“In order to achieve ‘flow,’ ‘magic,’ ‘the zone,’ we start by being common and ordinary and workmanlike.”
The Rising Tied is the first and only studio album of Fort Minor, the hip-hop project of Linkin Park emcee Mike Shinoda. It was released in November of 2005 under his label, Machine Shop, and Warner Bros. Records. The project was first announced in early 2005, with Shinoda describing it as “not straight hip-hop, but it’s not rock at all. For our fans who only like the rock side of Linkin Park, I hope you enjoy it, but you never know.”
He wrote the album’s tracks and handled production duties, while hip-hop legend Jay-Z served as executive producer. Jay-Z had previously worked with Linkin Park on their collaborative EP, Collision Course. Released in late 2004, it was a phenomenal commercial success, being the second EP to debut at number one on the US Billboard 200 chart, selling 368,000 copies in its first week of release. Few artists have accomplished such a feat, Alice in Chains being the first with 1994’s Jar of Flies. The single “Numb/Encore” won Best Rap/Sung Collaboration at the 48th Grammy Awards.
Shinoda wasn’t just some amateur tossing a demo out there. And like with Linkin Park’s Reanimation, he probably could have picked any of the big names in the industry to lend themselves to the Fort Minor project. But he didn’t. He turned to his friends. Not hired guns, but people he had known and respected for a long time. Linkin Park turntablist Joseph Hahn was brought in, and hip-hop group Styles of Beyond featured strongly throughout. Also rounding out the album’s guest spots were an assortment of hip-hop and R&B artists, both mainstream and underground. Jonah Matranga, Skylar Grey, Common, John Legend, Black Thought, Lupe Fiasco, Kenna, Eric Bobo, Sixx John, and Celph Titled lent their talents on various tracks.
The product was an album that blended hip-hop, alternative, and orchestral elements. It’s rich in live instrumentation, sampling, and layered beats, which marked a significant departure from what you’d hear on Hybrid Theory or Meteora. It wasn’t any kind of indicator as to what Minutes to Midnight would be like, either. If I had to compare it to anything in hip-hop, I’d say it felt more like Jurassic 5 and the Roots than Eminem or 50 Cent. And I like the latter two, but it was a breath of fresh air to have something that wasn’t chasing the trend of the day.
Each track is different, but they form a coherent record. “Remember the Name” is pure motivation, and has been used extensively in sports and the media. “Where’d You Go” is a ballad of sorts, having to do with absence and neglect in relationships. “Kenji” is deeply personal for Shinoda, detailing his family’s experience with internment camps in the United States. Tracks like “Petrified” and the uber-catchy B-side “There They Go” emphasise confidence, hitting hard with a confrontational tone, and rhythms that get stuck in your head for days. “Believe Me” is the track that drew the inevitable Linkin Park comparisons, mostly due to its masterful balance of hip-hop and melodic hooks. Vacillating between confidence and vulnerability, the listener can’t help but trust Shinoda’s vision.
And sure, The Rising Tied had its hit singles. And they’re great, but the beauty of the album is that it’s a body of work where the deep cuts are just as good, if not better. And I don’t think I’m alone there. Many listeners I’ve talked to basically say the same thing — they came for “Believe Me,” but stayed for everything else.
It’s hard to pick a favourite. But if I had to pick one, it would be “Cigarettes.” It uses the tobacco industry as a metaphor for the way hip-hop is mass-marketed.
“There are things that you can do in certain types of music that you can’t do in others,” Shinoda said of the track. “I have a song on the record called ‘Cigarettes’ that talks about the similarity between the tobacco industry and the rap music industry. You get sold a product full of lies, but you don’t really care, because it’s more about playing a role, maybe a little escapism. I could never write a song like that on a Linkin Park record, but an album like this is the ideal home for it.”
Turns out it was Jay-Z’s favourite song on the album as well.
I could never skip a track when listening to the album, but one that really should have been a single is “Right Now.” Featuring Black Thought of the Roots, and Styles of Beyond, it’s a lyrical snapshot of everyday life, showing the struggles of individual characters, all in the same city at the same time. The verses paint a vivid image, cinematic even, while the piano and beats give it a contemplative feel.
Another song that I’ve always loved and still grows on me with each listen is “Get Me Gone.” One for the Linkin Park fans, I guess. It starts with audio of Shinoda talking with his friends before launching into the song, recounting his struggles with the band’s record label. Critics and record label executives were quick to dismiss him and his skills as a rapper, the latter group actively trying to relegate him to keyboard duties.
And then the critics. I remember reading Rolling Stone and Spin back in the day. They would rake bands like Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit over the coals because they didn’t sound exactly like Elvis Costello or whoever. Okay, that’s just a matter of taste. The biggest problem is when artists are misquoted in the media, which has happened to pretty much all of them. As Shinoda says in one verse:
“I only do email responses to print interviews
Because these people love to put a twist to your words
To infer that you said something fucking absurd…”
“I don’t feel like the people are necessarily being deceitful,” he explained in Tim Ferriss’s Tools of Titans. “It’s just realising everyone’s got their own agenda. Even a music magazine is not interviewing you because they love music, right? Their day to day is ‘We need ad dollars, we need click-through…’ If you have a forty-word sentence that chops down to seven, [and] it’s really titillating. [It doesn’t matter if] it has nothing to do with anything you said in your interview. It’s just clickbait, [but] they’ll absolutely go for that because that’s what their business is built on.”
“This is one of the many reasons that journalism may be the greatest plague we face today,” the philosopher Nassim Taleb says in Fooled by Randomness. “As the world becomes more and more complicated and our minds are trained for more and more simplification.”
Or, as Ryan Holiday put it in Trust Me, I’m Lying, “Every decision a publisher makes is ruled by one dictum: traffic by any means.”
Shinoda would deal with this by only doing print interviews via email. It might not always be possible, but having the conversation in your inbox can be your way of keeping the receipts.
I laughed when Shinoda recounted the “advice” he and the band got from their record label in the early days.
“And they tell us things like, ‘Well, you guys need a gimmick. We want to dress Joe in a lab coat and a cowboy hat. And Chester, you should kick off a shoe at every show,’ he recalled. “It was stupid record-company stuff that sounds like something out of a movie like This Is Spinal Tap. But it was absolutely true, and these were real suggestions. I imagine that [if you reminded them now] they’d say, ‘Oh no, I was totally joking.’ I assure you they were not joking.”
The scepticism of his naysayers and the suits at the label became fuel for Shinoda’s ambitions, and he became one of the most respected emcees, not just in the nu-metal scene but the broader hip-hop world. Sharp, concise, and quietly defiant, are just a few ways I would describe him in all his projects.
The Rising Tied is far from being a loosely assembled set of tracks for the masses. Shinoda is telling a story. His story. His truth. Whether it be statements of confidence and ambition (“Petrified,” “Remember the Name”), or diving deep into personal reflection and history (“Kenji,” “Slip Out the Back“), it’s a complex body of work that shows the many aspects of a person. All delivered with technical mastery and a colourful palette of emotion.
Twenty years later, I find the album a joy to revisit. It showcases Shinoda’s range and versatility, and just how personal and thoughtful hip-hop can be.
Lawrence Deveney 