MUSIC REVIEWS
Fatlip - The Loneliest Punk
David Allun Jones
“I make myself sick/ Get on my own nerves/ Immature, insecure/ Grown up nerd/ Has been MC.” -”What’s Up Fatlip?”
Since it’s early inception, hip hop has been built on exaggerated machismo; about how he (or in much fewer cases: she) is better-than-thou be it through physical, mental or financial means. Therefore, to hold oneself in a poor light is rarely received well. It’s uncomfortable and depressing to hear a rapper talk about how insecure they are, sadly because it’s not what’s expected. So to see and hear the MIA rapper Fatlip re-emerge in 2000 with the self-deprecating single and documentary “What’s Up Fatlip?” was a mini-event. With the rapper booted out of 90’s alternative rap group Pharcyde (“Passin’ Me By”, “Runnin’”) three years prior, the record perfectly encompassed what happens when the spotlight is snatched away from an only marginally successful artist while the revealing short film documented a return to his humble beginnings and an attempt to launch a comeback, all done with the risky choice of making fun of himself. Embraced as an underground marvel, it was a compelling mix of embarrassment and awe that would lay the foundation for his intriguing solo debut, The Loneliest Punk, five years later.
Where Eminem validates his ventures into silliness with the alter ego Slim Shady and Busta Rhymes and Missy Elliott use outlandish video plots to showcase their goofy sides, the jester trait represents Fatlip in his raw entirety. He’s like a more coherent Ol’ Dirty Bastard (who he shouts out on the album), wild and lawless, walking to the beat of his own drum. But as Smokey Robinson oh-so-cleverly stated in “Tears of A Clown”, beneath the happy face is a sense of sadness, and it’s this dichotomy that helps shape The Loneliest Punk as a captivating piece of art.
“I’ve been a loser all my life”, he states, and it’s clear after one listen that such a low self-analysis is unlikely to change anytime soon. Much of the album finds the rapper struggling through life. He’s unable to make it work with his baby mama, watching her move on with her life with new men while he unsuccessfully courts other women. He’s living with moms, gleefully spending her money and bumming her cigarettes, as he waits for his next publishing check to quickly squander off. And worst of all, the only way he seems capable of making money is through rhyming, but a severe bout of writer’s block, and a refusal to lie about the riches he doesn’t have or gangsta life he doesn’t live, threatens that livelihood. Approaching his troubles like a comedian, Fatlip milks out the humor to try to dilute the sadness of it all. It’s an entertaining factor that keeps him from looking too pitiful and showcases his greatest asset as am emcee; few can pull off being simultaneously silly and serious so effectively.
Despite his problems, what ultimately seems to keep the man off of suicide watch is an inner drive to both succeed in the rap game and be a good father to his kid. The former is felt through the solid productions, a bid to wider audiences with it’s combination of East Coast and West Coast styles, standing way more traditional than the spaced out beats that Pharcyde favored. Artistically, the latter is more prominent if only because his kids bring about a glowing sense of pride, a rare occurrence where the man seems to stand for something. Attempting a better relationship with his moms for his children’s sake and then wooing his son away from his Xbox for an intimate father-son talk are touching moments that reveal more to the man than jokes.
Nothing here is flashy enough to boost Fatlip’s mainly underground profile, but the amount of blood, sweat and tears that the rapper put on this album definitely give it some importance. The kind of person that reality shows were made for, Fatlip emerges as one of hip hop’s most arresting figures with The Loneliest Punk, mainly because he refuses to play by the macho rules; unfortunately it might require a big screen biopic of his tumultuous career for the rest of the world to catch on to his talent.
