When a friend of mine recently told me that the rap crew Odd Future existed only to inspire more thinkpieces, he meant that they only had a following because they are an incredibly interesting group, not necessarily because their music has any quality. After some thought, I have decided to accept his proposal at face value and move on with my life. Hence, this is my second column on Odd Future in two weeks.
As their following grows at a disconcerting pace, even I have to wonder what twisted thought processes this bunch of fresh-faced delinquents really inspire in their fans. Sure, you could argue that the public just hungers for transgressive boundary pushing in any form. (""The Human Centipede"" ain't exactly a walk in the park either, and it makes good business.)
This explanation fails to satisfy me entirely, so once again my search for truth sends me looking deep down my own navel. Historically, my favorite musical artists have been those with whom I have most readily identified. Odd Future is no exception as much as it may reflect negatively on me to admit.
The fact is that Tyler, Earl and I have been hurt by women. Not because theyse women were necessarily evil or heartless, but rather because life is unfair and those portions having to do with sex are especially messy, morally murky territory. The fact is, it happens, and it sucks. That's not to say it doesn't happen to women too, because any idiot with an eye and half a brain in his head could tell you that it does.
Petty denial-born heartbreak plagues the beta male population of which Tyler, Earl and I are undeniably products. I suspect that most dudes are really just too afraid of jeopardizing their more-or-less masculine public images to admit emotional defeat. Then again, Odd Future makes a living off doing crap that most guys would be terrified to try.
Check out Tyler, the Creator's ""Her"", in which the self-described ""black Nazi"" relates a brutally honest tale of helpless infatuation and pre-relationship denial. The pain in his voice is palpable, and the attraction he feels for ""this girl"" feels more boyishly naïve than sexual. Astonishingly he cops to wanting ""cheesy dates at the movies and stupid walks on the beach … sharin' straws in a cup."" It's easy to imagine how a frustrated, socially awkward and wildly creative misfit like Tyler might hide his vulnerability and pain in lurid power fantasies like ""Blow"" and the aptly named ""Dracula."" It's even easy to imagine how a similar kid somewhere in Oklahoma might fail to be offended by those sentiments.
The thin line between budding love and generalized gender-based hate is even more apparent in ""Luper,"" Earl Sweatshirt's shocking and shockingly eloquent stream of consciousness fantasy about a girl who dumped him. In the second verse, Earl spouts romantic overtures concerning his superior sensitivity compared to that of his peers. He raps, ""Most want to tap and score, I want a fam of four,"" a solidly nice-guy sentiment if I ever heard one. By the middle of the third verse, the gloves have come off and the object of Earl's affections has become just another face on the ""two percent carton.""
The symmetry between the disparate fantasies in the two verses may be alarming or immoral, but it also provides what I think is damn good insight into why so many men have such a distrusting, cold attitude toward women. Then again, it may also illuminate the dynamics at play in the far more innocuous women-penned pop fantasies like Carrie Underwood's ""Before He Cheats"" or Fleetwood Mac's ""Dreams.""
It seems to me that Odd Future's entire M.O. stems from the desire of the nerd to become impervious to harm. The boogieman rather than the kid scared under the sheets. How could weak, scared boys anywhere possibly be expected to resist such a seductive ideology?
Of course, I do not mean to excuse or explain away Tyler or Earl's (or Hodgy or Frank or Mike G's) immaturity or the purposefully hateful bile they shoot back at a scary world filled with indifferent girls, absentee fathers and creativity-squashing white schoolteachers. I only mean to admit that my maybe less noble inclinations give me a bad desire, the kind that wants me up there on stage, shouting obscenities. It seems like a lot of fun.
Giving Alex your questions is less painful than getting your heart broken! E-mail him at seraphin@wisc.edu.
