there was an achne-ridden ginger kid i used to know who miraculously wound up being accepted as a roadman by all the black kids (he often delighted in showing off his knife wounds just to prove it).
my memories of this music all revolve around the fact that he'd stolen these pair of beats headphones and he'd always make me wear them and he'd play all this music through them at 50x the volume any reasonable human could listen to it.
i suppose that's what this music is though; masculinity as self-flagellation. steroid users with muscles so big they've got stretch marks. being to proud to tap out after being in a headlock. working class english body horror sexuality. fracturing your wrist punching a wall because you can't cry.
would have been a very interesting case study in our feminine pressure thread. it's arguably the only hyper-masculine music that isn't also- if you'll excuse the clumsy language- autistic.
it's also amazing how earthy and concrete it all was compared to what rap would become in the space of a few years. worlds apart. sonically, socially, psychologically.
masicka's probably an attempt to reassert that older framework in the age of tommy lee sparta et al.
given how different it is from current rap, waka and keef were rather fortuitous with their fragmented rapping. it was something that would be purified as the decade progressed.
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