V-Ice
It’s been said that good artists create, but great ones steal. If that adage is true, then Vanilla Ice might be the greatest artist ever to walk to face of the earth. 1990’s To the Extreme aped Hammer’s sample-heavy hip-hop lite, 1994’s Mind Blowin’ swiped Cypress Hill’s stoner shenanigans and 1998’s Hard to Swallow pilfered Korn’s nü-metal schtick lock, stock and angsty barrel. His latest effort, Bi-Polar, combines several of these influences, delivering one disc’s worth of nü-metal and one filled with alleged raps.
On the back cover, Todd Bridges’ nemesis tries to sum it up with a lengthy list of bipolar indicators, including “flights of ideas, racing thoughts and increased strength and energy.” But the clinical definition of bipolar disorder includes several warning signs that Winkle Winkle Little Star conveniently left out. Or did he? Nope, nope, baby. Every element of a truly deranged mind is at play on his new record.
Depressed mood: All I see is hate; can’t understand why/And now it’s like the whole wide world’s got me hypnotized he complains on “Hate.”
Diminished interest in normal activities: Animal sex with a twist like a rabbit, he threatens on “Hot Sex.”
Significant weight gain: I was as big as Jay-Z … Eatin’ shrimp with my feet up made me lazy, he confesses on “Hip Hop Rules.”
Psychomotor agitation: I’m seeing widescreen/So much red Visine can’t get it out, he boasts on “O.K.S.”
Fatigue or loss of energy: Sit back, relax/I’m igniting this bong/Picture this: sandy beaches, dimes wearin’ thongs, he snores on “Tha Weed Song.”
Recurrent thoughts of death: To die is all we got/Six feet down our bodies rot/As our souls get released/Next our carcass lays deceased, he promises on “Molton.”
Perhaps one day, a doctor in some basement laboratory will invent a cure for Vanilla Ice disease. Until then, the man responsible for the theme to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze will continue to be hip-hop’s most mentally deficient shoplifter-at-large.
