1-800 Suicide
Gravediggaz
By Natalie Silver
Asking Gravediggaz to not glorify mortality in their music would be like asking Snoop to not rap about weed...or CupcakKe to not rap, very descriptively, about sex...or Kanye to not rap about...well...himself.
Gravediggaz are the Richard Pryor of hip hop—and I’m not only saying that because they reference him and his fun habit of freebasing cocaine in the song itself:
“Or be like Richard Pryor set your balls on fire.”
No, these guys are masters and innovators of dark, black humor, an art form which challenges the conventions and etiquette of comedy itself; laughing at, mocking, taunting and jacking off the world’s most universal evils.
1-800 Suicide is the quintessential example of the menacing wit and morbidity that has become the Gravediggaz trademark. The song is great and successful because it’s kind of the most fucked up thing they could possibly write: a how-to kill yourself manual. And they somehow pull it off with swagger and sneering joviality.
One of my favorite things about hip hop, in general, is its use of hyperbole to convey raw, hard-to-swallow truths. In this case, Gravediggaz mock the fragility of the human experience:
“You asked for a Benz and you only got a Jeep,” and
“Maybe you're Sicilian with a tan /
But you hate lasagna and the pizza man”
Then in the later verses, they propose outrageous ways to take the next step, like, “Smoked a dust joint, mixed it with cyanide.”
The song ends with an evil joker laugh over a jocular beat and horns so cheesy they sound like they belong on a game show, a snarling conclusion that salutes death and all of its glory.
Because…how else could they have gone out?
And so I guess this feature is my salute back to ‘em. If you haven’t listened to these guys do it ASAP, ’cause life is short and ‘cause mortality is fragile and—you guessed it—’cause we all die.