You could say that I'm "old school". I'm 21, but I don't "crank dat". I rarely get "turnt up" and I've almost entirely given up "swag surfing". I've never tried to be a DJ Hero, and all my favorite songs don't have Wayne features. When I'm "ridin' dirty" I prefer to do it with UGK over Chamillionaire. I'm a fan of 'big' rappers and I'm not impressed by "young" or "lil" ones.
That's not to say I don't keep up with what's new. To me, Hip Hop today is like soccer. Basketball and football are my two main sports, but thats not to say I don't know the top soccer players. When the World Cup comes around, I'll definitely lend it my attention, but it just doesn't captivate me. I'll give the new Gucci Mane album a listening-to, but you best believe Scarface or Wu Tang is going right back in once the final track is done.
The problem I'm facing today, though, is that my preferred 'style' of Hip Hop is going extinct. I'm out here Paula Cole'ing, wondering 'where have all the cowboys gone'? What's happening to the essence of Hip Hop? If you don't understand what I mean by "essence of Hip Hop", go back and listen to Nas rhyme on N.Y. State of Mind (original title, Hov). Go listen to Snoop and Dre rip up Deep Cover. Heck, listen to any track O.D.B. was ever on and you'll hear someone who didn't always make the most sense but someone who truly felt the rhythm and who lived and breathed the "essence" of what his music was all about.
It's tough for people my age or younger to really understand. We're just not used to it. We live in such a commercialized and industrialized society that it's almost impossible to truly "feel" any music anymore. The scene from White Men Can't Jump sums it up best. In the scene, Billy and Sidney get in an argument about Jimi Hendrix, saying basically that some people 'hear' him and some 'listen' to him. I 'listen' to new music, but I can't say I've actually 'heard' anything in a long time.
The Blueprint 3 was not a bad album by any means. In fact, I really loved it. But it isn't even the same beast as Reasonable Doubt was. It had catchy tunes and clever lines, but didn't have the same raw grittiness or sense of originality that Hov's debut had. One was for clubs and pop charts, the other was for old Lincoln's and street corners. For what it was, the Blueprint 3 was phenomenal. It was some of the best sushi you've ever tasted, while Reasonable Doubt was a grade A juicy steak. Both great in their own way, but you would never confuse the two or be indifferent as to which you prefer.
There are rays of hope, though. For example, I worked at a camp this past summer looking after a group of 15 and 16 year-olds. The movie Notorious had recently come out and was popular among the campers. Although I personally hated the movie and thought it was as Hollywood and Disney'ed-out as can get, I was pleased with the sense of history it was giving these kids. Rather than jamming out to the latest "lil" something, who sports a mouth full of diamonds and talks about nothing of any relevance, all I heard coming from their stereo was Biggie, 24/7.
They might not know his entire story, they might not know what album the song they are listening to is from because they just downloaded singles off Limewire, and they might have only heard of him a couple months ago when the movie came out, but they were listening. It gave me an odd sense of relief watching these kids rap along to Biggie lyrics. I was proud that my campers were listening to some true rap music. No, correction. I was proud that my campers were finally hearing some true rap music.
No comments:
Post a Comment