(YEAR IN REVIEW) All of the Lights: Kanye West & Lady GaGa – The Sun

Turn up the lights in here, baby / extra bright, I want y’all to see this / turn up the lights in here, baby / you know what I need, want you to see everything / want you to see all of the lights – Kanye West, “All of the Lights”

2010 was a year where we began to separate the wheat from the chaff of the next generation of iconic superstars to fill our pop fantasies. True Genius Requires Insanity believes in the power of pop music. We believe that it brightens the landscape in brilliant snatches of high and low cultural intellect, and is one of the driving necessities of humankind. TGRI’s Kari “swiper_bootz” Elam provides the incisive commentary on our pop cultural beacons, and Kendrick Daye from our friends at Atlanta’s Great Eclectic provides the visuals for this illuminating journey. Enjoy!

Kanye West and Lady GaGa… beyond, beneath, within, and without the flashing lights these two remained suspended in infinite existence. Modern Pop has known no before nor after these two… 21st century children will live to recount tales to their grandchildren of crucial kreugers emanating from nothingness, beautiful dark twisted fantasies in the midst of a blissfully bleak reality, the climate-shifting global state of monstrosity where beasts reigned as belles of the endless ball… a world void of time and space… a post-apocalyptic period where two prophets destroyed their own made world, an archaic rebirth after the darkest decade known to warholian man, a cultural sonicscape perpetuated by the synergy of two sources of sheer energy… in 2010 amidst all of the flashing lights Lady GaGa and Kanye West were The Sun: the ubiquitous body cultivating the craft through their presence and, even more so, propelling secondary stars to shine brighter in the darkness of their absence.

This year, the culture was defined by the impact and influence of GaGa and West. Lady GaGa spent the entire year on tour, while pushing out two singles – the club-banger “Telephone,” and the sweltering “Alejandro.” West spent the first half of the year in obscurity: shopping in Milan, interning on the side, recording in Hawaii, and being around the seeming underground. Yet, because of their brilliant 2009s where the two grabbed the world – neck and soul – with direct omnipresence and social injection (The Fame, The Fame Monster, Swiftgate, and Swiftgate) their 2010 defined us by indirect impact of what happens when the sun fades, night sets, and we are left to create our own light. In 2009 the world had become accustomed to the presence of sheer genuine artistry of universal reach and immediate proximity, character uncertainty, and 24/7 creation to fuel a Pop nation – they spoon-fed us commercial culture; in 2010 West and GaGa’s absence from the formal mainstream left us to our own devices.

All of the lights: Ke$ha, Eminem, Miley, Rick, Far East Movement, Willow Smith, Drake, Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, Usher – of all of them, none could shine beneath the sun. This year these twelve first came to vision, then to fruition – as transient as the year was in Pop, each of these stars saw progress past the easy-sell and towards something more substantial. “All of the lights” were artificial, crafted to recreate the natural light we were missing, displayed most prominently when the sun has set; instead of settling for second-best though, we saw a push towards replication over imitation.

Ke$ha opened with Animal, and garnered the collective eye-roll of a critical culture looking for more than a trailer-park-queen-in-a-trashbag. She dogged Pop, prided herself on the farce of it all, and strove for low brow; this would have been well and good – as it was in the 2000s when the world was run by dime-a-dozen Pop caricatures; but this was 2010, and admit it or not, we could not ignore the motto, emblazoned in our brains, that branded our generation: “Pop Music Will Never Be Low Brow.” Ke$ha could’ve very well remained grimy, and to many she still is, but her transition and growth over the year says otherwise. Cannibal was a masterful hybrid between the sound of Blackout and the structure of The Fame Monster. Ke$ha emerged in the midst of Britney’s borderline psycho-southern-heauxspitality and a Post-GaGa world of a necessary artistic standard; and created an album that embodies that socio-pop scene. Justin Bieber threw out an unplugged version of his debut album My World/2.0, along with a 3D film experience. Rick Ross found symphony beneath the streets with Teflon Don, and created a vibrant display of the Miami hustle, giving it a pulse, a heartbeat, and life beneath the limelight. Miley Cyrus dropped Hannah Montana and hitchhiked a ride with Stevie Nicks en route to some sort of artistic identity – even Taylor Swift tried to get bad by breaking her silence. This year we saw lights, artificial as they are, attempt something more than just false projections; we saw stars strive to emanate energy – not just light.

Step back, and we see the keepers, cause, and reason for the Pop season. Just as the sun and moon dictate the climate, so West and GaGa direct the shift in scene and scape. 2009 was the year of life on Planet Paparazzi, GaGa’s self-led crusade through the limeliit world of garage glamorous existence. We transitioned with her from the creation of The Fame to the company of The Fame Monster, as she embarked on her Persephonic romp through Pandora’s made world. Then we saw 2010: the year of the monstrous descent, where our Perstefani slipped beneath the surface to reign along side Hades in subterranean delight. In 2009, Kanye West was that villain vicar who dwelled in divinity below the mainstream; in 2010 he returned to give record of the nocturnal freakshow.

2009 saw the cancellation of Fame’s superficial kill, where GaGa and West took that concept of fatal Fame to the netherworld, killed the lights, and reveled in the company of a revived underground. These timekeepers live in a world of self-context, where everything external is a mere reflection of their internal existence. Planets, personas, satellites, stars, the masses, and monarchs revolve around the tandem’s being, under false pretense that the universe works geocentrically in reverse. When the sun is up, and Persephone strides solo on the surface, we experience a Summer swelter; when the husband beckons, she returns to her natural home on the Hadean throne, and we are left in a Winter wanderland – the lost desolation of life above the underground bacchanal of seeming hibernation. In 2010, the sun didn’t set, the moon merely took hold here while the solarities retreated to consummate their espousal and empire. They shot the lights out, hid until twas bright out… and though it was just another lonely night, they birthed a culture in the sacrificed life.

Lady GaGa and Kanye West are a cultural phenomenon that brought the supernatural to life. This year the world experienced, for the first time since 1638, a lunar eclipse fall on the same night as the winter solstice. As above, so below, and in similar fashion we had Fame align with its Monster holding our Pop world suspended in the midst. A lunar eclipse occurs when the moon passes behind the Earth so that the Earth blocks the sun’s rays from striking the moon; and so we saw below, an Archaic rebirth where the Monster passed behind the masses so that the public would shield, reveal, and block the Fame’s rays from striking the creative beast. The winter solstice is the shortest day and longest night of the year, when the Sun’s peak position in the sky is the lowest; and so 2010 was the year where those shortest in stature and career reigned, and those icons of timeless status waned – we saw artistry’s presence in the mainstream at its lowest genuine peak. This year we saw these two occurrences: the annual and the once-in-a-lifetime run in tandem, where in the face of the most fugitive sun and the most quickly-fading light, a creative culture built its foundation in the still of the extended night.

(YEAR IN REVIEW) All of the Lights: Miley Cyrus & Rick Ross – Cop Lights

Turn up the lights in here, baby / extra bright, I want y’all to see this  / turn up the lights in here, baby / you know what I need, want you to see everything / want you to see all of the lights – Kanye West, “All of the Lights”

2010 was a year where we began to separate the wheat from the chaff of the next generation of iconic superstars to fill our pop fantasies. True Genius Requires Insanity believes in the power of pop music. We believe that it brightens the landscape in brilliant snatches of high and low cultural intellect, and is one of the driving necessities of humankind. TGRI’s Kari “swiper_bootz” Elam provides the incisive commentary on our pop cultural beacons, and Kendrick Daye from our friends at Atlanta’s Great Eclectic provides the visuals for this illuminating journey. Enjoy!

Miley Cyrus and Rick Ross were our patriots on patrol this year. Living the high life where MiCy met Miami, these two lit up the Pop scape with the red, white, and blue hues of stars, bars, strips, whips, chains, gangs, and the incessant inability of ever being tamed. He was the Teflon Don: gun dirty, brick clean; she hung on a pole and a prayer: the jailbait-in-waiting, craving to be scene.

This year, what began as barely legal soon became borderline felonious and 100% audacious in the world of Miley Cyrus; like a gust of wind from the high hills of Hannah, Montana (Population: Fun #itsmiley!) came the no-longer-a-tease-not-yet-a-trainwreck-…-yet. Cyrus did not find herself at the oft-spoken coming-of-age fork in the road, so much as she went in search of the oft-shushed path-of-the-luciferious-forked-tale en route to Pop stardom… or something, anything, on the brink of exploding. Where Britney lived out her post-adolecscent pre-psychosis identity confusion for all the world to see – before said world struck – so Miley coasted through her own crossroads like a bat out of Hazzard County. In 2002, Britney bridged her musical career with a feature film debut; in 2010, Cyrus dropped what was commonly believed to be a musical career for what was never even misconstrued to be a film career. In 2002, Brit channeled Joan Jett and loved Rock n’ Roll; in 2010, MiCy capstoned the year with an AMA ode to Stevie Nicks – or something along the lines of “give me hippies, candles, black dye… y’know – stuff that’s old.” In 2002, Spears told us what she liked, what she wanted, and what she didn’t – but everytime she did, she stood corrected – where in the midst of self-affirmed slavery, she saw that she, like Buddha, didn’t want to be so damn protected; in 2010, Miley kept it simple: “I can’t be tamed – but y’know what, keep the cage… I want to be where the wild things are.” MiCy threw caution to the wind, and drove headfirst into the beautifully broken world known as the devil’s playground – where after sheltered childhood, one takes on the world they never knew existed, with a fervor they never knew they held, leaving behind common sense or concern they never really had, and to a consequence most of the viewing public feels never comes soon enough. Tonguing chicks, hitting bongs, rambling, rucussing, church-outings, and boy-scoutings were the year in the life of the Destiny’s former child. Where Miley foreshadowed a future of juvenile rabblerousery gone array, repercussions hidden in the scars, Rick Ross reminisced about real bosses – not stars – getting bank from the start.

Rick Ross wrote the tale of modern kingpindom with literal lyricism that garnered immediate cynicism. That delivery however was the message, and as he reiterated point after point with stark definition, he opened up the world of slightly cheeked tongue interpretation: “one nation, under God; real n*ggas gettin’ money from the f*ckin’ start” could just as easily be “one nation, under God; real n*ggas gettin’ money from the f*ckin’ stars;” or take “stunt so hard: make ’em come indict me,” which could just as quickly be declared: “stunt so hard: make ’em come and knight me” – and in this world of relative authority, lucrative crime, and the blurred lines between what’s to be lauded or lambasted Ross stood on both sides of the shield as the solely departed Teflon Don. In Miami the world sits on a cold white throne; and Rick Ross is at the helm. Pop, as much as Ross’ hustle, relies on that one core entity for its fuel: the white girl.

This year we saw the Cop Lights on full display in the midst of the Pop night. Where on one side we have the red light district – criminal behavior liberating our darker selves; on the other, we have the tried and true hue of our trusted boys in blue – correctional officers keeping the world safe; and smack in between the two we have the purest white – in a battle between the angel of her mainstream nature, and the devil of tempting mobscenity.

(YEAR IN REVIEW) All of the Lights: Willow Smith & Far East Movement – Flashlights

Turn up the lights in here, baby / extra bright, I want y’all to see this  / turn up the lights in here, baby / you know what I need, want you to see everything / want you to see all of the lights – Kanye West, “All of the Lights”

2010 was a year where we began to separate the wheat from the chaff of the next generation of iconic superstars to fill our pop fantasies. True Genius Requires Insanity believes in the power of pop music. We believe that it brightens the landscape in brilliant snatches of high and low cultural intellect, and is one of the driving necessities of humankind. TGRI’s Kari “swiper_bootz” Elam provides the incisive commentary on our pop cultural beacons, and Kendrick Daye from our friends at Atlanta’s Great Eclectic provides the visuals for this illuminating journey. Enjoy!

Willow Smith and Far East Movement whipped across the globe this year like junior jetsetters; their infectious electro pop sounds emerged from obscurity and hit ubiquity at the speed of light, they broke records beyond the speed of sound with a sonic boom that resonated across the planet. The free wired high flyers captured the world in a state of infinite liftoff; illuminating the world like it was their runway, Smith and Far East Movement lit up the skies like flashlights over an airstrip.

Willow Smith hit the ground running, poppin’ fresh out the oven with her debut single “Whip My Hair.” Think mini-misses Maybach Music, Rick Ross meet Shirley Temple. Whether it’s black cars – beats beasting the streets, lyrical flow whipping around tight corners – or black stars – dark aerial intergalactic superlative strobes – she’s feelin’ it and couldn’t no one whip it like she did. The daughter of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett – one half Fresh Princess, one half Wicked Wisdom – did nothing less than set it off regally this year. At the ripe old age of nine Smith has solidified a definitive aesthetic, both sonic and visual, and scribed her Hancock on the pop ledger. While she’s only had one single, it’s not about where you are or what you have in hand, it’s about where you’re going – because when stars launch, they never land.

Far East Movement hailed in from the West Coast with a diverse Asian flavor, indicative of the contemporary Pacific scene. They were ambiguous, yet starkly so; riding into 2010 on an imaginary jet that captured the sense of perpetual revelry in a private plane that is whatever you want it to be. One hop, two skips, and a step away they landed on planet Bruno Mars, club scene crooning through a futuristic romance on “Rocketeer.” They amplified a sonic snapshot of the space-age socialite bottle poppin’ in Japan, shoppin’ in Milan, living fast, and flying high. They were a taste of Flash-in-the-Pan-American-Pop for the kiddie palette.

Smith and the Movement were splashes of something, not that it mattered much what exactly that something was; and in their momentary home atop the Pop throne the kids took it back to the simple curiosity of “What if?”… what if you could whip your problems away in a not-so-19th-century-kind-of-way… what if you could explore the world through the window of a dream jet that doesn’t necessarily exist yet? Even if you can’t, what if you could make it sound so fantastically real that for just a second the world thought they could? Why not? Fly like a G6, fresh like a Pacific Prince, and with more flash than an airstrip – get it how you live it: fly, fresh, and flashy all day. Hey, it could happen – and look at that, it just did; because when you can live fast, and die young – why not just drop death, and live fun?

(YEAR IN REVIEW) All of the Lights: Ke$ha & Eminem – The Bic

Turn up the lights in here, baby / extra bright, I want y’all to see this  / turn up the lights in here, baby / you know what I need, want you to see everything / want you to see all of the lights – Kanye West, “All of the Lights”

2010 was a year where we began to separate the wheat from the chaff of the next generation of iconic superstars to fill our pop fantasies. True Genius Requires Insanity believes in the power of pop music. We believe that it brightens the landscape in brilliant snatches of high and low cultural intellect, and is one of the driving necessities of humankind. TGRI’s Kari “swiper_bootz” Elam provides the incisive commentary on our pop cultural beacons, and Kendrick Daye from our friends at Atlanta’s Great Eclectic provides the visuals for this illuminating journey. Enjoy!

Amidst the darkened sky of endless pop, visibly void of any specific stars; Ke$ha and Eminem emerged as groundskeepers sparking the scene from the floor – lighters up. This year we saw a party animal, a rehabilitated recovery, and a cultural cannibal unleashed; and behind the music we saw kindred kindling ignited, revealing both sides of the Bic: the disposable house-party-fueling flicker, and the timeless stadium torch.

This year Ke$ha served the purpose of the former, sparking the fire that fueled the gutter-grime-glitter sound lingering across basements and American airwaves like a tobacco smoky haze over the backseat of a golden Trans-Am. She opened the year with “Tik-Tok” and, by default of its January 1 release date, started the proverbial pop party with her entrance. Ke$ha was that frathouse staple – ready to spark the camel, willing to blaze the j, and able to pop the top off a Pabst at a seconds notice. She was the music that set the mood, the tunes that kept the backyard bacchanals alive, and – much like that flick-happy Bic with a flame as disposable as the fueled fun – she was out by the dawn, right before your parents come. The Southern truckette raised Hell with tales of rogue revelry at rich kids’ parties, and was the exalted embodiment of too-drunk-to-function-but-lit-enough-to-keep-gunnin’.

Meanwhile, Eminem went from Slim Shady to stadium staple with his comeback album, Recovery. As much as it is a disposable spark, the Bic lighter represents the iconic glow of the masses at a vintage Americana live show. Where Ke$ha blazed as a trailer park queen, Em emerged, a torch-yielding psycho, somewhere from a dark corner ready to be seen. In 2010, Eminem battled back harder than Betty Ford off the heels of his past shadows, from the recoil of Encore‘s addiction, through the roughest patches of Relapse‘s rehabilitation, and emerged recovered. Mathers returned a Fire Marshall – showing with Hov at Detroit and Yankee Stadiums, producing a sound on-par with something like amphitheater-anthemic-battle-charge – and in so doing became as much a stadium staple as the Bic itself.

Together in tandem lies a tale of two Bics – from the basement sofa of a Nashville house party, to the seats of Detroit Stadium. Dr. Luke and Dr. Dre saw the social symptoms and prescribed the the cure for the cultural coma, producing the Forever Young Playlist: blue-collar beats for those who can’t afford the electric bill but still bring heat. Ke$ha and Eminem’s light sat as comfortably beneath the spoon of sonic addicts, as it did before aural slaves gathered like moths around a flame for the last chance at a triggered alarm to absolve the sounds and scenes of our sinful selves.

There’s just something so visceral about these two though… something so human, so human in the sense of unrefined rawness and sheer rock-bottom-of-the-cracker-barrel being. They are the face of the everyman, the everychick, the anyface you find at a white trash party with nothing but welcomed reckless abandon in the midst. They are middle-class meddling kids, with the delusionally guilt-ridden Uncle Sammy issues of a Tribeca trustfund baby but from the stance of a few true Americana crossover cases – not so much blackface, as they are unironically fist-pumping over bass and beneath the char of those closest to the Bic’s wick and flame.

Here we are at year’s end looking back on the two sparks that lit up the charts: Ke$ha returned as the matured cannibal – destroying that which nourished her original self – feasting on her former animal for futuristic fuel, and Eminem reclaimed the throne from the place of a recovered kingfiend. Now more than ever, no matter where it shined, the Bic was a mighty beautiful sight – truly the flame, a minute capture of that pure solar energy, more than just the spark, and more than just the perceived light – glowing alone and rekindling life, in the midst of the darkest night.

(YEAR IN REVIEW) All of the Lights: Justin Bieber & Drake – Nightlights

Turn up the lights in here, baby / extra bright, I want y’all to see this  / turn up the lights in here, baby / you know what I need, want you to see everything / want you to see all of the lights – Kanye West, “All of the Lights”

2010 was a year where we began to separate the wheat from the chaff of the next generation of iconic superstars to fill our pop fantasies. True Genius Requires Insanity believes in the power of pop music. We believe that it brightens the landscape in brilliant snatches of high and low cultural intellect, and is one of the driving necessities of humankind. TGRI’s Kari “swiper_bootz” Elam provides the incisive commentary on our pop cultural beacons, and Kendrick Daye from our friends at Atlanta’s Great Eclectic provides the visuals for this illuminating journey. Enjoy!

Justin Bieber and Drake, Drake and Justin Bieber… Our neighbors to the North brought a bit of the every-Canadaian to American mainstream this year: Thank Me Later emerged as an emo-rap twist on Jagged Little Pill for the Tumblr generation, while Bieber Fever took stranglehold on a nation of young girls nary seen since the grip of Avril Lavigne’s necktie. Amidst all of Pop’s flashing lights surfaced these two – millions of teenagers’ charming knights, with legendary musical vises in tow as their shield. If the market was a castle, these two boys would be the steady fixture beside every princess’ canopy; this debonair duo amidst the still dark of the room are her pseudo-safety nets, and in reality nary more than her mere nightlights.

Ah yes, Justin Bieber… from the pixie frame, glassy eyes, lucid skin, and soprano voice, he is the spinning image of a miniature lightbulb – transparent and empty, emanating a subdued pure glow. Put him behind the vibrant shields of iconic figures, though – Ludacris, Usher, Kanye, Diddy – and he displays a magnificent display of soft colors and caricatures upon which a sea of princesses can gaze eternally for nights on end. Close your eyes, open your ears and hear his world of hollow harmonies; blink: eyes wide behind 3D spectacles and experience Justin Bieber 2.0 – a white dwarfed black hole pulling the Pop universe into oblivion.

Drake… the young boy trapped in an old man’s body. Physically, his worn face at 24 conveys the gravity-stricken profile of an elder three times his age. Musically, he brings a softened tone to boss beats, crooning over Jay-Z verses, junior jabbing punchlines between Rick Ross and Young Jeezy – his monotone signature timbre runs like a fifth grade “If I had a million dollars” essay, but instead of dollars he has cosigns – like a Make-A-Wish mixtape-maestro-for-a-day behind the blessing of barons. Mr. Carter to Dr. Carter, Kanye to Khaled, Jeezy to Mary J – the list continues… Drake is defined by, and projects the ideals of, his senior shields – but as a green apprentice – they are his cover, but he is the light behind the screen. Drake displays broadly the glory of those hip-hop artists that came before him – but those who never had the veneer to venture into the great crystal castles of complete crossover – yet he alone is blank. His voice pulls listeners through tales of lavish life and lovelorn lamentations of past romances; in one breath he speaks of “doin’ it faster than anyone” overnight success, and in the next he commiserates of how long it took, the endless years of struggles – cursed these gifted legs of mine! those agile wonders which make it easier to be the eternal runaway lover… heartbreak drake. Forever pursuing whatever it is he’s told he should be in pursuit of, at the end of the day even he has his doubts: “Thank Me Later: yeah, I know what I said – but later doesn’t always come – so instead, it’s okay: you could thank me now;” because after all is said and done, later rarely comes for the short-lived lights… while legendary flames blaze forever.

So we were left listening to the sounds of lullaby pop that lulls one into a catatonic slumber before drifting off into a magical land of nothing to something, where hype and hearsay are historic, cosigns are credibility, puffery becomes prophecy, and inflated falsifications (just bent truths – not broken, necessarily) are fundamentals. A place where depending on the case or cover, the display changes, like a counterfeit chameleon shifting veneers beneath veiled vises. How quickly those benign nightlights become iconographic when fallen beneath the focus of the spotlight, when adolescent ambiguity blankets the nation. Here we have boys, as much empty luminescent orbs behind conservator covers, as they are the softening shades easing their mentors’ messages into the the formerly forbidden mainstream.

(YEAR IN REVIEW) All of the Lights: Taylor Swift & Usher – Flood Lights

Turn up the lights in here, baby / extra bright, I want y’all to see this  / turn up the lights in here, baby / you know what I need, want you to see everything / want you to see all of the lights – Kanye West, “All of the Lights”

2010 was a year where we began to separate the wheat from the chaff of the next generation of iconic superstars to fill our pop fantasies. True Genius Requires Insanity believes in the power of pop music. We believe that it brightens the landscape in brilliant snatches of high and low cultural intellect, and is one of the driving necessities of humankind. TGRI’s Kari “swiper_bootz” Elam provides the incisive commentary on our pop cultural beacons, and Kendrick Daye from our friends at Atlanta’s Great Eclectic provides the visuals for this illuminating journey. Enjoy!

This year Taylor Swift and Usher flooded the nation in fluorescence. She spoke now, well after the deafening sounds of Swiftgate settled to a dull roar. He saturated the market in music, void of a message, but with a ubiquitous mask so clean it bordered translucence. They were so bright, so white, so everywhere, so endlessly empty, and yet so inescapably enveloping. Mainstream music’s absence of creativity opened the doors for an influx of sheer commerce, and this year panoramic sterility sold.

This is America, we love our flood lights – so bright and unyielding, so integral to the world of endless recreation of the most mind-numbing, so fundamental to the 24/7 push of profitable play – night games. These aren’t streetlights that keep stickball games going past the dusk on a Brooklyn block… these are those overhead satellites keeping NASCAR motorcades roving around in circles ad naseum at primetime for ad revenue. Swift and Raymond are those forces bleaching the scene, sweetening the mean, and softening the screams of midnight melody makers whose cathartic cries were held at bay during the day.

Their light is the artificial recreation of that natural source which we were lacking. When the world is void of light, that’s when the flood comes. That flood… that natural disaster of Biblical proportions, washes away the past en route to something pure and new; but this is America and we whitewash away the authenticity of imperfect humanity en route to something Puritanical and untrue. Yet even in the starkly sightless state of man-made pseudo-luminescence, be forever certain just as it waned to set the stage of natural darkness – a darkness whose own self-inflicted retreat made it possible for the false light to prevail – the sun also rises, to silence Swift’s spoken present, and reveal the fruitless battle between Raymond and himself… shadowboxing in the dawn.

The freaks come out at night, but monstrosity stands muted in the midst of fluorescent flood lights. There’s not too much to say about these two emanations of artificial light, what you see is what you get: a blinding interruption to the pristine still night. The devil is in the details, but with Swift and Raymond we seemingly have none; then again, their halos only appear in the absence of the sun.

(YEAR IN REVIEW) All of the Lights: Katy Perry & Nicki Minaj – Fireworks

Turn up the lights in here, baby / extra bright, I want y’all to see this  / turn up the lights in here, baby / you know what I need, want you to see everything / want you to see all of the lights – Kanye West, “All of the Lights”

2010 was a year where we began to separate the wheat from the chaff of the next generation of iconic superstars to fill our pop fantasies. True Genius Requires Insanity believes in the power of pop music. We believe that it brightens the landscape in brilliant snatches of high and low cultural intellect, and is one of the driving necessities of humankind. TGRI’s Kari “swiper_bootz” Elam provides the incisive commentary on our pop cultural beacons, and Kendrick Daye from our friends at Atlanta’s Great Eclectic provides the visuals for this illuminating journey. Enjoy!

Once upon a rhyme two bubblegum nymphs lit up the pitch black pop sky with tales of teenage dreams and rose-colored weekends. Princess Katy Perry sang this year from atop her Golden Coast lollipop tower; while Dutchess Nicki Minaj led a brigade of bad Barbies across the hard candy-coated pop landscape. This year we saw the rise and reign of the psuedo-sexual siren; from adolescent dreams to Roman’s vengeful screams Katy Perry and Nicki Minaj exemplified both sides of Barbie – the pinup princess and the dutchess behind barbs. Amidst all of the flashing lights, these two were the fireworks that took fantastical flight.

Nicki Minaj opened the year launching feature after brilliant feature across star-studded tracks. She held court with the divas, the dons, and the du jours; throwing down with everyone from Mariah Carey and Christina Aguilera, to Rick Ross, Kanye West, Jay-Z, Eminem, Ludacris, Usher, and will.i.am. Co-sign after co-sign Minaj built hype and suffocated hearsay. Before long, it seemed as if the collective culture’s eyes were glued to Nicki’s rocketeering rise, awaiting with bated breath the halogenic blast of her solo debut; Pink Friday was the explosive result. The album is truly Minaj’s child, and capstoned her rookie year exceptionally well. It’s the pink hybrid hue between that clean white naive newness and raw red monstrosity; it’s the bridge between the come-up of the work week and the kick-back of the weekend, where Miss Minaj continues to blaze somewhere in between as the not-quite-a-babydoll-but-not-yet-a-boss.

Elsewhere in space, or perhaps just LaLaLand, Katy Perry brought the teenage dream to life. She lauded Angeleno starlets and San Franciscan popsicle-melters with “California Gurls,” fantasized in the twilight with her sophomore album’s title track, and blew the fuse with “Firework.” The singles were a taste, and the soundtrack gave a face to the modern teen scene: carefree kidults, faded high-flyers, over-the-top fairy tales, under-the-influence fun, a life of spectacular nights in an endless daze, all beneath the bombastic glow of fantastic reality detached. Perry brought the energy of a Tinkerbell Bardot: the enigmatic effervescence of infinite youth, and the vintage pinup playgirl blended and suspended in a state of perpetual nostalgia.

Take the dutchess’ bark, fire-breathing flows from a dungeon dragon, and the princess’ electro-pop rocks; shake, stir, spark, sit back and watch the spectacle of a sonic light show. Perhaps the truest essence of Minaj and Perry’s tandem is the captured sense of aspirational aggression – the fairy femme fatale: explosive for entertainment’s sake, the extraterrestrial California Gurl with her head in the clouds, hand in her spaceman’s pocket, and heart on the dancefloor, a massive attack courtesy of Mattel, an aerial assault on Pop culture, with the world gazing awe-struck at the little misses’ meteor shower.

Shit I’m digging this week.

1. Pitbull – No, not the animal, but the incredibly ferocious Cuban by way of Miami rapper. If you’ve followed the site the past few days, I’ve had a bit of a love affair with the 305, which has somehow included listening to A LOT of Pitbull tracks. He’s one of the few artists with a Latin flair who really crossed over and did it big since the 90s when artists like Cypress Hill and Kid Frost set the trend in motion for Latinos in the hip hop world. But I’ll tell you what does it for me with him in particular. He has yet to Anglicize or Americanize himself as an artist, and never forgets his Latin, and, by extraction international roots. He has tremendous depth because of his unique background, as he’s bilingual and can actually flow over salsa, soca and merengue tracks, and, because those tracks are well over 100 BPM, he’s also extended that into international house music, as Enur by way of Alex Gaudino’s Calabria became “The Anthem,” a pretty enormous hit for him, and, as of recently, he’ stayed VERY busy in that realm, and, even without a record deal, on tracks like Calle Ocho, a take on Nicole Fasano and Pat Rich’s decadent 75 Brazil Street, he just kills it. Dead.

2. I can’t be there tonight, but, do check out DJ Stereo Faith tonight @ SORTED at the Black Cat. It’s a great party, and, tonight, he’s got OH SNAP! in the house. You heard his take on Funk Dat last week, well, this week, I’m going to spotlight a BRAND SPANKING NEW JUST RELEASED THIS WEEK track by UK DJ Hostage who’s going to be there with him too tonight, continuing on the soca and calypso latin kick, with Bring the Music, a bass thumping, hip swaying banger. Whoa.

3. Lil Wayne recording rock music. – Yes, this week, Prom Queen and Hot Revolver, apparently two tracks from a forthcoming Lil Wayne ROCK release, hit the internet. They’re NOT good. The only reason I’m mentioning them in this space is because it’s a BALLSY move on the part of Weezy to believe that he has enough of an audience now to split and separate them, and that they’ll still come back to him in the end. Kanye just said eff it and put out 808s and Heartbreak. But he’s EXPECTED to be different and genre setting. Weezy, well, yeah. Ten years ago, he was telling us the block was hot. Just over a year ago he was hustlin’ with duffle bag boys. Now he expects us to follow him as he records emo rock songs with bad Green Day knockoff lyrics about dating prom queens, and chicks as hot as revolvers? I mean, the hooks are still there. They’re fire. But it’s the rest of it. It’s derivate, uninspired and frankly, trashy. Weezy is, in my opinion, not at a point to think that he can be like a Madonna, or a Kanye, and expand the listening mind of his fanbase. At the end of the day, Suzie at the mall has forgotten Lollipop, and is now murmuring something about jumping out of a fucking window, or, even worse, if they just like pop music, have downloaded that new All American Rejects, Lady Gaga or Kelly Clarkson song. It’s a dumb, epically stupid move, and not a careful one. Weezy sadly is his own A & R now, so, he’s likely surrounded by codeine addled yes men who think this is a money idea. Well, I do love some purp once or twice a year, but fuck. This is so bad.

4. The Super Bowl – The winners of the game this year are like SXSW. They features people just on the cusp, and an old favorite that we all sort of though disappeared off the map who use the event as a platform to bigger and better things. The fact that this game has no hype may cause the Steelers to fall asleep at the wheel, as they should drill the Cardinals otherwise. I’m predicting Larry Fitzgerald and Kurt Warner go in big. Cardinals 24, Steelers 16.

– KONG

Shit I’m Digging This Week

What’s good, folks? I’m thinking of getting one of those Obama gold coins they have in the infomercial, and getting TV Johnny to bling it out for me(he’s also maybe my favorite Asian media personality since Pat Morita, as he glady fills every stereotype ever, awkwardly, but gets straight cash from those that laugh at him, so, who’s really laughing in the end) to put it on a chain for me, just to show that I made it through the Inauguration mania without dying. Yes, I did park behind a Chinatown bus on Sunday night and luckily was travelling with a Mandarin Chinese speaker (always good to just have one around, lol) to ensure that homebwoi driving the bus wouldn’t roll back and wreck my ride.

But yeah. With a hearty shout out to the brother who tried to sell me an Obama baby bib, because I, in my Motley Crue t-shirt and multiple gold chains and tough leather jacket looked like “a responsible parent,” here’s some shit I’m digging this week.

1. Lykke Li covers Rick Ross’ “Hustlin'” – Yes, two weeks ago, I feel happy that I spread the gospel that is “Nothing to Worry About.” by fellow Swedes Peter, Bjorn and John. I still contend that is one remix away from being FIRE on the streets. This week, given that I’m writing this part on a Blackberry, you’ll get videographic evidence of this later, but floating around in various homes on the blogosphere is Lykke Li crankin’ out a cover of Rick Ross. Yes. The Swedish songbird sweetly rapping along to this gangsta anthem of pushin’ weight. But, I’ll be honest here. It’s not really that much of a leap. As I wrote upon reviewing her masterful concert at the Black Cat, “Li hit the sold out venue with equal parts Agneta and Anni-Frid, Nikka Costa and eager b-girl.” Esger b-girl. Such an eager b-girl that she covered “Can IKick It” by Tribe at the same show. Such an eager b-girl that her show at SXSW was viewed by none other than David Banner. Such an eager b-girl that yes, she knows ALL the words to “Hustlin’.” She’s at 6th and I Synagogue next Saturday. Outside of her INCREDIBLE “Youth Novels” album, who knows what the fuck she’ll do. She’s a special one, Lykke Li. She can do anything she wants, she’s terminally cute, and loves music. All music. And it shows. The cutest part of the whole thing is that a) she expects HER fans to be the kind of people who like BOTH sing song chick pop anthems and know the chorus to a Rick Ross song, and b) that she naively questions her crowd if “they have jobs or something,” because they don’t know the chorus. Lykke Li could only happen at the divide in the world where MTV, Youtube and Myspace cross pollinated. And that’s wonderful.

2. Steve’s Bar Room – Blew through this spot on Inauguration eve for the Hipster Overkill party, and I strongly feel this is one of the great unknown DJ venues in the city. I mean, it’s damn near impossible to find, but, once you do, you’re glad you did. It feels like your older brothers ultimate frat house, if you catch my drift. The soundsystem isn’t ROCK SHOW OF THE YEAR quality, but it’s solid, and the venue itself has “charm.” Like of the “a tree always grows through the living room of my million dollar house” quirky variety. It’s an old coverted second floor office space in an office building, and the “DJ booth” literally assaults you on the right as you get OFF THE ELEVATOR, but, yeah. I know a lot of people who make music in this town tend to congregate on U St and that general area because it’s easy and everybody knows where it is, and the venues are clearly marked, but, yeah. Steve’s Bar Room, for all of it’s negatives, is a fun spot. Yeah, it has that “Dupont pretention” feel, but, I think that can be washed out. It’s not that hard. Shout out to DJ Tru over there, one of the underrated spinners in the city. He has a collection called “A Night at Steve’s” at hipsteroverkill.com that, if you have a passing interest in (but are not a fanatic of) club music, would be great to have on the iPOD.

3. Yo Majesty – Fuk Dat (Scottie B Mix) – It’s been a big couple of weeks for Sagat. A few weeks back, I posted Oh Snap!’s HYSTERICAL Funk Dat remix. Turns out, Bmore club king Scottie B, quiet as kept, had gotten together with Shunda K and Jewel B of Yo Majesty, and created a FIRE remix of Funk Dat called Fuk Dat, which, is, again, absolutely bananas and retarded stoopid. Needless to say, where Oh Sanp’s! take is funny, and VERY Oh Snap, this take just comes at you with Chuck D force, punting the listener in the balls, sonically. Yo Majesty’s in town @ Black Cat on Saturday night, making that club the center of my life at that moment, as they are one of my favorite rap groups in the universe, as there’s something about a lesbian take on misogyny with a heaving helping of Christian love and bass beats that can bring down the walls of Jericho.

4. Beyonce – Diva – So this “hipster” thing continues to go too far. Kanye has become our overlord and ruler, and, with this song and video which answers the popular question we all were asking, “What would happen if MIA’s Bamboo Banga was slowed to 70 BPM?,” Sasha Fierce has officially applied to be our queen. I mean, MIA held it down for 2007 and 2008, but, with a little impeccably dressed fashion forward kid that will definitely get beat up for wearing clothes that ignornat cruel little moron kids call “gay” on the way, This song, with it’s almost nonsensical hook, will definitely lead the way. And to wit, in the video Mizzz Sasha rocks the Prince “Sign O’The Times era window dressing shades, a futuristic Barbarella security force member black and white ensemble, and just seems like she’s all about being the new “hipster” darling.

5. This flu I have. – Yeah. With the aid of approximately four different medications, I made it through the inaugural. Now, I’m dealing with the world’s nastiest stomach virus. I fear to imagine what else could befall me. I mean, I know that I party a lot (4x a week), consistently get inadequate amounts of sleep (3-6 hrs a night), and during the 6 day inaugural party period set records for seeing the minute before sunrise five straight nights, but yeah. I work out really really hard, and could drink so much more alcohol than I do, and eat pretty much what amounts to only what amounts to chicken, fruit, beans, rice, nuts and berries, but yeah. I’ve been sick for like seven straight days. And it’s not something I’m digging, but rather it’s something I’m digging OUT FROM.

Shit I’m Digging This Week

It’s been a big week. The inauguration is forthcoming, so I feel like the whole area is in hibernation sorta preparing for the onslaught. I’ve been in hibernation as well, or rather in intense physical training, preparing for SXSW where I intend on unveiling washboard abs and a ripped physique. It’s a goal that has pretty much consumed my evenings, as Wii fit has become my new best friend in the world. But, I’ve still been moved by a lot this week. So, without further ado:

1. Wii Fit – Barack should stimulate the country by handing out free Wiis, Wii Fit, and the balance board to all the people that are presently jobless in our country, and allow the people who show progress over a certain pre-set amount to get in line first when the unemployment benefits train rolls into the depot anytime now. I mean, if you can dedicate one hour a day to PLAYING A GAME TO GET IN BETTER SHAPE, then I think you’re the kind of non-lazy person that probably needs to get back into the workforce. Honestly, I remember when I was unemployed that there were some days that seemed better served guiding my fictional Providence College Friar football team to the National Championship in NCAA ’06. The workout is absolutely insane, and, for someone like myself that has lied to himself for so long and believed I was in solid physical condition, the Wii will absolutely tell you otherwise as you’re unfairly compared apparently to Olympic gymnasts for standards of balance and fitness. Makes for a fun and healthy time, though.

2. Peter, Bjorn and John’s “Nothing to Worry About.” – Bjorn took the time between albums to produce Lykke Li, and become “that dude” in my eyes. Anybody that can pull that type of work out of an already incredible talent is a great man unto themselves, and Bjorn returns with his musical compadres famed for the best use of whistling on a record in the 21st century (blows Juelz out the water), and delivers “Nothing to Worry About,” which features staccato drums and a clear ummm, how else to say it, go go influence, and yeah, to quote a friend, “it bangs.” This is a hit, not a big hit, but, I do believe that this will be remixed by Kanye, Jim Jones, Busta, Ron Browz and Wale f/ UCB. I predict that this will gain the Swedes more cred in the black community than they probably ever desired. Mixtapes, let’s go!

3. DJ DV-One’s “One Man Band” Mix – Got an email this week for the weekly mix put out by Seattle’s DV-One. He was the house DJ for the NBAs Seattle SuperSonics, and is the official DJ for none other than the Rock Steady Crew, so, I tend to believe he knows what the fuck he’s doing. And, he threw down a really tight little 26 minute mix that reminded me of the essence of what hip hop both was, and is.

Playlist as follows:

1. edwin starr easin in
2. knoccturnal LA nite n day
3. Les Demerle a day in the life
4. Lil Wayne mr carter
5. Dilated Peoples release party -INST-
6. Monk Higgins one man band
7. Quincy Jones body heat
8. Gil Scott Heron legend in his own mind
9. Hector Lavoe calle luna, calle sol
10. Nas the message
11. Sting shape of my heart
12. Parliament all your goodies are gone
13. Betty Wright clean up woman
14. Buddafly rock-a-bye
15. Hi Tek round and round
16. MosDef & Talib Kweli Definition
17. Parker Bros how good
18. Don Julian i love you
19. Mary J Blige i love you
20. The Game im chillin
21. JD tipster
22. Pharcyde runnin
23. Too Short oakland

4. OH SNAP! – Funk Dat (2009 Mix) – The hilarious hip hop hipster strikes again! If music wasn’t so damn expansive now, Maryland’s Oh Snap! would already be a gigantic local celebrity and drive time radio hitmaker and international underground phenomenon of greater renown. He hit the underground in ’07 with “Im too Fat to Be a Hipster,” in ’08 with “Bill Cosby Sweater,” and he starts off ’09 with an instant hilarious classic. For the local heads, he’ll be at the Black Cat Backstage along with resident host Stereo Faith for Sorted on January 30th. Be prepared to bust five guts laughing during his mix. He’s gets the concept of entertainment being more important than content sometimes better than most other “hipster” oriented artsits.

5. Charm City Rollergirls in Action January 17th in Bmore!

Hit up charmcityrollergirls.com for more info. It’s the best entertainment in either town that NOBODY supports. Maybe it’s my inner pro wrestling carny, but, shock and surprise, it’s not that predermined silliness you remember from your youth. It’s a lot more athletic now, and eons more entertaining. Just sayin’.

– KONG