to reiterate . . .

. . . American hip-hop honors the metrical traditions of English poetry far more than most contemporary American poetry does. Plus, a lot of it bangs–like Shakespeare and Auden bang. Moments of joyful noise, musical ecstasy, yeah?

“But isn’t poetry written for the ear . . . boring? Isn’t free verse mandatory?  We know what that term means, right?” NAH GIRL.

Anyway, before everyone else gets on his dick, just like Pitchfork did this week, here is the first single off Big Boi (of Outkast)’s new LP, which, judging from its genuinely bizarre title, Sir Lucious Leftfoot: The Son of Chico Dusty, might be a concept album of some sort.  Maybe he’s going the Sherwood Anderson route. Actually, maybe he’s going the Jean Toomer route; after all, Cane uses poetry as much as it does narrative. Anyway, like I said, hip-hop can bang like most other* American music can’t.

*I do not include LCD Soundsystem, Michael Jackson, or the Pixies in that description. They certainly bump. I’ve heard that there’s other music in the world, so add to this archive as you see fit.



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