Too Young to Rap and Roll Too Old to Try

My kids have known this always. My wife always sides with them. So she does too. I denied it for a long time and pretended to love it. But today I am announcing it. I do not understand rap.

“Rap is a way of life bro’. Wanna rap? You gotcha live like us – the ghetto clothes. You gotta dress right … like a gangsta. Give attitoood and you’ll get it.”, the guy offered me the first AHA experience about Rap. He should know. He was the young 20 something who was being interviewed as he stepped off his stretch limo. I had gone to drop off a hysterical gang of teenagers at this Rap Concert. (Is that an oxymoron?)

I did not like being addressed as a dawg or a gangsta -even if it came from HIM. My kids explained that I should be honoured that HE even looked at me while saying that stuff. There were so many drooling fans around. And of all people he looked at the “unkewlest of them all”. And being called a “gangsta” is a sign of being accepted even in High School, my daughter consoled me.

“If he is from the ghettos, why is he flashing the diamond ear-ring while stepping off a stretch limo?” I put a clincher.

“Oh DAD!! Don’t you understand anything?”:roll:

Kids are low on patience when explaining kewl stuff to parents. (yeah… it is not cool. “You are SO like 70’s, Dad”)

I put my apprehensions aside. If dressing right was part of the solution, so be it. So, for a while I pretended that I was hip just like those people – the “kewl dudes”. I started referring to my kids as gangsta. That was rough on my nerves. Try saying, “Hey Gangsta! Finished your homework? Get on the case dude. You got a TEST TOMORROW FOGOSSAKE!!”

I even wore appropriate attire. I wore loose pants and that’s not easy to maintain. I normally have the reverse problem – my pants suddenly become tight. Here was a twist. I had to buy pants that would be loose enough to hang around my derriere (look I know some French and it makes me sound classy). But that meant I had to also had to buy new boxers that would be on display for the world to see. My shopping list was becoming longer and leaving me poorer. I took one of those baggy shorts and tried wearing them. How could anyone call them shorts? They reached till my socks. They were unwieldy at that. I almost tripped over in the trial room itself trying to catch a sideways glance at myself in the mirror. Loose pants around my kneecaps gave me the necessary pizzazz and the oversized T shirt made me look like a novice mountaineer emerging out of the tent he tried to put up. I wore a bandana and dark glasses that were three sizes too big for me. Satisfied that I was now ready to listen to The Music, I stepped into the streets. Wearing those dark glasses in the evening was a mistake. A kind old lady who was my grandmother’s age held my hand firmly and walked me to the other side of the street. I kept protesting to say I was fine but she wouldn’t let go.

I reached home and switched on the channel that features these Rap artistes. I always thought you got to have the anorexic look to be featured in a music video. I mean that’s what it was like in our times. The skinny models would walk down the ramp swaying to some crazy music only they could hear. The left ankle carefully placed in front of the right foot before they switched places. But Rap videos featured folks who would win Obesity Contests. One lead singer was narrating his life story (presumably) in a monotonous monologue while the drummer was concentrating on practicing a basic beat on the jungle drums. From time to time the lead singer would draw out an imaginary outline of his underwear. He would trace the design around his groin keeping his thumb and index finger as far apart as possible from each other.

I did not get it. Never will. And that’s OK. I am relying on the great divide called the Generation Gap to prevent the beast from reaching my part of the jungle.

How can this get classified as music when you can never play any of these tunes on a musical instrument? If something is beyond the scope of an instrument is it music at all or is it poetry? After a while the effort was too much for me to figure out. I switched back to good old Beatles stuff. By the way The Beatles are kewl even in High School, says my kid. I guess I am too old to rap and roll and too young to try.