TPAB is one of the few genuine great American works. Absolutely drenched in themes, symbolism, and plot, both lyrically and musically. Nothing before or since has captured the whirlwind of emotions, contradictions, and ideas of “America” that poor black rappers who rise to unbelievable fame experience. To speak truth about both of those worlds, to see past the “I made it” notion of rich black rapper life into the deeper soullessness of the music industry and upper class culture, to find the joy in where you came from as well as the inability to ever go back into that world again. To weave in the history of black music of soul, jazz, spoken word, funk, and hip hop into that narrative, to play the part of dumb rapper and “businessman” rapper and “woke” rapper and back again, puts this album far above almost anything else this country has produced in any medium. Not to mention a mastery of the form of hip hop lyricism, with each line not only advancing the themes but also being incredibly sonically pleasing, and even pushing beyond that to critique the form’s modern reliance on words being more instrument than written word to put the sonics of song in direct contrast and competition with the lyrics.
No music critic has ever done it real justice, leaning on words like “dense”, “complex”, and “layered” to let them off the hook of thoroughly digesting the absolute masterwork displayed on this album.
Die Lit is one of the few genuine great American works. Absolutely drenched in themes, symbolism, and plot, both lyrically and musically. Nothing before or since has captured the whirlwind of emotions, contradictions, and ideas of “America” that poor black rappers who rise to unbelievable fame experience. To speak truth about both of those worlds, to see past the “I made it” notion of rich black rapper life into the deeper soullessness of the music industry and upper class culture, to find the joy in where you came from as well as the inability to ever go back into that world again. To weave in the history of black music of soul, jazz, spoken word, funk, and hip hop into that narrative, to play the part of dumb rapper and “businessman” rapper and “woke” rapper and back again, puts this album far above almost anything else this country has produced in any medium. Not to mention a mastery of the form of hip hop lyricism, with each line not only advancing the themes but also being incredibly sonically pleasing, and even pushing beyond that to critique the form’s modern reliance on words being more instrument than written word to put the sonics of song in direct contrast and competition with the lyrics.
No music critic has ever done it real justice, leaning on words like “dense”, “complex”, and “layered” to let them off the hook of thoroughly digesting the absolute masterwork displayed on this album.
The worst joke about this? Kamashi Washington's The Epic came out the same year, and no one fucking cares because people can only like black music when it's easily digested pop garbage like TPaB.
