S.W.R.

A few posts ago 99 took some liberty with our eyes and forced the supposedly curious among us to scroll through every fourth artist in his music collection. While it was a noble attempt at "memefucking", or being fucked by a meme - I'm not sure which is which, but if someone feels free to make that the takeaway* of this, go ahead - I only really took note of one thing: Atmosphere. It was the ninth or tenth artist down on the list.

We'll get to him in a second. But the first thing to note about Atmosphere is that he's Caucasian-appearing, but fuck that: he's somewhat white (actually: half-white), which would quasi-technically (but most definitely categorically) lump him in with other "white rappers." And here I was going to try to listicle white rappers, but if there's one thing you learn about them when you're making a list, it's that most of them are completely different from one another (there's no definable styles), most of them only rise to fame by being notorious, and as their notoriety fades, so does their career. Get ready for a paragraph of the worst music ever referenced in one place on this site:

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Vanilla Ice had one single. So did House of Pain. Everlast tried to have a solo career but had to do the nu-rap/nu-folk thing to do it, and people were so surprised by that alone, he actually made some money in the late 90's before fading into obscurity yet again. The Insane Clown Posse (shudder) could only shock so many mothers before they turned into a live stage dog-and-pony Jerky Boys with more brain-drain power. There was that Jewish guy, Remedy, who was briefly affiliated with the Wu-Tang Clan, and was notable for referencing the Holocaust in his music (lesson: never underestimate the Wu's tendency towards diversity in anything). There was White Dawg, known only for papering The Source and XXL with ads of music nobody in their right mind would listen to (but apparently, some still do. A Richard Marx sample? Really?). F-r-e-d D-u-r-s-t, and we say no more. MC Serch did The White Rapper Show on VH1, which set everybody on this planet back about twelve years. Bubba Sparxx was lucky enough to be picked up by Timbaland, only to be left to rot after his shit didn't take off (a white farmboy who raps about being ugly? Buy!). Kid Rock is barely holding on by turning his hip-hop tribute act into something that insults both fans of hip hop and country music, which makes him the poor man's (or the USO's) David Allen Coe (with his variation on the n-word gleaning only a slightly different context). MC Paul Barman named his much-hyped record Cockmobster, and that was easily the best part of it. Paul Wall probably sold more GRILLS than albums. I know there are those who say they like Sage Francis, but I don't know anybody who actually listens to him besides angry Evergreen students who still read Adbusters. Brian Austin Greene once tried to rap, and he couldn't even get booked at the Peach Pit. Kevin Federline was a joke, but I think someone, somewhere played his single just to hear it. The Streets is great, but how many times have you actually listened to that first album? Aesop Rock used to fall out of this grouping, but (A) he's Albino - either him or Murs or Brother Ali, but does it matter? - which is post-white and (B) ever since he rapped with John Darnielle, he might as well be signed to a McSweeney's/Def Jam imprint. And then there's Eminem: someone who took their enormous, street-born talent, saw where the money was, and ran that way - if it's white kids buying all the rap music, why not just openly pander to them? It's an old trick, and it's proven to work, so we soon find ourselves adding him to that Oscar list of winners now that don't belong, somewhere between Mira Sorvino and Mel Gibson. Only the Beastie Boys escape clean, and even they've mentioned still feeling terrible about the "whiffle ball bat" line in "Paul Revere."

At the end of the day, most of these guys are known simply for being white, and (with common exception to the Beastie Boys) their embrace of any aspect of hip hop culture is at best, suburban and and worst, full-out, totally offensive exploitation under the guise of reverent adoption, and I'm a white guy, too.

Which brings us back to 99's every-fourth and Atmosphere, which is actually two guys: Sean Daley (Slug) who does vocals, and Anthony Davis (Ant), his DJ/producer. And you're probably wondering what the hell makes these two (kinda) white guys - from Minnesota, no less - any different than anyone on the above list.

For one thing, they've been hacking away at it since 1993, and they just made their best album. For another, there's an ambition of art present that's lacking in any of the above: it's not overly political, but it's not unaware of the both the bling-conscious nature of populist rap and the contrived coffee-shop-intellectualism of "indie hip hop", and it knowingly walks that fine line. Their latest album, When God Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold, is the perfect example of what they're doing that's different: songs about the down-and-out, blue collar frustration and nihilism that's spreading with the massive separation of wealth taking our country by the half-second. These aren't songs about not being able to pay the bills so much as they're about the enormous expectations people place on themselves, or the enormous contextual letdowns they allow themselves to become: the casual coke user, the single pregnant mother going vegetarian for the baby (the most she can do), the music industry old-timer who was supposed to be the next best thing, but wasn't, and feels the need to expound upon this whenever someone lends him an open ear.

That last one strikes a big, loud chord, because, really, there're few things worse than the dinosaur trying to convince a first-fighter's hunger that things will never be as good as they once had it. Sound familiar, writers? Maybe, from a self-aware 36 year-old white rapper, this sounds like total bullshit; I, for one, am willing to buy it.

And for the first time ever, Atmosphere's loud, brash, yell-'em-down delivery is changed out over the first song and a half of Lemons in exchange for a small, lullaby-level whisper and piano-blues riff crooning. And yes: sometimes, the metaphors (like on "Puppets") are a little heavy-handed, but he isn't Jonathan Fucking Lethem. He's a rapper, and he makes it work. You'll realize this when, five minutes, 21 seconds after the albums begins, that first loud, hard beat drops with the first familiar harsh, loud line - I think it's great how you used to be great.. - and it presents itself in the form of bitter relief: somebody, somewhere, after years of trying, finally may have gotten it right.

Atmosphere, Like The Rest Of Us

Atmosphere, Puppets

*No, actually, the real takeaway of all of this is that when I told 99 I was getting this post ready, his reaction was something like "Atmosphere's white? Huh." So maybe he's not a racist after all.