A SLAVE’S TRADE

Most people seek after what they do not possess and are enslaved by the very things they want to acquire.   -- Anwar El-Sadat

Lebron James X - released Fall 2012

I like Lebron James and the reasons I like him are varied.  Most of the working class -- which James clearly isn’t -- would definitely leave their 9-to-5 "hustle" if a better opportunity presented itself.  For example, if I were making $75k working at Xerox in a damp Ohio-based cubicle and IBM offered me $150k to do the same job in a warmer climate, alongside my best friend, that decision [while probably not televised] wouldn’t be that difficult.  I would simply pack my cubbyhole and take my briefcase to South, Beach. I’m positive there wouldn’t be 10 people in the country mad at me for leaving Xerox and even fewer would consider burning my desk after my departure.  The homegrown Lebron James exit from the Cleveland Cavaliers was dramatically different. 

There has never been a player who has entered the NBA with the hype and hoop dreams of a Lebron James and actually exceeded the fanfare expectations, until now.   Certainly there has been hype surrounding many NBA players. Take for example, Patrick Ewing, who was the first-ever lottery pick, and the human version of the NBA’s Mega Million. In 1986, Gotham City hit the lottery and for over a decade St. Patrick’s Day had a double entendre in New York City.  While the not-so-Irish Ewing endured a nice Hall of Fame career, he was NO Lebron James. Wilt Chamberlain who spent 3 years at Kansas University and one year “touring” with the Harlem Globetrotters, because NBA rules (at that time) didn’t allow players to enter the league before their 4-years of college eligibility was completed. Wilt too was a highly-touted prospect.  In one NBA regular season game, Wilt Chamberlain scored 100 points -- a feat that probably will never be duplicated. And, Wilt was no Lebron James.

Sprinkle in a coddled Kobe, an actual King name Bernard, a very special Kevin Garnett, a White House-groomed Grant Hill, the wizardry of a Magic Johnson, an epic rebounder named Moses Malone, a fashion-plated, often imitated Julius Dr. J" Erving, an admirable, Admiral David Robinson, or the fabulously famous, Chris Webber all of whom entered the league on a red carpet fit for a King and none of them compare to Lebron.  In fact, when the NBA written words of King James are complete, he will probably be the best player who has ever lived (some are already making that case).  And, if you think that statement is outrageous, wait until you read your credit card statement if you plan to purchase James’ new shoes – scheduled to be released in the fall of 2012.

After an Olympic Gold Medal, an NBA summer championship and an MVP Award (his third); Nike and James decided to capitalize on this story-booked season by releasing a pair of basketball shoes that will cost (the north side) of $300.00.  This will be the most expensive basketball shoe ever; or nearly half of that south, beach IBM check.  This is America and the products and services in this country will sell for whatever the consumer market is willing to spend.  And, quite frankly, we could end this conversation right here.  But, if you have lived in America for any significant amount of time and you understand that all consumers aren’t created or treated equally, I want to thank you for your continued attention. 

Lebron James is a black man from a fatherless inner city housing project and was born to a 16-year-old black teenage mom who (at 41) was recently arrested for slapping a valet at the Fontainebleau Hotel.

Or, in short Nike’s targeted market.

One would think that a black man with the socioeconomic background – or dare I say consciousness -- of this prostituted targeted audience would never let his name be associated with such a not-so-subtle exploitation, during a recession.  It’s clear James isn’t my son. That said, one of the reasons I like Lebron James is..., he probably knows that a liquor store in Beverly Hills and a package store in Brownsville – while on the surface are seemingly similar – amidst a deeper exploration are vastly different. The store in Beverly Hills is more of a resource for a dinner party, while the one in Brownsville is more of a medicine cabinet substitute for infrequent dinners.  Neither of which really matters – clearly not to James, or Nike. 

The original shoe King Michael Jordan (who no one will ever confuse with Martin Luther King Jr.) was once asked to offer a comment about the black kids that were shooting and killing each other over his storied shoe line that were priced north of $125 (at the time) – forgive us for not celebrating in retrospect. Jordan to my knowledge (and I’ve checked) has never uttered one single word pro or con on the subject  – even while countless kids (some with their parents) were rioting in inner city malls, while others were found slain on the Chicago pavement with their breathless body missing his Airs.  A spokesman of Klan Jordan once said “black kids shoot each other over cars, why don’t you go ask a Cadillac dealer how they feel?”  Tough crowd.

The dichotomies in this and many societies are vast, complex, unfair, ruthless, sad and often times very intentional. Which should shift most of this conversation to parental advisory.  Speaking of which, the once famed California Hip Hop group, N.W.A. had a song called F@# the Police!  And, at face value, I know many non-rap fans thought that song was counterproductive, unwarranted or just plain ignorant.  But, if I told that person that some of the LAPD finest used to round up “suspicious, NWA-looking” young boys -- see the Patriot Act for a more complete definition -- handcuffed them, and rode them in the back of the police car, then dropped them off in the middle of the night in a gang-infested neighborhood and told them to find their way back home…, that song should now have a totally different context.  To many Hip Hop detractors that fact either didn’t matter or wasn’t enough to justify the groups lyrics.  Ironically, neither were the spoken words of Oliver North.  Both of which continued to plague LA today.

One day Lebron James will no longer play basketball in the NBA and his jersey will undoubtedly be retired in a rousing ceremony.  Hell, there may be a statue (or two) erected in his name, who knows?  More than likely, there will be plenty of parades in his honor, down city streets donning his name. There is no question that those same streets will be littered with the blood of kids that wanted to look just like him – down to the Emperor’s new clothes – even if it killed them. And, the most befitting question King James will ever have to ask himself is:

“Money”, was it the shoes?

1 Love,

Ray Lewis

GOD HELP US

                Rick Ross God Forgives I Don’t Maybach Music Group Release July 2012

"When I don’t like a piece of music, I make a point to listen more closely."

                                                                                                 -- Florent Schmitt

I’ll start with a side bar:

I remember the days when kids (including myself) were afraid to do something that our parents’ would find out.  The motto of that day was simply, don’t embarrass your folks – kinda see where this is going?

When I was a kid, I used to throw rocks over a backyard wall.  If you ever lived in the Bronx you would understand that throwing rocks was like our version of the “Special” Olympics.  Naturally, I got caught and trust me, my head was way too big to be wrongly identified. I just prayed no one would tell my Uncle Eric.  Of course they did and that was the begining of the “closing ceremony”. 

Rick Ross, I sure wish you would've had a chance to meet my uncle.

Now let's get to the LP. Let’s say you were forced to (literally) choose between two teams of music artists.  



A "Tribe" birthed from the same struggle will never be divided

 

Team A: The Advancement of the Cultural

Team B: The Detriment of it




When commerce trumps The Game its the culture that suffers

 

I honestly believe even biggest Boss fan would have a hard time believing that Ross’ lyrics are nothing short of a reality series gone wild – thus making him a staple on Side B (no pun intended). However, if the cultural conversation involves bubbly, Benz’, and Bitches (with no parental advisory) well it’s hard to argue that anyone in the rap biz today goes “harder” than Rick Rosiey.  Here’s hoping he knows the difference between a compliment and an occupational hazard fact. Personally, I have reached the conclusion that without cars, crimes, & clubs, Rick Ross would be a really hairy mannequin.

If you are a fan of lyrical emcees you’ve probably stopped reading, but if you are a fan of equality and balance thanks for staying tuned.  I love music (Duh!!) and before I dismissed anyone for any reason I wanted to first LISTEN to the artist, then make a clear and accurate determination. 

This album was NO WHERE NEAR as horrible as I thought it would be.  It’s important to note that my expectations were slightly lower than the London odds on your grandmother winning the Gold in the Summer Olympics. But, the LP isn’t the worst I have ever heard.  And as long as Waka Flocka Flame continues to record, Rick Ross can rest well.

That fact, notwithstanding I would NOT have accepted a free or burned copy at gunpoint. I did however, do some extensive research and listened to the entire CD to (either) confirm or challenge my initial apprehension (something I have been praying that pro-Barack supporters would do).  As I digress.

Let me start with what I liked:  The music on this CD is really very good.  The production and some of the beats are simply marvelous.  In fact, I would purchase an instrumental version of the entire CD – ok so “purchase” is strong, but the gunplay wouldn’t be necessary if I did.

Andre 3 Stacks and counting...

“Sixteen” featuring Hollywood’s newest “Outkast” Andre 3000

This single is simply BANANAS!!!!!! The concept of needing more than 16 bars to tell a story is not going to challenge anyone’s cognitive dissonance, but this single would’ve have rode comfortably on ANY of the Outkast classics. A-3 stacks took a break from filming the Jimmy Hendrix bio pic to write the song, sing the hook and punctuate the strings. Andre is on another level – and cemented on the A Team. What frustrates me about Rick is, if this song is any indication of his lyrical skills then he is willing participating on Team B (the destruction of the culture).   And that really pisses me off!  I mean, at least we all know that anyone that is willing to answer to the name Waka Flocka Flame has already given up on the culture; on any semblance of relevance; he has given up on S.A.T. scores, and books with no crayons. In fact, I may have to create a whole new team for people like him.  Big Boss Ross has significantly more potential (I think).  Personally, I liked Ross better as a correction officer, even if his ex wife – the 50 Cent puppet – didn’t.

“Diced Pineapples” f. Wale & Drake

This is another example of putting $300k drapes on a project window, with the July Christmas lights on.  The music is cool, but trying to make sense of the lyrics is the equivalent of waiting for one of the VH-1 “Single Ladies” to sustain a meaningful relationship.   The song was inspired by a Ross doctor visit and the result was the suggestion of eating more fruit.  Draw your own conclusions.

"I Love My Bitches"

This is why kids throw rocks.  I truly believe this song is the missing plot to Hip Hop Wives of Atlanta – and clearly the absence of hands-on parents.  Again the music is cool, but the very loosely-termed lyrics are reprehensible.  Ross’ “self examination” conundrum on whether or not (and I quote) “he is a narcissist/because he wakes up to a bowl of lobster bitch” just makes choosing cultural teams that much easier. 

"3 Kings" featuring Dr. Dre & Jay-Z

 Let’s start with changing the title.  How about Two Men and a Baby.  I hope ‘Dre invested wisely.  He was never one to dazzle you with his rap rep, besides that fact it sounds like Ross wrote his line anyway – neither of which matters -- or helps.   Once again the music is good and Jay’s verse confirms two things:

a)     No matter what you think of Hov, he is clearly not wack (yet).

b)     Blue Ivy passed the blood test.

If you like Rick Ross, you will love this CD and there is clearly something to be said for giving people exactly what they want – even if what they want is a left hook.  The Miami clubs will be blazin' to this for the rest of the summer even if Sasha and Malia won't.   

I sincerely hope the first half of the album title is correct; if not waiting on line for this CD would be sillier than a first date at a San Francisco Chick-fil-A.

I’m here to tell you God forgives and so did my uncle.

1 love,

Ray Lewis