|
|
January 29, 1999/12 Shevat 5759, Vol. 51, No. 18
Swimming with the gefilte fish - the Jewish take on gangsta rap
SALVATORE CAPUTO
Special for Jewish News
By the time Jan. 1 arrived this year, many of us were pretty tired of hearing how we were "gonna party like it's 1999."
M.O.T.'s version - "Tonight you can party for just $19.99" - is not only unlikely to be as overused, but it's much more relevant for a group that knows that 5759 will be its year.
M.O.T. (Members of the Tribe) puts a Jewish spin on the world of "gangsta rap," while taking cracks at punk rock, Latin music, the Beatles and anything else that strikes their tongue-in-shtick fancy. M.O.T.'s album "19.99" (the title, not the price) on Sire/Warner Brothers Records juxtaposes the tough-guy rap of N.W.A.'s Dr. Dre and Ice Cube with Jewish-American stereotypes.
Dr. Dreidle and Ice Berg, as Hillel Tigay and Andrew Todd Rosenthal have respectively dubbed themselves in their M.O.T. incarnation, play the incongruity of the images for laughs.
It wouldn't work very well, though, if Dreidle and Berg weren't students of hip-hop. Using initials for the name of the group evokes N.W.A. (N-words with Attitude). Radical hip-hoppers Public Enemy incorporated a gun sight trained on a white man into their logo, but M.O.T. has its gun sight trained on white bread.
To Dreidle and Berg, a "homie" is a "shlomie;" their "bros" are "Hebros;" and their brand of rap is "Hebe-Hop." Rap impresario Suge Knight becomes Meshugge Knight, and "Sgt. Pepper's" becomes "Sgt. Shlepper's." In M.O.T.'s hands, the rap-show cliche "throw your hands in the air like you just don't care" becomes "throw your hams in the air like you just don't care. Then, wash your hands and join us in prayer."
Playing to the gangster cliche, they find a Jewish way to insult the police, who become "the other white meat and that ain't kosher," and sing the praises of Meyer Lansky and Bugsy Seigel in a Latin-flavored rap called "Havana Nagillah."
The results of all this commingling of hipster lingo and Yiddish can be equally funny and profane. Unlike the rappers they emulate, Dreidle and Berg don't utter the F-word much, but they use a Yiddish equivalent fairly often.
Instead of being about bullets and violence in the hood, Dreidle and Berg's songs concern themselves with things such as lunch (they're pictured at a deli table on their album cover) in "Double Dutch Lunch;" their uncle's courtroom prowess in "So Sue Me;" and finding a parking space with time on the meter in "Town Car." However, there is some mayhem in "Kosher Nostra," where there's talk of Sol "The Butcher" Klugman and Milt "The Tailor" Thuggman slicing someone up, and people swimming with the gefilte fish.
Probably the best moments on the album belong to Berg's mom on "Oh God, Get a Job." Berg makes this plea: "Mommela, my wallet's getting svelte. Shalom to the dome, could you lend me a little gelt (money)?" A short time later we hear Mom's actual voice kvetch, "Oh God, get a job!" In rhythm, no less.
Although it's primarily a rap album, the music is surprisingly melodic and catchy. Don't be surprised if you find yourself humming to the chorus of "Viva Oy Vegas."
Even the over-the-top "Psychosemitic," worthy of the punk-rock icons the Sex Pistols, manages to stay in the realm of the easily listenable (except, of course, if you can't stand R-rated language).
Even though they take comedic potshots at Jewish stereotypes, M.O.T. clearly is driven by ethnic pride. M.O.T. shows that anything worthy of honor can stand up to a few jokes.
|
