The Perfect PokeRap: is it really perfect?
What is perfection?
Does objective perfection in art even exist?
No, it doesn’t, but what does exist is the
next best thing: the masterpiece.
Artists are remembered by their masterpieces.
We don’t say F. Scott Fitzgerald was a great
author because of his entire library of writing,
most of which was honestly only so-so.
We remember him because he wrote The Great
Gatsby.
We remember Michaelangelo for his sculpture
of David.
We remember Kanye West for that tweet about
being given a water bottle while you’re
asleep during a flight and waking up being
like “oh great now I gotta be responsible
for this bottle of water.”
Because like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Michaelangelo
and Kanye West, an artist’s masterpiece
is the culmination of their life’s creativity
and labor into a single expression of art.
In April 2019, artist Brian David Gilbert
unleashed his own masterpiece onto the internet:
The Perfect PokeRap.
An 8-and-a-half minute rap odyssey with multiple
movements spanning various genres and media,
and naming all 812 monsters from the entire
history of the Pokemon series up until that
point, thus fulfilling the famous philosophy
of Pokemon, “gotta catch ‘em all”.
Okay sure, sounds impressive, right?
A dude lyrical miracles a bunch of made up
words.
But isn’t it a bit conceited to label your
own magnum opus as “perfect” in its very
title, though?
What exactly is it that makes the Perfect
PokeRap such a masterpiece?
Why am I asking so many rhetorical questions?
Well, there’s only one way to find out.
(TITLE: MITTO UNRAVELS BDG’S PERFECT POKERAP)
So to unravel whether or not the Perfect Pokerap
is a masterpiece, we first need to understand
what a masterpiece is.
While the term nowadays is primarily used
by YouTube video essayists to mean “I like
this thing, please give me clicks”, if we
go back and look at the original source to
find its true meaning, Wikipedia defines masterpiece
as “a work of outstanding creativity, skill,
profundity, or workmanship.”
Meeting any one of these criteria would constitute
a masterpiece.
So if something hits all four, then it’s
gotta be a masterpiece, right?
Let’s start with skill, in particular Brian’s
rapping skill.
I mentioned “lyrical miracle” before,
which is this idea of super fast rapping.
Eminem is the poster child for this style
of rapping, think of his songs like Godzilla
and Rap God.
In the opening movement of the perfect PokeRap,
Brian names 210 Pokemon over 2 minutes and
8 seconds.
In a particularly speedy section towards the
end, he manages to list off 24 of them over
a 10 second period.
Let’s compare that to the speed rap section
of Rap God, in which Eminem spits 101 words
in 16.5 seconds.
Em obviously the much wordier bar here: He’s
got 6.1 words per second compared to Brian’s
relatively meager 2.4 words per second.
But some words can be much more of a mouthful
than others; it’s not so much the word count
we are interested in, but the syllable count.
Brian’s average word length is just over
3 syllables long, whereas Eminem’s is only
half that at 1.5.
So when you factor in word complexity, Brian
considerably closes the gap with 7.4 syllables
per second, compared to Em’s 9.6.
Brian gets 77% of the way to the speediest
part of Rap God, a song in which Eminem equates
his unmatchable skill in rap to how quickly
he can run off bars.
It was literally in the Guinness Book of World
Records for being really fast.
The way Brian achieves this is through his
flow style.
It’s no coincidence that he averages 3 syllables
per word, as it allows him to use the triplet
flow.
Brian mentions this in his presentation beforehand,
and calls it the Migos or Versace flow, after
the Migos song Versace which uses the flow.
Versace popularized the use of the speedy
triplet flow which is often paired with trap
beats to create the modern style of hip-hop
that is so common nowadays.
So not only did Brian modernize the PokeRap
by updating its roster, but he brought its
sound into modern relevance as well.
Then in a beat switch that would make Sicko
Mode envious, the song transitions into its
second movement honouring the stylings of
the original PokeRap.
It’s a more traditional, simple boom bap
kinda beat with a more relaxed and playful
flow.
Brian calls it the “educational rap” flow,
but you can definitely hear inspiration from
pioneering east-coast hip-hop acts, such as
A Tribe Called Quest.
Not only in his flow but also in his lyrical
wordplay, incorporating Pokemon names as puns,
and also engaging in socially conscious themes
such as anti-drug education…
Anti pharmaceutical drug industry education.
Brian is bringing together an entire history
of rap into one song.
From the early 90’s east-coast hip-hop to
Eminem’s mainstream explosion in the naughties
and the modern triplet flow.
Brian showcases his skill across all these
various styles, mastering the art of rapping.
So yes, it is a masterpiece of skill.
Let’s move on to Creativity.
In order to completely understand the Perfect
PokeRap’s merit as a creative masterpiece,
we need to understand Brian’s creative process.
Thankfully he outlined exactly that in a 20
minute presentation that preceded the legendary
event.
In this presentation he mentions the idea
of gesamtkunstwerk.
This is a sort of high watermark of creativity,
the pinnacle of art you could say.
From German it translates to “total artwork”
and represents the coalescing of multiple
artforms into a single vision - a piece of
art unifying all its disparate creative elements
to tell an overarching story.
Brian says that in order for the PokeRap to
be perfect, it needs to be a gesamtkunstwerk.
We already talked about how he brought together
different styles of rap, but it needs to go
much deeper than that.
So he goes about incorporating different artforms
into the song to represent various groups
of Pokemon: interpretive dance, ice sculpture,
a fireworks display, and so on.
It would be easy for me to just end it here,
use that as evidence that the PokeRap is a
gesamtkunstwerk and therefore a creative masterpiece.
But I want to zoom out for a moment and consider
the entire Perfect PokeRap Unraveled as a
package - both rap and presentation, because
one is not complete without the other.
Sure you could listen to the Perfect PokeRap
by itself, but you won’t understand why
it’s perfect.
You won’t know the story of Terry the Tangela,
the importance of the big pharma line as anti-drug
education, the use of audience participation.
These two parts - the rap and the presentation
- complete each other, and what’s the definition
of perfect?
“To bring something to completion.”
The Perfect PokeRap Unraveled is a gesamtkunstwerk
when viewed as a whole.
It draws on the artforms of song, spoken-word,
dance, stand-up comedy, musical theatre, online
video, the TED Talk, powerpoint, and unifies
them into a single, complete work of art.
The Perfect PokeRap Unraveled is a creative
masterpiece.
Thirdly: the Perfect PokeRap Unraveled as
a profound masterpiece.
*sigh* I’ve been dreading this one.
As the scope of the PokeRap continues to grow
with all these increasingly elaborate artforms
to represent different Pokemon, Brian eventually
realises that his ambition is too lofty and
the project cannot be achieved within his
time constraints.
It’s just not possible to give each Pokemon
the unique contribution that they all individually
deserve.
Realistically, he can only do something meaningful
for around 400 Pokemon, and so would need
to cut around half of the Pokedex.
The Perfect PokeRap would not be complete
- it would not be perfect.
In the lead up to the release of Pokemon Sword
& Shield, it was revealed that the games would
not feature all of the 890 monsters introduced
in the series up to that point.
In fact it would only have 400 Pokemon, less
than half of the total roster.
This decision created a massive rift in the
Pokemon fanbase and the conversation spilled
over into the greater circle of games criticism.
There were those who were okay with the smaller
Pokedex, understanding that the Pokemon formula
is not infinitely scalable and at some point
they’d inevitably have to choose which ones
would make the cut; but on the other side
were those who were angry at the Pokedex cull,
arguing that Pokemon is the most profitable
media franchise in history and they can afford
to scale up production to include everyone’s
favourite partners.
While I understand both sides of this argument,
I find myself falling in the former camp - in
fact, I was very much looking forward to a
more curated Pokemon adventure.
But my preference doesn’t really stem from
the logistics of making it happen, but rather
the gameplay and experience that it provides.
Like Brian David Gilbert, I’ve been playing
Pokemon since the first games in the series
- we’re both real OG gen wunners.
I remember a time when you couldn’t avoid
the rallying cries of “gotta catch ‘em
all” and “Pikachu, I choose you!”, and
though my interest has waned in and out over
the years, I’ve continued to play every
generation since.
It’s one of my all-time favourite video
game franchises, but I have a dark secret:
I have never caught them all.
Not when I was a child and had nothing better
to do with my time, not in my favourite games
Black & White, not in Sword & Shield when
it’s become easier than ever to trade with
people and complete your Pokedex.
Pokemon to me has never been about completing
a Pokedex, but rather the adventure I go on
with my party of selected Pokemon and the
relationships that I form with them.
Brian told the story of his Tangela named
Terry.
Similarly I had a Whimsicott that I loved
in Black version named Bree.
Black & White were a major shift in the Pokemon
series because they limited the Pokemon you
could catch to just the 156 brand new monsters
they introduced in that region.
Once you defeated the Elite Four and “beat
the game”, you were then rewarded with a
second half of the map opening up and all
the old favourite Pokemon that we know and
love.
Black & White are my favourite games because
of this decision.
No matter which generation was your first,
Black & White emulated that experience by
giving everyone a brand new adventure with
totally new Pokemon to fall in love with.
You couldn’t rely on your tried and tested
favourites to carry you through the game;
you had to find new Pokemon to experiment
with, come up with new battle strategies and
team dynamics, and make some new friends.
Whimsicott was not a Pokemon I initially gravitated
toward, but I needed a grass-type and there
Bree was.
Over time I slowly grew to understand her
defensive playstyle and came to love how unique
she was to battle with.
Whimsicott is now one of my favourite Pokemon,
and I was only able to form this bond with
Bree because she was my only option.
When you jam more and more Pokemon into new
games of the same length, it can feel overwhelming.
Routes get flooded with Pokemon and you catch
one of each, become paralysed with indecision
over which to use and default to your favourites,
storing the rest in the computer forever.
At least that's my experience.
I understand that for others it's different,
that some people just want to have a new adventure
in the same way with their favourite pals
and collect them all again, but that’s not
the reason I play the game.
The perfect Pokemon game for me is not the
one that includes every single monster; it’s
the one that curates the experience and makes
each inclusion meaningful.
The slogan that resonates with me is not “gotta
catch ‘em all” - it’s “I choose you.”
Brian arrives at this same conclusion.
He finds a loophole that enables him to include
every Pokemon and fulfill the expectations
set upon him, but their inclusion is ultimately
meaningless.
Sure, it’s technically complete but it doesn’t
add any value to the piece.
Brian listing off every Pokemon is not what
makes the Perfect PokeRap a masterpiece; It’s
what he’s chosen to do with the Pokemon
he has selected, who serve the overall goal
in their own unique and meaningful way, that
makes it perfect.
Honestly, he puts it best himself: (“It’s
not that we should catch them all, it’s
that we should love the ones we catch.”)
Here’s the wild part though: Game Freak
announced Sword & Shield’s Pokedex cull
at E3 2019 on June 12th.
Brian premiered the Perfect PokeRap live at
Pax East 2019 on March 30th.
Brian gave a presentation outlining why including
every single Pokemon doesn’t automatically
make it a good game 2.5 months before the
Pokedex cull was even revealed and the controversy
blew up.
He predicted it like some kind of psychic
pokemon.
So yeah, it’s profound.
I suppose we have one final criteria to meet:
Workmanship, and to be honest I’ve only
got one point to stick up here.
(Passion)
Brian doesn’t need to do what he does.
He didn’t need to create an 8.5 minute song
and memorize hundreds of Pokemon names.
He didn’t need to find every piece of Zelda
media and place them into its timeline.
s.
timelines.
He didn’t need to spend months growing a
moustache for a gag or cover his apartment
walls with paintings of sad clowns or invent
ska music (thank God he did though).
He doesn’t need to make Unraveled, because
honestly the entire premise of that show is
absolutely bonkers.
The amount of work that has to go into making
each episode is beyond reasonable, and that’s
just to reach its core concept.
But even then, he consistently takes it further
than what anyone ever expects of him.
He doesn’t do that because it’s his job
- his job could be so much easier than that.
It’s admirable that he goes above and beyond
to create such incredible things, but it almost
certainly comes at a cost.
It’s obvious that Brian works overtime on
Unraveled, he mentioned in the Sims episode
that he does not ask for help on them.
If he does manage to do it all within his
9-5, then I honestly have no clue how.
But he does it because he's passionate about
it, not because he owes anyone perfection.
Unraveled is the culmination of his life's
creativity and labor into a single expression
of art.
Unraveled is Brian David Gilbert's masterpiece
(at least so far) and Brian David Gilbert
is the internet's masterpiece.
We absolutely do
not deserve him.
