![]() ![]() There are several semi-autobiographical tensions the show plays up for comedic effect - the phallic anxiety that informs his romantic and musical tendencies, for example - but Dave’s angst over whether to embrace comedic rap or strive to be taken seriously by peers is always present. But most importantly, it gives the song a useful shtick to increase streams online and plausible deniability in court. The verse is tongue-in-cheek and self-deprecating, and it impresses his new collaborators. “They should never really judge us for this shit, your honor / That would be H-E-A-R say, why that’s hearsay,” he raps. Dave records a track and a skit and takes a photo mocking being held captive by his burglar-cum-collaborators. It could be a comedy, parody, whatever you want it to be they ain’t gonna use it against you in court.” Dave grimaces, but he knows GaTa is right. “You could go to jail for rap lyrics … but if you put a Lil Dicky verse on there, you’re kind of protected. “Check out his videos they get millions of views,” GaTa points out to the enterprising bandits. And yet, in “Hearsay,” GaTa demonstrates how the gimmick is often used as an advantage in rap. What groups them as musicians isn’t style, or even race, but a voyeuristic and reductive relationship with a Black genre. Though varying widely in region, influence, and sound, rappers from Macklemore to Post Malone are commonly affixed with the same “white rapper” label. Dave may approach music with the temperament of a court jester - his rap name is “literally a small-penis joke” and his album title was Penith, after all - but he balks at being compared on Spotify and by label executives to Jack Harlow’s “egg-whites-only” Drake facsimile or the satirical rap trio Lonely Island. Despite going from a complete unknown to performing at the VMAs and embarking on a tour, Dave is continually frustrated over comparisons to other white rappers with fleeting mainstream fame and less serious critical consideration. ![]() The series is equal parts ensemble high jinks, cringe comedy, and pathos as Dave wrestles with the gauntlet of the music industry, a world where success is increasingly dictated by social-media analytics, personal branding, and transactional relationships. ![]() The punch line draws from Dave’s insecurities as an artist throughout Dave, a semi-autobiographical series co-created by rapper-comedian Dave Burd (who, in real life, also goes by the stage name “Lil Dicky” … confused yet?). “Who the fuck is Lil Dicky?” they ask, dumbfounded. Instead, GaTa sells them on a Lil Dicky verse. GaTa happens to have a Ross verse saved on a beat in his hard drive, but he needs the verse just as badly as the bandits do. GaTa locates the thieves (one of whom is Lil Gotit), who agree to trade the chain for a coveted Rick Ross verse. ![]() His best friend and hype man GaTa wisely intervenes, contacting his network of local associates to retrieve Ross’s stolen chain. When Dave gets robbed at gunpoint while wearing Rick Ross’s $250,000 chain, his immediate impulse is to call the police to help get it back, failing to see the absurdity in involving law enforcement to help a Black entertainer (a rapper with Rick Ross’s legal history, no less). In the third episode of the current season of Dave, “ Hearsay,” Dave, a.k.a Lil Dicky (Dave Burd), is on a tour stop in Atlanta, a city steeped in Black culture and the de facto hub for southern rap. ![]()
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