No name, but it’s no sublime. Nigga, you know who you are. I’ll end it ‘fore it goes too far.
As 89.74% of XXLMAG.com’s readership is made up of Vitamin D-deficient RSS fiends who think The Da Vinci Code is real, I’m pretty sure that I’m preaching to the hairy-palmed choir here. For the 10.26% of you familiar with the scent of a woman, Nah Right—a site known to deal in unsubstantiated rumor, unsolicited opinion and innumerable instances of possible copyright violations—recently* linked to Joe Budden’s live performance of “Dumb Out” via the communist haven that is YouTube. Continuing their worthy legacy of distributing intellectual property of questionable origin and ownership, the cabal of thugs and venture capitalists that run Nah Right posted more quasi-legal footage of JB in which Mighty Joe proffers that there’s nothing wrong with working as a skycap for Jetblue.
This raises a few questions, but to make things easier for everyone, I’ll just say: Jetblue > Delta Song.
Now, I’d like to talk more about “Dumb Out” and its seven minutes of madness, but I’m not in a mood to go on about music that can’t be purchased at your local megastore chain franchise as today is a day of understanding (the older gods put me on) and I understand the right of nameless, faceless, heartless whyte men (some of whom may or may not have been on a certain Austrian’s dung list) to demand a fair profit for siphoning the creativity out of the hearts and minds of those who can’t afford proper legal representation. (Note: If your lawyer got their degree from an “institute” which advertises during BET Uncut, you, my dear friend, are kcuffed.) Yet, on this day on understanding cipher (study your lessons, chumps), I must also bring my gift of understanding to the foreign gentlemen in front of the roti shop have no small amount of Mr. Budden’s music available for sale.
This raises a lot of questions, but to make it easier for everyone I’ll just say: Joe Budden > Juelz A. Santana.
One of these men is what the game’s been missing. The other. . .
Now, not to get all Joseph Campbell on you, but I figured I’d offer why Joe’s music has been regulated to 2-for-5 status, while certain insufferable imps can go on to be the
people’s hipster’s choice. Quite simply, we unenlightened human beings require our heroes to be, well, heroes. We cry for reality—you know, real gotta do the laundry reality—but we don’t reward it. Those we deem icons, the men who polarize us** are greater than life, they rise above their circumstances and are able to make high crisis seem like common nuisance. As good as Joe is, he remains in the muck of everyday issues, which, while being what we want, is not what we’re going to respect. It’s not what captures out imagination. It doesn’t provide escape from our mundane issues. What we truly require is something deemed as “other.” Even if it is someone who thinks that comparing himself to the greatest scourge the CIA ever unleashed upon Whitney Houston is what the game has been missing.
(What did the game do? Put down its redundant references to drug personification on the futon like a set misplaced house keys?)
This raises a lot of issues, but to make things easier for everyone, I’ll just say: The Power of Myth > The Da Vinci Code.
Now, I’m well aware of the uninformed theories floating around—Jay-Z is secretly scared of Joe and is keeping his career on hold, Joe’s not ready to take the weight and self-sabotages his own career, Budden is worried that Game will start a Joe-Unot campaign, yadda, yadda, ya—but I’ll have to tell you, you’re wrong. Truth is, you don’t want the Average Joe Q. Public Everyman as a rap star. As an underdog, fine. He’s great.
But let him succeed and you’ll drop him like he was a hot Skateboard P. We live in a society built on legend and powered by idol worship. Unless he comes across a building full of terrorists on Christmas Eve a la John McClane, Joe Budden will remain an average Joe that’ll never capture the imagination public.
Luckily for him, he’s not above working an honest job, like a “real” man.
* In real life terms at least. In the Internetting world, it had to be, like back in the Busy Bee era.
** I don’t even have to say it. I’m grown. My son gets more than you do.