star”], runnin’ game [”the manipulation”], and even making a creative spin on method man and mary j. blige’s “all i need” [the cleverly-titled “the remake of a remake”], showing that even on a release he’s giving away for free, he can come up with more thoughtful song concepts than most rappers do on their albums. wale finds himself running through beats heavily influenced by go-go, a sound that’s never really caught on outside of his own town, creating a polyrhythmic backdrop for his star-quality rhymes. and not only that, but he manages to outshine lil’ wayne, bun b, pusha t, and black thought of the roots [according to wale, his favorite rapper in the world], which is not an easy feat, being as though it reads as a shortlist of rappers who have dazzled audiences with their sixteen-bar verses over the past couple of years, but it also shows wale’s insane amount of promise.

“i went to school with the white boys/so, i can understand the plight for ‘em… i ran the streets with the street n*ggas/so, i can understand police victims…”

as jeff weiss pointed out last week in the most brilliant blog post written all year, “Whenever dudes like Kanye or Lupe try to speak “consciously,” they at best sound polemical and strident, at worst muddled and vague. By contrast, Wale evidences an almost Obama-like ability to simplify complicated topics and re-organize them in sober, clear light. In particular, his almost uncomfortable honesty and deeply reflective revelations on “The Kramer” [editor’s note: not to mention relatable] turn it into one of the smartest and most resonant songs to grapple with race in recent memory.” the only thing i have to add is this: when kanye tries to do “conscious,” he just sounds like he’s grandstanding. when lupe tries to do “conscious,” he sounds preachy. however, when wale speaks on thought-provoking issues, it sounds exactly what he himself says: he has a conscience. when he speaks on race in “the kramer,” he’s holding himself to the same terms as he’s holding the kid who lets his white friends call him the n-word, even though it gets under his skin. on his song over the beat to common’s “the people,” [from his 100 miles and runnin’ mixtape] when he states, “saturday night sinners doin’ their sunday morning fakin’,” he’s making an observation, not trying to get you to change your life. later on in the same song, he talks about the cops: “never good with police/raised under the code/90% race/other 10 is disclosed,” and telling a short story about getting detained by british airways, and getting his bag checked by a vaguely racist officer named mr. clark.

this is what separates wale from his peers in hip-hop, and finds him only a few short lengths behind his idols; his everyman persona gives him the ability to tell stories that are instantly relatable in an era where every rapper with a deal wants to project himself as larger than life. this is what makes him similar to one of his highest-level supporters, jay-z; although hov has been afforded the status that actually makes him larger than life, his best moments come when he gives listeners a peek at his vulnerable side, showing us that, after all the records sold, he’s still just as human as anyone else.

and this is the advantage that wale has over most of rap right now.

“they ain’t got no life, ’cause they always on mine/i’m on these n*ggas minds like lice…”

This entry was posted on Monday, June 9th, 2008 at 3:53 pm and is filed under believe the hype, hip-hop. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.