puntiniCAZpuntini

I can't do a Top 3, except for putting Funcrusher at No. 1. I can't evaluate the first Wu album properly after '94-'95 anymore; they had worn me out. Damn, every three months (on the dot, exactly three months) there was an album coming out with the same style. All great, don't get me wrong... but Kun-fu this and Kun-fu that had really worn me down. And even though 36 chambers made me scream "miracle" as soon as it came out, Funcrusher made me scream "what's this?", so I put it first. But I’m not shocked to see thousands of top tens with 36 chambers in the first place; it makes sense.

Dad has style.

The gut punch was more beautiful, it knew more of "it guts you and it sews you." Very brutal.

Yeah, but Primo is Raw, Jeru is not. That Primo is Raw makes sense, that this CD is half Primo and half Jeru too. But Jeru, he's a little brat.

It's not a derogatory term, it's just a way to classify the guys. Mobb Deep rough (I shoot that one, I chop up the other, I'm the coolest), Jeru The Damaja Mr. I-know-it-all, just like me.

I don't have to know it by heart to say that I don't like it. I might enjoy the various influences of Killing Joke, but the rest, no. You can come up with 8,000 discussion points that might support an argument, but when I go to listen to the records: they suck. If you don't want me to repeat the same things: don't make the same observations.

Your arguments are as follows: << punk '77 is defined by the lyrics and the attitude of the artist, not just by the music >>. Well then, that’s great. About 87 posts above, I repeated 80 times that I couldn't care less about the attitude, and even less about the lyrics. If you tell me the same things 80 times, I will respond 80 times the same way: to me, punk musically sucks. I couldn’t care less about the socio-cultural movement; there’s music on CDs that I don’t like. And I couldn’t care less about the minimal differences between one band and another; I understand that to you, listening only to punk or wave, they may seem like abyssal differences, but to me, frankly, they seem like small points of difference. For me, John Coltrane is different from Cannibal Corpse; that’s different, not a chord played differently: it’s still a chord. It would also be something if they all played the same song. The problem with this discussion between you and me is that you have come to repeat the same things for the 80th time; I’m also fed up with repeating: I’ve heard it too much, I keep hearing it, and I don’t like it. I can’t understand why I should not like something because I don’t know it: everything that sounds similar to me doesn’t appeal to me, so I don’t delve deeper. Obviously, I can’t differentiate a 77 London Punk from a post-80 New York Punk... but who cares, my friends explain to me when they make me listen to what type of punk it is, and I think both suck. Aside from Minutemen, something from Buzzcocks, and 90s Hardcore, everything else either doesn’t please me or makes me sick.

It doesn't seem to me that "Raw" is synonymous with "True." There are raw and polished diamonds, but both are real. The awareness is there, as it directs the reader to think that this is one of those "I smoke, I drink, and I party" by calling it raw, whereas it is "I don't smoke, I don't drink, I read books, and I preach jah."

Well, if in '94 it was at the birth, then what is Sugar Hill, considering it was making music 15 years before Jeru? Aside from the fact that if there's someone who's not raw, it's Damajah, one of the shining stars of the intellectual spiritual genre. If Jeru is raw, Mobb Deep are two illiterate diggers.

I believe that "You Can't Stop The Prophet" was the first rap video (the kind that matters, excluding MC Hammer and various trash) that slightly deviated from the Rap-Video-Manual canon. The stop-motion cartoon elements at the time were too innovative. It's a shame that two years later with "Ya Playin' Yaself" he backtracked and made the Kung-Fu video. Beautiful, yes, but it was too trendy. Anyway, Brooklyn remains the best neighborhood in the rap world; every borough has its champions, but in Brooklyn, there's always an embarrassment of riches, the ombellicodermonnorepp.