Ambition, talent, drive and passion are commendable characteristics, but they must be matched with equal parts humility and respect, especially for hip-hop newcomers who have yet to prove themselves. As diehard fans, casual followers, embittered purists and bloggers stand prepared to make a whipping boy out of any controversial spectacle, Charles Hamilton is the latest to submit himself to this intense scrutiny.

While creativity and imagination are generally key tools, in Hamilton's case they have backfired. The story we’ve been fed so far, including his alleged troubled past (suicide attempts and heroin usage), would seem to describe a seasoned rock veteran rather than a kid from Harlem, barely out of adolescence. Assuming this claimed dysfunction is true, however, might help explain the fantasy world Hamilton has created in which he is Sonic The Hedgehog, the fictitious video game character from the '90s.

On a near daily basis, his personal blog provides us with his thoughts and philosophies -- including God being female, since we all come from the womb, which seems to explain his fetish for pink. There’s also a bizarre obsession with pop sensation Rihanna,  including countless suggestions that they are more than close friends, which remain far removed from actual possibility. Patterning himself after the ubiquitous Kanye West by simultaneously wearing the hats of producer and MC, Hamilton is easily hip-hop’s most self-important figure in some time.

Before his first release, Charles Hamilton was already courting controversy. From his grand entry with last year’s Hamiltonization Process until now, he’s beefed with everyone from the established Soulja Boy to the lesser known Rhymefest and Briana Latrise, his assistant/ex-girlfriend who physically assaulted him on camera for airing out their dirty laundry. Process culminated in The Pink Lavalamp, the mixtape that scored him a deal with mighty Interscope. 

One of the standout moments on Lavalamp is “Shinin'," a song Hamilton claims was intended as a goodbye letter to the world. Despite the personal nature of the song that exorcised his innermost demons, he was lambasted for stealing the beat from Black Spade, a rising sensation out of St. Louis. The story goes that Black Spade approached Hamilton after his performance at this year’s South By Southwest to congratulate him on the inspired use of the original composition, only to be met with Hamilton's claims that he produced the beat himself. To this day, Hamilton vehemently denies stealing it, despite Black Spade’s video evidence to the contrary.

Where it would seem the hole he’s dug could get no deeper, Hamilton recently released the artwork for his forthcoming debut album This Perfect Life (due June 16th) and incurred further wrath as the executive producers were listed as himself and none other than James Yancey (known to many as Jay Dee/Dilla). The internet exploded with rage as it would be largely impossible for Dilla, who died in 2006, to have had anything to do with this album. Confronting the outcry, Hamilton first said he did it in order to donate proceeds of the sales to the Dilla's estate, which, of course, could have easily happened without the executive producer credit); then he made the even more absurd explanation that they shared a paranormal connection. To make matters worse, he also claimed to have a healthy working relationship with Dilla’s family, which turned out to be completely false. 

Needless to say, many of Dilla’s hip-hop gatekeepers in Detroit were mightily displeased, going so far as to wish personal harm to the kid, just a few months shy of 22 with trouble following his nearly every move. One could surmise from all this that Hamilton and his label subscribe to the theory that all news is good news; but he's continually running the risk of sacrificing respect for the sake of “sticking to his guns."

And so, it would seem all-too-easy to completely ignore the kid, except for his prodigious talent. His experimentation shirks convention at every turn. He sounds like no one else alive. He has an underdog’s creative inspiration that is seemingly limitless, flows that can compete with or exceed that of many of his peers, a lyrical wit that can’t be denied and a deep appreciation for the overall craft.

He also has his sights set healing the world with This Perfect Life as he says “My music is always based on my life. My happiness, my sins, my heartbreak, my anger, my quirkiness, my everything is given in my music. The music I grew up listening to told a story. So I'm taking the music I grew up with, as well as my story, as well as my musicianship, to bring about a new sound. I hope my story can help someone else's life.” This commendable approach aside, in the week before the album is due to drop, many are happily anticipating his downfall, a cycle of misunderstanding that he’s been all too welcome to propagate.

Charles Hamilton remains, then, a sad indication of hip-hop’s current situation, where a musician's skill by itself no longer suffices to garner a buzz. Instead, they need to court controversy and trumped up bad blood: all gimmicks and publicity stunts. Hamilton's supposed dark past tied in with his dishonesty and cockamamie attention ploys suggest his every public calculation is a survival mechanism. In this way, his free-spirited art and personal visions can exist outside of the typical boundaries of the music industry. In the end, he will likely be able to say he came and went on his own terms with a musical aesthetic few were able to boast of in this day and age. Unfortunately, in the process, he's also compromised much of his morality in order to get us to watch this trainwreck of a reality show passing for a budding career.