Of course, some DJs are basically human iPods, using a premixed set for their performances (the equivalent of a singer miming to a backing track). We are not talking about a wedding DJ playing YMCA here, but the vast concept and craft of “DJing” that encompasses everything from turntablism and scratch DJs through to those banging out 10-hour techno sets in a dank, sweaty basement (remember those?). The rise of EDM in the late 00s propelled the likes of Swedish House Mafia, David Guetta et al to levels of dance music stardom last enjoyed by Pete Tong and Sasha in the 90s, but it also distorted the concept of what a DJ is and does. Both Gallagher and Mr Mau5 were referring to a specific brand of “superstar DJ”. So when a DJ also makes the same claim, should we take notice? 2 Chainz’ Rap or Go to the League unpacks a long-held belief: The only two ways for some kids to make it out of the hood are to rap or play ball.In 2012, the Canadian DJ and dance producer Deadmau5 seemed to agree, explaining that anyone “given about one hour of instruction” can be a DJ, before exposing the craft as little more than “pressing play” on stage. The marching, Honorable C.N.O.T.E.-produced “NCAA” is the album’s centerpiece, detailing the rapper’s rise from amateur baller to pro rapper while taking on corruption in the sporting world. The song marks college players as victims of institutional suppression of opportunity, implicating the system as exploitative of the primarily black stars who earn billions in revenue for others. Until recently, the governing body that oversees college sports wouldn’t let student athletes profit in any way off their talents or likenesses, and 2 Chainz, a former player himself, weaponizes that hypocrisy into a rallying cry. Here, his flows are leisurely as usual but he sounds slightly perturbed, too, as if he can’t believe the unmitigated gall of it all. “NCAA” reinforces a fundamental 2 Chainz philosophy: Balling hard should be rewarded. When the concept of self-love has been commodified by hucksters selling $500 infrared sauna blankets, it can be tempting to toss all of your belongings into a dumpster and welcome a life of self-loathing instead. Luckily, with “Caro,” urbano shapeshifter Bad Bunny offers a more practical solution to embracing your worth. The song rescues ideas of empowerment from sponsored hashtag hell, with the Puerto Rican star flicking off critics of his androgynous style and class-collapsing brashness over a trap beat that’s as quietly menacing as an alien hovercraft. “Don’t you see that I’m expensive?” he spits in Spanish, voicing the indignance of anyone who’s been made to feel undeserving because of what they wear or who they love. Then, midway, the sinister instrumental evaporates, and Bad Bunny is joined by none other than Ricky Martin-who was once lambasted by Puerto Rican clergy members after he came out as gay-for a cloud-parting bridge that exposes the song’s pristine core: “Why can’t I just be?” they plead. “What harm is it to you? I’m just happy.” It’s a startlingly vulnerable moment, one that makes this anthem of acceptance that much more invincible. –Ryan Dombalģ00 Entertainment/1501 Certified Megan Thee Stallion: “Cash Shit” Īs a joint thesis statement from two of rap’s biggest breakout stars, “Cash Shit” is almost suspiciously on-the-nose. Megan Thee Stallion and DaBaby-both witty Southerners with distinct if borderline-conventional rap styles-seize the Lil Ju beat as a stage. The production booms and yet is barely there, and actually elevates their vocals. The pair delivers some of the year’s most-recited lyrics: Megan’s capitalist-feminism (“Yeah I’m in my bag but I’m in his too”) was inescapable, both as a club staple and as a trending social media philosophy. DaBaby, as 2019’s reigning steal-your-girl lothario, made for plenty of Instagram captions, too. But even in its ubiquity, “Cash Shit” didn’t get old-arguably, in part, because Megan and DaBaby both rap about sex like they have plenty of it, a transcendent feat among their peers who’ve been clouded in a low-libido haze.
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