By Austin T. Murphy
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| I do not own this picture |
Several years ago I endeavored to write an essay on the cultural, musical, and racial undertones in the movie Alpha Dog and wound up referencing rappers like Eminem and Tupac Shakur.
I'm 26. I was probably still sucking my thumb when Shakur was murdered.
I'm also white as hell. The closest I've come to gangster life is the fact that I know a guy who was once shanked. I wasn't even there to witness it.
But I pride myself in my literary skill and my ability to glean further meaning from text. Earlier today a commercial played -- I cannot recall the product -- but it was playing a hip-hop song I'd heard many times over. The moment must have struck me just right because I discerned something of a contradiction in the opening two lines. I flashed back to my days as a music journalist, and sent the following text to my friend (who then responded in like and carried us into as interesting a back-and-forth as you'll ever read).
Enjoy.
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AM: Rae Sremmurd's literary genius is on full display in "No Type," as they present themselves as respectable and wholesome, insisting on having no preference in regards to female companionship, though this true relatability is undercut in the next line when the rapper contradicts his lack of preference by asserting he only likes "bad bitches," an ironic dismissal of the initially noble characterization.
JB: Exactly. It's a classic modernization of the unreliable narrator. In this context, the entire song can be seen as a nuanced critique of what the genre of rap has become in today's society, and why children these days should not look to those who benefit from its calculated manipulation as role models, as they are contradictory and lack any trustworthiness that is necessary in any figure worthy of emulation.
AM: It echoes and contrasts starkly with Eminem's hit "The Way I Am." Where so many narrators and lyricists insist on perpetuating a false, upstanding persona, Mathers is straightforward and unabashed about his true, malevolent nature -- a refreshing reminder that a flawed hero is shameless in his imperfection.
JB: Ah, but Eminem's entire caricature is built around brutal honesty, his enlightening and layered song "Criminal" offers a direct refutation of any logic that bases itself on the assumption that Mathers' work is to be taken at face value.
AM: We would be remiss, however, to ignore the subtextual passage in his adaptation of Aerosmith's "Dream On": "If my music is literal and I'm a criminal how the f*** could I raise a little girl? I couldn't...." thereby reinforcing his message that art is meant to defy expectations and destroy the age-old reliance on superhuman characters.
JB: Exactly! Were he everything his songs boasted, he "wouldn't be fit to" raise [his daughter] Hailey; the fact that he is, of course, only underlines my point.
AM: His antihero aims are further evidenced when he names Reggie "Redman" to be the greatest rapper of all-time in "Till I Collapse," stalwart acclaim for a modest individual who also defies cultural and musical stereotypes.
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The unintentional irony that arises out of this back-and-forth has to be the fact that even though we are extolling artists, I'm 99% sure Marshall would be absolutely livid if someone were to tell him that some 20-something white boys tried to find literary merit along the lines of Shakespeare in his lyrics. That man hates the media with a passion, so I should probably give it a rest before he puts me to rest ("Go To Sleep").
Some days I wonder what I would do without the English language. Other days I cut down trees in the Santa Cruz Mountains.
