Music • March 9, 2006

Truth Hurts

Minneapolis rapper P.O.S. tells it like it is.

by Jamie Gadette

Stefon Alexander is the guy in the R-rated movie, the guy you’re not quite sure whether or not you like yet. If album art is any indication, there’s a strong chance he’s completely off his rocker. Images of blood dripping and chicken wire binding strained necks lend a macabre vibe to his 2004 CD Ipecac Neat and the recently released Audition.

Such visual horrors are compounded by the records’ abrasive, ire-fueled sounds. Alexander, aka P.O.S. (which on any given day stands for Pissed-Off Stef, Promise of Skill and other mood-oriented acronyms), channels rage through a poison pen, attacking everyone from President Bush to Carl Weathers and Fresca-loving numbskulls. It’s little comfort that the Minneapolis-based rapper is just as likely to turn the rage inward. In fact, self-deprecating lyrics only heighten perceptions of instability.

Perhaps more unsettling, however, is the growing sense of complacency that develops once you’ve listened to Audition for several days—the way certain songs seep into your subconscious until lines like, “Let me treat you like a doll and snap your neck in my hands,” become pleasant phrases on par with “Let’s go for a stroll in the park!”

That’s when it hits you: P.O.S. isn’t crazy—he’s mad as hell and he’s not going to take it anymore. His anger, far from irrational, is understandably rooted in frustration over global and domestic strife. Rather than simply lose all faith in humanity, P.O.S. “writes rhymes that rhyme, right?” to shake people out of apathy.

“It doesn’t frustrate me that the world is still f—ked up. Offering a reasonable solution to a problem is always worth mentioning—that’s as far as I can take it,” he says from the road on his 50-city tour, adding that while he might come across as furious, his songs are pretty hopeful. “I’m not sulking and brooding all of the time. I’m excited that people are even listening to my songs. It feels good to get a room full of people on the same page.”

Same page, same room, same album melding different genres. P.O.S. doesn’t align himself with one particular group, sound or culture. He began his music career in high school as a punk-rock drummer before flowing prolific on the mic. His continued allegiance to punk confuses those who can’t wrap their head around a hardcore emcee who defies typical definitions of rap-rock. Try as they may, his identity can’t be replicated. Good news for P.O.S. The very thought of being labeled as some sort of Limp Bizkit or Linkin Park clone freaks him out.

“I’m trying as hard as I can to stay away from that sound,” he says, adding that some critics cringe at such forthright defiance. “I know a lot of traditional hip-hop heads aren’t into me. They think I’m not doing it right, but I feel like what I’m doing is the same as everyone else.”

Not quite. Few, if any, rappers incorporate the sort of samples that drive Audition. Mariachi guitar and Latin horns mingle with Asian-style strings, silent-theater organ and eerie buzzsaw metal, scratching against rough, insistent beats. Unlike Ipecac Neat, however, P.O.S.—along with producers Lazerbeak and Emily Bloodmobile—embraced a minimalist ethos for his sophomore release.

“I feel like my vocals and the patterns can end up being pretty dense. On the first record, a lot of the beats were incredibly busy,” he says. “It’s more fun to write against something that’s really open and spacey.”

Besides giving rhymes space to breathe, P.O.S. enforced few restrictions on Audition’s length and tone. In fact, he pursued experimental additions, namely the somewhat quirky performances by Bouncing Souls’ mouthpiece Greg Attonito (“De la Souls”) and the Hold Steady’s Craig Finn, “Safety in Speed (Heavy Metal)”. Digitata’s Maggie Morrison coos the creepy aforementioned refrain about dolls and snapped necks, her shivery-cool voice suggesting terror like a seductive siren.

Unusual guest stars perfectly complement P.O.S.’s eclectic aesthetic. It’s no wonder his ideal collaboration involves Spoon’s Brit Daniel. “That’s the biggest dream that could ever come true,” he says, adding that there are a million bands he’d love to get in the studio.

In the meantime, P.O.S. channels the need for coupling into Doomtree, the Wu-Tang-structured hip-hop crew/label behind Sims, Dessa, Cecil Otter and, of course, P.O.S. The workaholic rapper also fronts hardcore foursome Building Better Bombs, issuing addictive, firebomb anthems with gruff growls and shouts. The seemingly separate side-project actually informs his more rhythmic day job.

“It’s really not any different—you have music and you put words to it,” he says.

Wait. Belting out harsh rock tunes is the same thing as crafting rap lyrics? “Well, clearly there’s a difference,” he says, clarifying his initial knee-jerk response. “The songwriting process is the same, the performance is not. I work with whatever sound I get. If I get a beat tape from Doomtree, whether it’s a banger or Latin-flavored, if it inspires writing, I’ll use it.”

It helps if the beats are loud and abrasive—if they conjure images of blood and group suicide. There’s nothing wrong with that, right? We’re all just a little R-rated.