Since my experience with music has practically never included producing original work, I gradually came to the realization that, aside from being an avid consumer of music, I didn't really have a basis for my opinions, and it showed in my clumsy rebuttals of friends who offered me a taste of whatever pop singles or rap albums were coming out.
College provided me with endless halls full of people blasting different sounds from their desks, and I quickly focused on music as a point of bonding. Going into my freshman year, my favorite bands were Rage Against the Machine, Incubus, and Pink Floyd. I quickly added bands like Tool, Audioslave, John Mayer, and Porcupine Tree to my playlists, and enjoyed a personal golden age of rock for two or three years.
John Mayer, whose album "Continuum" is possibly the best overall record of the last 20 years, had a particularly strong influence on where I looked next for music, though I could never have guessed where my interests would lead me. I began to place more value on lyrics and less on just musical composition, which gave my ears a slew of new musical choices. Thanks to Last.fm, I quickly found my days paced to the beats of Jurassic 5, Mos Def, Aesop Rock, Jay-Z, Rob Sonic, El-P, Cannibal Ox, Blackalicious, Gift of Gab, and yes, Notorious B.I.G. It took me a while to adjust my listening habits to fully appreciate rap and hip-hop; form follows function, and songs from those genres are constructed differently than what I'd been used to.
I gradually grew to enjoy the stories and raw sentiments offered up by these artists, even if I couldn't relate to them directly. At a very primitive level, there's something attractive about the bravado and swagger put in focus by many rap artists. It's not always something I seek out, but I also can't deny that on my way home from a bad day at work, I'll crank all sorts of nonsense that puts confidence back in my stride.
It's fun to peek into rap culture, which revels in creating slang for the sake of rhythm, or turning one or two words into complex analogies for larger ideas. (Aesop Rock's nickname "Bazooka Tooth" comes from his incredible ability to rap with explosive intensity, but fits into rhythms much better than a long sentence.) Rap is all about how much you can say, and each beat and word are placed with a specific purpose. To help explain some of the unique aspects of rap that keep me interested, here's "Raspberry Fields" by Cannibal Ox:
The first 11 seconds of the song are just as important as the middle and end; the beat immediately sets listeners up to expect something ominous and powerful. Vast Aire, the first rapper to speak, follows through for the audience, dropping some hefty ideas and challenges in the first 30 seconds that he raps:
"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
Step up to the mic, and die again.
This is the next lifetime and you wanna battle?
Either you like reincarnation or the smell of carnations.
The sample's the flesh and the beat's the skeleton.
You got beef, but there's worms in your Wellington.
I'll put a hole in your skull and extract the skeleton.
Oh my God, he said a word twice! I'm Vaste Aire. I'm twice as nice."
The first two lines are an open invitation to anyone who wants to challenge Vast Aire's claim of lyrical superiority. He even suggests that the target of his verse has tried to challenge him before, and failed. This is a common theme in rap songs, and it paves the way for that aura of confidence to come through later. Next we hear a comparison of losing rap battles to dying. Vast Aire is making it clear that a thorough defeat is sure to befall anyone who challenges him. The personification (or at least animation) of the samples and beats gives Vast Aire further strength as a rapper, suggesting his work is as complex as a living body. The last three lines undermine the competition's credit and confidence by suggesting that they have no real strength behind their arguments.
It doesn't matter that Vast Aire isn't actually battling with anyone in real time. The calculated dramatic arrogance of what he's saying is important—it's the critical piece that allows you to enjoy the music. Coupled with the change in beats (starting around 1:41 the music stutters and repeats, reflecting Vast Aire as he revels in victory), this sentiment turns the song into a powerhouse of rugged nerve and recklessness; a perfect mix for those looking for heavy beats or a dose of confidence. It doesn't matter that the lyrics are full of threats and profanity. Focusing on those parts of rap prevents listeners from appreciating the lightning-quick elegance of what each rapper has to say. If you really can't get past it, groups like Jurassic 5 and Blackalicious take pride in avoiding the "gangsta" style.
Even though I've expanded my musical comfort zones considerably, practically all of my favorites are horribly dated. If I listen to the radio at all, my first reaction to most of what I hear still includes a wrinkled nose and furrowed brow, but I relax a lot faster than I used to, and I reach to change the channel less than before. A commenter on one of TNC's blogs recently said "There's a reason there's a bandwagon," and they're right. It took me 20 years, but I realized that being stuck-up about music is ridiculous. The experience is supposed to be personal, and it's supposed to make you feel something. In a way, choosing what music to listen to is like choosing which beer to drink. Sometimes you're in the mood for something fancy, and other times you want the cheapest thing possible. The objective is the same—personal satisfaction.
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