In the weeks preceding Kanye’s immortalized first solo show at SOBs back in 2003, I remember getting into several college lunchroom (and dorm room) arguments over whether or not the already-noteworthy producer could rap. Aside from “The Bounce” off Blueprint 2, at the time, there really wasn’t anything publicly facing (or mixshow-facing for that matter) that helped support my case that he was going to be important. Not just “big” or on “son is poppin’” status, but a true value add- an asset- to the culture and the economics of its entertainment landscape.

I forget exactly how I did it, but I managed to collect a few scattered freestyles from across some random message boards with hopes of piecing together some adequate proof that Kanye was, in fact, dope, and that his contributions as a going-against-the-grain-but-still-acceptable traditionalist and music purist to what was, at-the-time, an unstoppable force, but a label which represented everything but middle-class.

Anyway, after playing those joints for my crew of Doubting Thomases (some of whom work in the music industry now, coincidentally), the monumental project “I’m Good” (the classic mixtape that was released right after his infamous car accident- kicking off a series of events which unfolded so opportunistically that it made him the urban manifestation of an “outlier”… but I digress…) dropped, and that became all the proof I needed.

A few weeks later, a few of us took to SOBs, and the rest, as they say, is history.

A quick aside: Urban America has experienced a cultural shift specifically in the second half of the last decade, largely defined by widespread Internet penetration and democratization of information… and the former “gatekeepers” growing irrelevant and obsolete entering a new life stage.

Quick jump in the Delorean (or hot tub, if you prefer), and here we are seven years later. Same place. SOBs.

To Varick and Houston I returned early last week, in anticipation to hear to what J. Cole, Roc Nation’s ace-in-hole, had to offer. I had met Cole quickly almost a year ago backstage at a Wale show in the East Village, and even before the attention and recognition, he struck me as a very cool cat.

The stage was already set, the story drafted to perfection- (I’m just sayin’, “Jay-Z Protégé Performs On Same Sold-Out Stage As Kanye Seven Years Late! Everyone’s Faith In Hip-Hop Is Renewed!” is a layup for today’s authenticity-starved blogosphere)- and to say the least, I was impressed.

But not fulfilled.

I left the show with a certain perplexity that I couldn’t shake- was it that I began to realize that the reasons that I valued hip-hop were evolving into something different, or worse, invalid? Like any hip-hop fan, I played Devil’s Advocate and immediately compared what I just saw in young Cole to the immediate, unswerving awe and impact I felt when first hearing Jay-Z, Kanye, Nas, etc., because they’re the gold standard- those who left the game different from when they first touched it (in my experience at least). Right after the show, my emotional investment just didn’t look like it’d pay dividends with Cole as he was very calculated and was following a predesigned roadmap- ultimately, I wanted to hear something truly new… something I couldn’t fully grasp but would be drawn to.

However, after a brief IM conversation with my good friend (and Billboard.com editor) Mariel Concepcion the next day, I realized that my stubborn, content-spoiled Brooklyn ass wasn’t being fair. In fact, I was being a cabezón for failing recognize Cole for what he’s already accomplished and contributed- an honest, wonderfully-crafted project in The Warm Up, and a stage presence that was polished far beyond his experience would suggest. Over the last few days, I listened to The Warm Up with a more purposeful ear, and I feel confident saying that his range, depth of lyrics, and versatility of delivery have earned J. Cole a place at today’s influential roundtable (who, for all intents and purposes, includes Drake, Jay Electronica, Kid Cudi, and Donnis. But that’s just me. And my track record is flawless.),  and considered to be of XXL’s systematic 2010 Freshmen Class.

I say that to say this: if you’re a hip-hop cynic, keep your “show and prove” shield up, as it’s your filter to block out nonsense- your defense against the dark arts, if you will . But lend an ear to J. Cole and embrace what he’s about to prove… because all the stars are seemingly aligning in his benefit.

Browse Timeline

• « This Is NOT The Remix: A Case For Letting Songs Live.
• » Rasta Monsta v. Crisp: A Brand Analysis.

Comments ( 1 Comment )

Add a Comment