Tracks
The Pack/The Cataracs: "Vans/Blueberry Afghani"
(2006/2006)
By Kevin Yuen | 29 January 2008
They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but seriously, what the fuck? Ever since Ice Cube went Jackin' for Beats and turned bad meaning bad into bad meaning good, it’s been opposite day (cocaine glory rap, anyone?). Or rather, it hasn’t been opposite day, if I can go there. And it doesn't just stop at the Puffy/Trackmasters incest, either. These kids The Cataracs out of “somewhere in the Bay”, are also adept at taking xeroxes of songs that aren’t even worth biting. The Pack's “Vans,” or as it’s known in conversations “that Vans song,” has been transformed into “Blueberry Afghani,” right down to the squirrely, compressed chorus, without so much as a “remix” or “Part II” tag as an excuse for the pinch.
I’m not saying these two tracks are identical. They just both feature minimalist keyboard drums, humming, rolling basslines and sped-up vocals that accent nonsensical lyrics about shoes and drugs, respectively. And, sure, I could be whining about half of rap music nowadays, but we know conclusively that there’s a loose affiliation between these two East Bay posses, as one Catarac postmodernly spits, “So what it do? I do what it do / All my n*ggas blow trees same color as the shoes / in the Wolfpack so we gotta show love / And I got my Vans on but they look like sneakers.” Seriously, though, if you plug both into iTunes and take a deep huff of rubber cement, you’ll have a hard time telling one from the other.
When I first heard the Wolfpack song, I was unimpressed. People on the internets have been coming at it saying that it's a bite of snap music, another faded phenomenon that I do not understand (Let's see, “We use snap sounds, so let's call it snap music.” Does that mean that Herbert has made “Shit Music”?). “Vans,” which was put together by some Berkeley High School students, has been big in the Bay for about a few months -- enough for me to be sick of it. But regardless of my passive bragging, the song is built for no shelf-life: the chorus repeats about fifty times, “Got my Vans on / But they look like sneakers.” Which, while tiring, also begs the question: What? Vans aren't sneakers? I guess literally, sneakers are tennis shoes, and Vans are skate shoes, and skate shoes maybe aren’t sneakers, or are denying their sneaker heritage. This is some finicky semantics for a song that’s a commercial for being anti-commercial. Regardless, for some reason I don't think the Pack intended to spur drawn-out arguments about the etymology of footwear vernacular, which is probably why I still can’t figure out what they’re talking about.
Nonetheless, the newfound obsession of rap-skate culture (thanks Lupe!) and a catchy, sing-songy chorus is launching this “Vans” ditty (not the other one, not yet at least) into the national spotlight. Rumor is that MTV banned the video, however, because it dismissed the track as simply a big advertisement for Vans. This goes to show MTV cares about protecting consumers and integrity and keeping its marketing and creative departments separate. On a totally unrelated note, pass the Courvoisier, please.
So what did we learn today? Buy Vans. And when you go equipment shopping, go alone so the whole crew doesn’t come home with the same keyboard and then make the same song. And rubber cement makes things better. Or worse. I can never remember with that opposite day shit.
I’m not saying these two tracks are identical. They just both feature minimalist keyboard drums, humming, rolling basslines and sped-up vocals that accent nonsensical lyrics about shoes and drugs, respectively. And, sure, I could be whining about half of rap music nowadays, but we know conclusively that there’s a loose affiliation between these two East Bay posses, as one Catarac postmodernly spits, “So what it do? I do what it do / All my n*ggas blow trees same color as the shoes / in the Wolfpack so we gotta show love / And I got my Vans on but they look like sneakers.” Seriously, though, if you plug both into iTunes and take a deep huff of rubber cement, you’ll have a hard time telling one from the other.
When I first heard the Wolfpack song, I was unimpressed. People on the internets have been coming at it saying that it's a bite of snap music, another faded phenomenon that I do not understand (Let's see, “We use snap sounds, so let's call it snap music.” Does that mean that Herbert has made “Shit Music”?). “Vans,” which was put together by some Berkeley High School students, has been big in the Bay for about a few months -- enough for me to be sick of it. But regardless of my passive bragging, the song is built for no shelf-life: the chorus repeats about fifty times, “Got my Vans on / But they look like sneakers.” Which, while tiring, also begs the question: What? Vans aren't sneakers? I guess literally, sneakers are tennis shoes, and Vans are skate shoes, and skate shoes maybe aren’t sneakers, or are denying their sneaker heritage. This is some finicky semantics for a song that’s a commercial for being anti-commercial. Regardless, for some reason I don't think the Pack intended to spur drawn-out arguments about the etymology of footwear vernacular, which is probably why I still can’t figure out what they’re talking about.
Nonetheless, the newfound obsession of rap-skate culture (thanks Lupe!) and a catchy, sing-songy chorus is launching this “Vans” ditty (not the other one, not yet at least) into the national spotlight. Rumor is that MTV banned the video, however, because it dismissed the track as simply a big advertisement for Vans. This goes to show MTV cares about protecting consumers and integrity and keeping its marketing and creative departments separate. On a totally unrelated note, pass the Courvoisier, please.
So what did we learn today? Buy Vans. And when you go equipment shopping, go alone so the whole crew doesn’t come home with the same keyboard and then make the same song. And rubber cement makes things better. Or worse. I can never remember with that opposite day shit.