The Last Time Rap Critiques Meant Something They Were Judged by Mics
Does anyone even read music criticism any more?
Believe me, I try.
When an album (project) is being released I read the various Rap-oriented sites reviews. I read the first listen reviews, check everyone calling everything a classic in real time on Twitter, and I also check Vulture, Pitch Perfect, HipHopDX, so on and so forth. Generally speaking, I’m like, “huh,” but more often than not I’d much rather read how my brother Frank or my group, Straight To The Remix viewed the album.
I think the “whys” have been talked about ad infinitum — too many releases, reviewers don’t have time to live with the project, etc — so I’m not gonna even go into all that. Let’s just take a moment to remember when a review meant something. Back when a review’s ratings was Barbershop banter, when a negative review might get yo head split, when music was more of a shared experience.
We ain’t give two shits about record sales.
We were young and the furthest thing from our minds was checking to see how many units Enta Da Stage (or some equivalent) moved.
That was neither part of the criteria for judging an album nor was it a source of conversation. What we did converse…debate about, however, was The Source’s Record Report ratings.
I’m sure I could still go among my peers and start up a vehement discussion about why Low End got Five Mics and Midnight Marauders didn’t. I even have my own internal dialogues about why Death Certificate, Stunts, Blunts, & Hip-Hop, and Hard to Earn ain’t get Five Mics.
The Source’s Mic System (One Mic: Totally Wack to Five Mics: A Hip-Hop Classic) is still the gold-standard for ranking systems. (Sorry XXL, your S to XXL is an afterthought). Starting out as Broken Records (which I barely remember) and finally changing to Mics in or around 1992, the Mic was the first real Rap album critique that mattered.
In a world before the internet, The Source’s circulation penetrated markets that even Rap City or Yo! MTV Raps didn’t — everyone ain’t have cable back then — so a bad review could mean that Joe Schmoe in Boise won’t be buying Return of the Funky Man.
Which unto itself, is problematic. Reviews, be it books, movies, or whatever, are objective but The Source, being an East Coast magazine, originally had an East Coast Rap leaning which pissed off people from the rest of this vast country (Yo, Doggystyle didn’t even originally get Five Mics…no bullshit).
The fact that anyone cared at all shows the strength and gravity of the Mics.
Of course as Rap music became mainstream and Rappers (that weren’t Hammer or Vanilla Ice) were doing Michael Jackson-type numbers the measuring stick moved from the quality of the music to the reach of the audience, popularity began to translate as “good.”
For people like myself, that was disheartening. Albums that were genuine classics like Illmatic, moved like molasses. Yes, I know it was bootlegged to holy hell, but a million people weren’t buying Nas’ debut regardless. EPMD’s boast of going gold in 30 days seemed juvenille in that market. People were doing that (selling 500,000 albums) in one day.
By the end of the 90s, no one gave a rat’s ass about an album review.
There has to be close to a million Rap albums, mixtapes, and EPs released a year. It would be impossible to know, never mind listen and review everyone that came out. And lets be honest, unless its a blockbuster release like a J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar, Drake, or Jay-Z, the masses usually have no idea what’s out. Albums get by me all the time.
Add to that digital downloads, streaming, artists releasing one single at a time on Soundcloud, there’s practically no physical evidence that a product is in the market. I can only imagine how many niche markets there are in Rap now. People like who and what they like.
So why would they give a fuck about a review anyways? If you’re not a Juggalo, you need to keep your mouth shut on all things Insane Clown Posse. You don’t understand their slang, their style, and when they go “whoop whoop,” it startles you. Only someone from that culture could review it.
Rap has grown. We no longer share the same experience.
The best reviews move you. Not only can you relate to the writer’s experience, they voice opinions that you’ve had that you have been unable to articulate. Contrary to the current narrative, some of the best reviews are extremely personal. I have to quote one of my favorite reviews:
The month was May, and the year was 1977. I was living in Harlem. This was during the time of the “Dodge City” dope wars along 8th Avenue and 147th Street. Heroin kingpin Leroy “Nicky” Barnes was profiled on the cover of the New York Times Magazine as “Mr Untouchable,” and Julius “Dr. J” Erviving was mesmerizing crowds of 3000 to 4000 spectators on a small basketball court on 155th street. Barry Michael Cooper, Spin Magazine, Aug. 1985
That’s a part of Barry Michael Cooper’s review for Cameo’s Single Life album. He was describing the first time he heard Cameo. Cooper picked you up and dropped you into a place that you likely would never had seen but you knew you were in good hands, not to mention, you got a helluva history lesson.
That’s what a good review should do. Since most don’t and are often written by some jagov, the whole field has been sullied. Thus, I may listen to more music now than ever before, am learning new artists daily, but when it comes to reviews, I steer clear. Most people are sheep anyways. They like what everyone else likes.
It’s no wonder that the masses don’t give a hot mothafuck about what some unknown writer has to say about an album that they love. They can tell that the person writing the reviews is totally out of their element…and likely doesn’t care either.
