Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr., Maino & S.M.

The Good:

Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. - Produce Vol. 1

Holy crap. This is the best thing that's ever happened to Stack That Cheese. Never did I ever think that I would be writing about one of my favorite indie pop bands in my hip-hop blog, but boy am I glad I can.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. is an indie pop band out of Detroit and just about the last duo one would expect to make a hip-hop-influenced mixtape. Indie pop and hip-hop has long been a common pairing. The likes of Chiddy Bang, Hoodie Allen and even J. Cole have heavily sampled the genre to connect to a larger crowd. And it's not insane to see indie artists like The Neighbourhood go all West Coast on "West Coast." But to see a group so reliant on bubbly synths like Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. turn to hip-hop is a huge surprise.

To say that Produce Vol. 1 is pure hip-hop would just be asinine. Produce Vol. 1 is much closer to Macklemore's brand of hip-hop than Kendrick Lamar's side, but it's still not that close to either. But with a large amount of features from rappers and some clear influence from everyone, from Biggie to Nate Dogg to the Gorillaz, Produce Vol. 1 still qualifies for Stack That Cheese.

Quelle Chris' Ghost at the Finish Line

Where Earnhardt Jr. Jr. accomplishes their goal of reaching hip-hop audiences the most is when they have some actual rappers to help them out. "Old Friend From the Radio" is a good example of how the indie pop duo can do hip-hop without drifting away from the genre they know best.

The song has a beat composed of steel dreams and their traditional poppy synths to give it a Jamaican hop feel. But with Quelle Chris featured on the track, the song drifts into hip-hip territory. Quelle Chris, after an underrated 2013, is perfect for this track. He delivers a quality verse that goes right along with the feel good vibes the duo is trying to get across.

This theme can also be seen with "Curtain Call." Once again, Earnhardt Jr. Jr. has a Jamaican, tribal vibe going on. Asher Roth comes through with a killer quick-paced verse. And with a hook that could have been straight out of Vampire Weekend's self-titled album, the song truly reaches a new level of catchiness.

Gorillaz's Plastic Beach

The Michigan folks also take a White-Pandas-on-steroids role a couple times. Take the song "Beach Boys
Biggie" that, you guessed it, combines the flawless sounds of the Beach Boys and Notorious B.I.G. Earnhardt Jr. Jr. doesn't just leave it as a boring crossover, as they add their own synth pop flare.

I mentioned the Gorillaz earlier as a potential influence for Produce Vol. 1 and that's because they are really one of the few predecessors I can think of for this kind of sound. The Gorillaz accomplished something similar on Plastic Beach, just less indie pop. But the twist that Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. includes on Produce Vol. 1 is by no means a bad one, as the duo creates a memorable genre crossover.

The Bad:

Maino - King of Brooklyn

There's a South Park episode where Stan wakes up one day and starts seeing some of his favorite things as "shit." Like, when he listens to a song he used to like, it just "sounds like shit." It's later found out that this is the result of a horrible disease known as being a "cynical asshole."

Today, I realized I'm a cynical asshole.

I never loved Maino, but I did like a few songs. "All the Above" was a borderline anthem and "Hi Hater" was hella catchy. So, when I saw Maino released a new mixtape, I decided to take a look at the Maino songs I used to enjoy. Well, after many years since my last listen, I can safely say that Maino sounds like shit.

What happened? Suddenly, T-Pain's hook in "All the Above" sounds corny and suffocating. And "Hi Hater" isn't remotely as awesome as I remember. I like to think I've just acquired a more mature music taste. But then I remember I was jamming out to Cashy's "Tyra Dank" yesterday.

But if I'm going to be a cynical asshole, I'm going to use it to my advantage and tear this mixtape apart.

Maino sounds very outdated on King of Brooklyn. And not in the "classics" sense, but the unable to adapt sense. Which makes his claim of being the King of Brooklyn even more outlandish. I mean, Kendrick Lamar is the epitome of a modern rapper and his claim of being the king of New York was received with an insane amount of criticism.

Take the song "Tupac Problem," yet another ridiculous claim by Maino. The beat is boring and repetitive, featuring a collection of rattling hip-hop drums and an incredibly annoying synth piano roll. Also, it's worth noting that if a rapper says he feels like he "got Tupac problems," he shouldn't be starting the song rapping "world" with itself.

Troy Ave

Maino sounds even more like last generation's trash (a hip-hop generation is about five years, tops) when he features young bloods on his songs. "Lights Camera Action" is probably the best song on King of Brooklyn, but that's because it's two-thirds artists not named Maino.

"Light Camera Action" features Meek Mill and Troy Ave. The beat, produced by Alex Cardiak, is significantly better than most of the album, as Cardiak bring epic trumpets and bells to the table. But even when handed potential for an awesome song, Maino screws it up. Not only is his braggadocious verse the worst part of the song, but he also misuses the parts he's given. Troy Ave, who probably has a better claim at Brooklyn's throne than Maino at this point, is probably the most talented member of this cast, but he's forced to do the hook and only the hook.

Looking back, I have no clue why I ever really liked Maino. He's always been a below average rapper and King of Brooklyn just makes this more obvious.

The Re-dic-yu-lus:

S.M. - Select 10

It's just blistering cold outside this winter. People have been getting sick left and right. You have to feel bad for them, sometimes. Especially when that person gets sick right as he's about to record his mixtape.

I'm assuming that's what S.M. had happen to him. I mean why else would he pronounce "five hundred" as "fidehuddid?"

This happens on "500," where S.M. sounds more congested than the Antonio Banderas' Nasonex bee.

This wouldn't be too annoying if he didn't say it over and over and over again. In the hook, he describes everything from his watch to his main bitch to his side bitch as "fidehuddid." This doesn't get any better when the verse starts, either. S.M. is so incomprehensible that I don't even think I can quote him. There's one part where he says something about an onion and how he smells like money (what does that mean?), but that's all I got.

But "500" really reaches its peak in the second verse, rapped by French Montana's Hispanic brother, Taco Montana. Taco is nice enough to give the listener a lesson in math, as he raps, "50 bands on me, that's like fi-hunnid hunnids / My new watch cost ten bands, that's like fi-hunnid double."

Yo quiero Taco Montana

However, a problem arises with Taco Bell's math. You see, if we convert his lyric into some equations with x representing a band, we would get the following:

50x=500*100=50000

10x=2*500=1000

In these equations, x is equal to both 1000 and 100. A typical band is equivalent to $1000 of U.S. currency, so Fish Taco is indeed carrying around fi-hunnid hunnids, but his watch is much more than a mere fi-hunnid double if it does indeed cost ten bands. This makes his wrist accessory quite impressive, but the same cannot be said about Dr. Montana's math.

I guess I should probably comment about more than just S.M.'s congestion and Taco's poor mathematics skills. Basically, S.M. is a horrible rapper who can't be understood. He raps over beats from the likes of Mike Will Made It despite only having 12 downloads at the time of writing, so I'm going to assume he's also a liar. And he also goes by the name 2 Lettaz, so I guess he can count. But he certainly can't rap. Or do math.