My younger sister was in town recently, and we hung out a little bit. One day as we rode along, she was telling me about one of the satellite channels that she’d come across recently. She commented on how much profanity she’d heard on the station and how she changed the channel because she was offended. Our conversation got me to thinking, not just about the raunchy language that we hear over the airwaves daily, but about much of today’s music that contains some of that same filth.
“I love music any kind of music, long as it’s playin, all the joy that it’s bringing.” The OJAYs said it best; they understood the significance of music. Music comes from emotion, good, bad or indifferent. It soothes the savage beast. It is known as the universal language. I truly do love music, and I always have. When I was nine years old I got my first transistor radio. I kept it by my bedside, and at night I’d listen to stations that were miles away. I listened to WLS in Chicago and WKBW in New York. I listened to the DJ’s spin the hits and rock the house. They couldn’t see us; yet they knew that we were out there hanging on to their every word, and feeling the excitement. They lifted us up and sent us soaring with each and every song. It was hard to sleep because I wanted to dance; I wanted to sing. I closed my eyes and imagined what it must have been like to party, to be out at night. Nightlife held such intrigue for me; it represented the excitement of city life. Music soothed my soul and took me to my own little world where I was on tour; and fans came to see me in concert. Not really, but I imagined that it could be that way.
Music reflected the mood of the people, it defined cultures. I grew up during a period when folks talked about black power and black love. I listened to Marvin Gaye, the Temptations, and Diana Ross. I was into R&B and anything else I heard. My musical repertoire was vast. From Engelbert Humperdinck and the Bee Gees to Michael Jackson, and Gil Scott Heron, I loved it all. The funny thing is that back then my mom and I could listen to a lot of the same music. We both sang along to the Temptation’s songs. I could turn to an R&B radio station that the whole family could enjoy, with no shame. Things have changed, music has changed; we can’t all listen to the same channel anymore.
I remember thinking how cool the Sugar Hill Gang sounded when they came out with Rapper’s Delight. It was fun, it was different and I could hear the words. This was rap, a new genre of music that would soon define urban youth. It started out innocently enough with fun groups, fun songs. I listened to Dougy Fresh, the Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff. Then there were groups like Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five who told the world about the pressures of ghetto life. “Don’t push me cuz I’m close to the edge, I’m tryin not to lose my head…..” The language was raw, but we understood.
Somewhere along the way we lost sight of good music and traded it in for the all mighty dollar bill. NWA hit the scene and that was music that I could no longer share with my mother. Luke and the Too Live Crew were raunchy and dirty just for the sake of being raunchy and dirty. I guess that there is a place for all music, but it seems to have taken off in the wrong direction. I like many different genres of music, but I find myself feeling embarrassed when I hear the expletives rhymed and shouted at me from the radio. Perhaps now I really am the old babe at the party, because it isn’t fun to listen to the young men on the other side of the CD cussing and defaming women to the beat.
The thing that really amazes me is that I see adults thirty and older who seem not to notice. I don’t want to know what the guy on the CD does with his private parts. I don’t care how big it is. And if his only claim to fame is the number of b’s that he can do, perhaps he needs to do something else. Why do I need to know about his sexual prowess, and adulterous behavior? We’ve become desensitized to filthy language, and a lack of moral character. I cringe when I hear some of the junk that jumps out of the CD players.
As a teen, I would’ve been embarrassed to be in the same room with my parents listening to somebody like Little Wayne. Different times you say? Perhaps, but is it something that we should accept? I’m not passing judgment, but I wonder if our acceptance of this outrageous language in the songs that we hear gives our children license to be disrespectful. I’ve heard youngsters talking in public, dropping F bombs with no regard to the adults in the vicinity. Just listen to any Hip Hop station on your radio and you’ll see what I mean. Oh there are radio edits, but even those are sprinkled with expletives and graphic references to sexual acts that would make most adults blush.
I actually do like some rap music; but I’d like Drake just as much if he didn’t drop so many F bombs. I think that Ludacris could be just as clever without all the filth. But hey, who am I to say. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a prude. I have been known to use a cuss word or two here and there. However, I’m concerned that some rap does in fact send the wrong message. We live in a country where an articulate, degreed, experienced, 52 year old woman can’t get a job, and rappers without college degrees who cleverly manipulate foul language to sampled beats can make millions. Go figure. Oh well, guess I’ll put on something soothing, like Luther, before I go to bed. Now that’s what I call goooooood music. Later….. Have a great evening and let's talk again soon!
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