When and if they write the biography or direct the book, your time on this planet will defined by whichever idiot was president or king, by whichever soon-to-be-dated technology was dazzling the natives and by the music being blasted through the radios. Nearly everything you do, however impressive, will be judged together with all of these things. Ain’t it sad?
That is to say that from the greatest artists to the people sharpening pencils for the president, there’s no escape from the news, from popular culture, and from having rich people invade your present and your legacy. Unless you decide to live out in the jungle or the desert and to create some kind of religious cult there, your life will always be tied to the news, now and/or after it is no more.
Laurence Warner takes issue with all of that. His alternative-rap album “Ctrl-Alt-Rap” sees the artist squaring up to all of the knobheads who hold the reins of power and who won’t stop until you have their name tattooed on the back of your eyelids so you can see them in your dreams. This is an album about modern technology and about a graceless age.
Now, in truth, we don’t frequently feature rap music on Alt77, but we do like to acknowledge it when it is great. Laurence Warner’s technical rapping, free-flowing verse, has plenty in common with experimental alternative acts or the great folk poets like Bob Dylan or Townes van Zandt.
The targets for the classics and for Warner are the same, and its words are the weapons chosen for this fight. But you won’t get to spit four verses in six minutes the way Bobby Dylan did on “Rolling Stone” anymore. We’re the generation of fast content, of pint-sized nuggets of info.
Nearly all of Warner’s tracks are short and to the point, like a comedian that delivers quick punchlines and moves on. “Cookies” introduces the listener to the world through the rapper’s eyes – a post-modern, pre-apocalyptic techno-driven wasteland. “rename” sung over piano chords, is a tongue-in-cheek to the poor, gigantic tech companies forced to alter their mission for profit. And, “lizzie” is a song about dead monarchs, and destitute, but rich-in-spirit ones who’re still willing to do art for art’s sake.
Best do it for yourself. Don’t waste your time in thinking anybody’s looking out for your interest. On possibly the album’s greatest moment is “toney,” Warner raps about the endless supply of betting companies sponsoring the big sporting events and making money only when you lose yours. Spare a thought for poor ol’ Ivan Toney.
It’s not all doom and gloom though. If anything, Laurence Warner’s smiling at the chaos and keeping in good spirits. “Reggaenót” works its raps over Latin beats, and this “linkfi.re” goofs on the record label bosses that have had to add words like “viral” and “streams” to their vocabulary.
Where does it all leave us? Closing track “president” is bittersweet note on which to depart. It’s amazing to consider how corrupt global politics are. It’s amazing to consider that a bright, young lad from England would be so obsessed with American politics.
But this is where we all are at – distrustful and trapped. And when they roll the credits over your biography, imagine what they’ll be playing. It’ll be pictures of American presidents shaking hands with tech moguls while the viral pop hit of the year is playing in the background. It’s a bizarre time to be alive, and Laurence Warner is chickling through the tears.
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