Word: hipping
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...curiously (or perhaps not so curiously) lacks on the list of illustrious elite in one group of artists: rappers. The hustling thug-life portrayed by popular rappers may seem incongruous with Harvard’s academic atmosphere, but for the participants of OUTWIT 2009, the combination of Harvard and hip-hop could allow audiences to overcome any preconceived notions of the two. OUTWIT, a freestyle rap competition that also features spoken word, beatbox, and song, is an annual event held by Tuesday Magazine—taking place this year on April 26 in Ticknor Lounge—that offers...
...universe where the unreal is realized. The band’s name is even seen in lights not once, not twice, but four times. In short, they “don’t care what you’ve been taught.” In this hip trip, you can live whatever Technicolor dream you like. Underlying the whole crazy experience, though, is a theme of burning love. It doesn’t matter that battles are raging and bodies are raving: “Sure I know it’s apocalypse,” Reggie sings...
...tell this customary story of the gangster’s American dream, employing his signature overt metaphors and clever lyrical innuendos to demonstrate his experiences and successes in the drug trade and the rap game. Certainly, the album’s unoriginality is indicative of the times in hip-hop. Though Ross’s album features a variety of appearances—from tenured authorities such as Nas to some leading next-generation artists such as Kanye West, Lil Wayne, The-Dream, and Ne-Yo—the all-star cast mainly provides gentle, melodious hooks laid over...
...However, Worth isn't the first magazine to cost $20 an issue. Many foreign fashion magazines hit that mark after being shipped to U.S. newsstands. Self Service, a scarily hip magazine out of France, is $75 an issue. A subscription to Visionaire, the biannual-or-so journal cum art book, is $675 for four issues. And then there's the bimonthly quantitative finance magazine Wilmott, which is $695 a year, or about $115 each...
...much all the bells and whistles you'd expect somebody to have if they couldn't communicate to you in spoken syllables. An odor of marijuana in the front, there. Very exciting. Well, not really. Sort of awkward, actually, for a hopelessly un-hip blog, which doesn't have time on a Sunday afternoon to get blasted out of its gourd so that it can fake like it's "feeling the music...