I saw a bumper sticker this morning that read:
Go Disco tonight! Help ten musicians lose their jobs!
I thought about it for a second and decided that this sticker was somewhat dated and probably came out of the late 70’s, about the time Saturday Night Fever hit theatres.
For the club/wedding musician, Disco was at least playable unlike the Rap garbage that fouls and clutters the FM radio dial these days.
And though I never personally liked Disco, it’s message was still fairly positive.
It spoke of the silly generalities of the human condition from love to dancing; from Funkytown to the sultry and crowded dance floors where it was Raining Men (hallelujah!) people flocked to nightclubs where there was room enough for both DJ and musicians.
These days Disco is dying a slow K-Tel kind of death, available on cassette and CD from commercials you can only see at 3:15am on some God forsaken outpost channel that nobody watches.
Today, Rap music (an oxymoron, if ever I heard one) can be found everywhere.
From TV commercials to movies to scummy kids listening to a boom box at the train station, Rap music soils, spoils and trashes the very roots of humanity while teens pile into record stores to spend their money on CD’s that would be better put to use as mini-Frisbees.
Some critics say the genre has a very short shelf life to which I say, not nearly short enough.
I can’t stand anything to do with this urban cacophony.
It glorifies hate, rape, weapons, drugs, female anatomy, skin color and everything that seems dark and wrong in the world. I refuse to even call it music because in my eyes, the people that write it and perform it are merely bad poets (many wouldn’t know a quarter note rest if it whacked them in the side of the head) filled with enough piss and vinegar they could easily sink the QE2.
It’s not only the music that gags me it’s the image that goes along with it.
Frumpy, urban, over-sized and decorated with more Gumby gold than Tutankhamun’s tomb, these moronic and self-proclaimed rappers have the gall to think what they do is revolutionizing the world around them, that it’s somehow important.
It’s no more important than the dump I took this morning; pestilent and inconsequential.
We live in a world that, on one hand, desperately claims to want racial equality while on the other, permits the creation of this abysmal crap all in the name of personal freedom.
That’s my name for it: C-R-A-P.
Racial equality may never exist and Rap is just one of the many reasons why. To listen to it, you need only two ears…a brain is optional.
My advice to all you rappers (black ,white, yellow and green): rollup your damn baggy pants, straighten your baseball cap, lose the doo-rag and go listen to some Ray Charles.
And for the love of God, please, please, please stop calling yourselves “artists”.
What you do has nothing to do with creativity. I'll get off my soapbox now.
I rant, therefore, I am…