a tribute to hippity
Attending a hip hop concert produced this little prattling, an inspiration from Wu-tang’s Raekwon who makes millions of dollars now merely from albums sold and who sang classic tracks from 36 Chambers during the concert I went to recently. The concert made me feel so young, so with my thumb ring, I even raised my lighter in honor of ODB. I am not a hip hop virtuoso, but my affinity to it in the past which, though limited to a tagging alphabet I keep to this date and knowing some words to some hip hop hits, has continuously amazed me. It’s the only music genre which managed such multi-faceted status consisting of dance (street/break dancing), DJing, beatboxing, urban art, grafitti, MCing and poetry. There are not a lot of music genres that link to a cultural movement – hip hop does. To a lot of people my age it was a statement, even a way of life. Hip hop has always managed to draw head bobs from me but I thought that the encounter and inevitable pledging of allegiance to the adult world has already stopped me from thinking that hip hop is whack.
As I am not especially mushy and the max of my sappiness is illustrated only in my ability to bawl (and I mean gut wrenching wailing) over happy endings IN cinemas — love songs, that promise virtually everything except multiple orgasms never really wowed me enough to make me buy a full album of oh-baby-oh-baby-you’re-mine. (Plus, I don’t really feel comfortable being told I’m someone’s, like I don’t feel totally comfortable owning someone - haha, oo na jaded, e ano ngayon? But I digress, that’s another entry. Haha). Honestly some love songs make me wonder why they don’t end with a “aaaaahhhh I’m coming!”. I even made it clear to W that a CD as a wedding souvenir is out of the question, not that there’s anything wrong with it, in fact it’s really sweet. It’s just that I can relate all love songs to us if I wanted to (haha lusot, ang totoo niyan, hindi talaga ko theme song type). Acoustic nights are cute, we can all drown in the nostalgia of past loves, lost relationships and wonderful new ones – but three acoustic nights in a row can turn me into a lithium hungry madman, who may unconsciously perform a rain dance in the middle of the show if not stopped.
House, trance and techno, I liked before — and adore now, especially for long drives and feral themed, jungle inspired parties usually attended when my neck muscles are all ready to snap because of work. Jazz is sweet and colorful, it makes me imagine psychedelic colors twirling in front of my eyes. I still spend one night every two months in a quaint little jazz club that makes my hair stand up, but in a good, its-tragic-that-I-can-never-ever-be-musically-gifted kind of way. I feel the same way for R&B, especially Justin Timberlake’s recent stuff. I am not being sarcastic. I think that when Timberland started producing Justin’s work, he and his stuff started to show signs of growing up. Ethnic music, I frankly only learned to appreciate when I met W’s dad who made an album (which I was told will again be released in
Poland ) of South East Asian music. He compiled and arranged it under an art grant in his youth after traveling by ship to our part of the world. Other than that I was never really properly exposed. Etcetera, etcetera.
But hip hop is one of those that have continued to amaze me through time. No matter what wrong messages overbearing 50Cent rap about women.
Some people may unnecessarily connect hip hop with certain stereotypes, like how some people can automatically link certain types of music to drugs of choice. As in – for dance -house, trance, techno– its E, coke or K, not really respectively, for hip hop its weed, for rock (alternative, punk, etc) its crack and heroin, for classical it could be opium (I’m presuming), for love songs if it’s not chocolate, it’s pheromones, and for everything else — a lot of alcohol. =) I believe that hip hop is one of those that are highly stereotyped. What with the graffiti, the skateboarding, and the big men who wear baggy pants which they refer to as extremely ‘tight’. When men who wear more beautiful jewelry than women, sing about MILF weed in a TV series with a title also referring without hesitation to cannabis (that was d-o double g, in case you’re wondering)… people do form judgment. That’s inevitable for a previously underground genre which has gone successfully main stream. I mean, it happens to most music types. I mean just look at how
Ibiza is filled with people who do not really listen and enjoy the music anymore because they are too stoned to notice the track playing amidst the cool laser lights show. (Underground rave is DNR.)
A lot of people say that hip hop aggravated gang violence and unnecessary confrontations, when in fact hip hop gave gang members another medium to express their gang pride through graffiti, beat boxing, or street dancing meet-ups. If we want to blame hip hop for anything, I think it would be for the extreme materialism derived from hip hop videos which boast of pimped cars and more pimped boobs, lips and cheekbones. It’s been bitterly said that hip hop makes us want more – that bling, that car, that silicone. But what music genre doesn’t? C’mon how many boy band love songs did we have to endure as girls before we realized that we’re being tricked into wanting that guy which looks absolutely sweet, innocent and sexy, all at the same time –– when almost at least one of each group is gay and will never be interested in us. Hip hop’s bragging, dissing (did I just say diss?hehe) nature started when MCs were trying to promote DJs so that people would go to their dance parties, and thus free style rap competitions like the ones in 8Mile survive until now. I noticed that in Europe, DJs (often also the producers) and MCs still have satirical pieces which mock the government, society, consumerism and culture or discuss issues to celebrate all that is either simply good about life or finding it again. It’s still poetic in this way, it’s more than chillin’ at the holiday inn. It’s more like what Eminem does when he’s not passing judgment on his mom and when he’s realizing his family’s worth. I think that’s pretty cool. How about more of Francis Magalona and less of Andrew E? ehehehe (if we can even call that hip hop)
When W tells me stories of his youth as a skateboarding chump who stops his bike to appreciate graffiti, I listen with a bit of envy. Now he stops the car on the way to snowboarding to do the same on legal graffiti walls where the pieces are given thought, time and effort – not only the testosterone dribbling marks on newly painted buildings. Here I am with an almost torn apart tagging alphabet, a few lyrics, and a Vanilla Ice album. (Haha, kadiri. Let’s just say that Vanilla Ice during that time was still very much the very basic version called disco rap.) But anyway that’s the only stuff I have to remind me of my fairly insignificant affair with hip hop, like many of those who wear baggy pants and a twisted cap singing the latest shnizzle mah nizzle and think they have been immersed in water blessed by Tupac, hip hop’s sacrificial lamb. =) W on the other hand lived most of its facets and honestly loved it. He skateboarded, tagged (and been caught), owns one too many Wu-tang clan albums among others and follow the local hip hop scene to this date which included taking me to a 3 day camp which featured all of this music type’s fundamentals – from weed and huge hooded sweaters to footbags – and no weekend shower at all.
I think it’s beyond being able to sing along with our African-American (or should I say African-‘insert other nationality here’) brothers and appreciating their ability to rhyme words. I really think it’s more than that.
I would make the same homage to the other music forms I like but that would take too much time. Owing to my musical inadequacies and incapacity to carry a tune, I have decided to assume a more eclectic tendency when it comes to music. But listen to Jack Black’s discourse in the ‘
School of Rock ’ on rock and you will pretty much have an idea where the other entries may get an inspiration from. Hehe. =)
