Tag Archives: music

#43: Don’t Fear Rap

Rap music may seem like part of the plot by the evil young to drive us all to mass suicide so they can grab our high-paying jobs and steal our needlepoint pillows, but I’m here to tell you, you needn’t be afraid of rap. After being tortured for countless hours in the car by rap music, I’ve even come to like some of it, though that might just be the Stockholm Syndrome.

True, the only rap music I actually like are the oldies. My number one favorite is the immortal Biggie Smalls singing Back To Cali — he’s heading west for “the wine, the women, and the weed.” I like to quote it when I’m trying to get my 15-year-old son out of bed in the morning: “Yo, Big, get your ass UP.” Though Biggie’s been dead for more than a decade now, listening to him never fails to make me feel youngish. Another song (are they called songs?) I really like is Wu Tang Clan’s C.R.E.A.M, which stands for Cash Rules Everything Around Me, which sounds positively elderly. And then there’s — well, that’s about it.

I was unaware until ten minutes ago that a professional Rappin’ Granny performed at The Emmys last year. She was pretty good, too, except she worked that dowdy housedress a little too hard. Can a mature woman, even a white one, rap without turning herself into a laughingstock? Let’s go to the youtubeotape.

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#28: Don’t Listen To Springsteen

Dear Bruce: I’m so sorry. It kills me to do this. But I love you, and I know you’d want me to tell the truth as I see it deep in my heart. So as wonderful as you are, as much as I admire you, as much as I still love to dance and drive to your songs, I’m afraid that makes me old.

It seems like just yesterday — though it was 1975 — that I first saw you onstage in Milwaukee singing Born To Run. You were so sexy, I went out with a guy in my writing class solely because he looked like you. Much more recently, I saw you shopping for earrings in Barney’s with Patty, who was much more gorgeous in real life than in pictures. I thought you still looked pretty hot. Though a lot less hot than you looked in 1975.

Don’t worry, Bruce, I’ll keep in touch. I’ll still (secretly) buy your albums, or download your songs, or whatever it’s called these days. I’ll still dance (alone) to Born To Run. But in public, I’m going to have to act like I don’t know you, okay?

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