Getting a bad rap

The fascination for rap began a long time ago. As television in India started feasting on western content, I was instantaneously exposed to music on the music channels such as MTV and Channel V. And amongst those channels, while my teenage mind wasn’t ogling at Shenaz and other good looking VJ’s, I found myself nodding gently to the beat of rap.

Ever since then I have found myself drawn to arguments that Rap isn’t even music. A quick check up on the definition of music generally leans that argument in my favor. Yet people, in their uppity manner shun rap as a sidekick or a gimmick. Money making venture no doubt but never meant to last the test of time.

I am no connoisseur of rap. In fact, my listening is limited to main stream artists like Dr. Dre, Eminem and Snoop Dogg. And to be honest I almost exclusively listen to Eminem or songs that have him in it besides the other artists. With such limited listening this post is likely to be weak in all aspects but like the Genre of Rap itself, I won’t let that stop me one bit.

Rap really cemented itself in my head at times of strife in my life. The naivety of understanding what strife really is, when I was younger, will be ignored for now. But when I was in high school with my state wide exams fast approaching, I truly believed that my success in those exams will go down as the single most important factor between success and failure. With such bewildering pressure I turned to Eminem. His rap seemed like angry poetry. His disdain of all that surrounded him excited me. He sang about how he will always rise from ashes no matter how much beating he takes would keep me going. And each night, I would rewind the same song “Rabbit Run” and go to sleep listening to that cassette on my Sony Walkman. Sometime in the night I would be fast asleep when the battery would run out.

Eminem and rap re-appeared when I landed in Michigan. I listened to it on the plane journey here as I left home to a place far far away. And I listened to each night as I walked back in the blistering cold and snow from my part time job to a non-furnished sleeping bag equipped student apartments. I was in utter pain. I was questioning the merits of being in Michigan. I was troubled. But Eminem and his lyrical magic saved me.

I am amazed by how these rap artists speak so fast. Yet, each word is clear even if half of them are expletives. I have tried many times in the privacy of my home to repeat these songs and record that effort. Of course when I would play them back I would sound more like a disgruntled employee rather than an artist. While you could argue that rap singers aren’t singing but debating whether they are artists is not fair. If you pay attention to lyrics they seem magicians of alliterations and lyrical metaphors.

Rap also provides a sneak peak on the pop culture that surrounds its time frame. There is reference to politicians, actors and other pop cultural icons. There are mentions of social struggles and oodles of underground racism. It is not always educational but it gets you to the Wikipedia page!

Rap, along with tearful Radiohead and Coldplay has managed to be a balm for my exploits that resulted in broken heart. I silently like anger showcased towards women and could associate with how it is not only the men who do wrong. Kanye West “heartless” was particularly disturbing and enjoyable at the same time. While most artists seem to make pain their driving force I found rappers turn their anger into lyrics. Eminem’s “no Love” is one such classic example.

Their constant reference to expensive cars also goes a long way to get in getting me interested. Their interest in owning Supercars is something I also share although in terms of getting it done, I am afraid I am nowhere in the pictures. The song “Lighters” makes a reference to an Aston and I only repeatedly utter that line as if the rest of the song doesn’t matter.

Maybe it is the head nodding. May be it is the rhythmic base. And maybe it is the rapid-paced alliteration based lyrics. But largely rap represents an evil concoction. As if it were a device mainly invented by the bad for the bad! It is perhaps this negativity that surrounds those art forms draws me to it. That in my squeaky clean existence it gives me just the right amount of wrong. The comical juxtaposition of me driving my 4 door sedan car with white collar to work, while, rap blares loudly inside the sanctity of close windows fascinates me.

Mostly though, Rap gives me my share of dirty streaks and poor morals which allow to me just enough cheat to keep the rest of me and my house clean.