Lil B – I Got AIDs Review

Now I don't usually review music as it's not at all my forte and my opinion is usually too bias to give a creditable opinion on a piece of audio art. Yet, after hearing Lil B's I Got AIDs track, I thought I'd give it a go. As Lil B is somewhat of an inspiration as he's clearly gone about producing a piece of work in which the content is unfamiliar to him, I'm just hoping that when I tackle an unfamiliar subject I don't come across as a clueless moron.

Now some deluded hip hop fans will praise Lil B for daring to tackle such a taboo topic such as AIDs in a genre that most pierce of glorifying violence, drug use and misogynistic values. Yet conscious hip hop has always been around and always will be, it's just not often pushed into the limelight. I can neither confirm or deny that Lil B is a trailblazer in the respects of making a track about AIDs, although I'm sure someone must have touched on it in the past.

But to the track itself; it begins with a small phone conversation then Lil B delivers the bad news; “I've got AIDs”, for what is supposed to be a conscious track about AIDs awareness, this opening bar instantly installs a perception that this song is in fact a piss take. It almost presents itself as a spoof, something that is likely to feature The Lonely Islands if they were more puerile and controversial. Yet it's not, this is meant to be serious, so don't laugh at the ludicrous line, it's time to learn about AIDs.

Lil B goes on to rap; “I shoulda used a condom, instead of trusting these women”. There's a bona fide tip for all those attempting to avoid contracting AIDs; use a condom! Apparently you can still fuck a women that has AIDs as long as your boy's in his wetsuit. Because condoms have never been known to tear or anything, condoms are the most durable substance in the world. The latter end of that line places the blame squarely on the shoulders of Lil B's ex-lovers, as he trusted them when really he shouldn't, so be careful guys if a woman wants to sleep with you she probably has AIDs. Lil B calls upon some advice passed down to him from his mother; “My mom said; 'keep ya dick in ya pants and you'll be good'”. Wise words there from Mother B. But while mom was dishing out sexual advice over a bowl of Frosties in the morning, it seems they've fallen on deaf ears. Lil B goes on to say that he was worried about getting the girl pregnant, not knowing that she had AIDs, now I'm no sexpert but condoms are often used to halt pregnancies. I understand that I've pointed out the drawbacks of them already but in all seriousness, if you're worried about getting a woman pregnant and you take no precautions you deserve AIDs.

The start of verse two offers some possibly unintended wordplay; “Now I'm fucked, cos I had unprotected sex”. Get it? He's “fucked” cos he had “[unprotected] sex”! But why is this an unintended piece of wordplay? Because I highly doubt Lil B to possess the skill/talent/luck of penning this line, also this line in itself is quite humorous, therefore it probably isn't meant to be pierced how I've seen it. Remember this is about AIDs, AIDs is serious! We then find out Lil B's also contracted herpes, but moaning about herpes when you have AIDs is like whining about a paper-cut on your figure as your lower intestines slosh out of a stab wound in your gut. Lil B continues on and brings up famed basketball player Magic Johnson [whom, from my research contracted HIV but it never developed into full blown AIDs, guess that's why they call him Magic]; “Magic Johnson the only one that's still alive, sittin' down all alone, it makes me wanna cry” before we highlight the subtle genius of rhyming 'alive' with 'cry' [I've heard of half-rhymes before but never half-arsed-rhymes]. At first listen I thought this line was entirely about Magic and Lil B was thinking about how Johnson was all alone and that thought made him want to cry. But on later inspection I'm not sure if Lil B is simply talking about himself wanting to cry after what has happened to him. That's surely the mark of a true artist, the pure fact, that I as a hip hop head can not truly assess what the fuck he's on about. Lil B ends verse two by saying if he could go back in time he would have wore a condom, so again I'll point out the fact that he'd still fuck a AIDs ridden woman, so he clearly hasn't learned his lesson. The final line is; “Now I’m dying, saying 'goodbye' to my momma”, I can just picture Momma B's 'I told you so' face.

Verse three is without a shadow of a doubt the best verse, as it doesn't exist. In total this is a ten bar song (twenty lines) which for a hip hop song is fucking pitiful, especially a song that is apparently about awareness. Lil B's delivery or flow is mediocre, his tone is completely void of emotion, whether or not that's purposeful because of his remorseful emotions or just a complete lack of care on Lil B's part. No anger is present in his voice when mentioning the “bitches” he's trusted. One of the most important aspects of being an emcee/rapper is being able to rhyme words, a process that Lil B has turned his nose up at, rhyming words like; pregnant/sexin', sex/bet, AIDs/pay and the unbelievable condom/momma damn! Basically nothing rhymes, I've released bodily gases that have held more rhyme merit than Lil B on this track. The beat is OK.

Overall, this song is clearly less about AIDs awareness and more about getting people talking about Lil B, yet all they'll say is; “Oh, Lil B, that guy that made that terrible song on AIDs awareness.” Maybe if Lil B took the time to pen something more thought provoking than a confused message of wear a condom and get tested that featured words that rhymed, this review would have been totally different. But if Lil B had made a decent AIDs song, this review wouldn't exist, because I just wanted to take the piss out of it. Too enjoy [I Got] AIDs take your [hearing] AIDs out.

Ben's Rating:
-5 / 0

Writing for Newsjack

For those that don’t know I write for a BBC radio comedy… but before you start thinking I’m ‘someone’; so do hundreds of other people. “No wonder the BBC is having to make cutbacks if it’s employing all these people to write for one show” you may be thinking, but you’re wrong. Newsjack has an open door policy, so anyone can send in material. But now the final deadline has passed us by, so no more last minute attempts to satirise current affairs in the attempt of building up a portfolio in the world of the comedy writer. It’s back to avoiding newspapers like Liam Fox (mmm … satire*).

My style of writing for Newsjack is basically, throw everything I can at them, sit back, constantly refreshing my hotmail account in hope that I receive an email informing me I've had material accepted. But I wasn't lucky enough this series, obviously by “lucky enough”, I mean “good enough”.

You see, the thing is when you're writing your little one-liners or sketches, you think you actually have something of quality; an actual piece of comedy gold that stands a chance of getting aired. That optimism lasts form Monday/Tuesday [when you send your material in] until late Thursday, when the inevitable happens and you don't receive that email. At that point you look back over what you've written and realise how drastically awful the whole thing was and how much of an idiot you were for thinking that poorly stringed together bunch of toss was ever going to be considered for broadcast. You feel shitty. You then listen to the show and feel shittier because;

a) Someone else used an angle you had, but in such a better way you begin to question why on Earth you think that you can compete with writers [that get material accepted] when your approach is so blatantly simple a child that eats PVA glue could have come up with it.

b) You hear a sketch/one-liner that you feel is substandard and you begin to wonder why your substandard material was passed over for that. You then go on to realise that you clearly know nothing about producing or writing for a radio show, so why should you hate on someone else's hard work, when they're the ones receiving a cheque from the BBC and you're not.

Eventually you calm down and last week's knock back inspires you to write something better. So you plunge yourself into the week's news, furiously jotting down fragmented ideas. You go on to construct them into sketches/one-liners. You convince yourself these are way better than last week's effort and the whole cycle begins again. Optimism. Failure. Self-loathing. Back to the drawing board... or writing table.

The hardest aspect of writing for Newsjack, in my eyes is writing for the tone of the show. This is of course the most vital aspect too, the show can't simply throw out a bunch of sketches that don't follow suit; witty satire is probably the summation of what they're after. While my style of writing is more offensive and blatant; that's probably why my sketch; “Top Five things that make Cameron a Massive Cunt” never got the chance it deserved. But it becomes hard to understand why material gets passed over, from my point of view. I mean I was lucky enough [obviously by “lucky enough”, I mean “good enough”] to get a one-liner accepted in series four. Yet I thought that I'd sent in one-liners that were better than that.

Anyhow, here's a handful of my rejected one-liners and parts from sketches;

UPBEAT MAN: After the Foreign Office warned against visiting Kenya, our travel agent arranged us a place in Cape Town at no extra fee, which is good because it can cost an arm and a leg or a leg at least.

HOST: Boris Johnson opened London Fashion week, William Hague was due to do the opening but a wardrobe malfunction left him unable to come out of the closet.

WOMAN: In Libya David Cameron said the Arab Spring could become an Arab Summer, because ultimately he wants to see the Arab Fall.

HOST: David Walliams’ Thames challenge has shown the nation that persistence, determination and a good pair of swimming goggles will eventually get you through everybody else’s shit.

[from a Sketch about Boris Johnson opening fashion week;]
HOST: Now live from fashion week, we are joined by a man that’s got so many depressed women naked he makes Peter Stringfellow look like a rank amateur; Gok Wan.

… all now fantastically outdated and have stood the test of time like a bunch of cheap flowers.

*I'd like to point out that the line there was [slightly] satirical when I began this blog, but as I usually do I gave up on this blog about ten minutes after starting it and only returned to it as I was unable to create a new topic to write about. Although this has probably added more to that joke as it's no longer satire, which also criticises my attempts at satire; mmm … self-loathing.

Housemate Wanted

Hey lucky reader, yes; YOU! I'm about to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity not to be passed up.

Due for unforeseeable events involving what can only be described as selfish cunts, a room has become available to rent in my abode. It's not often that a chance such as this comes up, so it is advised that you take this opportunity ASAP.

The house has all the mod-cons*. Over the past few years the world has been savaged by mother nature, while homes, huts and businesses are left in ruin worldwide, my house is 100% tsunami proof, so that should ease any possible worries you have. Also; wild bear attacks are at a constant level of zero and have been since records began, attacks from smackheads with dirty needles has been on the increase over the last decade though; but as they say around here; “we all gets AIDs eventually, why wait?”

The house is situated in one of the East-Midlands biggest (and only) cities; Derby. While Nottingham is known for it's legacy, excellent night life and brilliant shopping facilities (- if you're into that kind of capitalist stuff), Derby has things to offer too; like a regular bus service to Nottingham so you can take advantage of all their great stuff. But it's not just buses into Nottingham, no! You can also take the train. Derby itself has a couple of things on hand to keep you entertained; like Lara Croft Way; a road named after the Tomb Raider character, the Derby Ram [statue]; it may look like a coiled concrete turd but it's something to look at for 20 seconds or so**. All of this exciting stuff is a only minutes away from my house, how I ever get anything done is beyond me!

If you've liked what you've read so far about this amazing, once in a lifetime opportunity, you should carry on reading to see if you fit the qualifications to become my housemate.

What We Don't Want:
Drum & Bass DJs; you're a plague on society, there's too many of you and I can't be seen with any more of you. My quota for D&B DJs as friends/acquaintances is maxed out ten fold, so fuck off.

Jews; we aren't anti-Semitic, we're just not welcoming to anyone that believes in a monotheism religion, so Christians and Muslims are included in this too, as you all basically believe the same thing, you just quarrel over the small details.

Anyone with a political ideology that leans to the right; if you vote Conservative you're not welcome and probably far too posh to live here anyway.

Drug enthusiasts; if you're drugs are anything but; tea, coffee, tobacco, alcohol or marijuana, this probably isn't the place for you as I'm not explaining another OD'd corpse to police/grieving families.

What We Do Want:
Someone with a 'good' taste in music; basically if you have a varied taste in music you'll more than likely get on with someone in the house. A love and detailed understanding on British battle rap (and it's history) is preferred but not mandatory (yet).

Someone with an income; self-explanatory really, you need money to pay bills and keep the fucking debt collectors at bay.

Someone thick-skinned; you must be able to take a joke at your expense, also thick skin comes in handy as we have single-glazed windows (double-glazing is for motherfucking pussies), so on occasions*** it gets a little chilly.

House Rules:
House Rules!! Respect must be given to the fictional doctor Gregory House. Revealing spoilers from the latest episode is punishable by death. This is also true for The Walking Dead.

Do not answer the door; if you're not expecting visitors, you do not answer the door as usually the person on the other side is after money, usually owed to them by someone in the house.

*according to a survey done in 1985
** it's not better than Nottingham's left Lion though, hell, it's not even better than the right Lion!
*** on occasions, meaning from October – March.