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I re-watched Citizen Kane this week and got to feeling sad that we don't really have "tycoons" anymore. We have super-rich people, we have talentless celebrity types, we have Rupert Murdochs and Ted Turners of the world quietly sitting back, controlling media and wrinkling under an electric blanket. I couldn't pick either of them out of a lineup of other pruny white men. Gone are the days of the charismatic Charles Foster Kane, the politician, media mogul, gaudy mansion-building playboy hybrid. Closest I could really come up with was Oprah, and for some reason she hasn't yet run for office. (I would vote for her.)
For my money, rappers fill some of this cultural void. They're wealthy, they're stylish, they often have embarrassing trophy wives, and they're highly adept at merchandising. There's a special kind of Charlie Kane-like delusion required to create a designer clothing line of literal rags (Kanye), or to parade a bunch of other extremely wealthy celebrities out to a press conference and try to sell fans an over-priced and barely functional music app under the guise of supporting artistry (Jay Z). I didn't pay for Tidal, and I can make my own rags at home, but I so enjoy the spectacle. It's a kind of throwback financial narcissism that makes me want to own a Jay Z special-edition Monopoly board.
I'm from the Bay Area, where I'm pretty sure new condos are being built out of literal gold now (sturdier, for earthquakes). There's so much money floating around, and yet as a place it's still kind of devoid of hyper celebrity. Robin Williams was our primary movie star, and well, sadly, he retired. I suppose there are people who could spot Elon Musk or Sergey Brin on the street, but again, are they standing next to other nondescript white dudes? All I see is teeth.
In the Bay, the celebrities I hold most dear are rappers. Spend enough time in Oakland and you're gonna bump into Too $hort. Sometimes you might bump into Too $hort while you're waitressing at the terrible theme diner of another wealthy Bay Area musician (Mike Dirnt) and Too $hort tries to recruit you and some of the other waitresses to "work for him." Rap is all about a side-hustle, shoes, clothing, streaming apps, pimping, as it is about empire-building.
I respect E-40's brand of mogul-ing because it's down to earth, and it's so firmly rooted in the East Bay, a place I love deeply. E-40 knows that what his fans want most out of his empire is a refreshing glass of mango-flavored moscato and a remix specifically about the Warriors being in the playoffs (Go Dubs!). He's owned a hip-hop club as well as a Fatburger franchise, and was the first person to bring a Wing Stop to the Bay Area. Those wings are delicious, and I thank him. E-40's entrepreneurship isn't delusional; it's exactly in tune with his fanbase. Not to mention that his physical stature and lowered eyewear choices give him the look of an actual tycoon. Five minutes ago, I could have sworn that E-40 sometimes wears a monocle, and Google has proven me wrong. Turns out, I have been mentally projecting a monocle onto E-40 all this time. That's how fucking classy E-40 is. I would vote for him for any office, and the first campaign meeting for "E-40 for President" starts in Portland, at the Roseland, tonight. I'll bring the Sluricane.
SEE IT: E-40 plays Roseland Theater, 8 NW 6th Ave., with Stevie Stone and Cool Nutz, on Wednesday, May 13. 8 pm. $25. All ages. E-40 will be signing bottles of Sluricane at Tualatin Liquor from 11:30 am-1 pm, Rose City Liquor from 2:30-4:30 pm and Stateline Liquor from 5:30-7:30 pm.
Willamette Week