Hip-Hop is Dead

It's been years since I've been able to turn on the radio and hear anything worth listening to. Sugar-coated pop "hits" now pollute the rotations of every Hip-Hop station. I grow smug as every minute passes, that's it! I have no time for sappy choruses laced with Auto-Tune and countless bars that desperately lack lyrical potency; is their an end to this dreaded recession or is Hip-Hop's fiery death inevitable? Is their hope for this presently putrid rap game or shall we just consider that hot new Soulja Boy song an impromptu eulogy?
Hip-Hop's fall from grace can be traced back to the mid-90's with the subsequent deaths' of West Coast legend Tupac Shakur and The King of New York Christopher "Notorious B.I.G." Wallace. Shakur's death was simply a diagnoses similar to that of cancer. Furthermore, Biggie's death led to the metastasis of that cancer; and nearly twelve years after the untimely deaths of the two superstars, this monster shows no signs of slowing down. The current state of our rap-game is simply that of a malignant tumor, rearing its' ugly head in the form of numerous one-hit wonders, pop-orientated fakes, and beat-dependent illiterates.
       The glory days have come and gone; no longer do groups of hit-hungry teens gather in their best friends' living room and listen to any CD back to back, intro to outro. Timeless classics no longer exist and the double disc perished along with Big and Pac. Instead, puke packed garbage floods our eardrums with nothing more to offer then twelve or thirteen mediocre tracks, several of which most likely contain choruses similar to that of the previous track. How many times can one listener stomach hearing about how big your chain is, the amount of money you have, or the rims on your truck? Please, somebody turn this off!
So let me take this time out to pay homage to those who've kept our beloved genre breathing. Let these next few sentences I spew praise the true artist. The Biggie's, the Pac's, Jay-Z's, and Kanye's, it's artist like these who resuscitate like Hip-Hop doctors, treating phony patients with heavy doses of brilliant lyrical content and heavy-weighted beats to match. Such artists are the answer, those who are weak fade away and only the strong survive.
Hip-Hop's current tenure has been that of drab repetitiveness, dull fads, and full of artists who come and go. After such a tirade I will say that not all of the blame falls on the shoulders of the artists targeted in between the lines of the previous paragraphs. We, as consumers and connoisseurs, must rid our Ipods, car stereos, and CD cases of this garbage! We must not enable those who intend to encourage the current trend, we must not be so ignorant, and we must not lower our standards. I have faith though, and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. The cancer that has plagued us for so long can, and will, be beaten.

© Copyright, Daniel Rutz, P.C.O. Industries, 2009