Rap’s been around a while, but not in my world.  The first versions from the 70’s and 80’swere rarely heard on suburban radio, as far as I know. And the first “gangsta”rap was not designed to appeal to nice white girls like me. My students at the community college were the ones who convinced me there was something to rap, more than the rhythms – the words. We did an exercise one class, where I asked them to bring in lyrics that could stand by themselves as poems.  Like U2, I thought —but in vain. As much as their music evokes an emotional response, the lyrics by themselves were vague and abstract. Rap, on the other hand, delivered. Besides rhythm and rhyme, there was strong, striking imagery, and plenty of emotion – undiluted anger. Ice T – the very same of Law and Order: SVU fame, wrote “my brain’s a handgrenade– catch.” Wow, I thought. And ever since, on the radio, and on my Ipod, I listen to rap and hip-hop. I like the rhythms and I like what they do with words.

Not all of it – some of it’s god-awful, and the most graphic and misogynistic I have to switch off. But the boasting and posturing I don’t really mind – it’s part of the game.  Even the put-downs, the insults back-and-forth - “playing the dozens” — are part of the collaborative nature, the dialogue of rap and hip-hop. As long as it doesn’t get lethal.  Street cred is one thing; but taking or shooting bullets is another.  Angry rap, at its best, is a substitute for violence, the way that all creative outlets can bring about change without total destruction or self-destruction.  When the guns come out, something’s not working.  If you listen, under the bragging runs another, plaintiff chord: tough childhoods, betrayal of lovers and friends, and the bittersweet experience of fame and money:

            “You would think these niggas know me when they really doesn’t

            Like they was down with the old me, no you f***in’ wasn’t.” (Kanye)

Rock may defy authority, but rap is about breaking the rules, the conventions and expectations – artistically speaking. Who can be more creative and inventive than Outkast? “Hey Ya” is infectious fun, but it’s also multidimensional music. Or “Rosa Parks”, although it ruffled some feathers, has every kind of music in it except the kitchen sink. In the best of rap and hip-hop,  everything is up for grabs - the sampling, the electronics, orchestral music, violins, bells and whistles —and don’t forget the sirens.  Makes me check the rearview mirror every time. 

One thing I really like is the way rap artists work with and off each other – like one continuous party, with people coming and going.  Jay Z, is there anyone he hasn’t worked with?  Two or three guest rappers at the least.  In country music, they may do duets, but this is different, the voices not so much blending as playing off each other, often the spoken rap vs. the chorus. It’s a black thing, certainly, but there’s room for Hispanics like Baby Bash; women have made a place for themselves: Beyonce, Missy Elliot, Rihanna. And white boys, too – Eminem is for real –“Lose Yourself” has everything rap requires – the rapid word delivery, the imagery, and the desperation to be heard and seen.  On the smoother end of the scale, Justin Timberlake, God bless him, looks just as comfortable as a boy can be on either side of the color line.

Yeah, I know, a little strange —50 year old mom bouncing along with Fifty-Cent, “Hate it or Love it”. Kanye West, Jay-Z, Eminem, AliciaKeys, Timbaland, Nellie, Ludicris – I’ve got them, too. I can tell Lil Wayne by voice now, and I’m a bit fond of his weirdness. Maybe it’s going back to a time in my twenties when I lived and partied with a lot of black people, getting used to the music and the dancing – that’s what moves me now. Or, maybe it’s just my innate appreciation of clever lyrics: 

            Superbad chicks giving me McLovin

            You would think I ran the world like Michelle’s husband. (Kanye)

What can I say?  I’m a sucker for wordsmiths, and I can’t resist a good beat.