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Space ain't man's final frontier. Man's final frontier is the soul,
guided by someone more powerful than any human being
Someone felt but never seen.
You will be surprised of what resides in your insides...
Had one of those long conversations today about the state of music with my intern, a young man who's in his early twenties. He brings up rap, which nowadays generally triggers an audible gag reflex on my part. It's not that I don't like rap as a genre, but I hate what it became. I don't know who's to blame for that, really. After all, it's no big surprise that in a racist society, the stereotypes generally win out over the small glimmers of truth that can be found in street poetry--even of the hardest and ugliest type. What bothers me is the pimping of the stereotyped black man (and woman) to the white public...theatre of the grotesque, a pastiche of everything that white America fears made palatable because it feeds the notion that we are justified in our separation from African American culture. I don't think that the misogynistic, racist drivel found in much of the modern day rap represents that culture any more than monster truck rallies, neo-Nazi wife beaters, and beer bellies represent most of the people who reside in the south. Now there may be some people who think that a nice pinkish-beige redhead from Texas is not qualified to even voice an opinion about this, but I claim my membership in a larger group--the human race-- as my right. It makes me sad to see the Steppin Fetchit routine being played out still after so many years...even when it's done with a bad-ass back beat bass in the background. Eminem is the new Al Jolsen...trotting around without the greasepaint on his face, but still singing "Mammy." There were some wonderful things going on in rap a few years ago. Anyone remember Arrested Development? Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprasy? Inclusive, beautiful and biting lyrics that represented the best that we could ALL be...that we ALL had voices built for harmony---not discord. Proof positive that women of all colors, shapes, and sizes were queens; that the strength and measure of a man came from somewhere other than the size of his dick/gun/stable. I miss that. I miss the hope of it, and the sheer joy I felt at the slight possibility that maybe things were getting better instead of worse. Shame on the music industry for perpetuating and profiteering from the myth of the evil black gangsta...and shame on us for letting them get away with it. Oh, and Snoop...if you wanna whip my white ass for taking you to task on this, brother....I'll be here. ; )
guided by someone more powerful than any human being
Someone felt but never seen.
You will be surprised of what resides in your insides...
Had one of those long conversations today about the state of music with my intern, a young man who's in his early twenties. He brings up rap, which nowadays generally triggers an audible gag reflex on my part. It's not that I don't like rap as a genre, but I hate what it became. I don't know who's to blame for that, really. After all, it's no big surprise that in a racist society, the stereotypes generally win out over the small glimmers of truth that can be found in street poetry--even of the hardest and ugliest type. What bothers me is the pimping of the stereotyped black man (and woman) to the white public...theatre of the grotesque, a pastiche of everything that white America fears made palatable because it feeds the notion that we are justified in our separation from African American culture. I don't think that the misogynistic, racist drivel found in much of the modern day rap represents that culture any more than monster truck rallies, neo-Nazi wife beaters, and beer bellies represent most of the people who reside in the south. Now there may be some people who think that a nice pinkish-beige redhead from Texas is not qualified to even voice an opinion about this, but I claim my membership in a larger group--the human race-- as my right. It makes me sad to see the Steppin Fetchit routine being played out still after so many years...even when it's done with a bad-ass back beat bass in the background. Eminem is the new Al Jolsen...trotting around without the greasepaint on his face, but still singing "Mammy." There were some wonderful things going on in rap a few years ago. Anyone remember Arrested Development? Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprasy? Inclusive, beautiful and biting lyrics that represented the best that we could ALL be...that we ALL had voices built for harmony---not discord. Proof positive that women of all colors, shapes, and sizes were queens; that the strength and measure of a man came from somewhere other than the size of his dick/gun/stable. I miss that. I miss the hope of it, and the sheer joy I felt at the slight possibility that maybe things were getting better instead of worse. Shame on the music industry for perpetuating and profiteering from the myth of the evil black gangsta...and shame on us for letting them get away with it. Oh, and Snoop...if you wanna whip my white ass for taking you to task on this, brother....I'll be here. ; )
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From:
This isn't really related...
I'm partial to old school meself. I wonder what Public Enemy's up to. It still seems strange that Run DMC are born-again Christians now. (?!)
From:
That can't be true!
From:
It's twue! It's twue!
Back from hell
>>Note that the term "religious conversion" is used. Otherwise maybe 800.com is afraid no one would buy their albums?
From:
Re: It's twue! It's twue!
From:
Re: This isn't really related...