Showing posts with label Kesha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kesha. Show all posts
There's nothing cool like a female MC bold enough to step up in the male dominated rap scene.
Kid Sister is a Chicago based rapper who creates music for the dance floor, known for her 2008 track Pro-Nails ft. Kanye West, she has recently debuted her first mixtape KissKissKiss.
Kid Sister has an 80's hip-hop/techno sound, like a mix between Ke$ha and Diamond. Although I have my qualms with many female rappers who opt for materialistic or hyper-sexualized and self-centered images instead of using their work to preempt positive change, I recognize that it's got to be tough out there for them, trying to be everything to everyone while having to deal with the dilemma faced by most modern artists today: make art that's meaningful or make art that sells?
Kid Sister has obviously decided that getting people to dance is what matters most. I'm a pretty big fan of 80's rap/fashion and the Chicago music scene so her latest single "Right Hand Hi" is right up my alley. Although some of her lyrics are a bit materialistic, she makes fun music I can dance to, whether I'm with my girls or dancing in my room while trying on my "at home/girls-only" party dresses .
Also Check Out Laidback Luke's sweet remix of DO!DO!DO! from KissKissKiss below.
8<3Track Honey
See that girl? That's Ke$ha. Maybe you've heard her single:
It's probably more likely you've tried to avoid hearing her single. Fuck knows I have.
"TiK ToK," a pants-shittingly average pop song, has been in in heavy rotation here in central Texas. In terms of the creative talent involved, NPR - in a surprisingly blunt flaying - put it best: Ke$ha isn't an artist, she's Campbell's Chunky: over processed, derivative mush that only seems good because she reminds us of actually enjoyable musicians. I tried to come up with a term to describe just where Ke$ha fits on the pop-chart-totem-pole (Hot Tub Time Machine, yo?), when I had an epiphany: she could never be an icon, but she is the glue that holds them together. In other words, she's filler.
Ke$ha's around to keep the seat warm until a better female pop act comes along, in much the same way that Jojo (remember her?) was a momentary distraction until Kelly Clarkson (remember her, either?) hit her stride. Between Beyonce, Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry, the XX quota on the pop scale is pretty much full, especially since Beyonce and Gaga are flooding the markets (does it drive down the price of sexy?), having released "Sweet Dreams" (Beyonce), "Video Phone" (Beyonce/Gaga collaboration), "Telephone" (Gaga/Beyonce, there's a pattern forming), and "Bad Romance" (Gaga) in the span of mere weeks. The deluge, while entertaining, could create a problem: these singles are all coming from albums that've been available to the public for quite some time now. What happens if the target audience has reached its fill for the month? They'll just tune out the next time the Ebony and Ivory towers of pop release a track they've heard already, and Payola can't have that happen. Ke$ha solves that problem, giving the listener something to mindlessly not their head to until the adults come back in the room. Her title as lyrical mortar seems even more appropriate once you realize that she rode in piggyback on one of the blandest, most unimaginative hacks ever to claim hip hop:
Flo Rida: a second-rate Twista with a third-string beat sounding like something Timbaland and Major Lazer gang-banged and then killed (not to mention it samples Dead or Alive). Just like Ke$ha, Flo Rida provided filler to cushion our ears (because who really gives a hoot when you're drunk on the dance floor?) until Soulja Boy begat the Autumn of Young Money, which gave us some of the better pop-hop of the decade:
Loves it, and really, what is a Ke$ha to a Gaga, a Flo Rida to a Wale? Don't worry about it. We won't remember their names in a year anyway.
Further Listening:
