By Joe Walker
I’m a Hip Hop junkie. I don’t foresee myself ever being rehabilitated. My friend Mike (another junkie) and I spend hours discussing the music – past and present, our likes and dislikes about each. A few days ago he cautiously recommended I visit website YouTube to listen to a tune titled “Stanky Leg” by rap group G Spot Boyz. He’d been better off suggesting I stick flathead screwdrivers in each of my ears. Upon hearing this number my first thought was to loosen my eardrum to prevent music as terrible as this from ever entering my auditory canal again!
It was painful for Mike too. In a way though, I’m glad he shared it with me. Because of it we’ve shared several big laughs at the expense of this ridiculous song. My wife Nicki didn’t find it as humorous. I texted her suggesting she give “Stanky Leg” a spin, to which she replied it was “the biggest waste of 50 seconds ever!” My poor wife… couldn’t even stomach the entire song. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone can.
Yet, that’s Hip Hop today: One “Stanky Leg” after another. Pointless burp-beat dance tunes with overly repetitive choruses, verses lacking creative skill, unimaginative rhymes written hundreds of miles shy of making it nursery. Rock-a-bye Baby is permanently breaking the treetop, littering its surroundings with split limbs. I can’t believe the music I fiend for has succumb to such idiocy.
Music is a reflection of our times. Right now as a nation we’re at an all-time low. There are Hip Hop artists out there clamoring to be heard, their songs echo voices of so many. But radio won’t play them. These artists rap to heal, heighten awareness, maybe even to boast about their wording skill. They say what many others are afraid to say: They’re doing what, traditionally, Hip Hop has always done; except they’re pushed aside for songs like “Stanky Leg”. Some of the greatest songwriters, lyrists and musicians of our generation were born of Hip Hop culture. For years these artists fought hard to earn respect throughout the recording industry. It’s quickly being lost. Bad apples are spoiling the bunch. Bushels tossed as trash.
I’ve touched on this subject in two previous columns. I was inspired to do it a third. Like before, I’m sure to upset lots of readers. Hear me out before you condemn me: There is room at Hip Hop’s table for songs like “Stanky Leg” to have a seat. For every “I Gave You Power” or “Keep Your Head Up” there’s always been “Whoomp: There It Is” and “Snap”. These days something needs to be done about the seating arrangement. The table also needs to be set with a balanced diet in mind. We’re getting too many cakes and pies, no room for broccoli casserole and slow simmered steaks. Hip Hop is not all junk food. Offer everything on the menu. I’m a junkie indeed, so I’ll never stop listening to Hip Hop music. If things don’t change I’ll just avoid the new dishes. Stick with leftovers.
New Resolution #46: “…vocabulary spills, I’m Ill – plus Matic; I freak beats, slam it like Iron Shiek; jam like a tech with correct techniques.” – Nas
