THURSDAY THOUGHTS: IN THE MORNING

Although I have always had an appreciation for various musical genres, (and admit I was happily present and singing along at the old Capitol Center, during the festival-style Parliament Funkadelic and Bootsy's Rubber Band concert, back in the 70's), it's official--I'm displaying the tell-tale signs of advanced age. 

My nerves are getting bad, I think. 

I'm losing hip points, and I don't care. 

This morning, if I had been close to the inconsiderate person, I may have forgotten that I am my parent's least confrontational child. 

I'm sorry. 

I have tried, and I know that "hate" is a strong word, but I hate rap. 

Okay. That's too broad. 

Let me put it this way:

I hate the rap that seems to be reserved for car stereo use. 

Whether I am on the road next TO the obviously hearing-impaired driver, as the noise curses everything within a 20 mile radius, or in my home as it miraculously penetrates brick, mortar, and glass, I detest the muffled sound of it. 

It assaults my being like the sound of a really bad automobile collision…involving several vehicles... that back up traffic for miles and hours...and explodes in a ball of fire...and yields multiple fatalities..and makes people run out of gas, so they go insane because they can't hear the person they phoned for help, because the driver in the car behind them is blasting rap. 

UGH.

People who get up in the morning, find THE worse rap music they own, and entertain the neighborhood, as they sit in their cars waiting for the light to turn from red to green, should be jailed for 10 days and forced to listen to ambient music CD's. 

They must know that they are not helping people, like me, find any redeeming quality in what they feel they must so widely share. 

It just rips through the serene morning like a pile driver through asphalt, and obliterates the songs of the birds. I hear no poetry, no rhythm, no harmony, no balance, just the too-loud, harsh, ignorant ramblings of of some seemingly drunken, profane individual(s) who clearly missed a substantial number of weeks from school--especially English, Speech, and Music classes. 

Just because you can talk (barely), and were half awake when your teacher covered rhyming words, does NOT mean you are a rapper. 

Give me Gil Scott-Heron, Curtis Blow, James Brown, even, but this disgusting noise that is masquerading for music, gets on my nerves, and in my opinion has contributed to the dumbing down of a lot of young people. 

I'm so afraid that so many people have no idea what constitutes good music, nor how to make it. 

I know. It's subjective, but still, I feel so bad for someone who chooses to fill their waking moments with vulgarity and profanity wrapped up in repetitive, poorly produced noise. 

Music, like books, reflect values. There's got to be a better way for young people to see themselves so that they don't embrace the worse, most pitifully base representations.

It's official. I am getting old.

Wait.

What’s that?
Oh, thank God. 

The birds are back.