I’m often asked how to become a successful blogger. I usually answer “Do the opposite of whatever you see me do”. I also often get asked why I haven’t cracked the so-called blogger ceiling after almost 5 years of nonstop writing. I know why. It’s because I’m too fuckin’ awesome and people are just jealous of me.

It’s because the entire Hip Hop journalism world is filled with haters that want to hold me back from progress. It’s actually because…of neither of those reasons. I’ll tell you why, it’s simply because of ME. The blame falls squarely on me.

My nonstop crusade to preserve my integrity and not bite my tongue is the reason. Am I aware that I need to be able to compromise at some point to reach my desired goals? Sure, I do. Can I be diplomatic? Yes. Will I ever actually choose to? It depends. Are there any guns drawn? No? Then FUCK NO. That’s why…

I’d like nothing more than to have features in XXL or The Source. I’d love to do a list for Complex one day. Will any of those things ever actually happen? Maybe not. Possibly. HELL. FUCKING. NO. Let’s go back and break down how it’s possible to be respected by many of your (as well as my own) favorite Hip Hop journalists and have published well over 1000 pieces online for numerous sites since 2006 but to have seemingly little to show for it.

Let’s use some hypotheticals, shall we? Let’s say that back in 2006, after posting up some well received blogs on AllHipHop.com I was e-mailed by a Hip Hop magazine and asked if I’d be interested in doing a piece about Chingy. Imagine if my reply was that I’d rather drink 5 straight shots of Drano before I’d ever write about that talentless waste of skin. I’d imagine I wouldn’t be asked to do anymore pieces from them ever again. Who am I kidding? That actually happened.

You may be wondering to yourself, if you actually want to achieve success in your chosen field then wouldn’t you just go along and play the game? Would I like to? Yes, in theory. Problem is that the game ain’t about shit right now. While I was born at the right time but I didn’t actively get into the Hip Hop journalism field at the right time. I feel almost like Matty Roth in the graphic novel DMZ writing about conditions and cataloging events in a newly razed New York City following a brutal civil war.

I spend just as much time writing about how fucked up Rap has become as I do breaking down to my readers exactly how we got here. I cannot bring myself to write pieces about music I hate by “artists” I don’t respect produced by producers I know suck who are A&R’d by assholes and signed by complete idiots whose bosses KNOW everything’s fucked up but are still trying their damnedest to wring blood and money from stones. Is that a run-on sentence? I’m pretty sure it is. Do I give a fuck? Not. One. I’m…just being honest © Andre 3000

It’s like I told Sacha Jenkins when I met him @ Fat Beats last month. He was a REAL Hip Hop journalist. I came up reading his stuff in Beat Down, Ego Trip and beyond. By the time I decided to enter the fray, the Hip Hop journalism game was essentially like the irradiated Wastelands from “Fallout 3” and I’m left piecing together the events that led us here and documenting what’s currently happening (at least what I personally feel is worth writing about). I’ve been told by several people that I remind them of Spider Jerusalem from “Transmetropolitan”. Just one problem. He was a fucking comic book character & I’m real. At least I think I am…

Why would I take an assignment, even if it’s for money to write about what I feel is trivial when there are so many other things worth shedding light on? Does anyone really need to hear my take on anything Rick Ross made? The important thing is I PERSONALLY don’t feel the need to write about Rick Ross. The things that I feel passionately about that keep me up at all hours of the night are what I really want to write about, after all. Fuck you think I blog for? To push a fuckin’ RAV 4? No.

I don’t do myself any favors. When Wire UK wanted to hire me to write Hip Hop reviews for them back in 2008, I was asked to submit some sample reviews. I complied. However, when I was given notes and asked to edit them (I was looking to earn 20p a word) I simply wrote back “I’ve decided against your offer because I can currently write whatever I want however I want and your pay just isn’t worth me giving up that freedom”. I actually wrote that. To Derek Walmsley. A world renowned album reviewer and music journalist. I clearly don’t value having a career in this field, do I?

Now let’s discuss my release from eMusic, shall we? I officially got the job in December 2008 after writing a much heralded (and much visited/read) 2008: Year In Review blog for them that they paid me enough to buy Christmas presents for my entire family with. Shortly afterwards, they began ducking me because I was too…efficient.

First clue should’ve been when they offered me a job to write 800 words about 10-12 albums and gave me two weeks to do it. When I sent it back 18 hours later and wrote about 20 instead (The original draft had 20 albums on it. They edited it down to 15. Red flag #1) they should’ve already known I worked fast.

The problem started on my first ever review for PPP’s “Abundance”. I was given a month (from December 6th to January 6th) to write 200 words for $100. I’d just recently gotten $500 from them so I just took my time & submitted it on the 3rd. I was given notes and edits a week later and I sent back a perfectly edited review (half of it newly written) in only 15 minutes. I know Joe Keyes was shook after that.

eMusic paid $100 per each 200 word review. However, there were these things called “Dozens” where you could write about a specific genre or sub genre in depth spanning 10-12 project for $500 a piece. All I had to do was wait until April as I had three dozens already written and ready to go. One for Grime and two for instrumental Hip Hop (for which no previous dozens existed).

I was being limited to writing two reviews a month and when I pitched a new review after my second one for Blame One’s “Days Changing Days” (which dropped in March. It was still January) was approved, all of a sudden no one wanted to answer my requests to review Exile’s “Radio” which was dropping that month (Red flag #2). Then Joe sent me an email saying that he was tapped out in the budget until March. That was bullshit because I got all of the automatic send all pitch e-mails to the other freelance writers.

He knew I wrote too quick and I was requesting/trying to line up three reviews per month. I wrote about 50 reviews a month for free on Poisonous Paragraphs back then so writing three 200 word reviews in a 30 day span was a cakewalk for me. I just wanted to do that until I got to submit my already written dozens in April. I could just chill until then…right?

Wrong. My payment for my January review came a week late, in the second week of February. I’d pitch a review and go two weeks with no response but I’d see Joe offer multiple album reviews to other writers and freelancers often. I thought the budget was dry until March? In late February, four indie rock albums that dropped the first week of March were pitched to whatever freelancer wanted to pick them up. That is, besides me. I was being frozen out. Just wait until April, Dart. Wait until April. You’re gonna fuck this job up, aren’t you? YES, I’M IS.

We’re halfway through March and although I’d pitched 5 reviews since I did the 2008 Year In Hip Hop piece back in December and that PPP review back in January, I’d get shut down and told no to pitch until March when the budget’s cleared up. I waited. I pitched. No response. I had the Blame One “Days Changing Days” review due on the 24th but I was already going on two months being ignored and not paid. What the fuck, son?

The clincher was when everyone @ eMusic got on planes to head to Austin for SXSW 2009. This meant money for all the writers that were there. I saw all the assignments come down for the multiple pieces and reviews in the “All” e-mails sent to the eMusic writers. Somehow I was supposed to believe that I couldn’t write another $100 review in a span of more than two months (January 6th until March 24th)? Don’t forget, I wouldn’t get paid until the first week of the following month after I did my review. What good is a job that doesn’t even PAY you?

I had my lone review for Blame One’s “Days Chasing Days” due March 24th on the board. I was given the green light to review it back in the first week of January, mind you. Before I finally wrote my 200 word review for it I tweeted that I was less than enthused with my current situation. The next day, I got on Gmail and submitted my review. 5 minutes later I received my walking papers in the form of this email:

I was asked to write for eMusic by Joe Keyes on November 29th, 2008 and I was fired by Joe Keyes on March 23rd, 2009. In that stretch of 114 days that I was an employee of eMusic I made a grand total of $600 on only two pieces and 1000 total published words. I was ignored and turned down at every turn but I thought that I should bite my tongue for fear of losing my precious “job”. A job that never paid me.

I was not my usual self and I felt like a fraud for allowing that kind of fuckery to go on as long as it did. And why? Because of the potential of money coming in the near future? Fuck that! Since that episode I’ve been even more against whoring my words out in fear of again compromising my integrity. Thanks for the opportunity to be as broke as I already was, fellas. I threw myself back into doing what I did best without anything hanging over my head.

I’m essentially still the same cat that when I was given my first ever review assignment by a Hip Hop website back in 2004 for Nelly’s “Sweat” LP I listened to said project then submitted the terse take “Fuck this album.”. I was informed via email that I needed to expound on my review and there was a 240 character limit per album review.

I did some quick math in my head and realized there were 16 total characters in “Fuck this album.” so I just copy & pasted that statement 14 more times and re-submitted my review 5 minutes later. I was told via email another 5 minutes later that my writing services were no longer needed. In two weeks time, that same website was no longer in existence. Fuck ‘em. I’m still here.

In my so-called career, I’ve managed to piss of damn near every print magazine, a great percentage of online ones, a few record labels and even a few film studios. I’ve had rivalries and feuds with a number of journalists and bloggers alike. I’ve critiqued my own friends and even people I respect. If I’m going to tell the truth, I might as well do it across the board. No one is exempt. Myself included. There’s no one on Earth who can hate on me or do more damage to my own career more effectively than I can. Trust me on that.

In conclusion, I don’t recommend that anyone follow my path or look to me as any type of role model. All of mine are very flawed individuals that refused to do things anyway but their own and it often worked out to their own detriment. I suggest that you all do the smart thing. Play the game. Get ahead. Compromise when you can. Then hone your craft until you get to a position of power where you can then do what you’ve always wanted.

It’s too late for me. I’ve said “Fuck you” to too many of the wrong people. I’ve made enemies of too many of the wrong people. Who am I kidding here? I’ve made enemies of all the RIGHT people and there isn’t one human that I’ve been critical of that I’m willing to take back. I said it. I wrote it. I meant it. I’ve contributed to several books now so it’s time to write my own for a change. And to think, I did it all without ever being a worker.

I’m currently entering the 5th hour of my third rewrite of this blog since Friday while I have “Medicine For Melancholy” playing on my DVR. I’ve been sitting in the same chair since 4 AM and my 17” Powerbook G4 is beginning to make weird noises. As I look up and watch this film I simultaneously bemoan Tyler Perry’s existence, wonder why more films like this don’t exist and begin planning a piece about the sad state of modern Black film.

These are the kind of things that move me enough to spend 6 hours or more writing about them on a machine that could literally die at any time. I refuse to waste any of my words or time on banal or mediocre music, film, artists or subjects merely because I’ve been paid to do so. Keep your fuckin’ money.

I’m going to write books, graphic novels, screenplays and even direct films. I WILL have to compromise. I WILL have to be diplomatic. In order to make my dreams become reality I’ll do all of that when the time comes, but for now? No fuckin’ way. Be the broke but rare writer that can sleep with a completely clear conscience when I ever DO sleep? I’ll be dat! © Redman

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