Part of being an adult is knowing when to ask for help.
I'm approaching 30, and I've got to set a good example for my boy. So, here goes:
I hate hip-hop.
I can't stand rap.
I need help.
Well, that's not entirely true: back in the nineties, when that movie came out about Michelle Pfeiffer teaching inner city kids how to write poetry and ride roller coasters, I enjoyed that one Coolio track. I even memorized the words to "Amish Paradise."
Finally, I thought, a rap about my people.
I'm not entirely clueless - I am vaguely aware of some hip-hoppists: Tupac and Biggie, of course; there's Nelly and Eminem and whatever else the kids were listening to at the roller skating rink between Savage Garden songs and the Limbo. Then there are the Lil's: Kim, Bow Wow and Wayne; and that guy who dropped out of college and gave guff to George Bush and not-Beyonce; also, whatever this is.
But none of it makes any real sense to me. And I want it to. I'm an educated man: I know there's a whole world of music I'm missing out on, a rich culture that's passing me by while I sit here listening to the Dead Milkmen for the eighty-ninth time and wondering why, oh why, with my vast knowledge of country and the uncanny ability to identify the used-dental-floss-thin line separating pogo and street punk, hasn't Spin magazine emailed me about my Swingin' Utters review; nor has Rolling Stone gotten back to me about that Chris Gaines retrospective.
Is it because I'm racist? I don't know - not overtly, anyway. It takes effort to care what people look like, and I'm a busy, busy man. But I did grow up a prejudiced hillbilly in a proper Christian mobile home, and living in those close quarters, there was every opportunity for some of the insidious earwigs munching on the brains of my forebears to burrow into my own head unnoticed. These bugs are so deep by now, they just might be a part of the way I think.
Here's what I mean: whenever I go home, I'm always taken a little off-guard by how dumb people sound. Then I get back into the rhythm of the speech. What seems at first like a lot of stupid thrashing eventually morphs into a kind of music and the words start to make a deeper kind of sense. When mom says she "almost stepped in a meadow muffin traipsing through the back forty - way out in the jingweeds" I know she almost stepped in cowshit in the clearing behind the house, but way, way the hell out there. Now, mom hasn't been in the deeper-place since Old Dan kicked off and his garage went to pot, but that's another story.
But why even bother with the argot if you're just talking about poop? Well, in short, what's it to you? If you need to know, you will, and if you've spent a few decades living next to the slow trickle of an antediluvian creek in the hills of an upstate hamlet - a town never forgotten because it never existed - then you'll understand why cow crap matters; you'll probably catch the infinitesimal torque on "jing" in "jingweeds" that hint at why anyone was way the hell out there in the first place, and, given the glacial pace of this tiny world we call home, you've got time to hear the story - or read the first few chapters on mom's brow, anyway.
So I love and understand, more intimately than most people ever will, the hickish brogue of my mother tongue. My intellectual brain can make the connection between the way I learned language and another vernacular - I know there's probably a music and a deep sense to speech I don't understand; and if I don't get it, that might be part of the point. "I'm sure," say the better angels of my nature, "that there's a lot going on in the swagger and pacing of any rap artist worth his salt." But the stump of my brain that grew up on a cornstalk in a field next to Route 305 says "it don't sound like good English."
A good friend of mine once undertook to teach me how to appreciate rap. He started with The Roots and got as far as Wu Tang. But we didn't cover much before whatever angry old prick is controlling the levers of our fates decided my friend was better off in a coma.
This is the same guy who taught me to watch hockey. I can't imagine living without it now, but at some point, I was just staring at a bunch of mullets on skates chase a black dot. But after watching Scott watch the Sabres chase the finals in '05-'06, learning when to get up and scream at the refs, when it was better to scream at Danny Briere going fetal on the ice, and when it was best just to shake my head in general disgust, I figured out how to watch hockey. I learned to love it. These days I shake my head when folks don't know what the trap is, or when they whine about not being able to follow the puck.
All of which leads me to believe, if I had the right person show me what's what, I'd be able to trip through the annals of hip-hop and rap like Afinigenov on a breakaway. As it is, I can sooner tell the difference between silage and a cow turd - all of which smells like shit - than I can separate Soulja Boy from Weezy.
Where do I start? Where do I go from there? What's good, and what's just noise? If you've got any advice, dump it in the comments below.
Seriously, I need help.
qualifying statement: I'm a rock'n'roller who doesn't like country & only dabbles in hip-hop (not rap). First suggestion/tip: If they play it on the radio, or if it's on the Billboard charts, 90% of time it's junk. Having said that this is all you'll ever need if you're only going to dabble like me: A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, The Beastie Boys, Arrested Development (not the TV show), & of course The Roots. (Looks like your friend was on the right track.) If you're looking for a "history" lesson: Grand Master Flash, Slick Rick, Run DMC, Public Enemy, and the like. Then you can fill all that in with Boogie Down Productions, The Fugees, Talib Kweli & Mos Def... For my money, Gangsta-rap was never my bag. It's mostly about killing people and sellig drugs. Hip-hop is the way to go (Rap is kinda like talentless radio-play, sample rip-off's, etc. Hip-hop has soul.) But if you must: NWA, Eazy-E, Biggie, Tupac, and so on. If you're not sure of the "etc's" & "so on's" just Wiki those in the lists, and more will be provided in their bio's. Enjoy!
Hip hop to me is all about references...
Whether it be 1.) Sampling an old song Ala Kanye West's song "Addiction" - this song unabashedly samples Etta James' "My Funny Valentine", and in my opinion is a perfect example of GOOD, SUCCESSFUL sampling. By good and successful i mean it provides a new fresh appreciation for the original sourced material, and exposes you to artist's you never would have known about or explored without this new adaptation being implented by a producer or rapper who's taste you have come to know, trust, and appreciate. 2.) Making metaphors for your life and situation by using straight up BONKERRRS political, poetic and historic imagery Ala Wu-tang member GZA's song "4th chamber." During the RZA's verse he states:
"Aiyo, camouflage chameleon,
ninjas scaling your building
No time to grab the gun, they already got your wife and children
A hit was sent
from the President
to raid your residence
Because you had secret evidence
and documents on how they raped the continents
and lynched the prominent,
Dominant Islamic
Asiatic black Hebrew
The year 2002
the battle's filled with the Wu
Six million devils just died from the Bubonic Flu
Or the Ebola virus,
under the reign of King Cyrus
You can see the weakness of a man right through his iris."
^This entire verse is a wikipedia explosion waiting to happen.
It's important to acknowledge and embrace the all encompassing, braggadocios notions that all Rappers have as well. If you can't try to get hyped, identify with it all, and adopt the "yeah, son." attitude... it's all over.
Sometimes you just need to embrace the ridiculousness of it all too... and that's when it's possible to *sort of* appreciate the likes of Lil Wayne, Ace Hood, Rick Ross, etc...
But judging by the artist's you addressed in your article I would also say you should just ignore most of them almost entirely until you can look upon them with a proper microscope.
Listen to the album "Midnight Marauders" by A Tribe Called Quest for some old school perspective and intelligent and fun references.
Listen to Kendrick Lamar's "GOOD kid MAAD city" for a commentary on modern hip hop.
Listen to the album "Be" by Common, because it's jazzy and great.
If you can't get into any of this I apologize, just thought i'd throw in my 2 cents.
-Bud
Listen to Lil B , he will change your life
So far so good - thanks for the input, guys!
Like I said, I don't know where to begin, so this is all gold. Keep it coming!
Jack Toft is the #1 rap guy.
EL-P's latest Cancer 4 Cure. He is NYC based and his lyrics delve into paranoia and how life's structure can be compromised by the loss of someone dear to you. The song "Tougher, Colder, Killer" turns rap's dick measuring cliche on its ear by claiming God/Death equalizes all.
Wale's Mixtape About Nothing. A mixtape centered around his love for Seinfeld. His live instumentation is engrossing while his lyrics focus on pointing out truths that pass by unnoticed or uncommented on.
"And if you love substance you love Wale, but most niggas love nothing so I made this tape."
MF Doom's Madvilliany has disjointed and mystifying production but these qualities leave a lasting impression that make you remember this record for a long time. His lyrics and flow are dumbfounding, I still sit wide eyed as his words spill out. Spending a little time with this record and reading through each song on rapgenius.com might make you a fan.
If none of that works just listen to "Shimmy Shimmy Ya" on repeat.
Heard Jack Toft's friggin' airhorn and sick rhymes at Decency Rally last year. I'm already a convert. Should have mentioned it in the article. My bad.