Bestowing the label of “experimental” and drawing connections to examples of slowness in other twentieth century musics (including drone, doom metal, and minimalism)-artistic lineages that have little to no influence on Screw, and whose similarities are superficial and coincidental-is patronizing and ahistorical.īecause of this, I’ve always kept my appreciation for DJ Screw somewhat private. He was a technician of significant craftsmanship, whose music spoke directly to the community he aimed it toward: those people buying grey cassette tapes through the grate on the front door of his south side Houston home. Nor was Screw clueless about what he was doing. The scene he was a part of was overflowing with brilliant activity-something the rest of the world witnessed a few years after his death with the increased success of UGK, Slim Thug, and Chamillionaire.
But Screw wasn’t just a diamond-in-the-rough. It insists that the writer has painstakingly sifted through thousands of unworthy rap artists to pick-out and “save” one true gem. This maneuver also enforces an image of the artist as a rare genius surrounded by mediocrity. It’s an impulse shared with the gallery curator who spots the secretly-brilliant homeless painter on the street corner and makes him a star. In this sense, the writer gets to fantasize he has somehow jointly authored the art, because its status as avant-garde is his doing. Therefore any writer who labels it thus, constitutes it as such. This method of criticism insists that rappers don’t know when they are operating on an artistic cutting-edge. This scenario is common in the Poptimist era of rap coverage in mainstream music writing-Lil Wayne, Lil B, Gucci Mane, and now, Young Thug have all been victims of it. Worse were the music journalists who treated Screw as accidentally experimental-as if he weren’t conscious of what he was doing and that it took the discerning ears of critics to bestow the stamp of “outsider genius” upon him. He was an innovator who had a unique voice, distinct style, and he expressed that vision from within gangster rap, not outside of it. But DJ Screw wasn’t Girl Talk, and the processing he applied to rap songs wasn’t a filter signifying ironic distance. His mixes were deemed post-modern commentary instead of documents of the underground scene that Screw participated in. Screw tapes were presented as if they were completely separate from the gangsta rap community that Screw was a part of - allowing “intelligent” and “educated” people to listen to and appreciate them while retaining the privilege that accompanies “good taste.” (2) However, when played at ninety five percent of its original speed, “ Smokin’ N’ Lean’n” was like the Marlboro Man to Screw’s Richard Prince. This interpretation of Screw argued that, for example, Botany Boys were terrible. The name-dropping contained a subliminally offensive implication: that Screw’s method of slowing down rap songs somehow elevated those rap songs-themselves crass, disposable products-into the realm of high art.
#DJ SCREW JUNE 27TH FREESTYLE SERIES#
It’s especially so when the homage comes from somebody ostensibly “avant-garde.” About five years ago, when journalists were still enthralled by a series of increasingly fashionable internet music genres-Hypnagogic Pop, Chillwave, Witch House, Vaporwave-mentions of Screw began appearing regularly in articles about musicians who’d likely never heard a South Circle track played at normal speed. I’m intensely suspicious of artists who don’t make rap, but nonetheless cite DJ Screw as an influence. William Hutson is one/third of the band, clipping. He owns more Murder Dogs than you.