Hip Hop – Love Letters to Rock n Roll

I got no game. Supporting points:

Grew up in the suburbs
Thought Rosecrans was a person
Regularly browse toddler clothing in stores & online (in my defense, my daughter is a toddler)
Work from home

At the same time, I find myself disproportionately drawn to your music. My interest in rap waxes and wanes – Beastie Boys, Dr. Dre, Blackalicious, Clipse – and with the exception of Beasties the romances have been fleeting.

What is it about you? The beats get me, no denying that. In 2012, I happily bobbed my head and recited lyrics about “the women, weed and weather” of Los Angeles and swimming pools full of liquor. A lack of personal identification with the topics never phased me.

Then something changed. TPAB was released and its lyrics were so heavily thematic that I felt kind of guilty listening to it. The struggles you wrote about seemed so much more visceral and urgent than my own, and a voice deep down in my gut said “This is not for you.”

I stopped listening. You released Untitled Unmastered, I had a baby and the entire focal point of my life changed. My brain changed. And yet I find myself, two years later, intensely listening to DAMN. on a daily basis. Songs about “real nigger conditions” and hypothetical sexy fights do not apply to me, my family or friends.

Or do they? Themes of anger, frustration, inequality and injustice are (somewhat) universal. Women are by nature subjected to various forms of inequality — some subtle, others less so. Comments can be brushed off, glances ignored, but the double standards are hard or impossible to shake. [Insert vast amounts of supporting evidence from the current US political catastrophe here.]

Despite personal reflection on the topic, overt feminist stances and literature never interest me. Endless torment from female peers throughout my formative years left a bad taste in my mouth. (A little chub and lot of introversion go a long way toward making one an outcast.) Decades later, I still find myself unwilling to rally with many who share my gender yet worry that my daughter will endure similar struggles and wonder what I can do about it.

At minimum I will make sure my quietly simmering fire never burns out, and your music stokes it like kindling. 10–15 years from now, when my baby has trouble with the mean girls at school, I will assure her that they’re jealous of the ambition and flow inside her DNA.

I’m unabashedly appropriating your lyrics to fit my lifestyle am certain that, despite my previous uncertainty, your music is. for. me.

Much respect,
Christine

1992. I was twelve years old. My compact disc collection was infantile, my room still being full of cassette tapes. Music was always such a mood lifter for me that when I got grounded, it would be taken away from me and that was horror in my mind. End of the world, apocalyptic heart attack serious. In this day, akin to throwing away my hard drives and removing all wifi. Deserved, though, as I was a huge pain in the ass. That got the point across. The refreshment of getting back what means the most to you is indescribably elating. What meant the most to me in 1992, other than little girls and trouble, was my microcosm of a music collection. My first discs were Nevermind and Check Your Head. Monuments.

Starters, I can still listen to this album today and thoroughly enjoy it. Not because of pure nostalgia, more so due to the awesome amalgamation that was/is Check Your Head. I had been a huge fan of Licensed To Ill and Paul’s Boutique, but never saw this coming. LTI was a trumped up braggadocio, bravado, intentionally in your face parade of hormones and hedonism. Paul’s was a total departure, and pretty much overlooked by most until further listening. Leaving Russell Simmons and Rick Rubin was a definite turning point, and opened up creative endeavors. The bouillabaisse at the end of that album should’ve prepared me.

As soon as the first track starts, I get goosebumps. You can feel the passion, angst, purpose, and love immediately. No major hip-hop acts were doing anything like this at the time. I was floored. So much so that I purchased this twice on VHS…

…and I still don’t have a copy due to pilfering after viewing, like the way loaning books means they’ll never return. The artwork alone sold me on this album. Browsing through music shops was much like grocery stores—design and packaging would lure me in. The design of this, prior to listening, made me want to grow up fast and create aesthetically pleasing things. Basically how you eat with your eyes first.

Beastie_Boys_-_Check_Your_Head

This was one of those meals that looked terrific and did not disappoint. Everything was about shedding light and peace and happiness, whilst sounding badass. Which, in my opinion, is as essential as altruism. I did not have a chance to be present for this tour but got to see the Ill Communication tour with A Tribe Called Quest. I get the polar opposite of douche chills just recollecting that.

(This is a taste, although a few years later:)

The energy and uplifting spirit of your output, particularly on this album, inspired millions. Most importantly, myself. The letting go, and just doing what you felt like doing in your hearts, comes through incredibly. Kicking expectations and outside judgments to the curb, and letting each member coalesce, conveying much in such little time, resonates to this day. Harmony. The thing everyone searches for. Somehow, my budding naïve mind could feel that, and still does.

You made me grow as a person, and I am forever grateful.
Dan

RECOMMENDED LISTENING

Pass the Mic