According to His Royal Yellowness, Jay-Z guest blogged at Rap Radar yesterday. From Hov’s generally nonsensical rant, I’ve isolated the following:
“Last night I performed at the University of Arizona, I had a ball!! Through all the excitement and joking around (as well as the technical difficulties) I missed out on the opportunity to say something important..
On the show as well were Third Eye Blind and Kelly Clarkson.. I thought that to be the oddest pairing EVER but, soon realized, it’s what I’ve always professed..There is NO such thing as BLACK music or WHITE music only GOOD or BAD music..” -Jay-Z, Rap Radar
Jay continues, imploring that it’s cool to like people, places and things different from yourself and what you’re used to. He also suggests that there will be more shows in this mold.
I’m just unable to identify the mold. The lineup above looks like Pop Tarts and spare parts.
In no way do I disagree with Hova’s astonishing revelation. Music shouldn’t be categorized by race. Listeners should be most concerned with what sounds good. However, successful event bills are ones that make sense on some level. While your average Lollapalooza and Rock The Bells lineup may look like a random hodge-podge of acts, there’s usually a method to the madness Jay-Z doesn’t seem to grasp.
Some of you who attended Rock The Bells 2007 at Randall’s Island with me might have arrived and soon grown confused by a Cypress Hill, Wu-Tang Clan and Rage Against The Machine bill. You shouldn’t have, but perhaps you had. By the end of the night you saw Venn diagrams at work. Wu fans who only kinda fuck with Cypress Hill may now love themselves some Rage. A few B-Real fans have a Road to Damascus moment, realizing how much rock influences The Hill, etc. The possibilities are endless, but only if the bands make sense together.
I’m sure some of Taylor Swift’s target demographic fucks with Uncle Murda to piss of their folks. But, let’s say for the sake of discussion, Murda had more than 28 fans. If you put the two together on a bill, you’re going to have a 1955 Birmingham city bus on your hands. A couple Taylors-in-training might find the Gucci Mane of their dreams that night, but for the most part, you’ve got an awkward, unsuccessful affair.
Here’s hoping Jay-Z can change the world, one terrible ice cream social at a time. In the event he only assembles microcosms of Rocafella rosters past, remember who told you what time it is first.
I mean, nothing makes sense to Pres-o-dent Carter unless Jay-Z’s the headliner. Fuck it. It’s Live Nation‘s dime, right?
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