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Single Review: Reks – 25th Hour (produced by DJ Premier)

January 28, 2011

Look, man.  I really do want to like this.  I’ll always love Premier.  And despite what this site says, I love grimey 90s NY street rap, and don’t mind songs that try to revive the spirit of Jeru the Damaja and Group Home.  But anyone calling this song a classic is severely misguided and desperate.  On the surface, it’s a call-to-attention over a classic Primo chop with Primer’s signature sampling of classic rap lines.  And while Reks’ machine-gun flow is certainly impressive, it’s completely ineffective.  The only thing I got from this song was that it’s now or never and guns and Rick Ross are bad.

Is this what “real hip-hop” is supposed to be?  Because this is just at soulless as the Wiz Khalifa song I just posted.  I can respect any musician’s craft, but I have to cringe at the product when it’s this self-righteous.  And beyond any agendas or whatever, it actually saddens me as a fan of the genre to see a large part of it consumed by artists trying to replicate a specific sound in an attempt to revive the genre rather than, you know, just make innovative, soulful and passionate music.  I’m no music historian, but I’m going to take an educated guess that there has never been a genre that has been so obsessed with its own image.  I feel like the next Reks show will be a bunch of 22-year old white dudes (ha!) nodding their heads to their own reverence rather than the actual music.

But beyond any larger cultural meaning, the track is aesthetically pleasing enough I suppose.

6/10.

DL:  Reks – 25th Hour (320 kbps)

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One comment

  1. […] I feel so fucking old saying this, but I miss the days in middle school when I used to get psyched for Talib Kweli and Cannibal Ox and Nas and Atmosphere and whatever was coming out on Def Jux Records.  I felt mad special in my little corner, listening to music that I thought was better than Don McClean and Billy Joel and Blink-182 and Bach and whatever else people were listening to.  And now I feel like all of the energy that was spent on making good music back then is spent now on making music about getting fucked up.  And all of the artists I liked back then are shadows of their former selves; wholly irrelevant in an attempt to reclaim a glory they never had in the first place. […]



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