Almost since its inception, the idea of race has dominated the American rap genre. Deeply rooted in African roots and blues, non-black rappers have always had to work that little bit harder to break out from the black-dominated market. Whilst artists such as The Beasties Boys and Eminem have proved that commercial success, mainstream appeal and community respect are not mutually exclusive, such individuals as Sole, Dose One, Astronautalis, Aesop Rock and Why? have had to settle for more limited exposure. With "Straight Gold", Kemo Treats may well have just set back the legitimate white rap movement about twenty years.
Emerging from their Youtube based TV show "Smoovie & The Whiz", G-Wizard and Smoovie II Smoov (dear lord) - coiners of the pop culture phrase (apparently) taking Alberta by storm, "It's gooowld!" - are billed as "satirical" rappers "straight outta the middle income ghettos of south central Edmonton." Razor sharp stuff indeed.
Supposedly ranging from "playful self-mockery" (white boys with small appendages) to "straight-up word smithery" ("he flipped me the bird/all actin' like a turd" from the infantile "Down For Whatever"), what we actually get is two distinctly unfunny "middle class crackers" trampling through identikit G-Funk-lite, leaden, rudimentary rhymes and a series of uninspiring, unoriginal skits. Along the road, we come across a stoned grandmother unable to find her hearing aid (from - oh those cheeky scamps! - "Say What?! I Can't Hear You"), a recurring, smugly omniscient god proclaiming the duo to be "the greatest rappers in the universe", no less, and the hilariously spaz-voiced Ranger Rick (he uses the word "ruffian"). The latter's appearance, "Ranger Rick's Rulez", is the nadir, a deeply unamusing mess that takes that classic caricature - hey, park rangers are dribbling jobsworths who, cast out by society, subsequently care more about nature in all its toothy, deadly glory than people - and leaves no stone unturned in its quest to offer absolutely nothing of any auditory worth.
Aside from the lamentable characters, it's clear that Kemo Treats have tried to subvert the genre staples of guns, drugs and bitches, but there's no thought given to their treatment (and anyway, Goldie Lookin' Chain did it better, and with far more charm and panache). "Ready To D1e" sees our protagonists shoot their load within the first twenty seconds of the album and resort to the (decidedly tinny-sounding) gunshot effect before they've even spat a rhyme. Not that their spitting is anything impressive when it does arrive. The ironic "Kemo Treats R Back" (get it? It's a debut album, you see) flops along on a flaccid, semi-gamelan beat amid tales of time-travelling and a D-O-G-G name check, whilst "The Program" leaps on the vocoder bandwagon, fusing space-age G-funk, self-aggrandizing guff and perhaps the first occurrence of "ROFLMAO" ("rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off", for the uninitiated) in popular music.
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Bling is the next element to get the once-over, in the gold floss-full "Straight Gold". Glitter it might, but this stuff is beyond any sort of polish. The freefall continues with "Makin' It Sexy", which takes Dre's "Pause 4 Porno" and does the utterly predictable. There may be hoes, but these guys certainly aren't pros. Displaying all the wit and ingenuity of a foul-mouthed eleven year old ("That small dick won't do the trick"), we run the gamut of sexual peccadilloes, from dog-collar wearing sado-masochism to food-play (purely, one presumes, in order to squash in the "finger-licking good" reference). Even the two minute performance gag was done better by Flight of the Conchords.
But even if the tired rehashing/ravaging of Gangsta and West Coast rap material and crude toilet humour could be forgiven (it can't), the lack of lyrical ingenuity is really inexcusable for a duo professing to have produced a rap record. They may have the snarling, sardonic rhythm going on, but there's little to hold your attention. And any hope of lyrical ingenuity is blown to kingdom come with the dreadful nonsense of "The Ice Cream Song", which, at its least offensive, pulls out the blandly anaemic "hey yo/is she from Idaho?". At their most spectacularly awful, however, the duo treats (ho ho!) the user to the brain-melting line, "I ate a ham straight out of the can/and ended up/with botulazzam", thereby proving that they have just as much respect for the English language as they do for the rap music genre.
The headline "Rap album in rehash shock" isn't going to raise many eyebrows. A culture is just that and as such would not survive without offering certain defining characteristics. And said culture is ridiculous enough to offer ammunition aplenty for anyone seeking to subvert it: an ounce of creativity is all that's needed. These guys don't even have that. Sounding like the product of a weed-fuelled weekend spent listening to "The Chronic" and watching Jackass on repeat, "Straight Gold" offers nothing more than a disappointing lack of innovation and a startling lack of humour. Distinctly "unfresh".
Kemo Treats online
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