A controversial rapper lets his consciousness stream at Santos. By Jesse Serwer
Photograph: Ethan Higbee Santos Party House; Sat 24
Surrealist automatism, throw-everything-against-the-wall Internet multimedia strategy and The Secret–style affirmative thinking come together in the music of impossibly prolific, maddeningly inconsistent and sporadically brilliant Bay Area rapper Lil B. Though his official releases include 2009 LPs I’m Thraxx and 6 Kiss; Pretty Boy Millionaires, a recent EP with new ally Soulja Boy; and Takin’ Over, a motivational self-help book, the 20-year-old’s medium of choice is what he calls “based freestyles”: off-the-cuff, stream-of-consciousness rhymes that vary wildly in quality and clarity.
A sampling of the several hundred recordings and YouTube videos Lil B has released in the past year reveals an eclectic mix of irrational boasting (“Like a Martian”), ruminations on life’s meaning (the Elliott Smith–sampling “The World’s Ending”), biographical sketches (“The Bible”) and blasphemous proclamations of greatness (“I’m God,” “Look Like Jesus”). He delights in provoking: In a questionably conceived yet admirable effort to challenge the hip-hop status quo, the by-all-indications-straight rapper has begun referring to himself as a “pretty bitch” and “faggot.” Less controversially, his vérité YouTube videos often depict such atypical settings as a suburban soccer game or a Waspy rural country club.
While Lil B’s unorthodox presentation and fondness for airy, ambient beats have earned him a growing following among bloggers and hipster DJs, don’t mistake his over-the-top character for caricature or an ironic pose. Even in his most absurd moments, he’s as straight-faced and serious as rap’s most infamous Bellevue patient, Kool Keith.