30-Year-Old White Male Seeks Hip Hop
Dear Hip Hop,
I’m writing to you so you can help lead me to where the good songs are, where the good acts are and to explain to me what pushing rhymes like weight really means. Please accept the following as my application for acceptance into your club.
I am Hip Hop. It’s true. I am. Now, now, don’t act so shocked. Granted, you might think I’m a liar because if you knew me, you’d know that aside from being an accomplished ballroom dancer and the maker of the most delicious Chili you’ll ever be lucky enough to eat, I’m also a) a 30 year old white male that b) lives in Riverdale, c) likes to wear sweaters, d) has a mortgage and e) is proud owner of a 13 pound dog that wears a sweater. Now I know those aren’t the first things you’d think you’d find in a self-proclaimed student of the game. Allow me a chance to address your concerns though, Playa.
a) I’m a 30 year-old white male
So fucking what? Plenty of people are white. I believe color is a state of mind. In fact, I’d be purple if it wasn’t for that Grimace character. He really mangles the English language, doesn’t he?
b) Living in Riverdale
No it’s not the fucking place where Archie went to High School you bologna fucker. It’s the Bronx. I actually live in Kingsbridge which is a section of the Bronx on the border of Riverdale Avenue, West of where all the little Jewish ladies live. However, when I meet people whose only impression of the Bronx is what they saw from “Fort Apache: The Bronx”, then I’m from the Boogie. That’s dangerous. I mean if it wasn’t for the Bronx, this whole rap game wouldn’t be goin’ on! So tell me where you from?!?! When I meet people who might want to hire me, then I’m from "Riverdale" (said with nose in air and looking out the bottom of my eyes).
c) I have a mortgage
I also have a birthmark on my middle finger. How much does that rock? The mortgage though, it’s cheap uptown and it’s just like rent, only different like when you use your left hand and it’s like someone else is actually doing it. It screams responsibility though. That’s why I felt bad when President Bush told me I needed to cut my addiction to oil. The dude told me that when I was lounging in my own living room no less. I needed to hear it though, the truth hurts sometimes. I feel like such a shit that the Iraq War is my fault. I’m a bad person. Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning good, ungh! It’s all about context. But like I was saying, mortgages are just like rent, except different. They imply responsibility. But so does wearing a condom. Yet, if you look at it in the context of wearing a condom when sleeping with a 43-year-old crack whore, does that seem very responsible? Context...
d) I like to wear sweaters
Bill Cosby wore sweaters. Sweaters are warm. And unlike button down shirts, you don’t have to tuck them in at the office.
e) Proud owner of a 13 pound dog that wears sweaters
My 13 pound dog is a Boston Terrier and she fucks shit up. She takes on Rotty’s (usually unsuccessfully) brawls with boxers and once peed on a Burmese Mountain Dog’s face after she ran him ragged. But the sweater is a tad gay, I’ll grant you that.
Anyway sir, here are my actual qualifications, I own a stereo, a few boxes of vinyl and shit loads of songs. I’m bored sick of them all, though. I’ve tried to buy a few new people in the last 3-4 years but it’s just been terrible. Of albums I’ve bought in the past 5 years, the only ones I at least half way dug were Saigon’s Warning Shots, Common’s Be, (although it can’t hold a candle to One Day It’ll All Make Sense), Aesop Rock’s Daylight, and everything done by the Roots. You can see I’m not exactly the most astute student of Hip Hop but I like what I like and frankly, there’s nothing out there that’s even close to moving me. I see a few obstacles to this.
Obstacle I
Hot 97 — Is there anything more painful than listening to someone scream shit like “DON’T GET IT TWISTED” and “IT’S ABOUT TO GET REAAAAAAL UGLY IN HERE” then hearing the sound of the page turning on the script? Between Funk Flex massaging his ego, there’s a few other DJ’s that really want to be his disciples and are killing Hip Hop. I can’t rap, I can’t freestyle, I have a hard time remembering lyrics but I know shit. Everything Hot 97 plays is shit. They’re not just ruining Hip Hop, they’re ruining radio. All the while wearing Roc-A-Wear jumpsuits.
Obstacle II
They really fucked me with the whole Napster thing. I was the perfect case study for Napster. I used to buy so much music after I’d download a track or two from Napster. They made more money off my ass. Now that it’s hard to find new artists, it’s over.
Obstacle III
I’m a lazy, inconsistent son of a bitch. I’m tired of seeking things out, I want things to seek me out. So send me things. Send me CD’s, vinyl, mix tapes, anything. Send me your demos, I dare you! I’ll review everything I get, I promise.
Obstacle IV
Jack Johnson. He might have ruined music for the rest of my life. I’m almost ashamed that someone who seems to be such a simplistic musician, singing about shit like Banana Pancakes, could be my favorite musician. He’s made it easier for me to tell Hip Hop to go fuck itself. I’ll always have the Roots though.
Obstacle V
I’m not quite sure when I’m getting made fun of. I try to hear the lyrics but I think the ones I usually remember are not good. It’s like the time I sat through Method Man and Redman’s How High, or should I say suffered through, and then at the end after the credits they basically told me they fucked all the white women and my penis was small? That was so not rad. So not.
So where do I go from here? Help a brother out Hip Hop. Let me in your club which seems to be going off kilter lately. I think I can help add some leadership if you’d have an open mind. I’m one of those whatchamacallem that when you give me something and I like it, I’ll spread the word. I’m a word spreader! Not like a Jehovah’s Witness, more like a loudmouth. Or someone who writes your mother’s phone number on the bathroom wall of the boy’s room to spread the word. You feelin’ me? Find me some new talent that is actually talented and not just noisy. Find me some poets, some lyricists, some bang my head on my keyboard beats that deliver with the flow too. I’ll make you proud.
I’m going to go get a bagel. I’ll catch you later. I expect to find my mailbox filled with the good shit by tomorrow.
Ya heaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard?!?!?!?!?
I’m writing to you so you can help lead me to where the good songs are, where the good acts are and to explain to me what pushing rhymes like weight really means. Please accept the following as my application for acceptance into your club.
I am Hip Hop. It’s true. I am. Now, now, don’t act so shocked. Granted, you might think I’m a liar because if you knew me, you’d know that aside from being an accomplished ballroom dancer and the maker of the most delicious Chili you’ll ever be lucky enough to eat, I’m also a) a 30 year old white male that b) lives in Riverdale, c) likes to wear sweaters, d) has a mortgage and e) is proud owner of a 13 pound dog that wears a sweater. Now I know those aren’t the first things you’d think you’d find in a self-proclaimed student of the game. Allow me a chance to address your concerns though, Playa.
a) I’m a 30 year-old white male
So fucking what? Plenty of people are white. I believe color is a state of mind. In fact, I’d be purple if it wasn’t for that Grimace character. He really mangles the English language, doesn’t he?
b) Living in Riverdale
No it’s not the fucking place where Archie went to High School you bologna fucker. It’s the Bronx. I actually live in Kingsbridge which is a section of the Bronx on the border of Riverdale Avenue, West of where all the little Jewish ladies live. However, when I meet people whose only impression of the Bronx is what they saw from “Fort Apache: The Bronx”, then I’m from the Boogie. That’s dangerous. I mean if it wasn’t for the Bronx, this whole rap game wouldn’t be goin’ on! So tell me where you from?!?! When I meet people who might want to hire me, then I’m from "Riverdale" (said with nose in air and looking out the bottom of my eyes).
c) I have a mortgage
I also have a birthmark on my middle finger. How much does that rock? The mortgage though, it’s cheap uptown and it’s just like rent, only different like when you use your left hand and it’s like someone else is actually doing it. It screams responsibility though. That’s why I felt bad when President Bush told me I needed to cut my addiction to oil. The dude told me that when I was lounging in my own living room no less. I needed to hear it though, the truth hurts sometimes. I feel like such a shit that the Iraq War is my fault. I’m a bad person. Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning good, ungh! It’s all about context. But like I was saying, mortgages are just like rent, except different. They imply responsibility. But so does wearing a condom. Yet, if you look at it in the context of wearing a condom when sleeping with a 43-year-old crack whore, does that seem very responsible? Context...
d) I like to wear sweaters
Bill Cosby wore sweaters. Sweaters are warm. And unlike button down shirts, you don’t have to tuck them in at the office.
e) Proud owner of a 13 pound dog that wears sweaters
My 13 pound dog is a Boston Terrier and she fucks shit up. She takes on Rotty’s (usually unsuccessfully) brawls with boxers and once peed on a Burmese Mountain Dog’s face after she ran him ragged. But the sweater is a tad gay, I’ll grant you that.
Anyway sir, here are my actual qualifications, I own a stereo, a few boxes of vinyl and shit loads of songs. I’m bored sick of them all, though. I’ve tried to buy a few new people in the last 3-4 years but it’s just been terrible. Of albums I’ve bought in the past 5 years, the only ones I at least half way dug were Saigon’s Warning Shots, Common’s Be, (although it can’t hold a candle to One Day It’ll All Make Sense), Aesop Rock’s Daylight, and everything done by the Roots. You can see I’m not exactly the most astute student of Hip Hop but I like what I like and frankly, there’s nothing out there that’s even close to moving me. I see a few obstacles to this.
Obstacle I
Hot 97 — Is there anything more painful than listening to someone scream shit like “DON’T GET IT TWISTED” and “IT’S ABOUT TO GET REAAAAAAL UGLY IN HERE” then hearing the sound of the page turning on the script? Between Funk Flex massaging his ego, there’s a few other DJ’s that really want to be his disciples and are killing Hip Hop. I can’t rap, I can’t freestyle, I have a hard time remembering lyrics but I know shit. Everything Hot 97 plays is shit. They’re not just ruining Hip Hop, they’re ruining radio. All the while wearing Roc-A-Wear jumpsuits.
Obstacle II
They really fucked me with the whole Napster thing. I was the perfect case study for Napster. I used to buy so much music after I’d download a track or two from Napster. They made more money off my ass. Now that it’s hard to find new artists, it’s over.
Obstacle III
I’m a lazy, inconsistent son of a bitch. I’m tired of seeking things out, I want things to seek me out. So send me things. Send me CD’s, vinyl, mix tapes, anything. Send me your demos, I dare you! I’ll review everything I get, I promise.
Obstacle IV
Jack Johnson. He might have ruined music for the rest of my life. I’m almost ashamed that someone who seems to be such a simplistic musician, singing about shit like Banana Pancakes, could be my favorite musician. He’s made it easier for me to tell Hip Hop to go fuck itself. I’ll always have the Roots though.
Obstacle V
I’m not quite sure when I’m getting made fun of. I try to hear the lyrics but I think the ones I usually remember are not good. It’s like the time I sat through Method Man and Redman’s How High, or should I say suffered through, and then at the end after the credits they basically told me they fucked all the white women and my penis was small? That was so not rad. So not.
So where do I go from here? Help a brother out Hip Hop. Let me in your club which seems to be going off kilter lately. I think I can help add some leadership if you’d have an open mind. I’m one of those whatchamacallem that when you give me something and I like it, I’ll spread the word. I’m a word spreader! Not like a Jehovah’s Witness, more like a loudmouth. Or someone who writes your mother’s phone number on the bathroom wall of the boy’s room to spread the word. You feelin’ me? Find me some new talent that is actually talented and not just noisy. Find me some poets, some lyricists, some bang my head on my keyboard beats that deliver with the flow too. I’ll make you proud.
I’m going to go get a bagel. I’ll catch you later. I expect to find my mailbox filled with the good shit by tomorrow.
Ya heaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard?!?!?!?!?