MC Chris, MC Chris Goes To Hell

MC Chris is a hilarious white hardcore rapper, one who reminds me of Eminem because of his high-pitched voice and his amazing sense of humor. His new album, MC Chris Goes To Hell, is easily the funniest rap album I’ve ever heard, but beyond the humor, he’s really a very strong, fast, confident rapper. He’s able to change beats and rhyme schemes many times on a single song.

I was introduced to him by my friend Heidi, who described him as a nerdcore rapper who raps about Star Wars. I was promised an entire song about Boba Fett. Honestly, though, if you liked Eminem’s first record more than the others he’s done since, you’ll love MC Chris Goes To Hell. This just sounds like a continuation of what I thought Eminem was going to do before he chased the traditional Godfather, elder-statesman syndrome that rappers get when they get rich.

I thought Eminem would pursue the Slim Shady character with a David Bowie-like dedication to the character arc. I thought we’d see Eminem through the depths of his ecstasy and house music phase, into the rock-bottom phase, into rehab and rebirth, alright. I just thought he’d be just as clever and funny and honest as he was at first, and that he’d be recording the whole time. He started out as a rave kid, and became a reclusive mogul. More Dr. Dre than MC Chris’s “suburban counter-culture” drug freak.

And that’s the good thing about Chris: he’s as dirty, fast, and funny as Slim Shady was in his early 20s. Chris is older than me (he’s 35), but the songs are pleasantly immature. On the album, he sounds like a teenager, and that’s not because of his skill level — it’s because of his hilarously squeaky voice and the lyrics. They’re too funny, risky, and inspired for a 35-year-old to come up with. He goes at this subdivision scumbag with the dedication borne of a child living in his parents’ home in a gated community who may never leave his parents’ home. He acts like he can be an impulsive street criminal because his parents are rich enough to keep him out of jail. The songs as likely to be about sex and drugs and petty crime as any gangster rap, but the music is very white danceclub beats. The comedy sketches between songs are generally him behaving despicably toward his manager. And none of it’s safe for work (NSFW); ha.

It’s post-rave techno hardcore nerdrap, and it’s wonderfully nasty. It’s dance music for people who don’t (won’t) go to dance clubs. It’s possibly the truest literary representation you can find yet of the Lost Generation, anywhere. And you can find him this week in Houston — Thursday, June 17th, at Walter’s On Washington with MC Lars. You should go dressed as Darth Nihilus.