No likes a brag, even if it’s humble.
If you are not part of the 1% of Twitter users who actually have things to brag about, (ie. @fucktyler When People Say I Inspire Them To Like, Idk, Enjoy Life, That Shit Is Weird And Awkward For Me. Cool Tho.) no one wants to hear about how you copped a pair of Concords or were the first person in line at the Apple Store the day the new iPad launched. There is a reason that #firstworldproblems quickly became a tool for people to judge you. So take a breath before you take to the keyboard. You can’t have people thinking that you spaz at any joyous occasion. You try and add a bunch of exclamation points to your 120-character status, and someone will call you out on it. Adding a period to the end of your tweets will also give your words an extra hint of character

Don’t be a desperate fan.
Twitter is an amazing medium in which you can keep up with your favorite celebrities. But this newfound social media is a chance to bombard your childhood idol with twit-pics and requests for them to sing at your auntie’s wedding. If you want to try and catch the eye of your celebrity while their scanning the thousands of tweets sent to them, you have to do so subtly. Tweet something that directly opposes the famous person’s views, or make a witty joke about their latest tweet. And for your own self-esteem, leave the caps-lock button alone. Even cooler, when you tweet about a celebrity, and you don’t even tag him. Sit on that for a minute.

Be as ironic as possible. All the time.
Though the hipster is outcast in the real world, Twitter stands as a safe haven for those with the cynicism to simultaneously hate and love all that there is in the world. It is a special few that are able to tear down others while carefully curating their cool at the exact same time. A tweet from @AndFebruay: Everytime I pass through Williamsburg I just wanna roll down the windows and scream “IT’S 2012” as I ride by.” Classic cool. So remember folks, if you can add that irony to your comments, it’ll give your coolness a little more credibility.

Nostalgia rules.
Everyone likes things that bring takes them back to yesteryear. If you tweet things that either are actually from the past or look like they’re from the past, people will love you for it. And now with apps like Instagram, you can a nice filter that makes your fancy smartphone lens seem like our cherished disposable and polaroid cameras. But it’s not just about boosting up the contrast and saturating your shots, you’ve got to take pictures of things that people will respond to. A quick list reads: landscape shots, old video game consoles, wood, cassette tapes, and leather bound books all will garner you a retweet or two.

Take potshots at celebrities whenever you can.
Nothing is cooler than insulting someone and getting away with it. And it’s even cooler when the person that you’re insulting is an actual somebody. They can’t respond and it looks like you got away with something. With some celebrities, the task of making fun of them is sometimes too easy. @meigs retweeted @marklegget saying: So sad to hear reports that Dennis Rodman is a bankrupt, alcoholic, deadbeat dad. That guy always seemed to have his shit together. You chuckled. I chuckled. Everyone is cooler for it.

#yourewelcome

Today, I can definitively tell you that reading is not at the top of my list of priorities. Though I am ashamed to admit it, I see reading as an activity that is generally reserved for homework assignments and graphic-heavy magazine articles. So what book am I reading in my spare time? I’ll tell you that I’m currently sifting my way through Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I’m lying. I started the novel over two weeks ago. I am on page 130. It’s a 590-page book. And honestly, the reason I started reading it was to see how it compared to David Fincher’s cinematic adaptation I had seen the week before.

But I digress. Regardless of whether or not today’s influx of novels and trilogies grip your imagination, the reason I have not picked up an unassigned book is simple and embarrassing: I do not know how to find a book that would interest me.

My dilemma is as simple as it sounds. Despite the overwhelming number of bestseller lists out in the world, I find it difficult to narrow down the masses of books out there to a single choice. Allow me to take you through the timeline that is my experience of walking into an actual brick-and-mortar bookstore. As a middle-schooler, I would make a beeline for one of two different sections: young adult or science-fiction/fantasy. Back then, the choice was simple. The young adult shelves provided me with novels or series that I knew would grab my interest. Many books, like Jerry Spinelli’s Jason and Marceline, would discuss the tribulations of pubescent male youths just like me who just wanted to be popular and get the girl. Others, like Lois Lowry’s The Giver, would offer valuable parables set in a relatable context. And as my literary tastes began to take shape, I found myself reciting Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics and blazing through Goodkind’s enormous behemoths. But now, though I occasionally revisit those tales, I have left those interests behind in pursuit of new stimulation. However, once I walk pass Thriller Avenue and Poetry Way, I have discovered that I am a tiny fish in the infinite ocean that is the genre known as “fiction and literature.” And though I once was able to walk directly to the sections in which I was familiar, my trips to my local Barnes and Noble now inevitably end with my standing in front of these shelves and not knowing where to start.

But hey, this isn’t my first time at a bookstore, surely I can find something that will pique my fancy. As a liberal arts student, I am undoubtedly drawn to names in the literature section that many people would have heard in passing or perhaps in their high school English class. Hemingway. Fitzgerald. Dostoevsky. These are all names that have an important place in literature. And sure enough, these are all authors that can be found in almost any English department survey course around the country. But are the works from these individuals the flame that today’s college freshmen and sophomore moths will fly towards? Doubtful. If J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye is the novel of the rebellious teenage generation, where is the work that captures the age of the undecided twenty-something? Instead, trying to find a book that I know will catch my attention is just as difficult as figuring out one’s major or eventual career. I’m not saying that picking a book is as important as figuring out one’s life path, just that the decision can seem daunting when one does not know where to start. And sure, genres like “Mystery” and “Romance” can certainly serve as more than adequate reading, but they cater to a niche audience that already knows what it is going to get from those types of books.

The number of young professionals that voluntarily pick up a book is dwindling. And it is the responsibility of those who provide us with reading material to steer its product to the right demographic. The book-reading consumer, much like the television watcher, must be educated to know what it is looking to buy and experience. While breakout series’ like the Hunger Games and Twilight inevitably find their audiences, other novels may be left untouched without ever being pointed to the right readers. When the subject of reading comes up in conversation with friends, the reaction is always the same: rolling eyes followed by a quick quip about how they hate reading. But I believe that this so-called hate stems not from a lack of enjoyment of the physical act of reading, but from the result of my friends not reading books that will inspire and excite them. But the process of finding those stimulating works has to be easier than grabbing a book at random from the fiction and literature shelf and hoping that it will entertain and delight you. Otherwise, we’ll just go watch the movie adaptation first. And then maybe, just maybe, we’ll decide to halfheartedly see why everyone was making such a fuss over the book.

Author’s Note: William Yu does in fact enjoy reading. He just doesn’t do it enough.

Yet here we are, with both hip-hop heads and rap occasionalists praising Childish Gambino for the obstacles he has overcome and the insecurities he confesses to having. Regardless of the blemishes and nit-picking of critics, Camp continues to receive praise. With over 100,000 records sold, Childish Gambino’s debut studio album connects with an upcoming generation of youths whose future is still clouded by indecision. For the freshman with the undecided major, for the hopeless romantic looking for his first, for the struggling introvert trying to express himself, Childish Gambino fights for that passion while still embracing the levity and absurdities of life.

^Childish Gambino – Bonfire

A knock on Camp is Childish Gambino’s inability to separate his humor from his contemplation. Though the album is a standalone project, the artist cannot be brought up in a conversation without acknowledging his non-rap persona: Donald Glover. Surprisingly, the humor that has taken Donald Glover to where he is today – as a rising star, first writing for NBC’s 30 Rock and acting in Community – is often times mocked by listeners as a cheap segway to introduce superficial punchlines and pop culture references that do not complement heavy-weighted subjects the rapper brings up. On “Bonfire,” Gambino compares himself to Princess Diana as he boasts: “So this rap is child’s play, I do my name like Princess Di,” teetering on the fence on braggadocio and British blasphemy. Like Elmo trying to explain what it was like to grow up with any other red monsters in a world full of humans, Childish Gambino hammers the alienation of growing up as a minority within a minority. Yet for all of his not fitting in, Gambino seems spiteful of the man he has grown to be. He mocks himself on “Backpackers” as he describes that he is, “That well spoken token who ain’t been heard/ The only white rapper who’s allowed to say the N-word.” This continuous insistence that he is more white than black appears throughout the record, sometimes appearing as source of strength and motivation, at other times seeming like a source of self-pity.

^Childish Gambino – Fire Fly

So why are there listeners everywhere that enjoy Childish Gambino and find Camp to be a runaway success? Because despite the flashbang rise to fame that Donald Glover/Childish Gambino has achieved, the rapper is still seen as a struggling soul that finally has the luxury to free his inhibitions and insecurities without fearing the consequence. This future that Gambino lives in is a promised land that every teenagers and 20-30 year old hopes to live in: to know that the weird things that make you a unique individual will be worth something in the end. When the rapper divulges on “Fire Fly” that he is the “only black kid at a Sufjan concert,” he understands that there naturally may have been another black listener somewhere in that audience. Nevertheless, it is the thought that a kid caught between seemingly conflicting cultural groups can comfortably transcend these factions that grips the listener. You don’t have to have sold drugs on the corner or been shot ten times, everything you are is enough. However, having these distinctive traits are not enough to gain a following that Childish Gambino thrives upon. Instead, it is the understanding that while these idiosyncratic characteristics crippled an adolescence, those oddities in fact laid the foundations of a well-adjusted individual. And while Childish Gambino may be drawing the attention of thousands of adoring fans around the country, an exciting new world with its own uncertainties and flaws lies ahead.

As Childish Gambino narrates the final story on Camp, he contemplates the idea that despite his impending adulthood, he still retains the naivete of his younger self. He can still imagine that his played-out cliche of “destiny” is no illusion, but a concrete reality. It is this hope that enraptures his listeners. In Childish Gambino, listeners see someone who aspires and strives, someone who can flourish without renouncing their individuality. So we take comfort Childish Gambino’s words; in hearing that the insecurities and imperfections that prompt us to hide and self-loathe can in fact give us the assurance that everything will turn out okay. And that those worries of where we’ll be in five years, of what our parents will think are just, well, childish.

There is no doubt that Wale is a talented lyricist. With highly touted mixtapes under his belt (see “Mixtape About Nothing”), the DMV native is comfortable spitting about his love of sports on one track while seamlessly dropping some philosophical knowledge on the next.

^ Wale – DC or Nothing

On “Double M Genius,” the album’s second track, Wale describes his talents as “That Kevin Love flow/ Bored of the shooters,” referencing the talented NBA big-man while simultaneously snubbing the players that play off the wing as well as the rappers that drone on about their pistols and semi-automatics. On the other end of the lyrical spectrum, Wale declares on “DC or Nothing” that “leadership is not with a timid sail,/ I pray these words live and these gimmicks fail.”

However, while Wale’s rhymes may require multiple listens to truly value the depth of his words, the musical production of the album is lacking. When first bursting onto the rap scene, a distinct characteristic of Wale’s music was it’s interaction with Washington D.C. originated go-go music. Characterized by syncopated percussion with a disco flair, go-go music provided Wale’s tracks with a favorable alternative vibe. Unfortunately, go-go music has a ghostly presence on “Ambition,” as it is faded out by 808 drums and overpowering bass lines.

From looking at the albums tracklist, one can clearly recognize the influence that Wale’s association with Rick Ross’ Maybach Music Group has had on his sophomore album. Whether he is praising the Ross’ favorite city on “Miami Nights” or featuring his Maybach Music counterparts on “Ambition” and “That Way,” Wale is clearly a member of the Maybach family. But what is a sneakerhead rapper with introspective lyrics doing on a label that bases its material on criminal activity? It seems as though Wale himself is confused on the subject.

^ Wale – Chain Music

On “Chain Music,” a bonus track off the album, Wale presents his frustration at how audiences pay attention when he is rapping about money and women, but not when he is trying to send a positive message to his listeners. “Trying to give them light and a message,” Wale says, “But you rather have some f-ing V.V.S’s.” While Mr. Folarin is sad to be in this predicament, he still revels in the attention. Referring to a luxurious lifestyle, Wale says, “I got that geechi on her, came back: a hundred chains,/ And now these geechi motherf-ers all know my name.” Without firmly taking a stance on the matter of money and chains, Wale leaves this tension unresolved which in turn leaves the listener unsettled.

^ Wale (feat. Big Sean) – Slight Work

The rest of the album plays out with solid standards that have little mainstream potential. “Lotus Flower Bomb” rises above many of the tracks. Featuring a crooning Miguel, the track features hits of a snare against the backdrop of a soft keyboard melody. Conversely, “Slight Work” offers comical verses by Wale and guest rapper Big Sean, yet falls flat on its face due to the irritating left-field production from noted DJ and producer Diplo.

Although Wale has two albums and at least four mixtapes under his belt, he still remains a question mark. He clearly has the lyrical ability to hold his own, but what is he not saying that refuses to connect with a wider audience? While “Ambition” is entertaining, it does little to showcase a rising star. Two years removed from his debut album and under a new label, Wale is confident that he is setting trends. However, it still remains to be seen if general audiences will start catching on to his trends, or will simply let them fade and be forgotten.

Unlike the ex-cons and drug pushers that somehow are able to strike radio gold (ie. 50 Cent, Waka Flocka Flame, ugh,) J.Cole took a more traditional path to fame: college. Graduated from St. John’s University in New York, J.Cole’s road to hip-hop stardom developed with all deliberate speed. And at 26 years old, the rapper has had plenty of time to second-guess his career choices and internalize the hardship of his artistic struggle.

^J.Cole – Sideline Story

On  Dollar and a Dream III, a third draft of the song dating back to his first mixtape The Come Up (2007,) Cole offers the pain of his journey: “Life can’t get any worse,/ Stevie with his glasses off,/ Cause I still don’t see hope.” Conversely, Cole is more than willing to share the highs of his struggle. “[In France] Where the fans throw their hands like Pacquiao,/ Not cause my looks, cause my hooks could knock Rocky out,” the rapper boasts on Sideline Story, adding, “And my lines is designed from the heart,/ Young Simba been a lion from the start.”

Perhaps no track on “Cole World” was more hyped than Mr. Nice Watch, one of two tracks featuring Hova’s talents (the other track being a short interlude.) Unfortunately, no track falls short more than Mr. Nice Watch. Sampling elements from Dubstep and Electronica, the song, with its main theme seemingly coming from a game of Pong (see Atari,) seems like a beat that was leftover from Jay and Kanye West’s lovechild, Watch the Throne (2011.)  Despite some lyrical gems Mr. Carter leaves behind (“I got a Hublot,/ I call it Tebow,/ I strap that b—- with a gator band,) electronic echoes and riffing electric guitars do not a J.Cole track make.

While tracks similar to Lost Ones like God’s Gift, Never Told, and Breakdown all touch on these grown man problems (the struggle to make it, men’s desire to be unfaithful, and to succumb to one’s insecurities, respectively,) no tune achieves the most like Nobody’s Perfect. Here, a Curtis Mayfield guitar trill is chopped up to resemble the annoying skip from the Walkman era. Only half a minute in does the beat and the snare drum drop to bring the sample into alignment. Paired with a surprising Missy Elliott hook and the song’s sentiment of accepting a loved one while wondering about their past relationship, Nobody’s Perfectexemplifies J.Cole’s talents as both a producer and a rapper.

There, I said it. And I’ll admit, the analogy is a little odd. Comparing a rap album to a technological device? It’s illogical sure, but hear me out.

When the iPad first launched in April 2010, reviews were generally favorable, yet many found that there were gleaming flaws with Apple’s shiny new touchscreen device. Where are the cameras? How do you print something from the iPad?

In the same light, Big Sean’s Finally Famous has mostly been met with praise. Awarded a 3.5 of out 5 starts from Rolling Stone magazine, as well as a score of 71 from metacritic.com, the Detroit rapper’s first effort as part of a major label is described as a “slick triumph,” according to the Village Voice.

Nonetheless, much like how the iPad was certainly lacking in various areas, I was left wanting more from the much-hyped debut of Kanye’s protégé. While I was certainly left confused as to why the iPad does not run Adobe flash-based websites, I was just as bewildered as to why Finally Famous did not feature a track that was produced by Kanye. Granted, Big Sean’s collaboration with acclaimed producer No I.D. is nothing to slouch, but who are we kidding? We all expected Kanye to be directly involved in this project; instead, he lends himself for one track (Marvin Gaye and Chardonnay) –albeit one of the highlights of the album- and is never heard from again.

Still, Finally Famous unquestionably shines bright. Boasting radio-friendly tracks like “My Last” and “Live this Life” whilst providing some insight to the persona of Big Sean in “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me,” Finally Famous remains upbeat while keeping the subject matter captivating.

Finally, what Finally Famous manages to accomplish is simple: to draw in an audience that will be there to pick up that sophomore album. In 2010, as the first-generation iPad hit retail stores across America, average Joes and techies alike reported stories of the fabled iPad 2 that would resolve all issues of Apple’s first tablet. Many consumers would buy the iPad, knowing that they would be back again when the iPad 2 was released.

Perhaps Big Sean’s second album will finally have Kanye pulling a double-double on the production and features. Or perhaps No I.D. will loosen the reins and let some more producers hop on board. Or perhaps it is on Big Sean’s third album that G.O.O.D Music will put out all the stops. No matter what’s in store for the future, it is clear that Finally Famous, like the iPad, will mark the definitive debut of a career on the rise.

On June 28^th, G.O.O.D Music artist Big Sean will release his debut album Finally Famous: The Album. Signed by Kanye in 2007, Big Sean has steadily been on his way towards stardom. Starting with his first official mixtape Finally Famous: The Mixtape (2007,) Big Sean hit the musical mainstream with his single “Get’cha Some.” The track, produced by WrighTrax, professes his love of designer labels and his ability to “make more than ends meet.” Though Big Sean reps his modest childhood in west Detroit, much of his material stems from one dream: to live the life of a rap star, with money, women, and clothes in abundance.

While Big Sean’s love for luxury is certainly entertaining, how long can it truly last? Though he clearly exhibits a talent for lyricism and performance, will his subject matter be enough to captivate an audience for years to come? In a 2010 Vulture article written by Erika Ramirez, the piece exposes a recent trend in which major label rappers such as Drake, Wiz Khalifa, and Theophilus London downplay their signings to labels like Warner Bros. and Atlantic Records in order to create a grassroots following.

“The idea is simple,” Ramirez writes, “Artists market themselves gradually, via social networks and blogs, avoiding saturation… And then, once their “indie” success wins notice in the mainstream, their label backers come out from the behind the curtains.”

Though Big Sean has never shied from giving G.O.O.D Music a shoutout, his journey to his debut album has been based on his free mixtapes and concert performances. Similarly, Big Sean’s youtube channel bseandon documents the rapper’s radio interviews and concerts. Still, Kanye’s protégé has struggled to diversify the range of his material.

In an interview with DJ Whoo Kid, the radio host asks the rapper if he will show a “different part of Detroit,” to which Big Sean responds positively. However, Sean quickly backtracks, saying, “Yeah I’ma show a different part of Detroit, people are gonna see the… I feel like it’s the same part it’s just told a different way.” Instead, the MC refers to his poetic abilities as his defining characteristics.

On his three mixtapes, Big Sean has rhymed about shaking off his haters, living the designer life, and enjoying the WWM (weed, women, and money) lifestyle. On the Finally Famous: The Mixtape track “Dreams,” the hook asks, “you really wanna talk about good? I’m good. Just a nigga out the hood with dreams of being rich.” On UKNOWBIGSEAN, the track “Million Dollars” discusses Big Sean’s hopes of “ending life on a high note, soprano.” While Big Sean initially presents his struggle to be famous, his goal of super stardom begins to be realized on Finally Famous Vol. 3: BIG. For example, on “Too Fake,” a catchy collaboration between Big Sean and Chiddy Bang, Big Sean emphasizes that despite the words of his haters, or even of his supporters, it’s the fact that he has “carties on my eyes, Louis on my case,” that makes him content.

For artists such as Waka Floka Flame and Souljaboy Tellem, rappers who have successfully made music that is based around catchy hooks and party anthems, the purpose of their music is quite clear: to keep the party bumping. Like Rebecca Black’s “Friday,” the artists’ tracks do not require much interpretation or analysis; sure, you might need to explain to me what it means to “superman that hoe,” but after that, I’m sure we’ll all catch on to the rest of the song. When you say “yesterday was Thursday,” we understand that yesterday was Thursday.

On the other end of the rap spectrum, there are the Jay-Z’s and the Eminem’s: artists who have carved out a long career through a gradual evolution of their public and private personas. Jay-Z developed from a young hustler to rap’s quintessential entrepreneur; Eminem came crashing into the rap game with his abrasive lyrics, and over the years his music has evolved to be more reflective while still packing a punch. While both artists can clearly hold their own over sixteen bars, it is their multi-faceted content that captivates audiences worldwide.

It may very well be way too early to start thinking of where Big Sean’s career will go once his debut album drops. While ringtone artists certainly have their foothold on the radio stations and on the dance floor, Big Sean does not seem to express himself like an artist that is focused on selling out for mediocre content and generic adoration.

As of June 28^th, Big Sean will be able to take that big chip off of his shoulder. He will be no longer be finally famous. He’ll be undeniably famous. And because of that fame, all the tracks about wanting to have the big whips, mansions, vintage Cartier frames, will suddenly become irrelevant.

So, Big Sean, you’re finally famous… Now what?

Judging from The Warm Up tracks like “Dreams” and “Can I Live,” I find it quite easy to appreciate J.Cole’s ability to share a story and to invite the listener to empathize with his narrative. Poignant, insecure, yet still convincing, J.Cole seems to understand that like any beginning, middle, and end of a story, imagination proves to be the most convincing tool to fill in the missing pieces. Whether he is creeping behind his ultimate crush or praying for his boy to make it through a gunshot wound, Cole allows his production and lyricism to paint a picture for his listeners.

But for all the rappers like Nas, Pac, and Lupe, who allow their stories of conflict and strife speak for them, there are the artists that simply want to talk about themselves. These rappers do not need colorful language or metaphors to convey their message. Instead, it’s all about how great they are e or how famous they will be. And in “Heartache,” J.Cole demonstrates that he is no exception. Sure, the Mary Love-sampled track can be seen as a typical “I’m the shit” tune that every rapper seemingly must have on his resume. However, despite his own horn tooting, J.Cole exudes a confidence that, while arrogant and egotistical, is rooted in his humility and his struggle to achieve success.

On the Elite-produced track, J.Cole uses lines and rhymes that are not necessarily new to the average hip-hop listener. Double entendres referring to himself as a “star,” acknowledging his music is the “shit,” or being the “Lebron James of the game” are all rhymes that have been worked to death (see Jay-Z’s remix of Too $hort’s “Blow the Whistle.”) What can possibly be interesting in a song that recycles the tired lyrics of past hip-hop songs?

While Cole certainly depends on these figurative crutches at various points in “Heartache,” the material he introduces and fits between some of his exhausted phrases reveal the song’s ingenuity.

Declaring his greatness, Cole boasts,

“You lookin’ at Lebron James of the game
I could do anything that you name
I could blaze any rapper in the game that you bring
Pour gasoline on the brain, got the flame for that.”

With these rhymes, Cole sheds some light on the sophistication of his style. Starting the “James,” Cole playfully stresses every third syllable. This emphasis not only proves to exemplify Cole’s attention to detail (manipulating the “-thing” and “bring” to rhyme with “-ame”,) but also his skill as a rapper to drive to verse along. Through emphasizing every third syllable, the listener is left waiting to hear that fourth resolution. Cole settles the matter not by ending the phrase, but starting a new one, creating a chain reaction that concludes with his assertion that his words offer more mental intrigue than the words of any other artist.

“Heartache” not only offers points of rhythmic diversity and syncopation (And maybe I was too broke/ Maybe I’m just too dope,) but J.Cole again hits with subject matter that asks the viewer to pause and seriously consider his potential. Though J.Cole has been signed to Roc Nation since 2009 and been co-signed by Jay-Z, Cole nevertheless enjoys playing the underdog. Midway through the first verse, Cole asks, “Ay when they listen to my shit man can they hear my hunger?” Despite his success, the artist still must plead for the critics and fans to understand that he is still coming from a position of desperation and therefore willing to work himself harder than any other artist in the game.

Though J.Cole’s desperation to be the best in the rap game is evident, he does not apologize for his belief in his abilities. The hook, while simplistic, clearly describes a man on his grind and ready to reach the pinnacle of success. Brushing off the haters, J.Cole spits, “How do you want it? So sick I make you mentally vomit/ These rapper askin’ for beats and they ain’t even fit to be on it/ I see ‘em writin’ about rappers, I should be sick to my stomach/ Because they talk ‘bout the future but didn’t mention me on it.” While J.Cole has now been firmly fixed in the future of rap, his words describe a man that should further be acknowledged and appreciated for his talents.

“Heartache” may not share the emotional depth of J.Cole’s previous works; nevertheless, J.Cole takes this quick three-minute track to establish his place in the rap game. Whether he is in the gym, the club, or the studio, J.Cole is calmly self-assured that he belongs in the discussion of rap’s future. Not because he has all the money, not because he gets all the women, and not because he comes from a region with a deep history and connection to rap. He wants his recognition because even though he has been blessed with talent, he has also developed his skill and craft. And if one puts in the work, why shouldn’t he feel entitled to success? Because let’s face it, everyone loves the story of a man who pulls himself up by his bootstraps. Everyone loves an underdog.

This scenario is the premise of Buried, director Rodrigo Cortes’ second feature film starring all-Canadian pretty boy Ryan Reynolds. Reynolds, known for his smug yet charming work in romantic comedies like Van Wilder and The Proposal, takes a turn for the dramatic as everyman Paul Conroy. An American truck driver contracted to deliver supplies in Iraq, Conroy wakes to find himself in a coffin, placed there by Iraqi insurgents who hope to hold Conroy for ransom. While the story is simple, Cortes’s creative take on this claustrophobic nightmare subtly grips the viewer.

With an estimated budget of $2 million dollars, Buried is minimalist in every sense of the word. Shot over 17 days – typical studio film shoots run for a few months – and using seven different coffins, the film spends the entirety of its 95 minute run time focused on Conroy. There no flashbacks of his relationship with his family, no cut-scenes to the voices on the other end of the cell phone. However, Cortes’ modest approach to Buried successfully encapsulates Conroy’s terrifying plight.

Although set within the confines of Conroy’s wooden coffin, Cortes makes the most out of this limited location. Using a variety of close-ups, the director is able to define both a sense of panic within the protagonist. In a scene in which Conroy attempts to call an FBI field office, the bluish glow of the cell phone’s screen accentuates each bead of sweat on the man’s face. Similarly, another shot in which Conroy leaves a message for his wife features Reynolds’ traditionally blemish-free face riddled with stubble and minor cuts; with blood, sand and sweat mix together and pasted on Conroy’s neck, Cortes ensures that the viewer does not miss the grimy details that make the truck driver’s struggle that much more difficult.

Conversely, Cortes also uses a series of zoom outs to reflect the coffin’s lonely atmosphere of despair. Speaking at the Sundance Film Festival, Cortes expressed his desire to capture Conroy’s suffering. “All my efforts as a director were focused on projecting the audience inside poor Ryan’s brain,” the director said, “with no mercy, no concessions…no light and no air.” After Conroy is fired from the company he risked his life for, Cortes moves the camera up from the subject; as the camera travels away from Conroy’s grave, the darkness of the surrounding earth takes up more of the screen, almost ready to envelop the miniscule light of Conroy’s flashlight.

However, none of Cortes’ artistic direction would have served any purpose if Reynolds could not have handled the depth of Conroy’s terrorized state. For Reynolds, the trauma of Conroy’s character took a toll on his own psyche. “I’ll never, ever in my life complain on a set again after being on that set,” he said in an interview with Gentleman Quarterly. “Sixteen, seventeen days of doing that… It was such a state of emotional distress.” For 95 minutes, Reynolds holds the audience’s attention. Trapped and alone, Reynolds’ Conroy is taken through a sequence of coping mechanisms: panic, desperation, denial, hope, acceptance and resignation are all touched upon. From shouting for help to quietly whimpering in hopelessness, Reynolds displays a range of emotions not seen in his previous performances.

Though Reynolds generally keeps the character of Conroy convincing, there are times when the extent of the captured truck driver’s experience seems lost on the budding actor. While the frustration of being buried underground is clearly understandable, Reynolds’ constant roars and hollers in response to the slightest hint of obstacle resembles those of a child throwing a temper tantrum than a man doing his best to return to his family and home. When asked by a State Department representative what the kidnappers will do if their demands are not met, Reynolds sarcastically quips, “or else they’ll take me Seaworld.” Though the writing must also be held accountable, Reynolds’ embellished delivery is at times unfitting for such a grave situation.

The choice to solely depict Conroy’s actions is a decision that benefits the entirety of the film. Although Conroy interacts with various characters, the voices of these supporting roles allow the viewer allow their own creative processes interact with the film. By letting their own imagination run free, the audience can envision the film’s faceless characters – Linda (Samantha Mattis), Paul’s wife who pleads him to make his way back home, or Alan Davenport (Stephen Tobolowsky,) an executive of the company that Paul works for who is disinterested in Conroy’s situation – as it sees fit.

Buried keeps the viewer engaged throughout. The film’s duration is also just long enough to keep the audience captivated without running the risk of losing their attention span. Though there are some practical questions that the film does not take in to consideration – how Conroy’s Zippo lighter manages to not burn up all the oxygen in such a small coffin, or how a cell phone can receive reception underground when other cell phones barely have coverage up above – these inconsistencies do not take away from the film’s distressing tensions.

Buried, like a modern day McGyver tale, features a hero who must make something out of nothing. Though there are inevitable storyline hiccups and credibility obstacles in the way, the end result is all that matters. And as the film surges to its climactic ending, the viewer is immersed in the ride until he too, not knowing if salvation will come, is left gasping for air.

Dreams tells the story of a young man infatuated with the “girl of [his] dreams.” And like Cole’s Can I Live, the rapper/producer takes advantage of the gentle subtleties of synthesized sounds to create an atmosphere of youth fully invested in an almost stalker-like pursuit.

While the base of the track samples Hank Crawford’s Wildflower (see Kanye West’s Drive Slow,) J.Cole adds simple yet effective melodies that evoke a devious sense of urgency only found in an individual in pursuit. To open the track, Cole fully admits that his intentions are not pure, that his motivations are extreme and fanatical. Cole prefaces:

“You got to follow me with what I’m doing right here man
Like, when I say this shit is crazy, I don’t mean it’s crazy like crazy
I just mean crazy like it’s fuckin- like it’s actually crazy.”

In these three lines, the repetition of one word illustrates Cole’s unorthodox goal: crazy. Repeated five times in a quick introduction, the word crazy draws the listener in. No one wants to hear a crazy story; they want to hear a crazy crazy crazy story.

Emphasizing the protagonist’s obsession are the hair-raising additions Cole brings to the Wildflower sample. Explaining the lengths to which he will go to see his fantasy realized, Cole accompanies his verses with punctuated notes that are pitched up higher than Crawford’s original piece. This sound brings to mind the image of a man discreetly stalking his prey as he “follow(s) her like all the way home without her knowing.” Paired with the soft synthesized vibes that haunt each verse, the quick piano hits create a gentle tension that sits underneath the listener’s skin.

This tension is further highlighted by the touches Cole adds to Dreams’ hook. As the rapper debates his sanity and sense of reality, Cole juxtaposes short ascending and descending major notes that resembles the increasingly frightful tip-toes often associated with a sinister villain as he creeps from shadow to shadow.

Despite the fanaticism of the other verses, Dreams’ third verse is easily the most relatable and realistic. After spotting this ideal girl at the mall, Cole approaches. In this moment, the verse connects with the male listener; in five lines, Cole sums up the internal conflict any guy, from your fifth grader to your post-graduate, must undertake as he risks embarrassment and humiliation for the greater good of a female’s affection. Even as he nonchalantly advances, Cole admits:

“My mind screaming stop, but my legs keep walking forward
Straighten up your face, nigga, she see you coming for her
My heartbeat racing, and my hands keep shaking
Say something, you shy motherfucker, she’s waiting.”

While J.Cole successfully illustrates the psychological turmoil one goes through in attempting to woo a lady, his vocal style accentuates the excitement of the track’s protagonist. At the end of these four lines, Cole puts an emphasis on the last two syllables. Through this technique, the rapper insinuates a message of urgency that moves from the previous line to the next; with a methodical stream of consciousness, Cole easily transports the listener to the step-by-step method of our main character.

There is no doubt that Dreams features an individual with an unhealthy passion for young woman. However, though J.Cole’s track grows increasingly sadistic with his desire to eliminate the boyfriend of his dream girl, fleeting moments of reflections reveal that Cole recognizes the extent of his madness. In the last verse, Cole asks himself, “’Hold up, nigga, is you sane?’” Nevertheless, Cole gives in to his delusions, allowing him to succumb to his false reality. While Cole’s character takes his fixation for his one girl to an extreme, the North Carolina artist understands that pushing oneself outside one’s comfort zone is well worth it. So, gentlemen, keep those dreams alive, because you know… you never know.