First off, thanks go, as always, to Lil B the Based God. I'm amazed at his ability to stay in the game. The rapper/demiurge's curse—once solely the burden of hooper Kevin Durant—has now, as you well know, laid James Harden low, after Harden refused to admit that he was hitting B's well-known "cooking dance" to celebrate during games. The Rockets, and Harden's rep, have since suffered for such insolence. (Fake Based beware.)
Now, I'm not a big fan of schadenfreude (I'm a huge fan), so just picture the smile brought to my face upon hearing that Iggy Azalea's trout-mouth ass has canceled her 2015 headlining tour. Sources for Billboard cited low ticket sales, but Iggy cited a "creative change of heart," later adding that she just couldn't find the right openers. In other words, it was a critical blow to her business when rising singer Tinashe jumped ship from Iggy's Great Escape tour for Nicki Minaj's Pinkprint tour. (Not coming to Seattle—catch her in Vancouver in August.) Tinashe herself noted in interviews that she caught more Twitter hate than she's ever experienced after working with Iggy on "All Hands on Deck." (Meanwhile, the track now has a superior remix with 2015 XXL freshman Dej Loaf replacing Iggy, out just in time for summer.) It would be hard to argue that those two years of social-media mobilization (the loudest individual voice belonging to one incensed Azealia Banks) against the Aussie rapper's casual online racism and flagrant appropriation—of names (Banks was here first), of sounds (how many people thought that "Fancy" was a DJ Mustard beat?), and of accents (her curious insistence on a Southern blackcent while rapping)—haven't spun the hands on Iggy's fame-clock forward a bit.
Honestly, though, I think nothing damaged her as much as the widely memed video clips of her own live performances, especially the laughably unintelligible, spit-spattering a cappella of "D.R.U.G.S." where she says that she's a "runaway slave master"—her infamous homage/rip-off of Kendrick Lamar's "Look Out for Detox." These have made for some of the finest Vines of the century. (Speaking of Vine: I am hugely impressed with what young people have been doing with six seconds. Creating influential movements out of imposed limitations? That's hiphop.)
All that said, we can doubtless expect a more earnest, wounded Iggy next go-round, or perhaps a more poppy approach, eschewing some of the hiphop swagger.
Or maybe she should just team up with Tom Hanks's idiot son. No, not Colin, who was just in town promoting his Tower Records documentary at SIFF. I mean Chester, the would-be rapper Chet Haze. Chet recently got his Instagram account deleted when users flagged it as offensive, after he posted a video defending his holy white right to use the dreaded N-word. How dare anyone deny a rich white man anything on God's green earth?