Not Your Mother’s Hip-Hop

DrBy every conceivable understanding of the phrase, Dr. Octagon is without question NOT your mother’s Hip-Hop. Defined by Google as:

hip-hop

noun

1. a style of popular music of US black and Hispanic origin, featuring rap with an electronic backing.

OctagonDr. Octagon is an X-rated barrel-shot through the grotesque-minded brilliance of the lyrical magician Kool Keith, backed with the autonomous production of the genre-bending (never breaking) Mr. Dan Nakamura (AKA Dan the Automator), mingled with the turntable chemist DJ Q-Bert (as well as a slew of genteel guest stars). In short, Dr. Octagon is the last doctor you’ll ever need, because he’s the last doctor you’ll ever see. Your mother would not approve of this disgusting display of Hip-Hop-ery.

What would qualify as “your mother’s Hip-Hop” you ask?

– Fat Boys

– PM Dawn

– Vanilla Ice (after a sixer of Zima)

The doctor is out… call back after midnight to make an appointment with the receptionist.

(Please note that this is not an album review. This has been explicitly stated so that I may repurpose this album for a future, much less lazy-minded post, you dig?)

1990: To the Extreme

Ice CoverThe term “Vanilla Ice” implies that at one point, there existed “Chocolate Ice,” because otherwise, it would just be called “Ice.” My parents taught me that an individual’s ice flavor was nothing to be judged, and that personality weighed more than any ice flavor imaginable. So instinctively, I was immediately drawn to the Chocolate-inspired Ice of the Vanilla persuasion. Yes, I was a fan of Vanilla Ice, and yes, I own and listen to this record.

Remember Snow?  A licky Boom Boom yeah, I don’t either. Do you know why the Snow and his half-hit wonder, Informer, fell hard (snow… falling…)? It’s because the Ice man here left such a monumental impact upon the release of this album, that the debris had yet to settle by the time Snow’s “single” hit the streets in the fall of 1993. Ice had this covered, man! The Vanilla doesn’t melt so easily it seems.

Ice BackI remember sitting in Mrs. Bleach’s 6th grade class frantically transcribing Ice Ice Baby, in pencil, as if it were a newly discovered missing chapter of the Bible. I believe I spent an entire recess start-stopping this track (on cassette) to assure a precise transcript. What the hell I did with those lyrics upon completion, I’ll never remember, but I did, inadvertently, burn a Vanilla Ice-sized hole in my cranium that, to this day, has yet to fully heal.

IcemanListening to Vanilla Ice now, with his assertive, borderline belligerent delivery, is nothing short of absolutely hysterical. Yo, VIP! I’ve just decided to work that into my daily vocabulary. I’m thinking something like, “Yo, VIP! Pass the milk!” Or, “Yo, VIP! Do you want in on this conference call?!” Something to that effect. I encourage all of you to experiment with this timeless phrase at least once today, if only to gauge the reaction of the ill-prepared VIP.

It’s painful to acknowledge that 1990 is now 23 year ago, but thankfully, the immortal gift that is Vanilla Ice will forever be present to remind us of how groundbreaking this music wasn’t.  “Yo! VIP! Post is done!”