“˜Coke rap’ fandom based more on class than race

To add to an already very long list, one of the many commercial rap albums I am eagerly anticipating is the Clipse’s “Till the Casket Drops.” This, of course, is the follow-up to the much-delayed and wildly acclaimed “Hell Hath No Fury” of 2006.

However, “Hell Hath No Fury” was not nearly as commercially successful as it was critically.

The question remains, then: Can the Clipse maintain critics’ breathless admiration while increasing its cash flow?

Or is the real question why am I rooting for them so hard? And why do critics love them so much anyway?

First of all, let me clarify what the Clipse is all about.

The Clipse consists of brothers Terrence and Gene Thornton (Pusha T and Malice, respectively), often in direct collaboration with production-duo superstars the Neptunes. Together, the Clipse and the Neptunes have had a string of modest hits, including “Grindin'” of 2002 (samples of which are all over Girl Talk songs, just FYI), and 2006’s “Mr. Me Too” and “Wamp Wamp (What it Do)” ““ the latter of which was also remixed by Girl Talk.

But sonically, the Clipse is so much more than its singles. The brothers Thornton are some of the hardest, wittiest and most agile MCs ever to touch a microphone. Of course, all of their verbal salvos are delivered over icy, futuristic and unsettling Neptunes beats ““ all blips, squelches and eerie samples.

So what’s standing in the way of their commercial dominance, if they’re backed by Pharrell Williams and are proficient rappers?

All they talk about is cocaine.

All the time.

Cooking it. Selling it. Spending money made from it.

And this is where things get messy, at least critically.

Because of the Clipse’s almost unilateral focus on alternately seedy and fantastical visions of the world of cocaine kingpins, it has gained legions of obsessive and nerdy (read: white) fans, has received a great degree of critical backlash because of this fan base and, in my opinion, has been unable to craft a bona fide pop hit.

Basically, if you find any discussion on what has been termed “coke rap” on the Internet hip-hop community, you’ll find an accusation that only white fans really like the music. Or just that white fans like the music too much.

For example, certain landmark coke rap albums such as “Hell Hath No Fury” garnered rave reviews from mainstream rock criticism outlets. Given that most of the mainstream rock critical establishment is white, this was taken as a sign that white people had become smitten with coke rap, and for dubious reasons.

On top of that, the Clipse and other rappers who focus on coke, such as more recent releases from Ghostface Killah, have become “OK” for indie music fans to like.

Some accused white listeners of getting vicarious thrills from listening to lurid tales of cocaine from a drug culture they may never know.

Even though I am admittedly a white fan of rap music that sometimes does focus on the cocaine trade, I reject this assertion.

First of all, this would seem to suggest that white hip-hop fans will listen to anything that has to do with cocaine. This is patently untrue. At least in my experience, just because cocaine is involved doesn’t mean I’ll like it.

For example, Atlanta rapper Gucci Mane discusses crack cocaine all the time, with one of his albums called “Back to the Traphouse” featuring a cover with a shirtless Gucci (the best kind ““ look at that adorable pot belly!) in front of an oven with a gas can on it, a clear reference to cooking cocaine into crack. The thing is, Gucci Mane is hot garbage.

The difference is that the Clipse consists of phenomenal rappers, while Gucci is a complete buffoon on the mic.

Here’s a sample Gucci lyric: “I’m the sun / And the moon / Cartoon / Yellow blue / Who are you? / And what are those? / That’s not a rose.” I’m not even kidding. On the other hand, the Clipse manages to rhyme “cloud hoppers” with “gobstoppers.”

My point is that just because cocaine is touched on doesn’t mean that it’s automatically the subject of tongue-wagging from white critics. It has to be good. That may sound elementary, but a lot of the so-called coke rappers are actually really good at what they do with wordplay. It just happens to be that they’re all about coke.

And maybe this is a good thing, because in their single-minded focus on the drug trade, they’ve managed to avoid dumbed-down wordplay and singles created strictly for play in clubs. They’ve stayed hard, and critics love them for it.

And to those who would suggest that fandom of coke rap is due to lurid fantasy lives, you’re absolutely right. But this is not a limited phenomenon. Middle-class people have been enjoying the fantasies of crime from the dime novel to “The Godfather” to “Scarface” to “Ready to Die.” This whole vicarious living thing is nothing new and has more to do with class than race.

So the next time a fellow fan calls you out for being too into Underground Kingz, just quote the line from “Big Pimpin'” where Bun B turns a public service announcement into a battle rhyme: “Go read a book … and step up your vocab.” Coke money can’t buy creativity like that.

If you know way too much drug slang because of rap music, e-mail Ayres at [email protected].