I do this thing every once in a while, where when things in my future are uncertain I look cling on to reliable moments in from past. In terms of my music fandom, few moments are as pertinent as the first time I listened to Joey Bada$$'s debut mix tape "1999." My interest in rap can be broken down into two different time periods: Before "1999", After "1999". The former was a time period when I liked rap. I'm a white kid product of the MTV generation; I was practically raised on Eminem, who taught me how to express myself and how to take risks. I always liked rap, and was fortunate enough to grow up in a household where it was encouraged. (my mother is from Queens, and likes to brag that she was there when it all started) I liked the Biggies, the 50 Cents, you know, the well known guys. They are listenable and they each contain their own essence of magic. However I never challenged myself when it came to rap. This all changed after I listened to "1999" for the first time. Below is a review I wrote of the mix tape, where you'll see just how much I appreciate it. In short, Joey Bada$$ was able to talk about life in a way that I wanted to but was unable to convey. He covered everything from having a good time with your friends to understanding your place in life. These were real questions I had as I entered my senior year of college, and it was extremely important for me to know that I wasn't the only one having them.
It upsets me to see that Joey Bada$$ has not been able to follow up with his sophomore mix tape. I won't delve into it, but I just hope that he is able to pick things up where he left after "1999." Give this review a read and let me know what you think. Joey Bada$$ changed my life; I hate to say it because it feels so cliche despite being true. Give the review a listen and the mix tape a listen. Who knows, it may change your life too.
Joey Bada$$, Review of "1999"
It was not too long ago that D4L's Laffy Taffy was the number 1 single on the Billboard 100 charts. Ripe with lines like: "I'm looking fa Mrs. Bubble Gum, I'm Mr. Chik-O-Stick, I wanna (dun dun dunt) (oh) 'cause you so thick… girl shake that laffy taffy," D4L relied on their swift lyrical wordsmith abilities to cut into the American conscious. Even more recently, music proudly introduced Shop Boyz to the world. Their debut single "Party Like a Rockstar" vividly detailed the strains that a life of excess and of indulgence imposes on a young entertainer. Other recent hip-hop songs to round out the Billboard 100 include "Right Round" by Flo-Rida, "This is Why I'm Hot" by Mims, and "Buy U a Drank (Shawty Snappin') by T-Pain.
Rap in the latter half of the 2000s experienced a decay in artistic quality. Artists threw their fishing poles into the vast sea of songwriters and cooked the first fish that bit. We have always accepted bravado in hip-hop songs; our beloved Tupac Shakur on "I Get Around" for example depicts how slick he is with the ladies, how good he is in bed, and how easily he can "take your girl." Bragging about oneself during hip-hop's inception was acceptable because it was just a part of an artist's greater whole. The problem towards the end of the 2000s was that the airwaves were inundated with rappers who had nothing to say. They relied on a catchy hook, on cookie cutter lyrics, and on scantily dressed girls in order to reach number one on MTV's Total Request Live. Artistry in hip-hop was drowning, and it became nearly impossible for genuine talent to elevate into the mainstream. For the latter half of my high school years and for my first two years of college I gave up on rap. I was sick of having to learn a dance move in order to "get with" a song. I was sick of autotune, and I was sick of hearing about sexual exploits that I knew I could never achieve. Then came Joey Bada$$'s "1999."
I am not going to claim that "1999" re-invented rap, nor am I going to try and prove that he was the first of the genre to shamelessly detail the anxieties concerning growing up as an ambitious black male. "1999" doesn't necessarily flip hip-hop on its head, but it does get out a shovel to digs up the ghosts of "Illmatic," "Reasonable Doubt," and "Lifestylez ov da Poor & Dangerous." At 17 Joey Bada$$ was hardly out of his diapers when these albums came out. But after listening to "1999" just one time, you get the feeling that either "Life's a Bitch," or "Ebonics" was playing in the hospital room when he was born. "The kind of music Joey Bada$$ makes hasn't sounded contemporary since the mid-1990s," influential blog Pitchfork Media explains. Throughout the mix tape you will feel the bitter cold of a Brooklyn concrete sidewalk rising through your legs, up through your torso, and settling into your brain. This same sentence could be used to describe the ethos leaking out of Nas's seminal "Illmatic." Joey Bada$$ is an expert sharer; he owes bars of lyrics like "I'm out for presidents to represent me" to Nas, and owes several beats to quintessential producer Lord Finnesse. "1999" reeks of that which is purely east coast hip-hop. When you hear the mix tape's raw quality you will instantly understand Joey Bada$$'s disillusion with the late 2000's reliance on popularity, and his respect for the rap elders who came before him.
Perhaps the most compelling reason to believe in Joey's maturity is his decision to release "Hardknock" as the mix tape's first single. There certainly are more radio-friendly songs; "Don't Front" comes to mind. However, "Hardknock" is as unforgiving as Joey Bada$$. It opens with an ominous sound, one that faintly resembles a siren off in the distance. Shortly after that the snare drum kicks in, giving your head something tangible to bop to. "Just got word from my mans on the island/He said he needed guidance/Niggas on the streets is wildin'/He look to God but can't find him," Joey begins. A major theme throughout "1999" is anxiety and how it arises through the gifts or curses one is born with. I believe that Joey shares this sense of confusion and disparity with his friend; he is looking for answers to assuage the fears of adulthood and of responsibility. Joey knows that he has talent, and the hardest part of talent is actually being able to turn it into tangible results. Joey doesn't answer his friend's call for help because he hasn't yet found such guidance. One place apparently that neither him nor his friend can find them is in God.
"Hardknock" digs deepest into Joey's psyche during its haunting chorus: "One day I'm tryna have a wife and kid/So I just can't live my life like this/And I ain't tryna know what lifeless is/So I just can't life my life like this." Currently "Hardknock" is the fourth most played song on my iTunes, but it doesn't have to take 100+ plays however to realize that Joey is nervous. What I respect about the young rapper is that he embraces his fears. There is nothing weak about being afraid of the pressures surrounding living up to ones potential. What is cowardly however is hiding your fears and pretending like they don't exist. On "1999" and specifically in "Hardknock," Joey Bada$$ has nothing to hide. As Chuck D of Public Enemy says, "rap lyrics are important to analyze and dissect because they offer a way to look at society from a perspective rarely taken seriously." (Yale Anthology of Rap) Joey Bada$$ on "Hardknock" gives us an intimate portrayal of a young black male. Throughout the song we are able to feel the cold of a public bus seat as we view Brooklyn through his lyrics. Joey however is not asking for our sympathy; the violence and instability has made him who he is. Throughout "Hardknocks," we hear how they are engrained in his every fiber. However, now Joey is trying to make sense of the life he knows through the mind of a young adult. Though I most likely can't relate to the same experiences that have shaped Joey, his emotions are so utterly human that I can relate to them. At 21 I too feel as if I'm currently at a crossroads in my life. We both want to hold onto the innocence of our youth, but we know that we can only live our lives for so much longer like this.
One of the most impressive feats of Joey Bada$$ the lyricist occurs in the third stanza: "This is for my niggas, killers/Hundred dollar billers/On the block in the rock spot/Glock cocked watchin' out for cops/All about they cheddar/Youngins know nothin' that's better/Like fuck a prison letter/Those Beretta's led us to the lettuce." His ability to sustain rhymes for an extended series of bars without sounding repetitive or dull is fantastic. Words fly out of Joey's throat during one earth shattering breath. What is so striking to me is that at 17 Joey is able to organize syllables and to let them flow off his tongue so effortlessly. He creates natural rhymes between "spot," "cop," and "cheddar" with "better" as if it was natural. My mom used to tell me that listening Johnny Cash was like sliding a warm knife through butter. While Joey Bada$$ has infinitely more to prove, when I listen to "Hardknocks" it tempts me to open the fridge and grab a utensil.
In the chapter 13 of Joey's diary, he realizes that his adolescence is melting away like a snowman in Death Valley. "Righteous Minds" poses a relatable internal conflict for anyone on the cusp of adulthood. "It ain't easy living life like this" he says, "when you tryin' to be righteous/But know a nigga might just leave you lifeless for prices." When Joey is exposed to some of life's harsher realities he has an identity crisis. The world around him is terrifying, and his righteousness hinges on becoming merely a souvenir from his teenage years. "I never knew the world could be this mad…/I never knew the world could be this cold." Joey is too smart to completely ignore the personality traits required in order to keep up with the streets. He is however too genuine of a person to change his values for a chance at survival of the fittest. I imagine on "Righteous Minds" an impressionable Joey Badass standing in the epicenter of Brooklyn. As he takes in a panoramic of the scenery he thinks to himself: 'How does one advance in hip-hop without selling out ones innate characteristics?' I think what we hear on "1999" is a date between Joey's survival instincts and wholesomeness. One side forces him to rip and run, while the keeps him cognizant of the values he was born with.
Without a doubt "1999's" most personal song is the magnificent "Snakes." The track chokes like a southern jazz bar with no indoor smoking laws. It is one of the few songs where solely Joey performs all the verses; this makes it feel like one is listening to his confessional. "Sometimes I feel alienated/Because I'm not up in the stadium playin'/Or on the radio sayin'/Fuck 'em: broads we don't love 'em we degradin' em," Joey confesses. The Battle of Joey v. The World continues on as Joey refuses to conform to society's standards. We feel the continuing theme of anxiety because it is evident that Joey is nervous about how his resistance to call girls "bitches" could be hindering his career. I respect him for refusing to give into the standards set by popular music culture. Joey knows it is the right thing to do, but the question of whether or not he's holding himself back still lingers.
I used to dream that someone would discover my mild ability to rap. And when they did, I'd believe that the girls, the money, the parties, and the fame would follow shortly after. On "Snakes," Joey explains that his innate gift, which millions of people wish they had scrapes at an open wound on his soul. "Got a whole bunch of shit up on my plate now/Thinkin' like in the main garden it's a snake now/ Cause I don't know who to believe/Or who to deceive I/Sold my soul and they received a receipt/But I won't proceed to retreat," Joey continues. Talent may have brought girls, music, and fun to the party, but it also invited it's evil cousin anxiety. He is struggling to determine the correct next move, and he does not know who to ask for help. The will of Joey Bada$$ however is not one to be taken lightly. Specifically on "Snakes" but also throughout all of "1999," Joey outlines his struggle to make his next move. I don't know when he is going to figure it out and what scares him the most is that neither does he. What I can say with complete confidence though is that when Joey does figure it out that he will succeed; his precision in crafting words and beats that stun like police riot gear will carry him to the top once he figures out how to get there.
"To the victor go the spoils," says an old proverb. Despite the negative externalities associated with Joey Bada$$'s talent, throughout "1999" there are several moments that prove he is very much a victor enjoying the spoils of rising through the ranks of hip-hop. I've never been to a block party in Brooklyn, but I'd imagine that they play "Don't Front" or songs like it. The beat is like that person at a dance who is just having more fun then everyone else. What particularly stuck out to me on this song is that Joey brings back the long lost art of scratching. To the hip-hop purists out there, this is sure to bring back memories of a time when the form was in its infantile stage. DJ Grandmaster Flash said about scratching: "All you have to know is mathematically how many times to scratch it and when to let it go- when certain things will enhance the record you're listening to." Not that I have any credentials to tell the legend that he's wrong, but I refuse to reduce the art form to a mundane formula. What I do agree with however is that scratching gives "Don't Front" the extra kick that separates it from a contemporary rap song. It doesn't overpower Joey Bada$$ and fellow Progressive Era Crew member CJ Fly. Instead, it elevates the platform on which they perform their craft. "1999" never feels more like New York City then the scratching's grand finale at the end of the song.
Joey, his crewmember CJ Fly, and the DJ take equitable turns performing on "Don't Front" so as not to compete with each other but as to compliment each other. Joey puts on a clinic in slant rhyming throughout his verses, opening with: "It all started with this special herb/Then after that it came the sexual words/I'm meeting shorty up to patch her up with a verse." His ability to find where within a word to place emphasis without making it sounding unnatural reminds me of Nas throughout "Illmatic." Joey belongs to a group of rappers who "[commandeer] the English language, bending it to [his] own expressive purposes." (The Anthology of Rap) Through his skills he is able to re-imagine the possibilities of what words can mean and what emotions they can portray. "It's a simulation yeah, stimulation/Take off your shirt, let me feel manipulated," he tells his love. There is no pain on "Don't Front," just a young kid enjoying that teenage feeling. You get the idea after listening to this song a couple of times that not only does Joey Bada$$ know how good he is, but that he's probably used it to his advantage once or twice to meet a girl.
It's not that Joey Bada$$ pushes the limits of rap to new heights on "1999" that makes it so special. The music on "1999" is brilliantly simple; catchy enough to vibe with, yet minimalist enough that Joey's wit and intellect reign supreme. What makes the mix tape resonate so deeply with me and with other rap purists is that it brushes off the dust and reminds us of the gorgeous limits that hip-hop's founding fathers pushed to. Joey is able to do this without compromising his personal integrity and manages to give the genre his own authenticity. At 17 years old he is conveying emotion in a way that challenges just how deep a rapper is allowed to dig into their consciousness. On "1999," Joey Bada$$ is able to make rap new while at the exact same time making rap old.
Share This Article
