C-Rex pictured at right.
I first discovered C-Rex when reading my friend Richard’s fantastic and long-running zine, Disposable Underground. His interview was pretty straightforward.
“I don’t know shit about hip hop, but I think it’s hilarious. I don’t pay attention to it, but like any American, it’s constantly being crammed down my throat. I love it for its comedic value, but I hate the big name rappers today for failing to take advantage of the incredible exposure they are getting.
In theory, most of these guys are rhyming about the illest, most disgusting sexual shit, which is what C- Rex is all about, but if they are going to be that ridiculous, they might as well be a lot funnier than they typically are. Not only are they talking about sick shit, but the most unsuspecting people of all ages and races eat it up. And then for some asinine reason these MCs feel the need to undercut the beauty of their opportunity to spit nasty shit at America and instead insist on discussing how many cars and necklaces they have.Who gives a shit? Life is about booty and prescription drugs.The big hip hop names who are all relentlessly claiming to be ‘so real’ are total bullshit.And most of these motherfuckers don’t even have skills! They just put ‘yeah’ or ‘nigga’ at the end of every line, like that shit rhymes.
I went to high school, man. Point being, I am above hip hop. C-Rex started dropping the ill shit when he realized that he was the only pervert on the block who was willing to own up to it. So I made my thoughts rhyme, started telling stories of the girls and drugs I experimented with on the weekends in high school. I don’t use silly code words for the filthy shit that I want to say and I don’t hold anything back. And every syllable rhymes. Just the fact that some of these absurdly rich MCs today are rapping over whack beats, talking about boring shit, and can’t even rhyme. I don’t know anything about rap, but I figured if I was gonna take a stab, I wasn’t gonna be a pussy about it. And look at me now: I am coming back with The Rex Erection and I already have all the rhymes written for my 3rd LP, Rex 2 Riches.”
He ends with a pretty clear mission statement, too.
“I’m not like other MCs. I’m not a thug. C-Rex doesn’t care about money, cars, jewelry, or clothes. I’m about interracial sex, the West Coast heady nugs, shattering backboards, oxycontin, a future without pants, and the concept of an eternal spring break.And beer. People don’t want to accept that this shit is real. Dust busters won’t admit it, but America needs C-Rex.They need to buy The Rex Erection.”
My friends and I marveled at the conscious ignorance and, during the summer of 2007, laughed our collective asses off at Rex’s ridiculous videos for “All You Thugs” and “Honey Dipped Blunt,” in which he described himself as a “buttcrack fiend, I was born a freak” and his penchant for giving “third degree burns when I blaze up your vagina.”
Flash forward to about a week ago. I just remembered the jams, and wanted to buy Rex’s record. Just today I got a Paypal refund from his record label stating that all physical copies are gone and will likely never be reissued, and that I should scope his new band from Portland, The Mean Jeans. Oh snap, I thought. More consciously ignorant whiteboy party hip-hop?
So I find the new band’s myspace and lo and behold: total Ramones worship, steeped in a Andrew-WK’s-more-immature-younger-brother atmosphere not too far from the world of C-Rex. And there’s Rex himself—now going by Jeans Wilder— doing a dead-on copy of Joey’s singing and Johnny’s guitar playing for a bunch of mad catchy anthems focusing on…you guessed it…partying. I seriously want to buy this record.
Meanwhile, Rex's previous label forked over the MP3s for The Rex Erection. If you ever wanted to see a Wierd Al-esque dude rap about the aforementioned debauchery, you should probably get on this. Some of the beats are pretty great, actually.