News from the Collective

A Conversation by Todd Craig and LeBrandon Smith

Happy Hip Hop History Month! Last week writer, educator and DJ Todd Craig and cultural curator and social impact leader LeBrandon Smith kicked off their three part series parsing out this past spring’s beef between Kendrick Lamar and Drake, Hip Hop history in the making. We left off in the breath-holding moment just after Kendrick released “Euphoria” and “6:16 in LA” after eleven days of anticipation. Since the dust has settled a bit between K-Dot and OVO, it’s the perfect time for these intergenerational Hip Hop heads to tap in and sort out what this epic beef really meant for the artists, the sound, and most importantly, the culture. School is IN, yall!  Click this link to read Part I; click this link to read Part II. And yes, we know a new Kendrick album came out! #whew #tvoff #whatatimetobealive

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Approximately 14 hours after Kendrick released “6:16 in LA,” Drake responded with “Family Matters” on May 3, 2024. We’re connecting it to the ending snippet of “Push Ups,” which insinuates it may have been recorded even before the prior two Kendrick songs (we also get this song as a video, so the visuals add another element).

The three-part diss track aims at multiple people (Rick Ross, A$AP Rocky, the Weeknd [aka Abel Tesfaye], Metro Boomin and others), but its most disrespectful lines are clearly aimed at Kendrick. This is really and truly the moment when Drake moves to bring Kendrick’s family into his bars. He also aims at Kendrick’s blackness in a confusing line, saying “always rappin’ like you ‘bout to get the slaves freed/ You just actin’ like an activist, it’s make-believe.” This was a line we both agreed was not only a problematic misstep, but would taint some of the other formative disses in the song. In a moment where Drake’s own blackness and identity were in question, calling his own supporters – Black people – “slaves,” who need to get “freed” does more work to prove Kendrick’s point than to further Drake’s lyrical prowess on the scorecard. Todd also identified the second verse of “Family Matters” (from 2:43-5:15) as the most formidable – the beat switch, cadence and flow, that pocket Drake taps into lyrically is one of his best rapping moments of the battle. Drake’s flow in this part is impeccable, as we see him rhyming in rapid fire, sending shots against multiple foes.

LeBrandon tapped into the third verse (5:16 to 7:36), when out the gate, Drake says “Kendrick just opened his mouth, somebody hand him a Grammy right now.” Drake is at his best when he’s being facetious and petty and his hate for the Grammys is well documented. Drake disrespecting revered entities during this battle was enjoyable and garnered attention; anytime you can call an opponent’s accolades into question – whether it’s a Grammy or a Pulitzer – it’s helpful in a rap battle. LeBrandon could also imagine Kendrick chuckling at a few of the height one-liners like “These bars go over Kenny’s head no matter what I say,” as K.Dot manically crafted his response. 

LeBrandon also pointed out that ownership of jewelry in Hip Hop is a staple, so he appreciated the flex of “You wanna take up for Pharrell?/ Then come get his legacy outta my house.” Since when is it acceptable for another rapper to own jewelry you purchased and proudly wore? We understand Drake owning Pharrell’s jewelry isn’t to pay homage, but to spite Pharrell and The Clipse. The quote is a great retort by Drake, and a keen reminder of how villainous and strategic he can be. This bar felt like the Michael Jordan shrug in audio form. Regardless of how Drake acquired the jewelry, he has it and that matters, and creating a visual in New Ho King with these pieces is devious work. 

LeBrandon literally let out an audible sigh when we heard Drake say, “Your daddy got robbed by Top…” Rap is entertainment so there’s an expectation that lies may surface. Great lyrical battles are like playing the dozens: to garner the most rousing response from the audience, folks will definitely exaggerate. But we agreed that this line ain’t that. This is just straight up faulty comprehension, as the story of Kendrick’s dad and Top Dog’s meeting (in the song, “DUCKWORTH” ) was not a robbery narrative. Part of war is knowing your opponent’s weaknesses and “DUCKWORTH” as a song is bulletproof.

After Drake’s brash talking on both the verses and outro of “Taylor Made Freestyle” warning Kendrick he should be prepared, this uninformed lyrical analysis, or misstep at rewriting the factual narrative is disappointing, specifically because Drake is so talented; misses like this in the midst of a legendary battle makes him look foolish and lazy. Unfortunately, this isn’t the only time Drake does this during the battle, but we found this occurrence quite jarring.

We both agreed the craziest turn of events for the battle was when MINUTES after “Family Matters” dropped, Kendrick responded with “Meet the Grahams”: the darkest and most sinister song of the battle. The way in which Kendrick composed an open letter to members of Drake’s family after Drake mentioned Kendrick’s fiancé by name along with other accusations, put Kendrick in a space he describes, saying “this supposed to be a good exhibition within the game/ But you fucked up the moment you called out my family’s name/ Why you had to stoop so low to discredit some decent people?/ Guess integrity is lost when the metaphors doesn’t reach you.” This song exemplifies why Kendrick has been given the “BoogeyMan” moniker. These dark and disturbing lyrics are what nightmares are made of; and what better way to tap into such a dark landscape than with an eerie beat produced by the Alchemist.

We agreed it was the moment in the battle where Kendrick’s cerebral nature fully set in: new vocals, new flows and a new attack on Drake’s morals and character. At this point in the battle, Todd hoped Drake stopped rhyming because of just how dark this sonic happening was. “Meet the Grahams” is a cerebral and intense listening experience that took the battle to a whole other level. In addition, K.Dot showed us just how much he liked “Back to Back,” as he would double down and double-drop again, this time with the anthem “Not Like Us.” We both agreed that “Meet the Grahams” was the dark, uncomfortable turn, and “Not Like Us” felt like the sonic nails in the coffin for the battle. Besides the absolute instrumental bop DJ Mustard provides for Kendrick, the lyrics coupled with the anthem-feeling hook felt like Kendrick had outsmarted Drake, and simply beat him to the “bop-punch” that we’ve known Drake to produce.

When we listened to the bars, “I’m finna pass on this body, I’m John Stockton/ Beat your ass and hide the Bible if God watchin’/ Sometimes you gotta pop out and show niggas,” we knew it was going to be downhill for Drake. As Kendrick moved through the verses and tapped into the last verse with the lesson on Drake’s sonic connections to Atlanta, and calling him a “colonizer,” an important sentiment popped up for Todd. What’s really deceptive about these lines is that Kendrick is leaning into generational and cultural Blackness. He does it earlier in the references that LeBrandon picked up on with hair and “the braids.” But these sayings K.Dot continuously extols not only emanate from Southern culture, but are also older sentiments from elders in the Black community. So when Kendrick inserts these lines, they’re more harsh than even some of the direct disses, because they lean into Black American culture in ways that Drake would never understand as either a Canadian or a kid visiting his dad in the states (evidenced by “always rappin’ like you ‘bout to get the slaves freed”). However, sonically, it feels “super Black” – putting Black listeners right at home, like they’re hearing their grandma chastise someone. So by the time Kendrick gets to the call and response moment of “Lemme hear you say ‘O-V-Hoe’” (again, another Black trope that transcends Hip Hop), as listeners, we already feel like we’re in the livest cook-out and block party of the summer!

As we tuned into “The Heart Part 6” on May 5, 2024, we both agreed Drake sounded defeated, he was clearly waving the white flag, and he was continuing down the road of missteps that were no longer forgivable. When he lays the bars, “My Montreal connects stand up, not fall down/the ones that you’re gettin’ your stories from, they all clowns,” only to follow up three bars later with, “we plotted for a week and then we fed you the information,” it became clear that even Drake wasn’t sure how to move through the rest of the song as well as the battle. This was another unforced error, a critical misstep Drake simply could not afford at this juncture.

When thinking of this moment alongside Drake’s lack of comprehension around Kendrick’s song, “Mother I Sober,” (where Kendrick touches on abuse in his family – not to be confused with a personal admission of sexual abuse) this stands as Drake’s weakest song in the battle. It also doesn’t stand close to Kendrick’s initial chess move of usurping Drake’s “timestamp songs” – when Kendrick presents “6:16 in LA” (a series Drake has used on almost all of his albums), it proves to be a more robust offering than “The Heart Part 6” (a series Kendrick has used in his career). After this offering from Drake, we see The Ken and Friends: Pop Out (a concert streamed live via Amazon Prime on June 19, 2024: Juneteenth), followed by the “Not Like Us” video (which was released on July 4, 2024: Independence Day). These two drops on cultural “Independence Days” just furthers the notion that Kendrick had a level of vision and foresight far beyond where Drake could imagine. By “The Heart Part 6,” we also agreed Drake thought the song and visuals to “Family Matters” (which was probably recorded around the same time as “Push Ups” and “Taylor Made Freestyle”) would be the end of the battle with Kendrick. An egregious misstep by both Drake and his team to underestimate the BoogeyMan in such a way. 

We close this article sharing an important intergenerational conversation that will serve as a Hip Hop cultural landmark. We’ve both seen various videos and TikToks deconstructing many of the “Easter eggs” left by both Drake and Kendrick in this battle. We hope this article serves as another perspective on how we might be able to think about these songs and this battle from a music as well as a cultural perspective, specifically as it relates to all things Hip Hop. And again, we both agreed there are complicated messages and moments in the battle that require further attention and future analysis.

We also felt a responsibility in sharing this dialogue in an academic space as two avid Hip Hop listeners from two different generations with two different seasoned and highly informed viewpoints. Our perspectives on Hip Hop are forever altered, especially with this battle following the 50th anniversary of the culture last year. So we feel obliged to document this moment, as the battle raised a series of questions for us. We introduce some of those questions throughout the article, while some questions might be answered over time, and others might never see a response. Each of our questions generate analysis that will remain critically relevant to the resonance of this historic battle, which has turned into a cultural moment and movement. It’s crucial to consider the artistic creation outside of any two individuals, as Hip Hop proved with this battle that it remains the biggest culture shaper in our world today.

We hope to see your thoughts on the topic, and, just like Kendrick, we reserve the right to return, and to even “pop out” one more time. . .Superbowl LVIII?  

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Our Icon for this series is a mash up of “Kendrick Lamar (Sziget Festival 2018)” taken by Flickr User Peter Ohnacker (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) and “Drake, Telenor Arena 2017” taken by Flickr User Kim Erlandsen, NRK P3 (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

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Todd Craig (he/him) is a writer, educator and DJ whose career meshes his love of writing, teaching and music. His research inhabits the intersection of writing and rhetoric, sound studies and Hip Hop studies. He is the author of “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies (Utah State University Press) which examines the Hip Hop DJ as twenty-first century new media reader, writer, and creator of the discursive elements of DJ rhetoric and literacy. Craig’s publications include the multimodal novel tor’cha (pronounced “torture”), and essays in various edited collections and scholarly journals including The Bloomsbury Handbook of Hip Hop Pedagogy, Amplifying Soundwriting, Methods and Methodologies for Research in Digital Writing and Rhetoric, Fiction International, Radical Teacher, Modern Language Studies, Changing English, Kairos, Composition Studies and Sounding Out! Dr. Craig teaches courses on writing, rhetoric, African American and Hip Hop Studies, and is the co-host of the podcast Stuck off the Realness with multi-platinum recording artist Havoc of Mobb Deep. Presently, Craig is an Associate Professor of African American Studies at New York City College of Technology and English at the CUNY Graduate Center.

LeBrandon Smith (he/him) is a cultural curator and social impact leader born and raised in Brooklyn and Queens, respectively.  Coming from New York City, his efforts to bridge gaps, and build  community have been central to his work, but most notably his passion for music has fueled his career. His programming  has been seen throughout the Metropolitan area, including historical venues like Carnegie Hall, The Museum of the City of NY (MCNY) and Brooklyn Public Library.

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REWIND!…If you liked this post, you may also dig:

The Braids, The Bars, and the Blackness: Ruminations on Hip Hop’s World War III – Drake versus Kendrick (Part One): Todd Craig and LeBrandon Smith 

The Braids, The Bars, and the Blackness: Ruminations on Hip Hop’s World War III – Drake versus Kendrick (Part Two): Todd Craig and LeBrandon Smith 

“Heavy Airplay, All Day with No Chorus”: Classroom Sonic Consciousness in the Playlist Project—Todd Craig

SO! Reads: “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies—DeVaughn (Dev) Harris 

SO! Amplifies: Regina Bradley’s Outkasted Conversations

Sounding Out! Podcast #28: Off the 60: A Mix-Tape Dedication to Los Angeles–Jennifer Lynn Stoever

multidimensionality

imperfection

instability

fluidity

In a world where technology redefines our perception of selfhood, identity becomes fluid, fragmented, and constantly evolving. My project, infiniteartist, is a multi-channel simulation that delves into this complexity by exploring alternative versions of identity through digital tools such as algorithms, AI, and generative processes.

infiniteartist embraces a multi-faceted approach, transcending the confines of a single medium or form. It combines performance, video performance, animation, and video to create a dynamic and integrative body of work. These diverse methods are not merely functional; they also serve as tools for delving into and reimagining the fluidity of identity in alternative forms. Through this exploration, I seek to capture the ongoing, boundless evolution and representation of my own identity, highlighting its complexity and multiplicity, while also acknowledging its instability, impermanence, and transformation.

Post-face and Fluidity of Identity

infiniteartist expands the term post-face, coined by Anna Szyjkowska-Piotrowska in her book Po-twarz. Przekraczanie widzenia w sztuce i technologii (Post-face. Transcending Vision in Art and Technology). Which plays a crucial role in understanding contemporary shifts in how identity and the face are perceived in art. The paradigm of the face, in its modern, proto-ethical version, still reaches for axiological concepts but is based on symbolic oppositional poles — emotions and affect, identity and subjectivity, all becoming unstable, fluid, and oscillating between self-affirmation and self-loss. This fluidity and uncertainty define the modern face paradigm, shaping it within the context of art. Contemporary artists, following these theories, blur the dichotomy of concepts such as interior/exterior, soul/body, human/animal, and feminine/masculine. The face, no longer just a face but a post-face, continues its presence in the realm of visual representation, undergoing dynamic transformations in the way it is depicted. It becomes a particular medium — a screen, carrying complex, often contradictory messages.

Szyjkowska-Piotrowska emphasizes that we no longer deal with a face in the traditional sense but with a post-face. It is a face in motion, subject to profanation, stripped of its sacred aura. The concept of post-face forces us to experience the sublime anew, revealing the uncertainty of identity and its constant transformation. The face transformed into a mask causes the disappearance of the traditional symbol of a fixed, singular identity, leading to its fluidity and instability, which in the modern paradigm, for many artists, takes the form of the post-face. This process is based on symbolic oppositional poles, questioning fundamental concepts of European humanism — identity, and unity.

Redefining the Traditional Face in The Digital Age

In the digital and media age, where the image of the face is often manipulated, processed, or even completely altered through digital technology. Unlike the traditional perception of the face as a carrier of identity and emotional expression, the concept of the post-face reveals the issue of the cultural and social construction of facial imagery, which can be shaped, modified, and distributed in various ways in the media space. The post-face becomes a tool for producing a subject, by annexing elements of identity, often utilizing already existing motifs in culture, symbols, and aesthetic paradigms. This practice involves the repetition of stereotypes, roles, and symbolic elements associated with visual culture. Contemporary art, characterized by the ubiquity of images and their ease of reproduction, enters a phase of a crisis of representation. The boundaries between reality and its digital representations are increasingly fluid, which, in turn, leads to the liquefaction of both identity and the medium itself. 

AI, as the next stage of the post-face, becomes a significant element in this process. It represents a technological evolution that allows for the generation of faces on demand, thus leading to the extreme virtualization of images. The emergence of artificially generated faces disrupts the balance between the biological and digital realms, changing the way we perceive the boundaries between dichotomies. As a result, we witness a new definition of identity, where the lines between the human and the non-human become increasingly blurred, and the post-face serves as a tool for expressing this ongoing transformation.

Generating Multiple Identities

Modern technologies and the increasingly radical virtualization of art create space for more sophisticated tools and opportunities to express complex and/or simulated identities. In the context of new media art, the multivoiced and multi-imaged nature of identity gains a clearer representation. Images no longer limit themselves to the simple reproduction of reality; on the contrary, they can transform or distort it, distancing us from its original essence. This uncertainty, or even ambiguity of images, has always evoked unease. There is also the possibility that images conceal an absence—a lack of something that has passed, disappeared, or perhaps never existed. Instead of reflecting reality, an image can replace or displace it, surpassing the boundaries of categorization as true or false. As a result, it becomes more real than reality itself, transitioning into the realm of simulation.

I broke down my identity, cataloged it, and then multiplied it. At the beginning, there was a database. A collection created from my thoughts and AI suggestions, divided into environments, art movements, media, nightmares, decisions, and health issues. From this, models were generated, further equipped with random levels of ego, condition, and susceptibility to external influences, as well as the degree of attitude toward academia, the world, and the art market. Next, they were cataloged with an individual number. 

Based on their traits, the AI-generated a verbal description of the image, which was then illustrated by an algorithm that created an image using my likeness as a reference point. Another algorithm brought them to life and allowed them to move and speak with my cloned voice. They narrate their characteristics, which were written by the AI.

The embodiment of specific traits with a given appearance reveals the physiognomic interpretation followed by AI. This way of perceiving is the result of analyzing visual data and machine learning algorithms, which attempt to assign specific internal meanings or values to particular external symptoms and signs, thus returning to the face as an icon. However, the focus on the aesthetic aspects of the face strips it of its privileged, metaphysical character. Making the algorithms, controlled and selected by humans, tools for creating new masks.

The presentation of multiple versions serves to articulate a fragmented and simulated identity. The infinitemodels represent alternative possibilities or paths that could have been or are still available, reflecting the constantly changing nature of identity. The fact that the models contain imperfections and flaws reflects the human condition—they do not represent an ideal or a singular form, but rather reveal the uncertainty and disorientation of the individual in today’s world, where identity is often defined by media representation and cultural consumption. In this context, the artist becomes an unstable product, subject to market and media pressure—this can lead to a loss of authenticity and personal integrity, encouraging the adoption of multiple masks.

These models are not valued in any way, meaning they are neither judged nor hierarchized in terms of their importance or quality; each is treated as equal to the others. The work focuses on the hybrid construct of identity—it operates within a symbolic system where the image and female identity receive a completely different representation, reflecting a more complex and multi-dimensional experience of existence that serves as a space for diverse narratives and perspectives.

The image, understood as a representation, transcends individuality in an attempt to reveal more general and symbolic layers — the presented work creates a symbiotic connection between technology and human expression — an artificiality and unnaturalness are palpable, emphasizing that, even today, there remains a boundary between the human and the non-human, while simultaneously provoking reflection on the impact of modern technologies on the future perception of identity. They are grotesque and unsettling, and some of them I can barely look at. They remind me of talking heads from TikTok, they remind me of myself. They are everything I can be and everything I cannot be. They are made by me, yet at the same time, I have nothing to do with them.

Algorithmic Identity

The blurring of dichotomy is revealed in the work actualmodel, which refers to aspirations to transform human identity into a database controlled by algorithms. The current identity is randomly selected from the data set, becoming a tool for the creation and refinement of the subject through the annexation of elements and paradigms from the digital world of life simulators. The work illustrates the continuous transformations of models, showcasing the current status, detached from my physical form. This dynamic relates to the process of cataloging and exposing inner values that are presented outwardly.

In this sense, the concept of actualmodel echoes the notion of the face-icon found in metaphysical thought and physiognomic interpretation. Here, external symptoms and signs serve as tools for inferring what is hidden, ineffable, and elusive. Just as the classical approach to the face in the tradition of portrait painting assumes the possibility of expressing the inner self through external features, actualmodel explores how identity—rooted in internal qualities—is externalized, shaped, and displayed, albeit through the mechanisms of the digital and algorithmic world.

In the context of a modern society where individuals are increasingly perceived as products, this approach refers to mechanisms in which people are compelled to display and promote their traits to attract attention and gain social acceptance. Identity is often not only revealed externally but also simulated to fit into desired frameworks. Like the classical portrait, which seeks to convey the inner through the outer, actualmodel underscores the interplay between internal substance and external representation, albeit through the lens of digital transformation and simulation.

These issues are explored in the video performance panelsofmodelselection, which delves into the construction of identity through the presentation of various interactions influencing identity formation. In the video, I am dressed in attire matching the animation’s color palette, surrounded by six panels, each presenting different decisions and aspects of identity-building within the artistic world. The work appropriates the interaction selection mechanism from the life simulation game The Sims 2. By incorporating this dynamic into the performance I draw a parallel between creating and altering identities within a virtual space and the process of constructing identity in the real world.

In The Sims 2, all actions are predefined by the game’s programming, and similarly, in real life, the “choices” individuals face are often shaped by societal structures, expectations, and technological interfaces. By appropriating this mechanic, the artwork blurs the boundary between digital and real-world identity construction, questioning to what extent our “authentic” selves are products of external systems and frameworks. The digital world of life simulators, originally modeled after real life, now loop back to influence it, blurring the boundaries between the two realms.

The final component of the artistic project is the modelenvironment, which represents a deeper engagement between the real image and the virtual world governed by algorithms. This performance utilizes the process of live keying, where my physical presence is captured in real time and then transferred into virtual environments generated entirely by an algorithm. During the exhibition, I physically stood in front of a green screen, and my image was streamed live onto the gallery space, merging my real-world presence with AI-generated environments. The live feed became a bridge between these two realms, allowing the audience to witness a real-time transformation of my body and image into a fully digital context. This dynamic process blurred the lines between what was physically present in the gallery and what was algorithmically created, challenging the traditional expectations of performance art.

By wearing the same outfit as in the panelsofmodelselection, I achieved an effect of physical/digital multiplicity, where the simultaneous presence of my physical form and two digital counterparts—one from the video and one generated live—obscured the reality of the performance. At first, the audience didn’t realize that one of the representations was a live projection, and later they struggled to distinguish which was the pre-recorded video and which was the live projection.

Instead of simply mirroring reality, the performance sought to transform and distort it, removing it from its original context and redefining the terms of authenticity. By transcending the binary of true and false, the act of transformation became a simulation of reality. Through this performance, I engage with the idea of identity as something malleable and shifting, especially in the context of contemporary digital culture. The performance questions how much of our identity is truly “real,” and to what extent it is shaped or even constructed through external systems, such as algorithms and digital media. Ultimately, the modelenvironment demonstrates the complex relationship between physical and virtual selves, offering a space where the boundaries between reality and simulation are no longer clear-cut but are in a constant state of negotiation.

Self

Using my own image has been a long-standing practice in my work, where I’ve consistently employed my likeness as a tool of expression. The act of presenting my face and body is not simply about performing an identity or creating an avatar; it’s about grounding the work in the lived, embodied self. A virtual persona lacks the inherent human experience that my identity carries—because, to have a true post-face, one must first have a face.

The artist’s face and body, as a result of tensions and the transformative power of art, have become an ongoing and essential reflection in the context of contemporary Western European culture. The artist’s physiognomy, in this sense, acts as a symbolic field where the dynamic interaction between art and society unfolds. This exploration is deeply tied to understanding how the artist’s face and body serve as artistic tools, as well as the implications of this in the creation of artworks.

By using my face and body, I am making a statement about the power of lived experience in the creation of art. My work isn’t simply about visual representation; it’s about the continuous transformation of my dentity through art, and ultimately, this process is about me. It’s rooted in my practice and my reflection on how we, as individuals, navigate and negotiate our identities in a world shaped by both traditional and digital forces.

The work premiered in June 2024 at Nowa Scena, Poznań. In November 2024, it was showcased during the Narracje as part of the 44th edition of the Maria Dokowicz competition in Poznań, where it received the Special Rector’s Award from the University of the Arts Poznań (UAP).

We are excited to announce the release of our first open access audiobooks! At OBP, we are always looking for ways to meet readers where they are. We are aware of an increased demand for audio formats in recent years, whether that be for accessibility reasons or simply because some readers enjoy listening over reading! We have thus decided to release a small sample of audio titles to gauge reader reception and listen to feedback.

Three out of the four titles in this initial collection were created with the help of AI technology, the use of which presents a number of ethical questions. We are monitoring and reflecting on the energy demands of AI in our effort to be as sustainable as possible in our publishing practice. We hope that in creating these audiobooks, we will save readers the effort (and energy) of using AI audio software themselves.

We also wish to address the potential displacement of human voice actors and other creative professionals involved in audio production. As a small, non-profit press, producing audiobooks read by professional voice actors is unfortunately beyond our means. Though we are thrilled that some of our authors have chosen to record their own books, we acknowledge that this is a time-consuming process which might not be possible or attractive to every writer. AI has enabled us to meet the demand for audio formats within these constraints.

Our decision to experiment with audiobook creation is rooted in our dedication to providing accessible, enjoyable formats for all readers. We would love to hear your feedback on these first titles as we evaluate the potential role of AI in our production process, so feel free to send your thoughts to raegan@openbookpublishers after you’ve had a listen. We hope you enjoy the books and look forward to hearing your feedback!

The following titles are now available as audiobooks:

• The Life of Nuns: Love, Politics, and Religion in Medieval German Convents by Henrike Lähnemann and Eva Schlotheuber
• Higher Education for Good: Teaching and Learning Futures edited by Laura Czerniewicz and Catherine Cronin
• Augustus De Morgan, Polymath: New Perspectives on his Life and Legacy edited by Karen Attar, Adrian Rice, and Christopher Stray
• After the Miners’ Strike: A39 and Cornish Political Theatre versus Thatcher’s Britain: Volume 1 by Paul Farmer

I am happy to teach computer history at a fine arts university. Besides, I also work with small kids. Part of my job is to pry phones out of their hands—not the most pleasant part of the day. This is partly because (as with every mandatory intervention) it stirs up more chaos than it prevents. Still, the phones really make the kids crazy. Behavioral modification and adaptive algorithms make us crazy–that’s their job after all.

People get deranged and depressed when they are told that they are not needed. When they feel that laws, state orders and and machines run their lives and their futures, or their humanity is reduced to an interplay between social and biological programs. And while we’re chipping away at real human agency, there’s a parallel admiration for (or a fear of) digital technology. Many people tend to call large language models “AI”, artificial intelligence, and as an extension to that, they see the future as the time of technocratic omnipotence, the coming era of untethered artificial minds. Artists and intellectuals often eat this up, because they are kinda lazy and naive—they want to seem forward-thinking or avoid looking outdated. Well, maybe it’s not that simple. As Jeffrey Kripal and Jacques Derrida would point out, the humanities have always been haunted by apparitions, prophecies, and mystical machines.1

Why do we conflate “computation” and “intelligence”? I’m no AI or sociology expert, but I have a few guesses. These aren’t exactly original ideas, and I’ll start with the boring ones. But first, let’s set aside the common belief that living beings are indeed machines, byproducts of genetic and social programs—a view so widely accepted that even a 13-year-old could tell you. They also tell you that God is dead and hell awaits us all. That might turn out to be true, but for now, let’s choose another angle.

1. AI as Marketing Scam: The idea of AI and the Singularity is a marketing tool for selling half-baked products or attracting money from investors, governments, and even military projects. This hype goes back to the cybernetic think tanks after WWII.2

2. Old-School Technocratic Thinking: We’ve always tried to model the human mind through whatever effective tech is in vogue: with the steam engine, we get the categories of Freudian psychology (the whole pneumatic theatre play of the libido and the various forces restricting, masking, or channeling it), and the factory-model of the mind. With cybernetics and computers, we get information processes, computational models, functionalism, and cognitivitism. Very neat abstractions and knowledge fields based on shaky metaphors.

3. Secular Mysticism: AI hype can also be seen as a secular twist on mystical ideas, especially from Abrahamic religions, where divine truths (and universal laws) are “out there”, external to the world. They are not intuitive or immanent—they are revealed through sacred or coded language. We could get more mystical with our programs: instead of vessels of the Apocalypse, we should treat them as oracles, like we did with Tarot or the Zairja.3 When people like Leibniz and Boole were inventing binary systems and formal logic (the foundations for our digital age), they felt lifted up, closer to divine order. So maybe AI is just an echo of that same drive to find  something beyond ourselves. It’s a shadow of a radically neutral, elevated reality.

4. Environment as Mind: AI is a variation of an even older experience through a Cartesian lens. Some thinkers view cognition as extending beyond the individual mind, with the surrounding environment playing an active role. A spider’s web, for example, may be part of its mind.4 We think with and by our surroundings, by our fellow creatures, routines and objects. With our songs, machines, works of art, and so on. Technology is not just an extension of us, neither a self-sustaining organism or a noosphere. Paradoxically, when we speak of the coming Singularity or artificial general intelligence, we may overlook the actual, integrative nature of technology. We could do better than that. We can be less dualistic about agency and thought. We can work without strict separations between the body and the mind, hardware and software, nature or culture. Computational models and human agency don’t have to compete in a zero-sum game.5

This is the starting point of my work and why I’m drawn to computational design that moves beyond black-box thinking. We should be modeling human activity and computation without fixating on code, rigid laws, or scripted languages. Interestingly, engineers and theorists can’t really agree on what “computation” means. Most often, they define it as information processing, describing computers as machines or networks that manipulate symbols. Other professionals are looking for a solution in automation theory and problem-solving.

Here is my take: a base level for any computation is a goal-oriented, non-random process. Or better yet, computation is about bringing together things that rely on future events, adjusting to changes in the environment. Things that change their shape or mediate change in a dynamic medium. Objects that can be efficiently described temporally. Animal traps and pollinating flowers share this nature. Along these lines we can connect natural and cultural events within the field of goal-oriented behavior. Seeking a goal, planning beforehand, these should be human things, right? We make plans by constructing mental representations in our head. But how plants and animals do it? Do they use mental representations? What is the ideal form of a beaver dam? Or nest-building birds—are they platonic about branches?

Living beings are maintained (and created) by several levels of goal-driven phenomena, some internal, some external. We can also change our environment so
that new situations and things can occur, which in turn will change our customs, and on a longer timescale, our physical form. Our environment can solve things for us. Our environment can kill or mutate us. This is the kind of computational design I’m interested in—design that draws on external processes, things that unfold on their own, often in dynamic settings like air or water.6

While we are familiar with computational systems that use sophisticated software to add new functions to already existing products and environments, enriching our experience by recontextualization (smart watches, smart homes, VR and AR applications, dating apps) we rarely think of objects, buildings or art projects as computation. The most common form of algorithmic design is a finite length command (usually written in a programming language, mediated by a specific program) which is applied at the start of a process, generating new effects and responses without the constant intervention of a human being. With the diverse use of procedural and generative programs in gaming and architecture computation is getting everywhere, albeit it works through a network of symbols: a language or an abstract calculation. Within a program a highly formalized code dictates the dynamics of the relationships that certain part of an object or a symbolic unit maintains with its surroundings. Just as with the Cartesian distinction between mind and body, our computational techniques heavily rely on separating hardware from software. This top-down collaboration between agents is not exclusive to information technology. Recipes, user manuals and avant-garde concepts also operate on representations, a widely applicable instruction or a command, which is distinct from any particular interaction (from, say, a description, a collision or an exchange of data, a handshake or a threat), and a step-by-step approach to generate partial results towards achieving a goal. Funnily enough, our current systems are not always like that: neural nets are bottom-up structures.7

Could we reformalize computation without relying too heavily on symbols and codes? Well, several tasks that would require the programming of some piece of hardware can be outsourced to so called natural processes (as in contrast to cultural ones, like writing down a prescription or doing math), such as plant growth, phase changes in certain materials, flexibility of a body part, or motion of a medium. A beaver dam or a maple seed, for instance, responds to future events based on certain natural conditions. These work like “if-then” conditionals without needing a specific number value, a string of symbols, or a precisely set threshold. Fluidics—an alternative form of computation—uses fluids or air flow as a dynamic medium to accomplish tasks, much like how plants pollinate through the air. Stepping from single-purpose machines to general-purpose ones, the standard procedure is to emulate circuit elements in order to build a digital system: mostly (but not exclusively) Boolean logic gates to structure and evaluate energy or material flow through a space of possible routes or phases. 8 From marble counting to reaction-diffusion wave fronts digital computers can be built in various environments. Fluidics was a promising field of computer engineering during the sixties, on both of the sides of the iron curtain.9 As proof of concept, a pure fluid computer was built in the USA. 10 Pumping pressurized air through 250 NOR gates FLODAC used the same operational architecture as its electric counterparts. In theory, it could do everything that your computer can do. Just more slowly. But not if it’s connected to other passive systems.

Although pure fluid computers can’t reach the arithmetic capacity of modern electric models, their low manufacturing cost and energy consumption, the lack of moving parts, and the way they capitalize on parallel channels of activity to evade the von Neumann bottleneck made them a cheap and versatile toolkit for numerous tasks. Microfluidics became a multidisciplinary field, mainly used in labs for molecular analysis and in the development of wearable, non-electric diagnostic systems. Logic-enabled textiles can react to changing weather conditions in order to help their wearer. 11 A drainage system integrating logic functions can offer a model for reactive architectural design by using non-invasive technology.12 By eliminating a mediating level of abstract semiotics, embodied logic also serves as an educational tool for students interested in computation. As a common ground for low-tech goal-oriented planning, it can connect multiple fields, from object design to architecture or experimental music. By removing elemental computation from its informatics context, naked logic helps us to rediscover the shared life world between nature and culture, between human beings and their environment. Finally, we could see the layered nature of a computer. We can see it as a collection of things, languages and practices, as a tool to see other things differently, and a way to create new objects and thoughts (or to destroy them).

We won’t be able to separate computation from metaphysical speculation and creepy, colonizing projects. Any new idea or approach will end up in a deeply chaotic place, muddled by manipulation and craziness. But, as Jaron Lanier reminds us all the time, striving for ultimate purity, a hunt for a universal solution is what lead us there.

Boldizsár Hordós (1991) earned his master’s degree from the Hungarian University of Fine Arts in 2016. He is currently a PhD student at the same institution and teaches computer history in the Intermedia Department.

Notes:

1 Kripal, Jeffrey J. (2019). The Flip: Epiphanies of Mind and the Future of Knowledge.
Bellevue Literary Press, New York.
2 Dupuy, J. (2009). On the Origins of Cognitive Science: The Mechanization of Mind. MIT
Press.
3 Sam Kriss has a witty essay about ancient AI: https://samkriss.substack.com/p/a-users-guide-to-the-zairja-of-the.
4 Japyassú, H.F., Laland, K.N. Extended spider cognition. Anim Cogn 20, 375–395 (2017).
https://doi.org/10.1007/s10071-017-1069-7.
5 You don’t have to be a marxist to see that we still make machinery by alienating the work
and creativity of various creatures from the creatures themselves. True technocrats know this
dirty secret, but they are not crazy, they won’t talk about it.
6 Adamatzky, A. (2019). A brief history of liquid computers. Philosophical Transactions of the
Royal Society B, 374(1774), 20180372. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2018.0372
7 Copeland, B.J., Methods and goals in AI,  .https://www.britannica.com/technology/artificial-intelligence/Methods-and-goals-in-AI
8 Adamatzky, A. (2021). Handbook of Unconventional Computing. WORLD SCIENTIFIC
eBooks. https://doi.org/10.1142/12232
9 Auger Raymond, N., Pneumatic Computer Research in the USSR, Automatic control, Vol.
13, No. 6 (December 1960), pp. 43-48.
10 Gluskin, R. S., Jacoby, M., & Reader, T. D. (1964). FLODAC – a pure fluid digital computer.
Managing Requirements Knowledge, International Workshop On, 1, 631.
https://doi.org/10.1109/afips.1964.74
11 Rajappan, A., Jumet, B., Shveda, R. A., Decker, C. J., Liu, Z., Yap, T. F., . . . Preston, D. J.
(2022). Logic-enabled textiles. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the
United States of America, 119(35). https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2202118119
12 Carlström, C.H.V., Architecture as elemental computer,
https://royaldanishacademy.com/project/architecture-elemental-computer

A Conversation by Todd Craig and LeBrandon Smith

Happy Hip Hop History Month! Last week writer, educator and DJ Todd Craig and cultural curator and social impact leader LeBrandon Smith kicked off their three part series parsing out this past spring’s beef between Kendrick Lamar and Drake, Hip Hop history in the making. We left off in the wake of Drake’s rapid-fire releases from April 19th, 2024, the one-two punch of Drake’s “Push Ups” and “Taylor Made Freestyle.” Today, Craig and Smith pick up their conversation where Kendrick did, releasing “Euphoria” and “6:16 in LA” after eleven days of anticipation. Since the dust has settled a bit between K-Dot and OVO, it’s the perfect time for these intergenerational Hip Hop heads to tap in and sort out what this epic beef really meant for the artists, the sound, and most importantly, the culture. School is IN, yall! If you want to catch up with part one, click here.

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What is it? The braids?–Kendrick Lamar, “Euphoria”

After a much-anticipated wait, Kendrick dropped “Euphoria.” It not only stopped Hip Hop culture in its tracks, but it allowed all spectators to realize this was gearing up to be an epic battle. The song starts with the backwards Richard Pryor sample from the iconic film The Wiz. For those unfamiliar, The Wiz is a film adaptation of The Wizard of Oz featuring an all-Black star-studded cast, including Diana Ross and Michael Jackson. Richard Pryor played the role of the Wizard. When the characters realize the Wizard is a fraud, he says, “Everything they say about me is true”; this is the sample Kendrick uses, grounding himself in 1970s Black culture and situating where he plans to go in his writing.

There are numerous layers that Kendrick builds into “Euphoria” – which gets back to Drake’s warning of “you better have a motherfuckin’ quintuple entendre on that shit.” The two specific lines that resonate for how K.Dot’s attack plan will unfold come at the beginning and the middle of the song. The choice of his introductory lines are a serious forewarning for Drake: “Know you a master manipulator and habitual liar too/ But don’t tell no lie about me and I won’t tell truths ’bout you.” Kendrick references the idea of a “friendly fade” but sounds firm in this warning.

The second line to resonate in our listening was “‘Back to Back’ I like that record/ I’ma git back to that for the record.” This bar was an intriguing foreshadowing of not only how Dot planned to approach the battle, but it also references the fact that Kendrick has studied Drake’s battles, thus he is prepared for this moment. It’s critical to note in Drake’s last battle with lyrical tactician Terrance Thorton aka Pusha T in 2018 (which Kendrick references in “Euphoria”), he mentioned Pusha T’s wife – this led to Pusha T introducing the world to Adonis, Drake’s then-infant child which he most definitely had NOT introduced to the world. As Kendrick runs through this 6:24 minute song, his indictments of Drake’s cultural voyeurism and appropriation are crystal clear, but Kendrick doubles down on this idea by saying: “It’s not just me, I’m what the culture’s feeling.” This is the start of Kendrick framing the argument of how Drake is exploiting Black American culture from the safety of the Embassy, his Canadian compound located in a different country.  

LeBrandon highlighted a few additional quotes while also generating a series of questions. When he heard, “I even hate when you say the word ‘nigga’ but that’s just me, I guess/ some shit just cringeworthy it ain’t even gotta be deep, I guess,” it evoked the feeling of not having to justify why the usage of the word “nigga” is okay for Black people. While LeBrandon acknowledges his grandparents and parents may not agree with him, he feels its usage is not worthy of a fight unless used by a non-Black person; it’s widely accepted as part of the vernacular of Black people in Hip Hop culture. So to question Drake’s usage of the word and strip him of this privilege is a demoralizing and thought-provoking action. A second aspect of these bars considers hater-ation. Sometimes hate is irrational and without cause and sometimes that’s simply good enough! This moment also sparked questions for LeBrandon that we wanted to include:

Maybe it’s overstating the impact of the battle but will the remainder of Drake’s career be under a microscope? 

Will Hip Hop heads and casuals now analyze and likely scrutinize Drake’s every move? 

Another moment we both agreed on was an additional Kendrick quote LeBrandon highlighted: “What is it? The braids?” Hair, hair, hair: a fixture in these conversations as well as a clue into where this battle gets debated…the barbershop and even the hair salon. Drake’s masculinity, racial and cultural authenticity has always been sensitive; let us never forget Pusha T’s “Story of Adidon”: a song that questioned Drake’s character and even his hair, released with cover art displaying Drake in Blackface with Jazz hands. Drake’s perceived “entanglement” with Black American culture has always been warm, and felt like a younger cousin following their big cousin. Drake was younger then and Pusha T was written off by some as a bully: an old Hip Hop head yelling at the clouds.

But recently, Drake’s actions began to feel like a mockery, or even a caricature (like a “master manipulator”). How much of this behavior is Drake trying on costumes, using real hairstyles and real life experiences of Black folks to portray a life he hasn’t lived or interacted with? Fashion and swag regionalism has become lost in the internet age, which makes the concerns about Drake’s “costumes” jarring. And despite one of Hip Hop’s keys being the ability to flex individuality, Hip Hop has always been a conduit of style (think throwback jerseys and other fashion cues). So why does Drake’s recent fascination with braids and other things raise eyebrows? Are his braids too tight? Maybe the bobbles and barrettes are giving young Black girl vibes too much? Only time will tell…

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LeBrandon also tapped into the Kendrick line, “notice I said we, it’s not just me, I’m what the culture’s feeling.” How many behind-closed-doors conversations were had about the current state of Drake? Naturally, we’ve all had them, as he’s the second biggest artist in the world. Drake is a brand, a corporate behemoth, and one of Universal Music Group’s greatest interests. But is he a cultural thief? Another corporate behemoth once said “dark knight feeling, die and be a hero/ or live long enough to see yourself become a villain” (Carter). Is Drake becoming a villain or are these valid concerns and questions Kendrick has raised?

Hip Hop has existed for 50+ years now – but cultural moments and movements can die off, so can we just dismiss some of the thoughts this battle has provoked? Is it the responsibility of those at the forefront of the artform to behave a certain way? Or does innovation and variety–even at its silliest– keep Hip Hop’s spirit alive? Kendrick’s ability to stay off the grid, then “pop out and show niggas” is unparalleled. The way his city and coast showed up for him also has to be acknowledged in a time when access to rappers’ lives is oversaturated online. The line “I’m what the culture’s feeling” is interesting because it informs us that Kendrick is paying attention and considering the artform, even when we can’t see it with his presence in public or on social media. 

Kendrick quickly followed up with “6:16 in LA,” and the layering throughout each song only gets impressively more intricate. For example, the length of the song refers back to the date the TV show “Euphoria” was released (Drake is credited as executive producer on the show). The entire first section is incredible, especially as Kendrick spits “Like Raphael, I can heal and give you art,” which speaks to the duality Kendrick uses to approach this battle.

It was also one of Todd’s favorite moments of the “Pop Out” show. While multiple online analyses say Kendrick is personifying Drake, the way in which he’s rhyming is undeniable. Furthermore, the Kendrick line telling Drake “every dog gotta have his day/ now live in your purpose” is quite condemning, especially alongside the concept of Drake being a voyeur of Black American Hip Hop culture. Couple this sentiment with Sounwave and Taylor Swift music collaborator Jack Antonoff producing the beat for the song that uses a sample from Al Green’s “What a Wonderful Thing Love Is” – a song that features Drake’s uncle (Mabon “Teenie” Hodges) on guitar – shows just how cerebral Kendrick has gotten with his sonic offerings. This song also presents a different tempo: a more soulful, Boom-Bap-style that highlights Kendrick’s flow and cadence, diverging from “Euphoria.”

We both agreed Kendrick may not enjoy tearing down another artist. LeBrandon highlights the lines, “Who am I if I don’t go to war.” This line, its surrounding bars, the tone, and delivery speak to the conflict Kendrick feels about the ensuing lyrical violence. It’s incredible that such conflict is being considered by Kendrick during a heated battle–it requires us to cherish this level of consideration and introspection. This line also feels layered because of Kendrick’s roots, and the enduring Hip Hop element of battling: “if I’m called out,” Kendrick raps, “who am I if I don’t answer that call?”

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Todd and LeBrandon’s Hip Hop History Month play-by-play concludes on November 25th!

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Our Icon for this series is a mash up of “Kendrick Lamar (Sziget Festival 2018)” taken by Flickr User Peter Ohnacker (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) and “Drake, Telenor Arena 2017” taken by Flickr User Kim Erlandsen, NRK P3 (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

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Todd Craig (he/him) is a writer, educator and DJ whose career meshes his love of writing, teaching and music. His research inhabits the intersection of writing and rhetoric, sound studies and Hip Hop studies. He is the author of “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies (Utah State University Press) which examines the Hip Hop DJ as twenty-first century new media reader, writer, and creator of the discursive elements of DJ rhetoric and literacy. Craig’s publications include the multimodal novel tor’cha (pronounced “torture”), and essays in various edited collections and scholarly journals including The Bloomsbury Handbook of Hip Hop Pedagogy, Amplifying Soundwriting, Methods and Methodologies for Research in Digital Writing and Rhetoric, Fiction International, Radical Teacher, Modern Language Studies, Changing English, Kairos, Composition Studies and Sounding Out! Dr. Craig teaches courses on writing, rhetoric, African American and Hip Hop Studies, and is the co-host of the podcast Stuck off the Realness with multi-platinum recording artist Havoc of Mobb Deep. Presently, Craig is an Associate Professor of African American Studies at New York City College of Technology and English at the CUNY Graduate Center.

LeBrandon Smith (he/him) is a cultural curator and social impact leader born and raised in Brooklyn and Queens, respectively.  Coming from New York City, his efforts to bridge gaps, and build  community have been central to his work, but most notably his passion for music has fueled his career. His programming  has been seen throughout the Metropolitan area, including historical venues like Carnegie Hall, The Museum of the City of NY (MCNY) and Brooklyn Public Library.

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  REWIND!…If you liked this post, you may also dig:

“Heavy Airplay, All Day with No Chorus”: Classroom Sonic Consciousness in the Playlist Project—Todd Craig

SO! Reads: “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies—DeVaughn (Dev) Harris 

Deep Listening as Philogynoir: Playlists, Black Girl Idiom, and Love–Shakira Holt

“The (Magic) Upper Room: Sonic Pleasure Politics in Southern Hip Hop“–Regina Bradley

“‘I’m on my New York s**t’: Jean Grae’s Sonic Claims on the City”––Liana Silva

Жить тяжело и неуютно
Зато уютно умирать

(Living is difficult and confining,

But dying is liberating)

The words written above are an excerpt from the song Sudno (Boris Ryzhy) by post-punk band Molchat Doma from Minsk. These words also often loop over the reels on post-Soviet aesthetics found online – the ones of decayed brutalist buildings with blue and grey undertones, or snow-covered, rectangular residential blocks with crumbling soviet elevators. Such content online grabs me instantly because of its familiarity, but it also grabs me because of how it claims the space. I am drawn to it insofar as I’ve been part of that infrastructure, but I am also consciously keeping the distance because it feels too close, too empty, and too sticky.

Some objects or bodies are ‘stickier’ than others, forming a relationality, or “withness”, where things that are “with” each other get bound together. Sara Ahmed uses the analogy of stickiness to reflect on how disgust can generate effects by “binding” signs to bodies, as a binding that blocks new meanings. In digital culture, I see this as one form of an affective shift to online spaces – how some objects, more than others become sticky on the Internet, and how they accumulate layers of meaning through repetition and circulation. These objects or ways of understanding a certain lifeworld sometimes become territorial; they bind to some bodies, desires and affects, sticking in ways that close off other forms of engagement. What interests me is that the more they firm their presence online, the more they seem to pull our emotionality in, until the point when our encounters with them become habitual.

With this in mind, I want to engage with Soviet and post-Soviet aesthetics on the Internet. Yet, it feels impossible to deconstruct the presence of online remains of the Soviet/post-Soviet world without becoming entangled in its own memetic landscape, and ultimately becoming part of it. The very act of reflexivity I use while scrolling through Instagram and TikTok pages dedicated to post-Soviet lifeworlds—blurs the line between observer and subject—I critique but I also consume. So, in a way, this article becomes its own kind of meme. I find myself stuck as a meme insofar as I am absorbed by it. For the more serious the analysis becomes, the more it echoes the same meme narrative post-Soviet aesthetics on the Internet continuously produces.

The stickiness, when touching upon the post-Soviet meme world, holds a quality of fixedness. It is firm and unmovable. Whatever sticks to this certain aesthetics found on the Internet is frozen and fixed in time – it cannot be removed as its digital footprint will be elsewhere. Yet it continues to shift within its own limits, as it is also stuck with its own boundaries, trapped between forming and erasing meanings, old and new. This leads me to the space between these acts of fixation and circulation—the space between sticking and moving. How, then, is the “post-Soviet” performed on the internet?

Ownership of post-Soviet memorabilia on the Internet, and liminality that comes with it

The term post-Soviet does not just refer to the aftermath of the collapse of Soviet Union, but sets the two in a reciprocal relation, where what is considered Soviet is a construct of the post-Soviet present. Multiple Instagram/TikTok pages soak this up. While producing Soviet narratives for various purposes—educational, nostalgic, or entertaining—the imageries of post-Soviet lifeworld are continuously accumulated, reconstructed, and reimagined. What my Instagram algorithm provides is ranging from austere appearance of Soviet propaganda posters, or the captions of pages like soviet-movies: “Subscribe, Tovarish[1]!” – and easternblocgirl – “dropping some Eastern European vibes on the Internet” with the weekly reminder, “going insane in Eastern Europe Wednesday”, to Soviet_busstops, giving surprisingly detailed descriptions of bus stops found in post-Soviet countries.

What I see, is that this specific content on the Internet is multi-layered and in a constant flux, but more impressively, it has its own digital infrastructure.

Take, for instance, the Instagram page easternblocgirl, where the aesthetics of post-Soviet life are curated through images of scraped-off light blue walls, crumbling brutalist buildings, and the gritty surfaces of “Sovietcore.” “I can smell that подъезд[2] through the phone”, comments one user on the photo above. And I can smell it too. Being born and raised in a post-Soviet country, this picture resonates with me deeply, for I also have been living in “one of those” Soviet brutalist buildings. It reeks of old dust that stings nostrils, of damp walls, beer, and indelible marks of cigarette butts, the texture of the light blue wall, which is similar to how school classrooms were painted in the early 2000s. It is not only simply a building but a sensorial memory that clings to me and other bodies shaped by this very infrastructure.

These are archives of feelings, of that stickiness. And there is a subtle dimension of the social: sensory landscapes we become endowed with, treat us as active record-keepers, used as an extension of human memory with continuing value. In this instance, we seem to be value carriers, while the sensory modalities affect our lived experiences and make our bodies become witnesses of the material experiences. Yet, the Internet is fragile in this regard, as these experiences are flattened into digital archives, fragmented and reduced to visual traces on screen. One cannot locate the digital manifestation of a Soviet past residue in its own socio-political context.

The easternblocgirl Instagram account is marked by its own disembodiment. The sensory connections it evokes, might be more about collective imagery or invented nostalgia, rather than a personal memory. This uncertainty complicates the relationship between digital archives and lived experience. Instead of asking where these memories truly belong and who gets to claim ownership, I would rather question how we become the owners of post-Soviet memorabilia as we perform on the very remembrance that has a fictive, invented quality to it.

Paul Connerton argued that performativity cannot be thought of without a concept of habit; and habit cannot be thought of without a notion of bodily practices[3]. Bodily practice can be reached through virtual interactions in case of easternblocgirl. If we use our virtual bodies to perform on post-Soviet memories, we are doing so in a manner of thinking and feeling through the infrastructures. Infrastructures do fix space and time when being built, but they are not hard to reverse.  As things in motion, they fall into decay and deterioration, and also, they repurpose themselves over time. Mentioning time here as a temporal dimension is important for several reasons. I oppose Akhil Gupta’s argument when examining infrastructure as an entry point into future desires, aspirations, and one’s life trajectories. He writes that often, infrastructures are shaped by notions of futurity, which then in turn moves the discussion to what they signify for future[4]. Limiting thinking about infrastructure in terms of its futuristic desires risks detracting from the narrative of its multidimensionality. For when delving into post-Soviet infrastructures displayed online, the space for futuristic aspirations lacks its purpose. Users do not seem to look at this matter in a way that would position decayed buildings as desirable places to live.

Instead of futuristic narratives, these types of infrastructures associated with post-Soviet aesthetics on the Internet create the kind of temporality that does not orient itself towards future, but towards the liminality – the disorientated state of being between what is no longer there, and what is not there yet. In other words, it is a temporal sense of nostalgia towards the past that drives such aesthetics. And more importantly, this nostalgia might be invented the way the past is reinvented, reconfigured and affective.

Reality Bruised

Infrastructure can be defined as the assemblage of people, objects, practices, and institutions that enable and sustain these patterns, or more concisely, a “matter that moves matter”[5]. Pages like easternblocgirl are not just visual archives—they are dynamic, ever-flowing spaces that act as affective infrastructures, carrying the weight of the past forward. We come, then to what is perhaps a re-emergence of Soviet past residue in its new forms. These new forms are not merely of nostalgic quality, they are also tied to an affective infrastructure.

Just as some infrastructure projects in the Soviet Union were a way to insert state power over territories, people, and the environment, so too the post-Soviet aesthetic found on the Internet transforms this narrative, vacates the state-led power and repurposes these infrastructures. There is a discourse under the umbrella of post-Soviet aesthetics that has installed itself as a place re-invented. Cloaked in dull and grey brutalist, decayed buildings, and hyping itself as Slavic “core” having a quality of suffering – the one that elicits nostalgia, melancholy and loss. These transformations in digital culture are not only a visual shift but also an affective one. In this way, this certain understanding of the past and present crumbling post-Soviet infrastructure could be seen as a source for an emotional landscape that offers new narratives of belonging and desire.

 

These Instagram posts of decayed buildings and low-resolution images create a sense of dislocation, an almost Burroughsian “junk time”—a time that is both past and present, liminal, real and imagined. When looking at these pics, I am tempted not only to contemplate the object in mise en scène, but also ponder the object that captured them, which, in my own remembrance would be Samsung’s or either Nokia’s old flip phones. Seeing the present visual culture in its own capitalist hierarchy, it becomes clear that the contemporary image system has a tendency to establish a hierarchy of images, based on their “quality”. In this regard, high-resolution pictures become an attractive and immersive economic force, whereas low-quality images are further marginalised and represent technological failure. Yet, in this instance, low-quality runs the monopoly over the content, which further helps to glorify the context – it becomes an integral part of the aesthetic itself. The very visibility of technological and infrastructural failure, and the detachment from an overly polished discourse of images online, absorb the post-Soviet imagery in a way that it becomes intimate.

The space praises itself as seductive, luring the viewer in by temptingly asking whether one misses it, embodying a sentiment of innocence and affective properties that generate a narrative and active construct. The online post-Soviet performance almost created an alternative, “bruised” realm of orientation, a space that is being claimed as inherently glitched, ripped apart, and worn out. I suggest that such orientation in motion acts as a repository of feelings and emotions, creating an accidental memory community. “I feel very sick here”, says the meme (Figure 6). Under the same meme found on vk.com, another user comments, “I feel sick here too”. Feeling sickened is always directed toward the object, as it is the very object that makes us feel repelled. This also implies the spatial quality of such an object, which, in this case, can be the dislocated post-Soviet space itself – a digital site that saturates certain emotionality in a shared experience.

 

 

 

There is a shared sense of “missing something”; however, it is an accidental longing, as there is no implicit or explicit shared purpose, or a unified narrative where community members practice a specific type of remembrance or have a specific goal to reach – the constitution of the community occurs by accident. I suggest that these types of places create an online interaction where users can pass through or sometimes even settle in such material networks without actually belonging there. I treat such users as accidental members of memory community, and memory precisely because it is oriented towards the past in a liminal way. Together with accidental, reinvented remembrance practices, the emotionality and relatedness – real or imagined – that these memes or comments bring forth further reinforce the idea of reconfiguring affective infrastructure. We think and feel through infrastructure that is affective as long as we embody such online presence as something tangible and experiential.

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References

Ahmed, Sara. 2014. The Cultural Politics of Emotion, Edinburgh University Press.

Connerton, Paul. 1989. How Societies Remember. Cambridge University Press.

Gupta, Akhil. 2018. “The future in ruins: Thoughts on the temporality of infrastructure.” In The promise of infrastructure, edited by Nikhil Anand, Akhil Gupta, and Hannah Appel, 62–79. Duke University Press.

Larkin, Brian. 2013. The politics and poetics of infrastructure. Annual Review of Anthropology, 42:327-43

[1] A comrade in Russian.

[2] Building entrance in Russian.

[3] Connerton, Paul. How Societies Remember, (Cambridge University Press, 1989), 6

[4] Akhil Gupta,”The future in ruins: Thoughts on the temporality of infrastructure”,  in The promise of infrastructure, ed. Nikhil Anand, Akhil Gulta, and Hannah Appel. (Duke University Press, 2018), 63.

[5] Brian Larkin. “The politics and poetics of infrastructure” Annual Review of Anthropology, no. 42 (2013): 238

A Conversation by Todd Craig and LeBrandon Smith

By now, it’s safe to say very few people have not caught wind of the biggest Hip-Hop battle of the 21st century: the clash between Kendrick Lamar and Drake. Whether you’ve seen the videos, the memes or even smacked a bunch of owls around playing the video game, this battle grew beyond Hip Hop, with various facets of global popular culture tapped in, counting down minutes for responses and getting whiplash with the speed of song drops. There are multiple ways to approach this event. We’ve seen inciteful arguments about how these two young Black males at the pinnacle of success are tearing one another down. We also acknowledge Hip Hop’s long legacy of battling; the culture has always been a “competitive sport” that includes “lyrical sparring.”

This three-part article for Sounding Out!’s Hip Hop History Month edition stems from a longer conversation with two co-authors and friends, Hip Hop listeners and aficionados, trying to make sense of all the songs and various aspects of the visuals. This intergenerational conversation involving two different sets of Hip Hop listening ears, both heavily steeped in Hip Hop’s sonic culture, is important. Our goal here is to think through this battle by highlighting quotes from songs that resonated with us as we chronicled this moment. We hope this article serves as a responsible sonic assessment of this monumental Hip Hop episode.

First things first: what’s so intergenerational about our viewpoints? This information provides some perspective on how this most recent battle resonated with two avid Hip Hop listeners and cultural participants.

LeBrandon is a 33 year old Black male raised in Brooklyn and Queens, New York. He is an innovative curator and social impact leader. When asked about the first Hip Hop beef that impacted him, LeBrandon said:

The first Hip-Hop battle I remember is Jay x Nas and mainly because Jay was my favorite rapper at the time. I was young but mature enough to feel the burn of “Ether.” It’s embarrassing to say now, but truthfully I was hurt—as if “Ether” had been pointed at me. “Ether” is a masterclass in Hip Hop disrespect but the stanza that I remember feeling terrible about was “I’ll still whip your ass/ you 36 in a karate class?/ you Tae-bo hoe/ tryna work it out/ you tryna get brolic/ Ask me if I’m tryna kick knowledge/ Nah I’m tryna kick the shit you need to learn though/ that ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow.” MAN. I remember thinking, is Jay old?! Is 36 old?! Is my favorite rapper old?! Why did Nas say that about him? I should reiterate I am older now and don’t think 36 is old, related or unrelated to Hip Hop. Nas’s gloves off approach shocked me and genuinely concerned me. But I’m thankful for the exposure “Ether” gave me to the understanding that anything goes in a Hip-Hop battle.

Todd is a Black male who grew up in Ravenswood and Queensbridge Houses in Long Island City, New York. Todd is about 15 years older than LeBrandon, and is an associate professor of African American Studies and English. Todd stated:

The first battle that engaged my Hip Hop senses was the BDP vs. Juice Crew battle –specifically “The Bridge” and “The Bridge is Over.” The stakes were high, the messages were clear-cut, and the battle lines were drawn. I lived in Ravenswood but I had family and friends in QB. And “The Bridge” was like a borough anthem. Even though MC Shan was repping the Bridge, that song motivated and galvanized our whole area in Long Island City. This was the first time in Hip Hop that I recall needing to choose a side. And because I had seen Shan and Marley and Shante in real life in QB, the choice was a no-brainer. That battle led me to start recording Mr. Magic and Marley Marl’s show on 107.5 WBLS, before even checking out what Chuck Chillout or Red Alert was doing. As I got older, it would sting when I heard “The Bridge is Over” at a club or a party. And when I would DJ, I’d always play “The Bridge is Over” first, and follow it up with either “The Bridge” or another QB anthem, like a “Shook Ones Pt. 2” or something.

We both enter this conversation agreeing this battle has been brewing for about ten years, however it really came to a head in the Drake and J. Cole song, “First Person Shooter.” Evident in the song is J. Cole’s consistent references to the “Big Three” (meaning Kendrick Lamar, Drake and J. Cole atop Hip-Hop’s food chain), while Drake was very much focused on himself and Cole. It is rumored that Kendrick was asked to be on the song; his absence without some lyrical revision by Cole and Drake, seems to have led to Kendrick feeling snubbed or slighted in some way. This song gets Hip Hop listeners to Kendrick’s verse on the Future and Metro Boomin’ song “Like That” where Kendrick sets Hip Hop ablaze with the simple response: “Muthafuck the Big Three, nigguh, it’s just Big Me” – a moment where he “takes flight” and avoids the “sneak dissing” that he asserts Drake has consistently done. 

We both agreed that Drake’s initial full-length entry into this battle, “Push Ups,” was the typical diss record we’d expect from him. Whether in his battle with Meek Mill or Pusha T, Drake’s entry follows the typical guidelines for diss records: it comes with a series of jabs at an opponent, which starts the war of words. The goal in a battle is always to disrespect your opponent to the fullest extent, so we find Drake aiming to do just that. We both noticed those jabs, most memorably is “how you big steppin’ with some size 7 men’s on.” We also noticed Drake’s misstep by citing the wrong label for Kendrick when he says “you’re in the scope right now” – alluding to Kendrick Lamar being signed to Interscope – even though neither Top Dog Entertainment (TDE) nor PGLang are signed to Interscope Records. Drake’s lack of focus on just Kendrick would prove a mistake: he disses Metro Boomin, The Weeknd, Rick Ross, and basketball player Ja Morant in “Push Ups.”

While we agree that in a rap battle, the goal is to disrespect your opponent at the highest level, we had differing perspectives on Drake’s second diss track “Taylor Made Freestyle.” LeBrandon felt this song landed because it took a “no fucks” approach to the battle. Regardless of how one may feel about Drake’s method of disrespect (by using AI), the message was loud and inescapable. LeBrandon highlighted the moment when AI Tupac says “Kendrick we need ya!”; outside of how hilarious this line is, Drake dissing Kendrick by using Tupac’s voice – a person with a legacy that Kendrick holds in the highest esteem – further established that this would be no friendly sparring match. Not only did Drake disrespect a Hip Hop legend with this line and its delivery, but an entire coast. The track invokes the spirit of a deceased rapper, specifically one whose murder was so closely connected to Hip Hop and authentic street beef. This moment was a step too far for Todd, who lived through the moment when both 2Pac and Biggie were murdered over fabricated beef.

Furthermore, LeBrandon pointed to the ever controversial usage of AI in Hip Hop, something Drake’s boss, Sir Lucian Grainge, recently condemned (especially when Drake, himself, condemns the AI usage of his own voice). By blatantly ignoring the issues and respectability codes the Hip Hop community should and does have with these ideas, Drake’s method of poking fun at his opponent was glorious. It was uncomfortable, condescending and straight-up gangsta. It also showcased Drake’s everlasting creative ability and willingness to take a risk. Todd acknowledged a generationally tinged viewpoint: this might also be a misstep for Drake because he used Snoop Dogg’s voice as well. Not only is Snoop alive, but Snoop was instrumental in passing the West Coast torch and crown to Kendrick. So when Drake uses an AI Snoop voice to spit “right now it’s looking like you writin’ out the game plan on how to lose/ how to bark up the wrong tree and then get your head popped in a crowded room,” it strikes at the heart of the AI controversy in music. This was not Snoop’s commentary at all. We both agree, however, that the “bark up the wrong tree” and “Kendrick we need ya” lines came back to haunt Drake. We also agree that dropping “Push Ups” and “Taylor Made Freestyle” is Drake’s battle format, hoping that he can overwhelm an opponent with multiple songs in rapid fire.

Todd and LeBrandon’s Hip Hop History Month play-by-play continues on November 11th with the release of Part 2! Return for “Euphoria” and stay until “6:16 in LA.”

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Our Icon for this series is a mash up of “Kendrick Lamar (Sziget Festival 2018)” taken by Flickr User Peter Ohnacker (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) and “Drake, Telenor Arena 2017” taken by Flickr User Kim Erlandsen, NRK P3 (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

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Todd Craig (he/him) is a writer, educator and DJ whose career meshes his love of writing, teaching and music. His research inhabits the intersection of writing and rhetoric, sound studies and Hip Hop studies. He is the author of “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies (Utah State University Press) which examines the Hip Hop DJ as twenty-first century new media reader, writer, and creator of the discursive elements of DJ rhetoric and literacy. Craig’s publications include the multimodal novel tor’cha (pronounced “torture”), and essays in various edited collections and scholarly journals including The Bloomsbury Handbook of Hip Hop Pedagogy, Amplifying Soundwriting, Methods and Methodologies for Research in Digital Writing and Rhetoric, Fiction International, Radical Teacher, Modern Language Studies, Changing English, Kairos, Composition Studies and Sounding Out! Dr. Craig teaches courses on writing, rhetoric, African American and Hip Hop Studies, and is the co-host of the podcast Stuck off the Realness with multi-platinum recording artist Havoc of Mobb Deep. Presently, Craig is an Associate Professor of African American Studies at New York City College of Technology and English at the CUNY Graduate Center.

LeBrandon Smith (he/him) is a cultural curator and social impact leader born and raised in Brooklyn and Queens, respectively.  Coming from New York City, his efforts to bridge gaps, and build  community have been central to his work, but most notably his passion for music has fueled his career. His programming  has been seen throughout the Metropolitan area, including historical venues like Carnegie Hall, The Museum of the City of NY (MCNY) and Brooklyn Public Library.

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  REWIND!…If you liked this post, you may also dig:

“Heavy Airplay, All Day with No Chorus”: Classroom Sonic Consciousness in the Playlist Project—Todd Craig

SO! Reads: “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies—DeVaughn (Dev) Harris 

Caterpillars and Concrete Roses in a Mad City: Kendrick Lamar’s “Mortal Man” Interview with Tupac Shakur–Regina Bradley