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WHAT THE LITERARY ESTABLISHMENT MUST LEARN FROM HIP-HOP, MUTHAFUCKA: Part V

The Mixtape

A brief history of Lil Wayne’s rise to power: After two years with the Hot Boys, a Cash Money foursome, Lil Wayne went solo. His first album, Tha Block is Hot (1999), went double platinum. But his initial success, then at the age of seventeen, was short-lived. His following albums, Lights Out (2000) and 500 Degreez (2002) did poorly. Then the pattern gets interesting. Wayne scrapped work on his fourth album and released the recordings as a mixtape, Da Drought (2003). His following album, Tha Carter, sold a million copies. Then in 2005, two more mixtapes, Dedication and Suffix, cemented his reputation. The following album, Tha Carter II, debuted at number two on the billboard charts and sold close to two million copies.

From 2006-2007 Wayne released more and more mixtapes, worked on dozens of collaborative songs, and put out single after single. A large portion of this work was made available for free online. Sean Fennessey, of Vibe Magazine ranked 77 of Lil Wayne’s songs from 2007. He says, “it seems that every morning a new mixtape, freestyle, or feature…popped onto the Web.” By the time Tha Carter III came out in 2008, the audience had been sufficiently primed. It went double platinum, selling three million copies.

How did he do this? Fennessey has some insight: “Lil Wayne possesses an unquantifiable charisma. And he’s the perfect artist to own this time, when album sales are bunk and only sheer bombast and constant reinvention reign supreme. He’s a symbiote attached to this rapidly changing game—as it moves, he moves.”

Let me state this for the record now, Lil Wayne is not a skilled lyricist. In the words of Blockhead, he’s “a semi-ok underground battle rapper who is, in all likelihood, seriously learning disabled.” What he is, as Fennessey points out, is sheer persona, unquantifiable charisma adapted to the pace of the Internet.

This sort of thinking, believe it or not, exists in the literary world. QuickMuse is a project founded in 2006 by Ken Gordon. Their tagline: “Great Poets. Fifteen minutes. Poetry under pressure.” The New York Times did a write-up on them awhile back. They quote Robert Pinsky, participant and fan of the project: “My ambition was to be a jazz musician… Writing poetry fast is like composing music…It’s physical, like sketching, like modeling with clay.” The idea, as Pinsky says it, is that “you may not write your best, but you should be able to write something memorable.” This seems to me a not dissimilar approach to what Wayne has done with the mixtape, tossing off quickly written songs or freestyled recordings as often as he takes a shit or a codeine pill (or regularly, in other words).

The important thing is, “modeling with clay” doesn’t replace serious poetry. It’s simply part of the balance. More than any other writer I can think of, Pinsky keeps art serious and playful at the same time, not in his individual poems, but in his attitude and life as a writer. He’s been on The Simpsons and the Colbert Report (if you haven’t, you really must watch the meta-free-for-all). Another admirable project is the Slate.com poetry “fray,” where Pinsky participates in an online forum to discuss the week’s poem.

But how do we compartmentalize these different modes, as it were? Where does the serious art belong? This brings us to the division between online and print content. I myself am guilty of submitting my best work (my ‘serious’ work) to print journals and my 2nd (or 3rd or 4th) best work (my ‘fun’ work) to the online versions of those same journals. Why? I suppose the feeling comes from the idea that “anyone can say anything on the internet.” There’s less of a filter, or at least, less of a traditional filter (i.e. a paid editor). The web filter consists of page hits, linkbacks, Digg, Stumbleupon, and so on. Lil Wayne has adapted to this filter. So has Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em, who made his way to fame via YouTube and MySpace.

Print content is dwindling. That much we know. But that doesn’t mean that it’s going to disappear, or that we, as writers, should stop sending our work to print publications. After all, Wayne parleyed his mixtape success into Tha Carter III. It means there has to be a symbiotic relationship. Thus, the print journals created affiliated blogs (you’re reading one now). This isn’t exactly a new idea. What is new is removing the irrational prestige from print publications. It’s harder to make it into the top ten YouTube videos than it is to get published in the New Yorker (at least statistically). But why should it be easier to get published in McSweeney’s Internet Concern than in the Quarterly? (It is.) This means online editors will have to be more selective and not cave to the limitless pagespace of the Web. But that’s not enough.

This is the dilemma: people want something they can read fast, they want something new, they want it yesterday, they want it to be actually good, and you, aspiring writer, can’t possibly fulfill all those desires. To fulfill the insatiable craving for new material, you either need little respect for quality and have the charisma of Lil Wayne, or you need to find a way to produce quality work extremely fast. The solution is a middle ground: write blogs as if they’re articles rather than journal entries. To create enough material quickly enough, multiple authors have to write for a single publication. Often today we have individuals operating individual blogs, or micro-journals publishing two stories a month. For an author/editor to update her site every day with a story of any length or quality means she doesn’t have time for anything else. If she doesn’t update regularly, no one visits the site, thus eliminating the potential for advertising revenue. Collaborative work has always been the nature of the magazine and newspaper business, but the smaller digital journals of today don’t have sufficient networks or resources to produce exemplary content every day. Some of us, in the coming months and years, will need to consolidate and cooperate with other publications. Lil Wayne’s promotional model functioned because he worked with myriad artists, added content constantly, and gave away a lot of his shit for free. Hint, hint.

Next Week: How Wu-Tang conquered the rap world with a five-year expansion strategy. Why some literary journals should drop the bullshit claim of being an open forum for art, and truly rebrand themselves as a collective, embracing bravado and self-promotion.


Part I: Straddling the Line

Part II: Hip-Hop and Vaudeville

Part III:Practical Lessons in Attitude

Part IV: The Hip-Hop Business Model


By Christopher Robinson

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20 Responses to “WHAT THE LITERARY ESTABLISHMENT MUST LEARN FROM HIP-HOP, MUTHAFUCKA: Part V”

  1. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    hmm this sound like soshalsism (sp?) dont give your work out for free kres robison or else barack HUSSIEN obamma will have the last laff!

  2. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    i beleive in the free market hey hav eyall read altas shugged i skimmed the spark note b/c my 8th grade english teacher was a bi0tch

  3. Alessandra Says:

    I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don’t know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.

    Alessandra

  4. Buster Says:

    At first I was going to say that I was happy that this article is less disappointing and infuriating than the others. Then I started thinking about it and wondering how best to respond and then my brain noodles started doing the stanky leg against the backdrop of a tie dyed Saul Steinberg New Yorker cover.
    QUESTION: What exactly is being advocated here—more writing on the unfiltered internet or less? Are you saying that the fact that McSweeneys (and I’m assuming FMC) gets a lot more entries for their web edition is a bad thing or a good thing? Is the following supposed to be a novel idea, because, fyi, it sure as hell is not: “To create enough material quickly enough, multiple authors have to write for a single publication.”
    And you will not get away with tossing off a comment like “Lil Wayne is not a skilled lyricist” ipso facto. You have to at least define “skilled lyricist” first.
    I for one heartily disagree with the idea that Lil Wayne is an example of a smart-dumb cat getting by on charisma alone, like say Gucci Mane. Wayne may refuse to write his rhymes down, but his shit reads pretty damn good whenever transcripted. That aside, even if we agree for the sake of argument that Wayne is like you say a poor lyricist getting by on charisma (whatever that may be), how does that apply to literature? Ever heard someone say “Dave Eggers (or contemporary author X) is not a skilled writer. But he does possess unquantifiable charisma.” Uhhh…no.
    Thomas Pynchon has appeared on the Simpsons, too.

  5. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    i apreciate that comment alessandra b/c it was a meaningfull contributions to the convo, thanks! (a/s/l?)

  6. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    is it just me or was that post by butser realy confusing

  7. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    i a little worried about butser does ne 1 know his cellie #

  8. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    btwi think kris robison a little to into that robert pisky dude

  9. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    if yall no waht i mean

  10. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    you can combine some those coments if yall feel like you can keep the spirit of the coments

  11. Christopher Robinson Says:

    Buster,

    Less writing on the unfiltered internet.

    Not more online entries, but more online publications.

    No, it’s not supposed to be novel. It is necessary though, and a lot of people are still ignoring it.

    And yes, I will get away with tossing off a comment like “Lil Wayne is not a skilled lyricist.” If that’s not completely obvious to you, then I have no desire to discuss hip-hop with you. Wayne’s ‘shit’ does not read pretty damn good, or even fairly good. It’s garbage.

    And again, you seem to have trouble understanding the difference between business advice and craft advice. Wayne’s business model, his production model, is what I’m interested in. And his attitude. I’m not interested in his craft because he’s a shitty craftsman.

    As for Pynchon, his Simpsons appearances are the only times that his voice has been broadcast in the media. I wouldn’t really compare him to Pinsky in a discussion about balancing serious art with jocularity and hyperbole.

  12. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    jocularity is a word and i looked it up

  13. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    just in case ne1 was wondering

  14. Buster Says:

    Well, I think the statement “Lil Wayne is an awful rapper” is just not “completely obvious” in the same way that “Beyonce is hot” and “Chris Brown is an asshole” are completely obvious. If you went around to a real rap blog like So Many Shrimp, Nah Right, or Cocaine Blunts and dropped such a statement, you would provoke a comment-box firestorm—a lot of people would be in agreement with you, sure, and a lot of people would not. But that goes to show that you are making an argument in saying that Lil Wayne’s lyrics are terrible, not a statement of fact.
    The reason why your assessment of Lil Wayne is even worth bringing it up is that it’s such a crucial piece to your storyline here. Are you really trying to say that Lil Wayne 2008 is no better as a rapper than Lil Wayne 2005? The reason the guy went from Cash Money one-hit-wonder to Grammy-winner and Katie-Couric-fodder is because he got really, really good at rapping, not because he released a staggering amount of mix tapes! There were tons of shitty rappers in 2007-08 releasing tons of shitty hip hop. The difference with Wayne that is was releasing raps that were consistently entertaining and increasingly weird.
    And if you are trying to get writers to follow Wayne’s lead, and you think Wayne sucks, aren’t you asking them to flood the market in bad writing (or bad writing that has “attitude”)? But I thought you were saying internet editors need to be more selective? Again, I end up confused.

  15. Buster Says:

    FYI, I don’t want to be appear a totally negative nancy, just hanging around waiting to correct of your mistakes. I’ve some positions of my own. Namely,
    1)Published literature today, from the New Yorker to McSweeneys to Open City to FlatManCrooked, represents a diverse, fascinating landscape. There are hundreds of writers doing great things, even though sometimes it takes work to find the great stuff. But that’s not a reason for literature to become more centralized and regimented. And certainly not a reason for writers to try to get as many readers as 30 Rock has views before they consider themselves a success. There are myriad flaws in the business of writing as well as certain aspects of the professionalization via MFA trend (see E. Jenkins’ own thought-provoking series nextdoor), but to paraphrase Paul Auster, literature is at its core about the relationship between one writer and one reader, and I think that relationship is as healthy as ever.
    2)It is indeed a wonderful thing that hip hop has turned into such a lucrative pursuit in the past 2.5 decades, but it’s dangerous to attach any real value to the fact that a certain art form is popular and makes a lot of money. The art of writing has been around for a few millennia, and over the centuries it has gone both in and out of commercial fashion. Dickens and Twain toured the world as celebrities while Melville toiled in relative obscurity and with no money, but this is irrelevant to judging the books of all three of these 19th century giants.
    Plenty of writers have died penniless in devotion to their art; can that be said of any rappers? What hip hop will have to learn from literature is that as more fads emerge to raid people’s wallets, true art must will a way to survive. I can imagine that if rapping were to become a 85K year a job, a prospect increasingly likely given the continued deflation of the music industry, people like MF Doom, Cam’Ron, and yes Lil Wayne would be still be doing it, blasting out their suburban hovels with obscure lyrical gemstones, but I have a feeling that Jay-Z would just work harder at selling clothes and building basketball coliseums.

  16. Buster Says:

    Typos galore. You get me excited, Chris!

  17. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    holy fuck!

  18. Christopher Robinson Says:

    Buster,

    I’m glad I’ve gotten you excited. If that’s all this article accomplishes, it was worth it. Now…

    As for Lil’ Wayne’s skill being a controversial thing, you’re right, a lot of people would disagree with me. If you went into a Christian message board and said that God, in all likelihood, isn’t real, you’d also provoke a firestorm of comments. This doesn’t prove anything. As for Lil Wayne getting better, well…he certainly matured, though I have a soft spot in my heart for his old Cash Money stuff. You say: “The difference with Wayne that is was releasing raps that were consistently entertaining and increasingly weird.” This is true. Notice how you don’t say “the difference with Wayne was that he was a much more skilled lyricist.” He wasn’t, and isn’t. He was more entertaining, more weird. This all has to do with charisma, not skill. I’m asking writers to be of two minds, to ignore Wayne’s lack of skill and to pay attention to his attitude, his business model. That’s not so hard, is it? I hope you’re no longer confused.

    1) I agree that current literature represents, as you say, a diverse, fascinating landscape and that there are hundreds of writers doing great things. I do not want literature to become more centralized or regimented. In fact, part VI, up now, advocates a highly different strategy. You seem to be under the impression that art that cares about an audience must inherently be more centralized or regimented. I don’t think it’s possible for a writer to have as many readers as 30 Rock has viewers (some exceptions, of course). And this is not my definition of success. [30 Rock, incidentally, is more critically acclaimed than it is ‘popular.’] Literature isn’t going to reach the same astronomical numbers that sitcoms or hip-hop reaches; to be as reductive as possible, I’m saying that ‘fuck the reader,’ is a bad attitude to have, it’s a malingering sickness of attitude that’s been around since The Waste Land. As for your Paul Auster quote, I agree, that one writer-one reader relationship is as healthy as ever, but that relationship doesn’t sustain an industry, or even a single literary journal

    2) I don’t attach value to the fact that hip-hop is popular and lucrative; lots of things are popular and lucrative (e.g. chewing gum). What I’m interested in is why hip-hop is popular and lucrative; it’s the methods employed in hip-hop that might be useful for writers to think about. And yes, MF Doom &c would still be rapping, but if you expect me to believe that Hov would quit, you have more convincing to do. The man has enough money, and did about 6 albums ago; he came out of retirement because he couldn’t stop making music. He’d certainly continue selling clothes, but that’s just because he’s not only passionate about his music, but he’s a good business man. Literature certainly is well-practiced at the art of survival, will itself through tough-times. No disagreements there. It seems to me though, that settling for the “survival of true art” is aiming a bit low. I for one, have higher aspirations for my own art, and the art of my generation.

  19. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    yo i like the numberd format of that lats coment kris robison:

    good organization is the key to goo darguing — plato

  20. (not) Brent Newland Says:

    i think i read that on the back of a shark bites box (or mabe it was law n order

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