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M.O.T. record cover
 

Music
CULTURAL CRITIQUE
Stereo-tripes
When corporations milk ethnic clichés for money, the real loser is you.

BY JOHN GRAHAM
243-2122 EXT. 312


In the seared and tarnished melting pot that is American society, cultural stereotypes are publicly abhorred. But for the capitalist whores who'll screw anyone for a buck, generalizations aren't evil; they're a crucial selling tool: Laundering money is a lot easier when you separate the whites from the colors. Such ghettoization happens every day in the music business. Read the industry rag HITS and you'll see how "urban" (that is, black) musicians are marketed separately from the bleached-white boys of country, the tough hard-rockers isolated from fluffy adult contemporary. Perhaps the worst outrages of niche marketing occur when the products themselves exploit stereotypes in the name of satire: The inherent contempt that record company execs have for their audience peeks through like a bruise that makeup can't fully disguise.

Two such albums recently found their way into the offices of WW.


19.99: Members of the Tribe
M.O.T.
(SIRE/WARNER BROS.)
There have been Jewish rappers before (you may know of some boys named Beastie), and there was even a group that parodied Hebrew clichés (2 Live Jews). Still, M.O.T. should offend anyone to the left of Minister Farrakhan and Professor Griff, the latter of whom was booted from Public Enemy for his antisemitic comments. On 19.99, the duo of Ice Berg and Dr. Dreidle don't just play upon enduring stereotypes--the Jew as greedy, gimme-a-lox-on-rye, all-goyim-gotta-die professional--but wear them like a mantle of pride, like gangstas speaking Yiddish instead of Ebonics. It could be argued they're attempting to reinforce subcultural solidarity, as do gay cabaret acts that make fun of "Macho Man," yet the fact that these two cater to dated formulas and fictional elements of Jewish culture that are both generalized and commonly despised exacerbates the nation's division upon ethnic lines. A few lyrics are clever ("I sold my Chevy to the Levys, but the Levys can't drive"), but others rely pathetically upon Borscht-Belt schtick so anachronistic that Jackie Mason would blush. An example is "Double Dutch Lunch," a song about the duo's genetically bred stinginess in which they brag about divvying up "half the [tax], half the tip...split down the middle, let's itemize each nibble." Thanks to M.O.T., antisemites trying to paint Jews into a penny-pinching corner don't need the extra gallon of whitewash. And listen to "So Sue Me," where they rhyme, "I don't need a Glock when I tick and I tock/I trade so much stock, I own the whole damn rock.../So sue me! C'mon do me!/My uncle is a partner at Silverman & Clooney." Don't they remember how the Nazis tried to scapegoat the Jews as monopolistic merchants? And now the Hebrew bros of M.O.T. want to be portrayed as gefilte-fish-eating gangbangers with a literally killer business instinct? It's supposed to be funny; I'm not laughing.

ENTERTAINMENT INDEX: 4
INSULT INDEX: 8


Vincent Laguardia Gambini Sings Just for You
by Joe Pesci
(COLUMBIA)
That's Vinny to you, pal--as in Pesci's character from My Cousin Vinny. Those who found the ethnic humor in that film a stretch probably won't like the album, and neither will those who believe mafia movies have permanently tainted the Italian-American image. The latter is especially true for Pesci, who exaggerates his Oscar turn in Goodfellas for comic effect here ("What? Do I entertain you? Do I make you laugh?"). Sometimes his badass gangster persona is truly humorous, as when he sings to a swing number ("Take your love and shove it up your big fat ass," admittedly not very Sinatra); plays the hackneyed lounge lizard teasing the band ("Ah, ya play like a buncha crooks!"); and chastises a children's Christmas choir ("All right, which one of you little pricks stole all of the fuckin' candy canes? Fuckin' reform school brats"). Occasionally, however, Pesci pushes the boundary of good taste, falling into the role of the typecast Italian male seething with sexism and machismo. On the rap number "Wise Guy," for instance, he boasts of his violent life of organized crime and how he "treat[s all his] broads like trash...it's the bitches that'll git yas." On the angry blues revenge number "I've Got News for You," he threatens a cheating woman: "Your story don't ring true/I'll whack you and your family, too...Big or small, I'll fuckin' whack 'em all...I'll put pennies in your eyes, motherfucker, and rosary beads in your hands." Scorsese's art had subtlety, avoiding simple condemnation. Pesci doesn't.

ENTERTAINMENT INDEX: 6
INSULT INDEX: 6

The one defense for both albums is that self-stereotyping is self-spoofing--you can't be bigoted towards your own kind. That's true, to a point. But when our culture is already compartmentalized nearly to the point of class warfare, why aid those who would divide and conquer? And even more importantly, why help them make money? The answer is: don't.

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Willamette Week | originally published November 18, 1998

 

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