Pennsylvania’s rap credibility has been undeniable since 1985. Schoolly D released “PSK What Does It Mean?”, a cold hearted street tale that went on to directly influence Ice-T to rap a slice of life documentary on “6 In The Mornin’”, thus sparking a cross continental movement of gangster rap that still greases the genre today. PA's most notable rappers have gravel in their veins and survival on their mental at every moment, except for one guy. One little local star turned global icon named The Fresh Prince. He and Jazzy Jeff came into the rap world as goofy, fun loving picturesque totems of youth who felt like the coolest kid in your school had made it big. Whatever they wore, people wanted to cop (the Venn Diagram of people who own Aqua 8's and Grape 5's and fans of The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air is just a circle). The jokes they told could be stolen and flipped as your own. The corny moments existed, but if anything it made them seem more normal. This was the risk free lineage Wiz Khalifa was born to inherit. Once he hit puberty and stopped making music that sounded like a resume to get signed to Roc-A-Fella, Wiz took the mantle as the everyman stoner who rolled in bed, rolled out of bed, got too hi and crawled back into bed, just to record free spirited frat party classics in a daze while the mic teetered on his pillow.
2011 was the breakout year. It was one of topping the charts and running around Hollywood where his unforgettably ignorant laugh was deafened by a new hoard of fans screaming his praises. This new life was his spoil to reap after years of constant vlogging, mixtapes (with at this time Kush & Orange Juice still acting as his crown jewel) and the now eternal Pittsburgh Steelers anthem and global chart topper “Black & Yellow”. Those early tapes were breezy recollections of nights before the alcohol blacked you out over beats smooth enough to not heighten your hangover. But he isn’t much different from many of his contemporaries in the sense he juggled a split identity; one side using his creativity only to be commodified and please the label, while the other is his more pure artist expression. The influx of new fans didn’t know any better, and they had bought in fully to the commodified side believing they were seeing a young man finally get his break. His die hard supporters did know better. They feared he’d become a sellout after Cabin Fever (a meddlesome excursion into “turn up” music with Lex Luger and Juicy J who were the current kings of the sound) and Rolling Papers (full of wispy thin crossover records) brought wild successes as far as downloads and albums sales were concerned. All of this was heightened by an overly caricatured version of the zooted manchild they adored and followed from “Say Yeah”, to parting ways with Warner, through soul searching on the mixtape circuit, all the way back to the majors being the face pushing such uninspiring mid. By the end of 2011 you could peep into any high school class in America to see a Wiz clone; camo cargos, Converse, oversized plain tee, a blonde patch in their hair, and a dime bag they paid $25 for calling for them after class. He was in a straight to DVD classic with Snoop Dogg that spawned a hit with Bruno Mars, dating supermodel and former Kanye muse Amber Rose, and it seemed he’d never come back home to that true self.
Taylor Allderdice was announced in early 2012 with no single leading up to give a peek into which Wiz the world would be getting. More singing with pop stars? Another faux Waka Flocka tape? Free jazz? It was up in the air. Over a decade later the idea driving the record is clear; he was sick of hearing y’all complain. The tape is tied together thematically by an interview with hip-hop journalist Rob Markman (of The Source, Variety, Genius, etc.) where Wiz keeps his usual meditative persona, but is clearly pointed in trying to reclaim the narrative of who he was in the eyes of consumers, critics and music industry folk. His signature giggle and surfer dude diction make his statements actually reassuring. He becomes his truest spirit animal; Crush from Finding Nemo. Cool, calm, collected, and that ethereal zen rubs off on you and forces you to believe every word. Signing Juicy J to Taylor Gang didn’t delegitimize the labels Pittsburgh sound (to which production wise there still isn’t one, more in wearing the aesthetic of a sonically versatile cool guy that he, Mac Miller, Chevy Woods, and My Favorite Color carry true to), Juicy helped shape it. The major label album wasn’t him selling out, it was a lesson on how to maneuver through the industry that others can learn from. Evolution as an artist and the license to do what feels best in the moment is the core counter to every question, and the music surrounding such staunch rebuttals proves it.
Even with universal mega-hits in “See You Again” and “Work Hard, Play Hard” taking him to pop star heights, Taylor Allderdice artistically was the apex of Wiz’s career. Post-Allderdice Wiz proved a classic studio album was never in the cards, but grouping his singles into a Greatest Hits compilation would trick you into thinking he ruled the radio as much as he had the Datpiff charts. When mentioned in conversations along with his Blog Era brothers (Wale, Big Sean, Drake, Kid Cudi, Curren$y) there’s always a fond remembrance of who he once was, no matter how rough the current work has become. Becoming the poster child for marijuana usage for his generation was a long path that he was proud to walk since day 1. On “Mary 3x” he reminisces about smoking in pictures since the MySpace days and the fearful warnings his circle gave him about having weed so openly in his videos. Today he clocks in at #5 in the pantheon of famous smokers (#1 Bob Marley, #2 Snoop Dogg, #3 Willie Nelson, #4A & 4B Cheech & Chong, #5 Wiz, #6 Curren$y, #7A & 7B Method Man & Redman, #8 Jimi Hendrix, #9 Seth Rogan, #10 Burner), along with floating on as an unquestioned mixtape legend, hitmaker, and at one point the most influential artist in America, who always repped PA to the fullest since day one.
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