The music world
has lost another icon. Jam Master Jay, founding member of Run DMC,
was murdered inside his recording studio last Wednesday.
His death means the loss of another great rap icon.
Run DMC was what hip-hop was supposed to be about. They rapped about
things that mattered. The subject matter was not guns, .40s and
‘hoes.’
They, along with Public Enemy, spoke for their population.
Rap music has become a caricature of the original innovation.
Nelly raps about being No. 1, presumably on the Billboard charts,
then uses his next single to have a looping track of a female saying,
“I am getting so hot, I’m gonna take my clothes off.”
In my almost 19 years on this planet, I have never heard a woman
say this. Of course, I have also never met a hooker, so maybe that
explains it.
Jay-Z and Nas, who are two of the most talented rappers out there,
choose to take verbal spars at each other rather than talking about
the conditions of urban New York City, where both are from.
I am thoroughly convinced that only one rap artist in the current
public eye has any redeeming value—his name is Eminem.
I know what readers might respond: How can I write about the value
of Eminem, the guy who raps about killing his wife and beating his
mom?
At least what Eminem raps about is true. It is not true for me,
and hopefully it is not true for most, if not all, of the Appalachian
State University community. But it is the truth for him.
He is coming from a very violent place and to rap about how he has
“hoes” in all different area codes or how he needs a girl
would be an insult to his talent.
Of course, rap music is not the only genre invaded with people that
are not true to themselves.
Christina Aguilera has an amazing voice. However, she chooses to
waste it singing a song called “Dirrty,” which features
roughly 85 mentions of the word “dirty” during a 3-minute
song. High-class music this is not.
Aguilera also has this nasty little problem of talking with, how
do you say, a fake urban accent. Tennessee-native Justin Timberlake
is guilty of the same thing.
Life must have been hard as hell on the Orlando, Fla., set of the
New Mickey Mouse Club if they now have to live in the inner city.
Oh wait, they do not. Both live in multi-million dollar mansions
and probably could not tell you how to get to South Central Los
Angeles.
Second on the most recent Billboard Hot 100 charts is a song by
Nelly, featuring Kelly Rowland. Rowland is one of the forgotten
members of Destiny’s Child, which is a trio despite a name
that invokes images of one singer, not to mention a cheap Supremes
rip-off.
Kelly Clarkson has the No. 5 single in the country. Clarkson won
the “American Idol” competition, which represents everything
wrong with music: Looks and charisma matter more than pure talent.
Avril Lavigne, who currently has two songs in the Billboard top
20, is the antithesis of punk music. Do not believe the videos;
she cannot play a guitar. She wears her cute little wife-beater
tops and her Goodwill-bought neckties and says she is all about
punk music. Give me a freaking break. Lavigne may dress differently
and have a somewhat different genre, but she is still a Britney
Spears.
Perhaps these artists can look at themselves in a mirror, realize
they look hideous and are the laughingstock of the Earth and quietly
retire to the same place Vanilla Ice, New Kids on the Block and
Tiffany are resting.
You know, trying to be the next Fred Durst (Vanilla), starring on
horrible dramas (Joey McIntyre on “Boston Public” and
Donnie Wahlberg on “Boomtown”) or posing in Playboy.
On second thought, it will never end. Crap. |
