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"Stop Sleeping on B. Dolan" -  Reply with quote

By: Brandon Backhaus
I donít even know if heíd agree that heís getting slept on. Maybe heís really all above it and shit and feels like the people who are supposed to relate to his music relate to it; who gives a steaming meadow muffin about those that donít or havenít yet? I do know that I donít hear his name as much mentioned when listening in (read: stalking your blogs) to the really hip (uh-huhm) music blogger types talk about dope rappers. Iím sure those guys are all talking about Liíl This anna Yung That with best of Ďem.

But this is Syffal remember. A publication (?) that produced a five minute birthday video tribute of Timís face photoshitted on Mark Holtonís to the tune of ďWind Beneath My WingsĒ. Like, weíre so swagged out, ham skillet.

What the Fuck was I talking about? Oh yea! The sexiness that has been named B. Dolan Ė a man whose face would also make for a good Fred Flintstone overlay.

Strange Famous might be the most appropriately named record label in existence. B. Dolan is like the middle linebacker on a foozball team of fucking weirdos, not the kind of weirdos you avoidÖ well, I avoid, but the kind that I seek out. I see Sage Francis and B. Dolan as inheritors of a certain beatitude. Maybe it was their success in being able to impress some questionable judges that their poemís 3 minutes in the spotlight was the slammiest!?

I dig that these guys can rock a fucking real deal concert venue and at the same time convince a coffee house full of freaknicks theyíre just the snappiest. B. Dolan is a bleeding pen spilling a true storytellerís narrative into the mouthpiece of a megaphone. When it comes to B. Dolan, I have to confess, Iíve never been fortunate enough to see him live. So maybe, for this article, Iím the real audience.

On the Paid Dues stage, a husky, red, white, and blued, bald headed and certifiably bearded Dolan pays tribute to Evel Knievel, and relays his message to a ďlittle cripple boy, with cancer, who was blind, and had AIDS,Ē that nothing is impossible! Itís performance art unlike anything done anywhere else in hip hop. Ok, maybe that was hyperbolic but the shit is original. And Dolan has a nutsack like a Macyís Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. The dude does not give a Fuck!

Bombzo Way? Have you guys seen Bombzo? Get a load of this shit: itís one part Saw, one part Gwar, one part Bill the Butcher, one part Krusty the Klown, and one part fucking Abbey Hoffman or some shit. Definitely on some other shit: riot instigating, make your dad mad, here to hold up the mirror so you can piss yourself off shit!

B. Dolan seems to understand something that many of todayís artists either fail to realize or outright neglect. Tweeting about Kony is literally the least you millionaire slactivists can do! Art is political.

I hesitate to even call B. Dolan a rapper. Heís so much more than that. I donít mean that to discredit dudeís gum chops. His halitosis is as funkatonic as the next microphone polisher Iím sure, but rapping is just one arrow in the quiver. He understands that with a great microphone comes great responsibility.

B.Dolan is proprietor of, the consumer advocate corporate watchdog wiki. (In a tragic case of sausage fingers, in a previous ragwipe I mistakenly said the site was defunct, but as Iíve been assured that the cause is very much alive and digitally kickiní. Mah bad!)

He has been blessed by the likes of Bob Holman and has yelled his poetry louder than anybody else at the Nuyorican. Heís openly challenged hip hopís so-called inherent homophobia with the Church of Love and Ruin.

Heís part agoraphobic emo rapper, and over-the-top performance artist. Heís a dystopic prophet.

There is no separation between church and stage. Just like our forefathers wouldíve wanted it, bruh!

With a slew of tour demos, mixtapes, and singles, Dolan has managed a level of productivity on par, or surpassing, many of his contemporaries. Dude is on his hustle. He has two full-length LPs, 2008ís final version of The Failure, and 2010ís Fallen House, Sunken City. In a continuation of being guilty of personally sleeping on ole Bernard, I confess I donít have either.

I havenít completely fucking pirated them either. If Iím going to pick them up Iím going to pay for them. Not because Iím some kind of draconic anti-piracy wonk, but because, while ripping Youtube videos is a reality of getting your hands on this music sometimes, I believe in genuinely supporting artists that you respect.

I respect the man tits off B. Dolan.

Freals though, I gotta pick up these records once and for all. B. Dolan is worth it. Somebody call the goddamned orderlies, gets me off this Craftmatic, slaps on the loony jacket, and straps me down in the padded cell that is B.Dolan.
Post Fri Mar 30, 2012 8:52 pm
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