2008 Woodie Awards
Three 6 Mafia
By: Jordan Selbo
Issue date: 4/28/06 Section: The Arts
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Predicting the winner of this year's best song at the Oscars was easy—how could a Memphis horror-core group with foundations in…
Predicting the winner of this year's best song at the Oscars was easy—how could a Memphis horror-core group with foundations in quasi-satanic goth-rap not win over Dolly Parton and those other lames? Oh, you didn't know that Three 6 Mafia (now 15 years deep) used to be known as Triple 6 Mafia (as in 6-6-6)? The only cats to make an almost phobic avoidance of innovation…well, innovating.
To say Three 6 has a distinct style is an understatement on par with “George W. is a dummy.” Even if the moniker now masks their horror-core roots, increasingly claustrophobic beats and relentless flows damn sure don't. DJ Paul and Juicy J combine wall-to-wall organs set to creepy minor keys and weeded violin strings, all on top of skittish hi-hats on helium and basslines syruped up something awful (“sippin' on some siz-erp”). Lyrically the 6 keeps to, ahem, familiar material—though getting older, these three cats are still pimping, spliffing, syrup sipping and Henni mixing, collar popping and big billing Memphis representers—in other words, the laundry list of tired gangsta clichés, more or less.
That's why the first few listens left me with vague feelings of emptiness and discontent. To be fair, I've recently been knee-deep in classic joints, my love of (and hope in) Hip Hop reinvigorated by everyone from the Jungle Brothers to Edan. These Three 6 dudes just sounded like aging gangstas unwilling to elevate creatively (or too comfy to care—Ice Cube, anyone?). But dutifully, I gave the album a few more spins, and wouldn't you know…the 6 grew on me, respect due. `Cause for all their tired truisms, there're just as many grown-ass man truth-telling sermons (and by sermons I mean violent verbal beat downs).
Predicting the winner of this year's best song at the Oscars was easy—how could a Memphis horror-core group with foundations in quasi-satanic goth-rap not win over Dolly Parton and those other lames? Oh, you didn't know that Three 6 Mafia (now 15 years deep) used to be known as Triple 6 Mafia (as in 6-6-6)? The only cats to make an almost phobic avoidance of innovation…well, innovating.
To say Three 6 has a distinct style is an understatement on par with “George W. is a dummy.” Even if the moniker now masks their horror-core roots, increasingly claustrophobic beats and relentless flows damn sure don't. DJ Paul and Juicy J combine wall-to-wall organs set to creepy minor keys and weeded violin strings, all on top of skittish hi-hats on helium and basslines syruped up something awful (“sippin' on some siz-erp”). Lyrically the 6 keeps to, ahem, familiar material—though getting older, these three cats are still pimping, spliffing, syrup sipping and Henni mixing, collar popping and big billing Memphis representers—in other words, the laundry list of tired gangsta clichés, more or less.
That's why the first few listens left me with vague feelings of emptiness and discontent. To be fair, I've recently been knee-deep in classic joints, my love of (and hope in) Hip Hop reinvigorated by everyone from the Jungle Brothers to Edan. These Three 6 dudes just sounded like aging gangstas unwilling to elevate creatively (or too comfy to care—Ice Cube, anyone?). But dutifully, I gave the album a few more spins, and wouldn't you know…the 6 grew on me, respect due. `Cause for all their tired truisms, there're just as many grown-ass man truth-telling sermons (and by sermons I mean violent verbal beat downs).
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