Eyedea & Abilities are a "...new strain of hip hop"

Sharing their emotions
By: Robert Morast
Argus Leader

Published: Apr 1, 2004

Eyedea & Abilities part of new strain of hip-hop

Punk rock and hip-hop always have been at odds, at least in terms of core values.

Since the Sex Pistols redefined rebellion in the '70s, punk has thrived on an anti-establishment ethic that denounces capitalism, materialism, sexism, racism and, in some cases, deodorant.

Meanwhile, after coming out of inner New York City in the late '70s, hip-hop has gone global with an appreciation for the finer things in life. Automobiles, alcohol and fashion should be expensive. Women should be classy -- if not submissive. And cologne should be used at all times.

Polar opposites, punk and hip-hop suddenly are attached courtesy of emo rap, a hip-hop subgenre. It's enough to make you wonder whether emo rap is the new punk rock.

"Everybody is saying that," says Eyedea, a so-called emo rapper who will perform with his partner DJ Abilities at the Washington Pavilion on Tuesday night.

In the past year, emo rap has become the term music journalists use to describe a stream of underground rappers who mix emotionally charged music with lyrics that diary and diagram life's less pleasant moments.

Drawing parallels to pathos-heavy emo rock, in the emo rap world, an MC is more likely to rhyme about how an ex-girlfriend broke his heart than project a pimpin' self-image.

Led by keynote artists such as Atmosphere, Eyedea & Abilities, Buck 65, Aesop Rock and Sage Francis, emo rap has attracted media attention because it lives apart from stereotypical rap ideals.

But while music writers have been squeezing every bit of irony out of the "rappers with feelings" shtick, what's gone largely unnoticed is that the same punk rock kids who supposedly hate Eminem, 50 Cent and every other rapper plastered all over MTV have been magnetized to emo rap.

Surprisingly, the subgenre has attracted the same army of disenfranchised youths who usually sign allegiance toward punk acts such as At the Drive In or Bad Religion.

"There's the kid in high school that says he has to be different. He looks into the underground and gets into Eyedea," says Eyedea. "It's almost by default."

Even Bad Religion's label, Epitaph Records, has taken notice. One of the most vaunted punk labels, Epitaph recently broke habit when it signed Atmosphere, Sage Francis and Eyedea & Abilities to a roster full of strict punk acts. And when Bad Religion's latest album, "The Empire Strikes First," is released in June, the song "Let Them Eat War" will feature a cameo by Sage Francis. It may be the first intentional merger of emo rap and punk rock.

"The hip-hop scene is immersed in the same spirit that the punks had back in the day when Epitaph first came into existence," says Hector Martinez, a publicist for Epitaph. "It's a movement against the mainstream, full of the DIY (Do It Yourself) spirit ... and a pure form of music from the streets."

The mutual admiration is enough to make you wonder whether we're in the midst of a paradigm shift where young punks are trading in their spikes and guitars for white T-shirts and turntables.

More relevant here

The stylized shift of youthful rebellion is, perhaps, nowhere more evident than here in Sioux Falls, where punk has a strong presence and mainstream hip-hop often feels as relevant as hurricane insurance.

During the past year, Eyedea, Sage Francis and Atmosphere all have performed shows filled with the same kids who play the part of local punks. Listening to Eyedea's or Atmosphere's angst-fueled rants on life, it's easy to assume the kids can relate to the emotion. Yet, insiders say it has as much to do with what these rappers say as how they're saying it.

"You listen to Atmosphere, he talks about coffee shops and girls and things we can relate to here," says Jayson Weihs, a local concert promoter in the punk scene. "I can't put in a 50 Cent album and relate to anything. Atmosphere, the things they talk about are universal."

Such comments suggest emo rap is poised to play punk's role for generations raised in a world where hip-hop rules. But others aren't sold on the idea.

"A paradigm shift is talking about this in a larger movement than it really is," says Cate Levinson, managing editor at Punk Planet magazine.

Her publication has noticed the young punk's attraction to underground rap and ran a feature article on Atmosphere last fall. But she's not ready to anoint emo rap as the latest form of punk rock salvation -- besides, she hates the term "emo."

To Levinson, the rise of emo rap is more a fashion phase than a cultural shift.

"I grew up in the early '90s, and I think punk music became less of how the music sounded and more of how we wanted it to influence part of our lives," she says. "I think it has more to do with creating something independent."

And at the moment, few styles of music feel as indie as emo rap, which has yet to sign off with a major record label.

The wimpy factor

Like its predecessor emo rock, no performer considered "emo" ever fesses up to the classification. In some people's minds, being emo equates to being wimpy. And whether you're a rapper or a rocker, being wimpy rarely is cool.

"I don't think about emo rap," Eyedea says from his Minneapolis home.

"I think about it when it comes up in an interview," chimes in Abilities, via another phone on the same line.

"We think about trying to write choruses and trying to get the turntables to sound like a guitar," Eyedea says, clarifying that the duo doesn't leisurely wonder whether it is emo.

And when posed with the idea of emo rap as the new punk rock, Eyedea points out another similarity between the two camps: that each is dominated by white artists.

"To be point-blank, calling it the new punk rock or emo rap is a racist term," says Eyedea, who is white. "They're trying to figure out how to say it's white rappers. They don't say MF Doom (a similar-sounding black artist) is the new punk rock."

Eyedea's theories of musical racial profiling bring to mind another question surrounding emo rap: Why is it regularly compared to punk and not held up against other forms of hip-hop?

"That's what I'm trying to figure out now," says Robert "Boo" Rosario, music editor at The Source, a leading hip-hop magazine.

The answer seems mysterious until Rosario begins talking about Atmosphere and says the group's music is "hip-hop infused," as opposed to being labeled straight-up hip-hop à la anything by Jay Z or the Method Man. Rosario even says that while he respects emo rap, he doesn't think he could listen to an entire album.

"It would probably drive me crazy," he says, while adding some of his hip-hop peers don't give emo rap that much credit.

It's obvious emo rap is slighted by the strict hip-hoppers, much the same way punk rock is often considered "beneath" the standards of rock 'n' roll.

"We're making hip-hop music, but it's our version of hip-hop music," Eyedea says. "You can't say it sounds like something else."

His music may sound unique, but in 2004, it sure sounds like punk rock.

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