Lil Wayne celebrated his 35th birthday last Wednesday and I think we should all be thankful.
We should be thankful not only for his extensive musical output, but also for the way his presence has shaped music in the new millennia. Never has there been anyone like Wayne before Wayne, and only after the peak of his career did stylistically similar rappers like Young Thug and Kodak Black appear. For someone who released two albums titled I Am Not A Human Being, Wayne sure does fall into the category of enigmatic stars for whom there is no proper analog. Freddie Mercury, Michael Jackson, Lil Wayne: all without rivals.
After recently watching Adam Bhala Lough’s 2009 cinéma vérité documentary The Carter, the mythos behind Dwayne Michael Carter, like stars in the night sky, aligned in my mind with newfound clarity.
I first became aware of Lil Wayne when he performed “Let It Rock” with Kevin Rudolf at the 2009 NBA All-Star Game. At the time, I found myself more drawn to the rock aspect of the song. Wayne singular look and style bewildered me and, as in the tradition of any unfamiliar yet revolutionary sight, I asked myself, what is this guy’s appeal? Everyone talks about him at school, but he doesn’t even play an instrument? It wouldn’t be until after high school that I realized it didn’t matter. With Tha Carter III, Wayne had already cultivated a space in American music lore by that time.
With his humorous, creative lyrics like “I don’t owe you like two vowels” and “If we run out of work/We Rob/ like Bert,” Wayne perfected punchline rap without even writing any of it down. The explicit nature of his lyrics only makes him seem authentic and unwilling to censor the nature of his art. His raspy, smoked-out voice immediately identifies him on other rappers’ songs, almost as efficiently as Shazam.
But underneath the superficiality and boastfulness that his albums convey, Wayne’s experiences growing up in the New Orleans projects and continued health problems make it seem incredible that he could remain so positive and witty throughout his career. At times, he’s even delivered more serious meditations like on Solange’s “Mad,” which features Wayne in a prominent and revealing guest spot, discussing a suicide attempt at age 12.
At this point in my music-listening career, I think I’ve reached the maturity to see that Lil Wayne’s personal character represents all the superlative values of rap: talent, authenticity and above all, perseverance. Despite being rough around the edges, Wayne’s work ethic and love of music have propelled him to unquantifiable heights of rap stardom. As Lil Wayne said in The Carter, “Repetition is the father of learning.”
Wayne often delivers those spontaneous bits of wisdom during his time in front of the camera. In Tyler, The Creator’s documentary about the making of his album Cherry Bomb, Wayne says, “Be something more than what you see in the mirror. Let the world be your mirror.” So, despite the superficiality and humor of album tracks, Lil Wayne occasionally dispatches perspective-altering philosophies that point to an introspective man beneath the stage persona.
But aside from Wayne’s published prison diary Gone ‘Til November, we might never learn where the wild, entertainer half of his personality ends and the more human one begins. For rappers like Jay-Z, Drake, Rihanna and Nicki Minaj, it’s not hard to tell where they draw the line between entertaining and living like the average person. Lil Wayne’s fusion of these two lifestyles and refusal to compromise muddy the waters of the kind of person he is deep down. Perhaps only some of the most true fans can discern the man from the myth, although maintaining mystery is never a bad call, especially in such an intense spotlight.
On the inevitable day when Tha Carter V drops, I’ll undoubtedly drop what I’m doing and stream it in full. And it’s not only because I want to hear all the punchlines, but that I also want an update. I’ve realized that it’s not about what is being said, but who it’s coming from and how. After spending so much time listening to his music, reading headlines, listening to interviews and watching documentaries, I’m now invested in his journey just like the people who were invested in the journey of Elvis Presley or Kurt Cobain.
We want to know what happens next, no matter how exaggerated or surreal. We need answers.
Luke Furman is a senior studying journalism at Ohio University. Please note that the views and opinions of the columnists do not reflect those of The Post. Are you into Lil Wayne? Let Luke know by tweeting him @LukeFurmanLog or emailing him atlf491413@ohio.edu.
