Listen to “Yo! My Saint” while walking down the street, ordering a drink at a lonesome bar — the message is now ubiquitously contextualized. The people passing you on the streets start to resemble signals rather than the object of humans themselves, they become props to further the song into everlasting existence.
Call Me by Your Name is more than a tale of first love; it is a tale of love, interrupted. The magic is cut short, memories are sealed and shelved with blue, billowy shirts of ex-lovers and mothballs in the back of the closet.
Kitsch is intimate and ethereal, but with a sharp edge that slowly reveals itself. Beats pulse in space as Sur Back unfurls phrases like “aspirin of diaspora” and “buried your rolex in tasteless snow” with such conviction that you feel like you’re being told a secret from a friend.
Like watching a younger, prematurely jaded version of yourself make your way through the world dressed up as something brand new. Invincible but so easily destructible at the same time, you’re a mess, but a mess that was wanted, and the world dissolves around the darkest shade on your lips.
It’s almost as if Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope are a Faygo-soaked Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, powerless to effect the drama in the world around them, forced to carry out actions that were predetermined without their consent or approval. Forced to content themselves with being psychopathic pawns on a chessboard they can barely see.
Insane Clown Posse, due to the fiercely independent nature of their career, have done all of their growing up in public. After two EPs of generic gangsta rap under the moniker Inner City Posse, the crew was struggling to differentiate themselves from other Detroit rap groups. Two key things happened to make that possible. The first was hooking up with Mike E. Clark, who produced much of their debut full length, Carnival of Carnage. The second was a dream Violent J had, in which spirits from a traveling carnival appeared before him. J and Shaggy 2 Dope were charged with warning the world of the Dark Carnival’s approach. That new mission–and the new name–gave the Insane Clown Posse more than enough to differentiate themselves from the other local crews.
Sitting in my local coffee shop on the morning of the American election results, I was nervously sipping my cappuccino, trying to find some sense of comfort, when, in between the fey folk pop and Postmodern Jukebox lounge covers of Nirvana, I heard that familiar descending piano line, and the sweeping snare drum. Knowing what was to come, it made me smile. I exhaled.
2 months ago, I started having to commute an hour to work every day. My music library on my iPhone was outdated, old. I wasn’t exactly tired of it, I’d just put it on shuffle or play an album I loved and zone out. I started spending less time at home, on my laptop…
The mid-90s were a time when kids in Michigan needed someone to look up to, too: the closure of the GE plant in Flint started a ripple effect of poverty across the state. Detroit itself had long since stopped booming, the industrial districts largely abandoned and left to rot. In the suburbs, places like Zug Island were mythical destinations you didn’t quite believe were real. Detroit was a distant continent one only visited for brief glimpses of culture. Eight Mile Road was the dividing line.