CLIPSE

clipse: the indie icon by MAX FURMAN CAN YOU FIT INTO A 6-XL?

On Tuesday, February 27, no fewer than 15 Tufts students made their way to the Middle East in Cambridge for a concert, marking the largest Jumbo turnout I have ever seen at a show that wasn’t actually on campus. So what was the act that drew so many Jumbos out of their Medford cocoon? Was it Snow Patrol, whose mopey TV anthems I hear blasting 24/7 in my dorm, or some ‘80s-rocking indie-band-ofthe-day? Nope, it was Clipse, Richmond, Va. trap-rap superstars, who were in Cambridge to play a two-night jump-off for their 2007 tour.

Clipse are two brothers, Malice and Pusha T, whose fall 2006 release, Hell Hath No Fury, earned them a space on many critics’ year-end top ten lists. Along with the critical acclaim came an unusual new fanbase: people who don’t really listen to hip-hop. In other words, the people who read magazines like this one. Pusha and Malice’s lyrics aren’t any less violent, profane or threatening than any of their contemporaries, nor are their beats brighter or more radio-friendly; Hell Hath No Fury is one of the harshest, least listener-friendly albums I encountered last year.

More interesting to me than the show, which was fantastic, or the songs, which were even better, was the merch table. As Clipse’s set concluded, the entire crowd about-faced and surged towards the back of the room, where we had been told Re-Up Gang shirts were available. But, too bad for short people like me, the shirts only came in sizes 2-6XL. “If you can’t fill it, hang it on your wall!” the merch guy repeatedly said to the horde of flabbergasted, sub-2XL fans.

“2 through 6XL?” one was heard to say. “Don’t they know white people like Clipse?”

And that’s the thing: they do know. They absolutely do. Shortly before he set out on tour, Malice did an interview with Pitchfork Media, a music website with a mostly white audience and staff that has a somewhat-well-earned tastemaker rep. There’s no reason he couldn’t ignore Pitchfork like he ignores Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly. Clipse’s albums and mixtapes are popular downloads, but much less successful as on-shelf products. Even a casual glance across the

crowd at the Middle East would show that white people, even the ones who don’t wear sideways caps and Bapestas, like Clipse.

So, the T-shirts were a challenge. Not “Are you big enough?” since literally no one who is still thin enough to walk under their own power is big enough for a 6XL. The merch guy asked us if we could fill it, not if it was big enough for us. Those who were worthy could wear it with pride. The rest of us could mount it like a dear head - a glorious trophy from our successful expedition into the wilds of a Clipse show. As a business move, it’s very impressive, but I think I’d like it more if it wasn’t specifically designed to make me feel inadequate.

Clipse have managed to turn White America’s entire system of cultural signifiers against us. Pusha and Malice know that a shirt that says “Re-Up Gang” is the 2007 equivalent of a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah shirt in 2005 or an Arcade Fire tee in ‘04. With one deft move, Clipse get to have their fame and wear it, too. By dividing their fanbase in two, they simultaneously acknowledge and subvert their place as hip-hop group of choice for many people who don’t otherwise listen to hiphop. And, most importantly, they take everyone’s money while doing so. I think Pusha himself said it best when, near the end of their set, he remarked, “We got some real Clipse fans in the house tonight.” I finally figured out what he really meant. 

; Max Furmanax Furman wrote this article. When he isn’t missing deadlines, skirting issues or telling his roommate to turn off the TV, Max pursues a degree in building shit that makes cool noises. He consumes a diet heavy in Omega-6 fatty acids, but light on leaves and curry. The long-term implications of this are as yet unknown. Max Furman can also be found on iTunes and other fine digital distributors.