Once again, you can find Volumes 1 and 3 of this series here on the blog. But Volumes 2, 4 and maybe a few future drops will be exclusive to the Skypager mailing list. You can sign up by clicking here or by typing your email underneath the Skypager to the right of the page. There's a few other things you might be interested in at the Skypager group, too. And you can also refer to the link above to the past volumes to see the list of VLS blogs that have been linked and scoured in the making of these compilations. I must give Crates Of AG another shout for posting that Ill Distracxion track that I had been looking for.
Okay, so I never really got into the 420 thing myself, but I know there are heads out there that might not mind a little 'get high' compilation. I figured I would meld some known weed cuts with some of the obscure tracks from them VLS blogs out there and the finished product is pretty heavy. The instrumental supplemental only contains beats for half of the songs on the compilation this time around. Sorry about that but I couldn't find the rest.
Don't sleep on the links. There's some bonus downloads, videos[besides the 2 above], information, and overlooked posts. Enjoy.
--Verge
Editor's Note: Certain installments of the "The Best Of VLS" series were only made available to members of our Skypager Google Group/ Mailing List, so sign up here or at the pager in the sidebar.
"I hope one of his peoples could hook him up with a tri-pack/ That's three different flavors/ Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry wafers" -- MF Doom, "Kookies"
The above quote is taken out of context from a typically elaborate low-brow extended metaphor courtesy of MF Doom; "kookies" represent different "flavors" of porn stars but also slyly references web browser "cookies." For our purposes however, the tri-pack wafer is simply a convenience pack of three related but distinctly enjoyable songs. Today's selections are culled from the same era (1996-1997) and each one is claimed by its respective narrator to be an autobiographical account of an impoverished, unstable upbringing.
I tend to be skeptical of criticism that suggests that rap lyrics, or any life-writings, can ever exist in a form that is unsullied by fictive manipulation. It is a stance that belittles both critic and artist and flirts dangerously with the logical fallacies intrinsic to voyeuristic racial tourism. Who are these rappers to tell us that they are singularly impervious to the temptations of nostalgic revisionism or self-serving discretion? Conversely, who are we critics to presume that rappers are incapable of knowingly and creatively playing with the facts? With that said, I love these songs precisely because their unwavering claims of authenticity are occasionally shaky, and I am loathe to debate the unknowable plausibility of such recollections.
Today's songs are framed more as confessionals or psychotherapy sessions than rosy-hued remembrances, and mostly avoid the saccharine platitudes that plague most "back in the day" songs. They are not entirely free of melodrama, however. Ghostface's "All That I Got Is You" is an unapologetic R&B tearjerker filled with tales of roach-plucking and pissy mattress sharing so fucked up they practically redeem Ghost's now-trademark effusiveness. Royal Flush is nearly maudlin as a blatant if convincing Ghostface impersonator and comes across as rather desperate in his attempt to maintain a facade of stoic realness against a musical backdrop suited for his emotional, graphic account of domestic abuse.
Xzibit's reminiscence steers clear of sentimentality in such an overdetermined manner that he actually sounds much like the angry, introverted adolescent he describes. While Ghostface and Royal Flush rhapsodize about their struggling mothers and hint at the eventual acquirement of a healthy adult perspective on pressing life matters, Xzibit just grumbles. He frames his past as an explanation of present behaviors, dysfunctional or otherwise. There's a detectable trace of self-effacement for its own sake in his suppressed emotiveness. In each of these cases, the narrator's central concern is the public's current perception of his legitimacy as a spokesperson for the impoverished collective. Childhood is merely a reel of stock footage edited for the purpose of propaganda.
