Doc Zeus welcomes you to Fall.
What some cynical ass shit this is…
“Lyricism” gets a bad rap these days. You may also know it as “lyrical ass lyricism,” “rappity rapping,” and “that boring stuff between all the adlibs.” But when practiced properly by a licensed professional, pure lyricism can be as thrilling and integral to popular music as a hot beat or industry co-signs. Think of the acute attention to detail in an Action Bronson song or the verbal dexterity displayed when Roc Marciano gets rolling.
Certain contrarians are quick to suggest that rapping well for rapping’s sake is an outdated mode of expression in hip hop that needs to be sent out to pasture like African medallions and Scott Storch. However, this ignores the intrinsic idea that rap music is built upon the spoken word and no matter how the genre evolves and expands into new artistic territories, rapping well will always be a valued and integral part of the culture. One only needs to witness the overwhelming positive reaction that Life Is Good received from the public this summer to understand how much it meant to the fans to see the greatest lyricist of all time return to what he’s best at. Lyrics still and will always matter. This is hip hop.
Terrible lyricism is a whole different story and “HOLY FUCKING SHIT, YOU GUYS” is Slaughterhouse terrible at what they do. The group’s latest album, “Welcome To: Our House,” is a shockingly inept tour de farce of bad ideas, inane punchlines and embarrassingly overt commercial concessions — especially for a group whose entire mythology is built upon the premise they are four elite lyricists joining forces to take on the industry that’s denied them their success.
Slaughterhouse are a “super group” in which every member of the team is Booster Gold and the only super power they possess is the power of piss-poor sport puns. If you were wondering what a tag team of Aquaman, Snarf from Thundercats, the Blue Power Ranger and Ringo Starr would sound like if they made music, this is the group for you.
What some cynical ass shit this is…
Let’s start with the most obvious gripe. As solo acts, Joe Budden, Crooked I, Joell Ortiz and Royce Da 5’9, have built a reputation as artists too dogmatically lyrical to connect with popular audiences. Common thinking suggests the biggest factor that’s kept them from storming the pop charts is the group’s fierce adherence to 90s hardcore traditionalism. They say they are just too damn real for the pop charts. So what do they do to combat this notion? Sign with Eminem and produce some of the most hideous attempts to crossover this side of a Lady Gaga single. (Pour one out for Kendrick, man…
Interscope Records has this particular nasty habit of sucking the originality out of their prey like fun-eating chupacabra only to replace their dried husks with a homogenous package of Wale. You can easily list the stock commercial concessions Slaughterhouse made for this record in order to convince (I don’t know?) teenage girls…boys…Paramore fans… (who fucking knows…

to buy this record. There are moronic strip club anthems (“Throw That”

and repetitive Swizz Beatz hooks (“Throw It Away”

. For those partial to the ignorant side of life. Eminem shows up a couple of times to embarrass your ass for ever buying “The Slim Shady LP” when you were in the fourth grade. At one point, Cee-Lo shows up to briefly turn the album into a goddamn Flo Rida record. Everything about this is a mess.
I mean… FUCK! Do you like Skylar Grey, Slaughterhouse fans? Well, the woman behind every single rap song you have hated the last three years is all over the place. There are rock hooks upon rock hooks upon sweeping majestic rock hooks and it’s yes, a remarkably cynical accomplishment. The conceit that a pack of thirty-something street rappers more comfortable rhyming over DJ Premier than sampling Paramore would want a Manic Pixie Dream Girl to histrionically wail all over “Enta Da Stage” is just laughably ludicrous. You can smell the crackling bullshit wafting from Jimmy Iovine’s office all the way to the Mathers Estate in suburban Michigan.
What some cynical ass shit this is…