Music: The Improvement of a Tired Form, Part One
This is part one of many parts in an ongoing quest to explore (both personally and sociologically) the foundations and functions of music, and how one can improve the current status of popular music. Enjoy, J--
When one spends a substantial amount of time considering the emotional value of music, the result will more than likely turn into a value assessment of one’s character traits. At some point, when the likelihood of emotional response becomes imminent, conception becomes a different form of inward expression. This is important. Listening becomes a secondary format for understanding—projection being more immediate. For example, if you are introverted, the lyrical side of any song will reflect a certain understanding— the opposite is true for the outgoing individual who will look to the repetitive and ignorable instrumental side of a band’s/group’s catalog. This is evidenced by the number of people who argue music simply by its impetus for dancing or soundscapes (the rise of instrumental music being a catalyst for this essay). Necessity for classifications derives its merit from this type of general understanding of human condition--i.e. labeling comes from judgment.
Within any given musical classification, a certain amount of marketability is mixed into the music’s fan base. With each new genre comes a contextual choice. Should we market a new type of music to a fan base that enjoyed other classifications? Calling a certain type of music “Crunk” or even labeling a certain age group the “hip-hop generation,” immediately envisions a certain type of fan—the contingency supporting southern hip-hop for example can equate this movement to a post-punk wave of rock bands like Wire et al, but there is no need—“Snap," "Bounce," or “Crunk” (with the monosyllabic syllogisms for drunken antics) are ready made for marketing. “Math Rock,” “Post Punk” and etc. consolidate the appreciation of formerly unpopular styles of music. This typifying of the musical mindset grossly miscalculates the amount of effort and emotion in music; it guarantees the brevity of these subgenres. Therefore, emotional response becomes completely unnecessary—garnered useless by generic tags affixed to simplify the nature of movement from other musical forms.
Essentially, music’s dada is forthcoming. Since the emotional mindset of the consumer is so innate and lost, listening has become an exemplary way to completely betray the onslaught of iconological contrariness. The aforementioned difference between listening techniques (the example remaining introverted vs. outgoing) is, then, more important to avid consumers that they are projecting their own personalities onto their musical choices. Segregation of the genre specific forms of habit—fans of certain music tend to advertise that love with clothes, buttons, and imitations of the prominent figures of said genre. These habits become more important than the music itself. The way a consumer carries his/herself is inherently more valuable than an actual music conversation. Like being a New York Yankees fan means more than being a baseball fan, all music conversations become argumentative rather than appreciative of music (or baseball) itself. Argument, acceptance and agreement become the cyclical understanding of a music conversation—as the sentence now seems to go, “have you heard the new ________? It’s not as good as __________, but better than the new _________.” There is neither appreciative talk of performance nor a specific guideline, save for comparisons and argument. Music has become a form of function—a narrow vessel of personality rather than a fruitful dialogue of artistic integrity. Conformist conversation has cornered the market. Listening has become a useless facet in both the music and the banter.
Considering listening as a form of expression seems pointless in the face of such a graceless musical era—as we speak there are probably six different “generations” all sharing the same age groups. Instead, listening must take on its true form. Identification and projection must be separate from the "muscle" of new music. For instance, one of my favorite bands, the now dysfunctional Hot Snakes, bent their genre to the point of cessation of classification. There is everything from the 1950’s to the 1990’s within most every song (as I reviewed them once—"Punk Rock, Rockabilly, Rock and Roll and Classic Rock" can finally hang out in the same room together). One listen, however, could immediately assign a label of “Rock” and move on. Upon multiple listens, the subtle nods to other genres and overall quality of the music percolate the listener’s sense of innate observation. There are many examples of this, but the preachiness and condemnation of music is altogether to easy to adopt (part of the problem, so to speak).
Listening will weed out the imperfect--training of the ear to understand quality of lyric and emotional attachment to instrumentation will comprise a better understanding of each genre's place in the present. Coincidentally, having to understand and label all music’s standing is still a rather new venture in musical history (were the kids raving about the Baroque back in the day? Did they even really think that Baroque meant anything more than different?). As it stands, the definition of listening—making an effort to hear something; paying attention to garner understanding—stands to reason that people are only hearing the sounds and patterns of music on a large scale. Music used to be a formative escape, whereas its new place in society is a point of discussion alongside television, movies, and sport. This idea of classification is fine but wrong--albeit unintentionally. Entertainment is a knowing and demanding beast meant to form a barrier between respect and understanding. Respecting a musician is to fundamentally dismiss his/her/their entire form. Understanding a musician is the same as acknowledgement. To define is to confine, but to listen may be divine.
Q: Why? A: Why not?: Explicating Jadakiss' "Why?" Pt. II
At long last I have found the time for round two of my Q and A with Jadakiss. The second verse of the song “Why?” had some hard-hitting subject matter, but I think I managed to put Jadakiss’ worries to bed under a blanket of reason, logic, and empirical truths.
Why do niggas push pounds and powder?
It seems to me that the selling of illegal drugs generally spawns from the need for money. People who prefer these substances are usually willing to pay top dollar for them, resulting in unusually high profit margins—or if you grow up in the suburbs it results in the purchaser being the proud owner of a zip-lock bag of Oregano or baby powder.
Why did Bush knock down the towers?
This is a topic that megaphone wielding, banner making demonstrators in Union Square feel very passionate about—that and likening Bush to Hitler (I’m still trying to work that one out). While I am in no way a Bush supporter I can’t say I believe in either a) Bush’s physical prowess being mighty enough to knock over tall office buildings or b) his intellect being honed enough to organize the September 11th attacks. Furthermore, why do the people who bring this question up always forget about the Pentagon? It’s kind of like straightedge kids conveniently forgetting that Ian Mackaye said, “Don’t fuck” in the lyrics to “Straightedge.”
Why you around them cowards?
They make me look cooler and more masculine than I actually am.
Why Aaliyah have to take that flight?
If I remember correctly she was returning from, or flying to a video shoot in an exotic island locale. In short, she was trying to make that money. I also contend that if Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper’s flight had crashed during the summer returning from wholesomely rocking the islands the song “American Pie” would never have been written, or if it had it would have been composed by Bob Marley while high.
Why my nigga D ain't pull out his Ferrari? Why he take that bike?
Okay, I have to plead ignorance on who “D” is, and to his possession of a Ferrari and a motorcycle. Whatever happened as a result of D’s automotive choice I’m sure he just wanted to feel that breeze on his face, or enjoys the feel of protective equipment on his bodice.
Why they gotta open your package and read your mail?
I don’t know what kind of packages and mail you’re getting these days, but I know if the government wants to open my packages and glimpse the cell phone charger I left at my parents house during a visit, or security check the controversial nature of my utility bills/bank statements they can go right ahead.
Why they stop lettin' niggas get degrees in jail?
Did this happen? If so, when? My impressions of jail are a smattering of weight lifting, religious unrest (usually between Muslims and Christians and/or white supremacists), drug selling and using, cigarettes as currency, generally there’s a guy in a wheelchair hanging around the television room and who is really insightful, some forced sodomy on “the new guy,” and of course the heart-warming emotional maturation that occurs when the older “lifer” teaches the young twenty-something how to read and helps him get his high school diploma.
Why you gotta do eighty-five percent of your time?
In relation to what I described in the last answer I’m sure that sodomized “new guy” would be damn excited about only having to serve 85% of his sentence. Mostly I feel that the general, non-jailed, public would like to see more prisoners complaining about serving 100% of their sentence rather than just 85%.
And why do niggas lie in eighty-five percent of they rhymes?
The truth is boring. The average rap fan would much rather hear hyperbolic claims about street life instead of the truth, or hear any kinds of commentary on how to solve socioeconomic injustices. This is why groups like The Roots aren’t as financially successful as Dem Franhize Boys.
Why a nigga always want what he can't have?
Mostly due to a complicated and cyclical relationship between the individual and the consumer culture we exist in. That, and possibly the inordinate amount of “bling,” expensive cars/boats, costly alcoholic beverages, unattainable/ exploited females, large mansions, and sports related apparel that appears in rap videos and MTV’s cribs.
Why I can't come through in the pecan Jag?
Go right ahead; see if I give a shit. Just don’t cry when my 95’ Taurus and I Tokyo Drift past your stupid ass.
Why did crack have to hit so hard?
Crack is highly addictive, and reportedly “so much fucking rowdier than that pussy cocaine shit,” by a bum who pees on the dollar book carts bi-weekly at the Strand Bookstore.
Even though it's almost over, Why niggas can't get no jobs?
What’s almost over? Joblessness? That’s not almost over. It seems to me that good jobs go towards those amongst us who can network or have much better luck than everyone else. This is particularly true for college graduates who can’t get a response to a resume and cover letter for an entry level position because despite the phrase “entry level” they want 3-5 years experience in the field. Jadakiss, if you want to team up on this, maybe we can take a day and go get some answers on this one. I’m free Wednesdays and Thursdays.
Why they come up wit the witness protection?
Witness protection is a good thing. Isn’t it? I mean, if I saw something, had to appear in court to testify and in turn did not want to be murdered or have my family/friends systematically killed, I’d say witness protection is pretty all right.
Why they let the terminator win the election? Come on, pay attention.
California’s residents are not intelligent. Seriously, they would have voted for me if I looked good shirtless.
Why sell in the stores what you can sell in the streets?
Mass marketing my friend. You’re able to reach a wider base of consumers versus whoever wanders up to the trunk of your car, or rendezvous’ with you in a secluded parking garage or alley.
Why I say the hottest shit but be sellin' the least?
Sounds like a personal problem to me. Also, I see little evidence to your “shit” being the “hottest.” Have you heard Mos Def? Seriously.
Everybody Loves a Winner.
As tens of people may have noticed by now I haven't written anything for the site of late. Why you ask? The answer is quite simple: I recently entered the "I needed to step back, take some time to myself, personal reevaluation/build a personal recording studio in my decadent but cozy mountain estate's basement" phase of the "Behind the Music" episode that is my life. So what have I been doing? What lessons have I learned during this introspective foray? I present to you, the reader, a brief list of my most recent revelations and goings on.
1. After camping at Linville Gorge in North Carolina with eight male friends I have decided that my chosen friends are either a) incredibly homophobic b) want to be African-American more than anything in this world or c) are all homosexual and racists. Conclusion? I still love my friends.
2. Rocks hurt terribly when you fall on them.
3. Beer is not the Oracle of Delphi. The belligerent gentleman on Avenue A had a point. I think.
4. I have decided that there is a lot going on beneath the surface of one's jukebox selections. One who drops a dollar into the machine and picks "Go to Hell" by The Clash is understated, making a subtle nod to the cultural and musical importance of the band's achievements by not subjecting you to a "London Calling" or "Spanish Bombs." This person most likely works an entry level, data-entry job and is trying to come to terms with the nine-to-five and is furiously attempting to figure out what "business-casual" means.
Where as the person playing "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" followed immediately by "Heart of Gold" both of which were preceded by "Wild Horses" and "The Weight" is me seamlessly sequencing last call songs in an effort to depress you.
5. Recently issues of Vibe magazine have begun arriving at my apartment. What is most odd about this whole scenario is that they are addressed to me. After hours of contemplation on how this could have occurred (mainly on the toilet while reading Vibe magazine) I remembered that when I purchased a Led Zeppelin DVD set at FYE (a purchase whose impetus was solely "to treat myself to something nice,” yes I'm a total dork) I was rewarded with a free trial magazine subscription. I seem to remember choosing something else, and using Vibe as a secondary choice, but I like to envision the marketing department at the Vibe offices reviewing my choices for subscriptions, seeing that I bought a Zeppelin DVD, and then immediately concluding that they can convert my musical tastes to that of mainstream hip-hop, or "the culture of the streets," by subversively mailing me their publication. This particular meeting would be held in large and tastefully decored office at the top of the mighty Vibe complex, with a leaked copy of the new Outkast album spilling out of the speakers of a stereo with an ipod hooked up to it. In an effort to thank the fine people at Vibe magazine I intend to dress as white as possible, go to the whitest, but not hooded or shaved headed, events and locations and have my picture taken holding my free trial issues of Vibe. These pictures will then be sent lovingly to the Vibe offices in hopes of being printed in the letters to the editor section, elevating me to some kind of mysteriously epic status within the ranks of the magazine's staff and readership.
6. After an awkward, and very AM, discussion with my landlord in which I was drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette from behind a delightful mustache/soul patch combination I recently shaved into, I’ve concluded that he sounds increasingly like Christopher Walken with each conversation I have with him.
So there you have it. I intend to begin posting on a more regular basis in the coming weeks so please check back regularly for more inane observations and meanderings from your friend Tedd.
