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i found some reviews.
that have given the most.
in depth look at the nuances.
in his writing. that ive ever read.
this is why i feel hes slept on as as a technical rapper.
all that mult syllable shit is cool. but its really a lot easier than it sounds.
and im pretty sure he could put it down if he wanted it to, but this shit is crazy.
Wielding an x-ray vision for the natural staves in a line of English rap, Wayne doesn’t just punch out syllables with assonance and simile, he uses sound to his benefit. He manages seamless, unexpected connections—linking “rest in peace, Apollo Creed” and “I’m a monster / Every day is Halloween” not as end lines, but as phrases buried in each line’s middle—even when his subject matter falls back on those ruddy gangster clichés he so loves.
Open your ears. Wayne has become, before us, and on this very mix tape, an abstract expressionist, flinging the true genetics of poetry around like globs of primary color, turning gangster tropes and dissociative tendencies into rap Rothkos and Motherwells, canvases of oft-kilter taunts (“every day Christmas, I’m egg nogged out!”), reference (going from Liz Claiborne to Langston Hughes) and the most classic of poetic tropes, animal iconography—“I’m a panther! I’m a cougar!”
But Wayne adores nothing like he adores pure sound. He talks about having guns in his pockets—“My two best friends will accompany me / And right now they are in my dungarees, sleep”— but the line scans so effortlessly that the sounds themselves fill in the picture (“accompany” and “dungarees” would be another example of Wayne’s near-perfect unity of diction)
On 2003 Tha Carter’s “Snitch” he was riding only one or two vowels for entire verses at a time (e.g. the unrounded, short “a”: “Can’t no loose lips get on my ya-cht / I leave pla-ya ha-ters at the dock / Watch!”), on Dedication 2 he diced up lines into pebbled, single-breath fragments (“Murder scene / Tape it off / Red rum / Tomato sauce”) on throwaway remixes. Wayne has kept pushing, almost to the point of inanity, the boundaries of his flow.
Lil Weezy Ana sees Wayne continuing on this dogged quest to warp each verse he spits. “Famous” flips from ten seconds of plosives to ten seconds of easy vowel combinations and downright suburban imagery “dental plan … / mental plan… / don’t bring the giant out of the gentle man.” The references, too, seem sharper. He’s becoming the Marianne Moore of rap, employing game, irresistible animal imagery—“The major bison of the boulevard / The barracuda fighting off the fishin’ rod”—as he chisels away at bite-sized stanzas
Towards the end of Dedication, on “No Other,” the torrent of hand bells and the odd, mirror-image presence of Juelz Santana still have to play second chair to Weezy’s aural puzzles: “They either gon’ respect me or / We are burnin’ them bitches like a cigar, / Pump, put a hump in your back, and call you Igor, / War, this shit is harder than ya’ll / We got that cocaine rice, call it Condolezza. / Huh, fuck with me chump? I’ll rock ya teacup!”
Wayne digests the lines, halting on emphasized syllables or syllable pairs and putting together carving slant rhymes—the “er” in “either” fleshed out and said like short-“o” in “gon’” and “or”—that don’t simply play within their own line, but get dropped and eventually reappear and repeat almost virally—the digested, malleable “o” comes back again a line later in “Igor” and on the drawn out accent on the “a” in “war.” It’s a technical achievement, but, more importantly, he’s convincing in his emotions. The effort and mood are allowed to take primacy over the technical fireworks. His child solider juvenilia—calling people Igor and Buster, rocking teacups—rings true with charm. Weezy sounds constantly amused by the order and choice of words he puts together.
Lil
http://stylusmagazine.com/reviews/dj...edication2.htm
Lil
hes better at reviewing the writing than the music.
but its nice seeing someone appreciate wayne the writer.
that have given the most.
in depth look at the nuances.
in his writing. that ive ever read.
this is why i feel hes slept on as as a technical rapper.
all that mult syllable shit is cool. but its really a lot easier than it sounds.
and im pretty sure he could put it down if he wanted it to, but this shit is crazy.
Wielding an x-ray vision for the natural staves in a line of English rap, Wayne doesn’t just punch out syllables with assonance and simile, he uses sound to his benefit. He manages seamless, unexpected connections—linking “rest in peace, Apollo Creed” and “I’m a monster / Every day is Halloween” not as end lines, but as phrases buried in each line’s middle—even when his subject matter falls back on those ruddy gangster clichés he so loves.
Open your ears. Wayne has become, before us, and on this very mix tape, an abstract expressionist, flinging the true genetics of poetry around like globs of primary color, turning gangster tropes and dissociative tendencies into rap Rothkos and Motherwells, canvases of oft-kilter taunts (“every day Christmas, I’m egg nogged out!”), reference (going from Liz Claiborne to Langston Hughes) and the most classic of poetic tropes, animal iconography—“I’m a panther! I’m a cougar!”
But Wayne adores nothing like he adores pure sound. He talks about having guns in his pockets—“My two best friends will accompany me / And right now they are in my dungarees, sleep”— but the line scans so effortlessly that the sounds themselves fill in the picture (“accompany” and “dungarees” would be another example of Wayne’s near-perfect unity of diction)
On 2003 Tha Carter’s “Snitch” he was riding only one or two vowels for entire verses at a time (e.g. the unrounded, short “a”: “Can’t no loose lips get on my ya-cht / I leave pla-ya ha-ters at the dock / Watch!”), on Dedication 2 he diced up lines into pebbled, single-breath fragments (“Murder scene / Tape it off / Red rum / Tomato sauce”) on throwaway remixes. Wayne has kept pushing, almost to the point of inanity, the boundaries of his flow.
Lil Weezy Ana sees Wayne continuing on this dogged quest to warp each verse he spits. “Famous” flips from ten seconds of plosives to ten seconds of easy vowel combinations and downright suburban imagery “dental plan … / mental plan… / don’t bring the giant out of the gentle man.” The references, too, seem sharper. He’s becoming the Marianne Moore of rap, employing game, irresistible animal imagery—“The major bison of the boulevard / The barracuda fighting off the fishin’ rod”—as he chisels away at bite-sized stanzas
Towards the end of Dedication, on “No Other,” the torrent of hand bells and the odd, mirror-image presence of Juelz Santana still have to play second chair to Weezy’s aural puzzles: “They either gon’ respect me or / We are burnin’ them bitches like a cigar, / Pump, put a hump in your back, and call you Igor, / War, this shit is harder than ya’ll / We got that cocaine rice, call it Condolezza. / Huh, fuck with me chump? I’ll rock ya teacup!”
Wayne digests the lines, halting on emphasized syllables or syllable pairs and putting together carving slant rhymes—the “er” in “either” fleshed out and said like short-“o” in “gon’” and “or”—that don’t simply play within their own line, but get dropped and eventually reappear and repeat almost virally—the digested, malleable “o” comes back again a line later in “Igor” and on the drawn out accent on the “a” in “war.” It’s a technical achievement, but, more importantly, he’s convincing in his emotions. The effort and mood are allowed to take primacy over the technical fireworks. His child solider juvenilia—calling people Igor and Buster, rocking teacups—rings true with charm. Weezy sounds constantly amused by the order and choice of words he puts together.
Lil
http://stylusmagazine.com/reviews/dj...edication2.htm
Lil
hes better at reviewing the writing than the music.
but its nice seeing someone appreciate wayne the writer.
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