The Three Smirkateers
Das Racist’s Shut Up,
Dude.
Now I say unnamed source
because I plan on killing this guy for getting these SOBs embedded into my head
and when his body turns up on the news I want to have some chance of getting
away with it. So the less I say now, the better.
I’ve tried like
hell—deleted this mixtape on three different occasions, even tried putting in Barbs Streisand to drown out the resulting little voices in my head. But to no avail.
The only that’s gonna get Das Racist and their infernal Taco Bell/Who's That/I don't give a- jingles out of my head once and for all is to review this thing and get someone else hooked on it. So let the virus begin...
*inhales*
I hate smirkers.
I hate cats who wanna
laugh at something but don’t want to be invest in doing so because it might
expose their own shortcomings; so instead they try to do it on the sneak. They
smirk. You know the type: The “dry wit” comedian who acts like they don’t care
whether or not you laugh knowing damn well that’s the only reason they’re
behind a mic is to make you laugh. The rapper with the lazy, detached semi-flow
who swears he’d be great—if he only cared about what we was doing as much as
you care about listening to him. Smirkers…
Which brings me to a
three-man NYC click of Queens-born Himanshu Suri and San Francisco-born Victor
Vazquez and Ashok Kondabolu better known as Das Racist:
They’re smirkers.
And on Shut Up, Dude
their debut mixtape, Das Racist serves up 17 tracks of smirk all over, under,
around and thru this thing called hiphop. But when you’re told to check out 3
upper class Ivy League educated non-black guys who named their crew after a
little black kid’s snaggle-toothed mispronunciation of “that’s” from an
infamous Dave Chappelle skit what else should I have expected?
So why pay ‘em any mind
at all?
Because, much as I hate
to say it… beneath their smart-assed non-sequitors, literate sub-reference-y
punchlines and their kinda-sorta-don’t-care-maybe delivery Das Racist are
actually kinda dope. If Drake, Russell Peters and MF Doom started a crew they
might spit like these guys. (And knowing Doom, he might give the DR boys his mask
and let 'em take the stage on his behalf just for the hell of it.)
Now, I’m gonna skip
Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell one cuz it’s at least 2 years old and it’s
the weakest song on the tape. It’s also been glorified to death by hipsters,
critics, and fans.
I came up digging
Leaders Of the New School so when I heard Who’s That?? Brooown!!!, I didn’t
know whether to smash my iPod or throw my hands up like “Ooooh, they flipped
it!” it’s also one few times I’ve heard a dope Yarbrough
and People reference, not that anyone under the age of 25 would get it.
Fake Patois is on some
Russell Peters –ish—a smartass indictment of Black rappers co-opting Jamaican
dancehall culture to seem more real, courtesy of a group that’s arguably
co-opting black music to wrist slap black artists. The only reason you’re not
outright offended by this is cuz DR’s patois is better than the MCs they make
fun of. (Like I said, smirkers.)
Other standouts include
You Oughta Know, Chicken and Meat, Shorty Said, Nutmeg, and Don Dada, which are
so thick with references and energy that Das Racist proves themselves to be no
Northern State in skinny jeans. (then again I haven't seen them topless, so who knows.)
Ultimately Shut Up, Dude
is an infuriating listen because you can hear actual talent and flows. You’ll
hear the smarts that had to have gone into constructing at least some of their rhyme patterns. You
can also hear the creativity and, in many cases, the balls out laziness that went into some of
their beats. And ultimately, Das Racist left me very Andy Kaufman-esque
and wondering if these dudes are serious or not.
In the last year or so, Das Racist has garnered a crapload of buzz and now count MTV and Pitchfork as champions along with numerous major labels hovering ready to pounce.
And who knows.. Maybe Das Racist will actually care enough to try and drop something good—on purpose, I mean. If they do... Then, well... who knows. Maybe I'll be able to share a laugh with them insteada wondering whether or not they're laughing at me or themselves or a culture that needs more help than it does ridicule.
But listen for yourself. Maybe I'm wrong...
(Okay, now, finally… I can
delete this bloody album.)


















Recent Comments