I was in Target when I got the news. I feel my phone vibrate, and I see a text that contains a sentence I won’t soon forget: “Mac Miller is dead.”
The sound of the plastic wrap tearing off of the case, the first look of the artwork on the booklet, taking the disc out and popping it into the stereo for the first time; this ritual took place every time I opened a new CD.
Words cannot even describe how much Scott Mescudi’s music has meant to me over the years. I am sure I'm not the only one. It has been in my headphones, my car, my room and my laptop.
Once hip-hop artists make it out of the hood and have some influence, why is that criminal lifestyle they might have once lived still their main subject matter?
You thought you knew Frank Ocean. You thought the man that disappeared for four years would return with just a follow up to the acclaimed "Channel Orange."