Thursday, Sep 4, 2008
Is Sarai the music industry's eagerly awaited lady Slim Shady?
Sep 20, 2003 | For the past few years, the music industry has been on a quest for something that sounds vaguely like a feminine hygiene product -- something it hopes it found this summer: Feminem. That's as in "female Eminem." As in a miniskirted version of the bleached-blond, hot-tongued rapper who delved deep into the hearts and pockets of America, making hip-hop fans of suburban teens and baby boomers alike.
It seemed a natural progression. First, Col. Tom Parker found Elvis, a Mississippi white boy who belted out rhythm 'n' blues with enough sneer and swagger to make ladies swoon. Then über-producer Dr. Dre found Eminem, a Detroit white boy who spits rhymes with enough skill and surliness to make critics swoon. The pop industry's next idea for a Great White Hope is tantalizing: a white girl, from anywhere in America, who could serve up hip-hop with enough feminist posturing to excite teenage girls and enough cleavage to excite their boyfriends.
Candidates were rounded up. First was Princess Superstar, a Jewish-Italian diva with X-rated rhymes who released an indie album in 1995 but made her way, several years ago, into Rolling Stone. Blond as she was, the princess proved too raw -- and, no doubt, too zaftig -- to be a pop powerhouse. Then there was Northern State, a trio of Long Island femmes more Beastie Boys than Vanilla Ice. Their highbrow lyrical lines -- what rhymes with "Chekhov"? -- earned them critical nods and a hipster fan base, but alas, no Eminem-like explosion seems in store for these liberal-arts poster children (though they did sign, earlier this year, with Columbia).
But now, courtesy of Epic Records, comes Sarai. Straight outta Kingston (Kingston, N.Y., that is, a middle-size town on the Hudson River). If the name -- a bit too conservative, a bit too biblical -- seems an ill fit for a rapper, feast your eyes on Sarai herself. She's Britney Spears meets, well, just Britney Spears.
Once word leaked that a major label had signed a 20-year-old strawberry blonde as its hottest new rapper, the magic word "Feminem" began to be whispered in industry camps and music mags. With decent reviews in Rolling Stone and a full-page spread in the New York Post, Sarai indeed seemed Eminem-esque enough. Raised, like Slim Shady, by a relatively downtrodden single mother, she dabbled in lyricism and was discovered by small-name hip-hop producers at an Atlanta gas station. She soon found her way into the beats of Scott Storch, founding member of rap ensemble the Roots and producer for, among others, Christina Aguilera and Eminem himself. Storch told CNN.com that the first time he heard Sarai, he heard "something different." She was "sort of hip-hop with a white female, and actually bringing it off like a real sister."
A real sister. The word alone is enough to make a blue-eyed soul diva quiver with pride. It's the compliment of all compliments, the stamp of authenticity for white artists venturing into so-called nonwhite musical domain. It's long been bestowed on men who could claim "soul," from Elvis to Justin Timberlake. But female crossover artists have their legacy, too. Think Sophie Tucker, a 1920s Broadway Yiddishe mama (sort of a female counterpart to Al Jolson) whom many, sight unseen, took for black. Think Janis Joplin. Think Rick James' protégé, Teena Marie, deemed the "honorary soul sister" of the '80s by Vibe magazine, or '70s singer Laura Nyro, about whom Patti LaBelle said, rehashing what's now a cliché, "She is a black woman in a white girl's body." More recently, think Nikka Costa, whose critically acclaimed album and its Aretha-esque single "Like a Feather" inspired one magazine to label her "some unholy amalgam of Janis Joplin and Teena Marie" (in other words, an honorary honorary soul sister).
Historically speaking, then, though more male white artists have built careers on the claim that their supposedly soulless pigment belied a soulful soul, there's been a fair share (no pun intended) of female ones who've done the same. For every Eminem, there's a Feminem. Right?
Not quite. The problem with this theory is, 1) Sarai is no Feminem, and 2) there will most likely never be one. That's because our current notions about men and women and crossover don't really allow for a white woman who's as "authentically" hip-hop as Eminem proved himself to be -- as authentically hip-hop, really, as the cultural guardians of all that is "true" hip-hop require him to be.
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