Rap music is an artform that can only be evaluated in context. To me, Vermont is a small rural state that contains the majority of my memories, people & “lived experience.” To Baldacci, Vermont is a street in Los Angeles running squarely parallel to the west of his hood. Surely there is no middle ground for us to meet in, right?
Incorrect. Rap is too often traced back to the griot tradition when it is far closer to actual telepathy. The griot were keepers of the cultural flame, oral traditions encompassing thousands of years of continuous transmission. That world is gone now, erased by digital modernity, consumer capitalism & propaganda bullshit. At this point it’s pretty much down to Islam vs. Santa Muerte anyway; even the West itself got dissolved by their own psychological warfare machine. The schools are prisons, the churches that didn’t get burned down are draped in rainbow flags and the libraries are homeless shelters. The hour is very late.
William Gibson, one of the very few living science fiction writers worth reading, famously said that the future is already here, it’s just not evenly distributed yet. Granted, he’s always had access to cutting-edge drugs, but it was a prescient rule of thumb for our slow-motion apocalypse. Chuck D, one of the very few living legends who never sold out or made an ass of himself, famously said that hip hop is hood CNN. That turn of phrase has remained relevant for decades now; just this past week we watched Jacksonville, Florida set itself on fire through nothing but rap videos and drive-by shootings.
Los Angeles, however, is a river with much deeper waters than anything along the coasts of Florida. Baldacci doesn’t need validation from anyone or anything outside of his circle & his city. He is still putting in way more effort than being a local street rap champion requires or implies. “This ain’t no rap battle, you suckas rap cattle” is not a promising opening, sure, but give the man a minute and you’ll see the natural talent.
Baldacci only flosses the true extent of his bar game for a punchline or a shrug, but he’s not making music for lyricists, he’s sculpting a soundtrack for his family & friends. “RAP CATTLE” does everything is has to: drone shots and crew shots, shots taken at the haters & opps, and 32 non-stop bars of verified shit-talking. Rap music is an artform that can only be evaluated in context, and this shit right here is raw, but greatness nonetheless. Four Dickies.
