Ben Grenrock wrote his senior thesis on fiction and truth.
Truth does not have to be real for it to be authentic. That’s not a zen kōan ( not to my limited kōanic understanding), however, it may very well be a mantra Serengeti chants to himself as he sits down to write a new verse. Throughout his prolific rap profession, Geti’s shown himself to have a preternatural gift for wringing a amount of emotional ethics out of his phrases which feels entirely authentic, even when these words are spoken by a character which is not really real.
For example, under the guise of recurrent alter ego Kenny Dennis on 2007’s “Dennehy,” Geti chants a listing of Kenny’s favourite things (Chicago sports clubs, Orange Pops, various breeds of sausage). He asserts that he can coach the Bears to (at least) a ten-win season. He is not complaining about cleaning his basement with a shop-vac, but simply stating that it is something he does occasionally–the matter of reality, innocent over-sharing of a American who purchases the newspaper for the sports pages and perhaps, sometimes, Garfield.
The unabashedly banal cadence with which Serengeti gifts Kenny’s life–not really a comedic deadpan, it is closer to the first twenty minutes of a conversation you might have with a stranger in act of drinking Coors–which makes corner shop runs for ice and eating Kenny’s spouse Jules’ homemade curly fries tangible components of this false identity.
Geti has raised Kielbasas in the punch line they could have been to get a personality such as Kenny Dennis, to totemic symbols of a particular breed of individual reality. Naturally, while rapping as he frequently reaches this mentally relatable sweet place. But whether predicated on the gastronomic proclivities of a literary Chicagoan, or on raw confessions of his own real annoyance, Serengeti’s songs is every bit as impactful. When there’s anyplace to pigeonhole the versatile rapper, it is because yonic sliver of ven-diagram that illustrates the junction of artifice and honesty.
That is exactly where we find him “Hibachi,”–the most recent cut off Serengeti’s forthcoming record, To The Max–premiering with accompanying artwork right on Passion of the Weiss.
Billed as, “Music for your Original Motion Picture To The Max…a fervent tale about mistery [sic], cuisine and enjoy,” To Your Max (the record) might be the closest thing to pure underground hip-hop Serengeti’s dropped in more than a decade–since 2006’s Noticeably Negro. As a rap album, it is great. As an OST, it…well…it might be.
Theoretically, To The Max can make a amazing soundtrack–Vancouver producer K-Rec’s beats are both vivid and amusing; Geti’s words conjure landscapes and close ups, monitoring and panning through a flip book of vicarious sensation; and the combined efforts of the 2 artists set nicely with some chiaroscuro movie, packed with graphics which connote discovery and yearning.
But it is not quite an excellent soundtrack since (at least at the time of this writing) no, “Original Motion Picture To Your Max,” or some description of it, are available anywhere online outside their promotional material such as Serengeti’s album. Googling the director of this film credited at the end of the movie for “Hibachi,” one , yields an IMDB page crediting him just with having led and produced a three-minute Sci-Fi brief entitled Dogs
The veracity of this story “Hibachi” informs is equally ambiguous. Did Serengeti actually adopt non-monogamy after his wife’s lover–a virtuosic hibachi chef–professed his love to her at a crowded Benihana, inducing all of the diner’s in earshot to spontaneously burst into tears of joy? Did this occur to someone Geti knows, and he’s writing from their perspective? Not having a put-on Polish accent and athletics references appears to preclude “Hibachi” becoming portion of this Kenny Dennis saga, however the monitor’s multiple allusions to onions makes it impossible to rule this out for sure.
The truth is, I still do not have the faintest clue. But also, I do not care. It does not matter. Comedic because the preceding synopsis might make it seem, the story “Hibachi” relates is delivered with this kind of delicate character, its characters developed well in only two minutes of audio, that the amount of emotional truth “Hibachi” attains makes that narrative’s area in the historical continuum insignificant. It feels blindingly accurate and accurate, though–potentially–maybe not verifiably real.
The same goes for the query of To Your Max as a soundtrack to a mysterious, eponymous movie. Whether or not the picture exists, the record matches the nebulous film’s tagline. The record “mistery, cuisine, and enjoy,” with evocative imagery and a cohesive mood. And though not precisely storyline, it comprises vividly rendered vignettes for example, “Hibachi,” that seem like well-directed scenes.
For as long as art has been around, expressing what’s accurate has taken precedence over recounting what’s real. Artifice and honesty might appear mutually exclusive, but there is far more overlap than we often realize. Such as the best authors and auteurs, Serengeti has always had a knack for blending the two, making a mix that resonates from the emotional core of the listeners. “Hibachi,” and To Your Max are no different. And while I don’t have any idea where you are able to get the film, you can grab a hard replica of the record, out on March 13, . As of now, there’s just 1 left.