Da Backwudz are gay-friendly. That's insane. They are openly, unexpectedly so as 1) rappers 2) Southern rappers (machismo is as important as 808 beats to the Southern-rap template), and 3) rappers who are seemingly proud of their anti-cosmopolitan status above all else (I mean, check the name!). But still, wade through the swamp of the Decatur, Georgia-based duo's subject matter found on their just-released debut Wood Work. You'll hear about rappers Sho-Nuff and Big Marc's Chevrolets, Cadillacs, chronic sacs, chrome flats, oxtails, collard greens, fried chicken, rice and beans, crooked women, pole sliders, baby mamas, pacifiers, microphones, MPs and super-hot 16s. And then you'll hit track 12, the maudlin "Feelin' Lonely".
The track follows the downward trajectories of three young subjects. Between (unrelated) tales of drug overdose and HIV is that of Rick, a popular high-school student, valedictorian and captain of the football team, who's outed, persecuted and ends up killing himself. Yes, we've heard it before. This is no feat of storytelling -- Da Backwudz are merely snapping an archetype into a cliché. What's impressive here has to do with context. Wood Work is Da Backwudz's debut, so it's not even like they're repenting for previous homophobia a la Common. Without being asked and without saying "fag," Da Backwudz paint the picture of a queer who's not even queeny, but, in fact, "a regular jock." The group is so sensitive (the interlude that comes before "Feelin' Lonely," featuring an inspirational call from one of their moms tips you off to this sensitivity) that they make sure there's no question as to who's at fault in the story -- Rick or his homophobic peers. Da Backwudz spell it out in the last line of the verse: "The same classmates wept at his eulogy." Rick loses his life, everyone else loses, period.
All this from a group that's unafraid to invoke the name of God or to put a religious angle on hardships. In Da Backwudz's extended bio on MTV.com, member Big Marc comments directly on "Feelin' Lonely, saying: "We talk about some stuff that's going on and makes you be like, 'Man, the devil is busy.' It makes you sit back and think about what we're saying." Whoa. Bashing as the work of the devil? There's an idea! How nouveau-Christian of them.
That's the good news. The bad news is that "Feelin' Lonely" is kinda wack. The production reminiscent of Eminem's ugly "Stan," the chorus attempts to recall the Roots' "You Got Me," and the song itself, as a series of heavy-handed, cautionary tales, recalls Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch's "Wildside." But this isn't to hate or discourage. Maybe those kind of broad strokes are needed, considering the flagrantly idiotic and immature nature of homophobia ("You're different! Ha ha!"). At this point, it's probably too much to ask anyone to make a conscious effort to reversing Fiddy's "gay isn't cool" philosophy. Maybe a 16-bar after-school special is the best jump-off we could ask for.
Or maybe it's all just savvy PR, the chance for the attention of a demo that hip-hop almost uniformly ignored (I didn't go into Wood Work with the knowledge that Da Backwudz were 'mo bros, but I wouldn't be writing about it if they weren't, either). Certainly, it's to the group's benefit to net as many fans as possible, and that seems to be the sonic ideal anyway, as something like "The World Could Be Yours" erases hip-hop's Mason-Dixon line, by laying the South's snappy percussion under a Kanye-esque speedy, yanked soul sample. Forget their name, there's nothing too country about Da Backwudz, or too Southern for that matter (sonically, the album is somewhere between the melodic post-crunk of T.I.'s King and the kaleidoscopic brassiness of OutKast). The all-things-to-all-people mindset also means that their bleeding hearts are no match for their throbbing pulses: Sho-Nuff bemoans the abandonment of education for "sex, drugs, money and booze," even though "I'll Do," "Smoke N Ride" and "Makin' Money, Counting Hundreds" celebrate the first three would-be evils, respectively.
But ultimately, you get the feeling that Da Backwudz are just good guys. I mean, they're comfortable enough with their collective masculinity to spit atop "You Gonna Luv Me," their first single, which sampled a show tune (and not just any show tune, but Jennifer Holiday's diva-zilla turn from Dreamgirls, "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going"). "Not in my backyard?" Hardly. Da Backwudz provide a safe place.
