sexual style over musical substance. For example, in a recent interview, Sharaya J, an up-and-coming artist working with Missy Elliott, recounted that after she had presented her work to a group of record executives, one of them suggested that she put on some heels, get a weave, and "sell them with sex." In other words, record executives seem to be encouraging women to peddle an image that caters to the sexual desire of fans — which serves to further reinforce them as objects rather than credible rappers — even as they complain that the costs of maintaining this image are prohibitive since women don't move enough units.
None of this bodes well for 2014 as the year of the female rapper. Even if all of the artists who are expected to release their albums actually do — several have been plagued by agonizing delays — it remains to be seen whether they will get a fair shake from a male-dominated industry that Lil' Kim protégée Tiffany Foxx recently said "doesn't want the girls involved."
Consider Angel Haze, who in December did what rapper M.I.A. had only threatened to do earlier that year. Frustrated with delays, she uploaded her debut album to SoundCloud, making it free to the public. It was taken down within hours, but her label did capitulate, sort of, by agreeing to move up the release date to Dec. 30 — during what is arguably the worst week of the year to put an album on the market. Given the timing, her initial sales were predictably dismal, invoking comparisons to Kreayshawn, another female MC whose highly anticipated debut album landed, after delays, with a thud.
Angel Haze's situation is instructive, though, not only because it's indicative of the difficulties other artists seem to be having with their labels, but because once we strip away the drama surrounding the release, we have a new album from a highly anticipated artist that we can listen to. And it's a good one, showcasing polished production, as well as Haze's lyrical dexterity and an ambitious attempt to tackle serious subjects without alienating a mainstream audience. Is it perfect? No. But it's a solid debut from a talented young artist who clearly takes her music seriously.
surrounding the release, we have a new album from a highly anticipated artist that we can listen to. And it's a good one, showcasing polished production, as well as Haze's lyrical dexterity and an ambitious attempt to tackle serious subjects without alienating a mainstream audience. Is it perfect? No. But it's a solid debut from a talented young artist who clearly takes her music seriously.
And yet, reviews from XXL, Spin, and Pitchfork — important, if dubious, arbiters in the industry — were surprisingly harsh, with reviewers taking her to task for, among other things, disappointing lyrics or confusing messages. That's especially ironic given that all three magazines gave significantly higher ratings to 17-year-old Chief Keef for his lyrically-vapid 2012 debut album and routinely award higher scores to rappers like 2 Chainz, Waka Flocka Flame, Rick Ross, and Lil Wayne. What these rappers have in common, aside from lyrical skills that range from dreadful to mediocre (the exception being Lil Wayne earlier in his CAREER), is that they routinely degrade women, sometimes to shocking extremes, and appear to be doing little to elevate rap as an art form.
Importantly, though, they do manage to dominate major channels of distribution, don the covers of glossy magazines, and, collectively, play a considerable role in defining the future trajectory of rap music. Meanwhile, the space for women has gotten so cramped that we're left to question whether a commercial scene that will allow them to succeed even EXISTS anymore. To hear artists like Rapsody tell it, even if they release good music, women are treated like they don't belong among the community of rappers, but rather they are relegated to a less-than-equal "femcee" subcategory in which they are expected to perform with, or compete against, other women.