Girl Talk - Feed the Animals

Hip-hop is dead.

The Superstar DJ is dead.

Or at least, you’d think so.

DJs thankfully appear not be releasing albums any more, the superclubs are degenerated to tools to sell half-arsed compilations, and Ibeefa is just too bloody expensive for your average Weekend Millionaire.

And looking at the genre as a whole, hip-hop is a stagnant mess of egos, tired beats, and prison sentences, occasionally lifted above the level of dross by few-and-far between albums from the likes of the Def Jux stable, or are-they-hip-hop-or-not releases from the likes of M.I.A. That M.I.A. often isn’t accepted truly into the rap canon could be an indication of her renowned eclecticism, or of a genre digging its heels and refusing to evolve.

“Is it really hip-hop?” is also a question that could be aimed at of Girl Talk’s fourth outing Feed the Animals, the Pittsburgh DJ again throwing together an album consisting mainly of hundreds of samples, with the odd bit of original orchestration (there is yet to be a definite number on exactly how many samples are included, but its well into the hundreds. An incomplete list can be found on Wikipedia, and after only one listen you’ll have spotted something yet to be included).

What blurs the line over the pigeon-holing though is Feed the Animals’ eclectic variety of samples. Underneath various rapped verses from otherwise tedious artists, we’re smacked in the face with myriad other rips.

If these samples do defy the album’s hip-hop credentials, then we’re not sure exactly at which point it loses ghetto credibility.

Is it the inclusion of M.I.A.? We’re not sure where to categorise her, admittedly, but its more likely to be the skinny-white-boy indie rock of the likes of Radiohead, Blur and Yo La Tengo that moves the album out of the Hummers and onto suburban coffee-tables.

Even more likely still, it’s the amount of music generally reserved for pre-pubescent girls and middle-aged Tesco shoppers (who should really know better): Avril Lavigne, Kelly Clarkson, Pink et al.

Yet more likely to dissatisfy hip-hop purists is the amount of sheer cheese, though. Dexy’s Midnight Runners, for fuck’s sake!

What’s amazing though, is that on the whole, this works, and it works excellently. There’s so much to take from this LP. Gain indie points from spotting the Unicorns and Of Montreal, or sit in amazement as a Kraftwerk and Velvet Underground backdrop makes Low by Flo Rida not only listenable, but enjoyable. Wonder why the bloody hell you’re listening to Journey, or why nobody has used My Sherona as a hip-hop beat before. Wear out your rewind button trying to spot Rod Stewart, or hope nobody you know thinks you’re actually listening to Vanilla Ice. Or just stick it on, switch your brain off and dance your arse off.

Critics wondered whether previous release Night Ripper would date poorly, with many of its samples very much of its time, but the sheer range of the music involved means that each listen reveals something intriguing and new, even if you’d rather not still have to listen to Fatman Scoop. Whilst Girl Talk has once more sliced up the ringtone charts and thrown them into his musical blender with the inclusion of the likes of the ubiquitous Soulja Boy, Rihanna, and everyone’s favourite sample Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger, again there are enough stone cold classics torn apart to keep the record almost timeless, whether from bona-fide hip-hop greats (ODB, Missy Elliott, Public Enemy) or the likes of The Cure and The Beach Boys.

Whether Feed the Animals is accepted as a hip-hop record is unclear, but to deny it would be to suggest that rap is completely averse to any innovation or inspiration. To accept it would suggest there is still life in the genre, and that Girl Talk may well be the Superstar DJ to save it.