“what happened to real music”
“what happened to real music”
I do kind of want to be rapper. I listen to so much hip-hop that any other career path seems inauthentic, at least at the moment.
What I’ve observed though is that the lyrical aspect of hip-hop (which I respect most, and are best at) lies in the rap hierarchy under flow, a sense of timing and rhythm (which predictably I’m shit at). So I guess I’ve got two options.
First: practice heaps. I think to a degree that a good flow can be developed through hard work and practice, at least I hope it can. I’ve read about people who’ve picked up music and just figured out musical concepts like a game of 52 pick-up through saturation, through filling their lives with it and dedicating their whole selves to it.
The second option isn’t really an option. I don’t know why I wrote that I had two options because I don’t, practice is quite transparently the only possible path to becoming good at rapping. Actually I think the second option was to be realistic and give up.
Here’s something I wrote last night.
I realise my real eye’s only half open/
still figuring shit out like what is hope in/
a world where the truth’s scrubbed out with soap/
wars & hunger 6 feet beneath the beefcheeks of oprah/
where one half’s sight’s swollen shut by LED lights/
& can’t see the plight of those who still fight for life/
our planet’s dichotomised split in time/
50 in the future 50 in primordial slime/
a voice in a million/
one man amongst seven billion/
I don’t think that’s absolutely amazing but I do think it’s quite rappable, which is really the main thing. That in my eye’s the problem with rap; it’s nature as a musical genre means that rhythm and how you sound, how it flows off the tongue, how listenable it is, takes precedence over the substance of what you’re saying.
to me that leads to a dilution in meaning and intellectual matter. the standards of intellectual rap are much lower than say the standards for something like literary fiction where for something to be considered ‘intellectual’ it has to do a lot more than just talk about fake money-oriented rappers vs those with soul rapping about real shit which dominates ‘conscious rap’.
If I become good at rapping or master a style where I don’t have to be particularly good then I really want to rap in a style that’s a) very genuine, and reflects my personality but b) more importantly talks about high order shit, about abstract ideas and philosophy.
For all my talk of abstract ideas and intellectual shit though I can’t actually think of any ideas I’d hypothetically rap about, which I guess is an indicator of how fake and conceited I am.
Anyway I’d also like to rap in a kind of poetic stream of consciousness style, just using lots of pretty cool sounding words (like nidificate and hebdomadal and negritude), especially ones from different languages. Just paint nice like romantic Keatsy Blakesy wakesy imagery of magical cities and raging seas and storms and shit like that.
So that’s my life ambition right now.
6 months ago I wanted to be a proper graffiti writer (NOT a faggoty street artist, although truth be told I wanted to do both- there is a difference). Who knows what I’ll want to do in 6 months. I always hope that my ambition’s aren’t just fads, phases, but invariably they fucking are. I would like to be a rapper. I do think I could pull it off, maybe one day. I would like to give interviews that differentiate me from all the fake stupid A-listers and talk to the people I respect like madlib and doom and nas and kanye, and MOS DEF, like the few who are actually kind of smart.
I’ve always thought that the idea that hip hop is dead, that the golden age was in the 90s, was bullshit, and that it’s just seen stylistic change and the era we’re currently in is one characterised by different themes and aesthetic interests. But now I disagree with that assessment. The 90s were a golden age because, and this is what every semi-brain dead youtube commenter will tell you, but they were a golden age because rappers were geniunely poets and gifted writers, and what they wrote reflected complex, interesting ideas.
night cunts x
I only ever come on tumblr when I’m drunk. Not high. Just drunk. Not to mention that it’s never socially-acceptable-drunk, never party-tasty-premixed-drinks-drunk. Always bottom-of-the-fucking-barrel drunk.
Tonight it’s this weird bottle of sherry with a little kilt on it that I found in the garage.
Anyway. As I was falling asleep last night a thought inconveniently kept me awake, and it was about Kanye West. Or rather, Kanye West as an example, as evidence for a theory/philosophy I thought of.
It’s something along the lines of; people only respect authenticity. They might pretend to like, even occasionally genuinely like people with fake personalities. But people only ever truly RESPECT others with personalities that are 100% unadulterated, unedited.
The thing is that most people have fucked with their characters in some way. Everyone (read: most people) has a flaw, or a trait which they don’t like and try to suppress or manipulate or obscure or flat out deny. To me that constitutes a constructed personality. You’re trying to present a certain view of yourself to others, one without the flaws which you’re able to recognise.
And so therefore the people who are respected fall into two categories.
a) either don’t have flaws to suppress, and are just amazing specimens of kindness and overflowing unsmug gooodness (ie. Tom Farnell, Isobel Knight)
b) people who have flaws, as many as they want really, but acknowledge them and generally don’t give a fuck if other people notice their flaws and hate them for it. people who present THEIR WHOLE SELVES, people who don’t try to edit out the shit parts ie. Kanye West.
I guess this means that people are subconsciously attracted to honesty. I think people fall in love with other people who show them their true whole selves and despise those who don’t. The people with the most, doctored, most plastic personalities are those who unite others in hate.
President Bill Clinton with his cat Socks at the South Lawn at the White House, March 7, 1995.
will never not reblog
you fucking bad cunt clinton you ruthless mass murderer swag time lord
KFC Japan made a phone case
what the fuck Japan
Supreme, 1996 by David Shadi Perez
Caught you looking. #tattoo #tattoos #mudra #southpark #northpark #sandiego #sandiegotattoo #fullcircletattoo #fullcircletattoos (at Full CIrcle Tattoo)