Or how I learned to stop ogling and start listening

At the age of forty eight I have fallen quite pleasantly in love with a much younger woman. Or to be precise her voice. What happened is this.

Just before Christmas I realized that I had developed a bit of middle aged spread. In order to remedy this I decided to change my diet a bit (I have posted on this before) and also I decided to up the exercise. Now I have always been of the view that the simplest and best form of exercise is free, and it involves getting into the open air and running or walking about. However, for variation I also started going to a local gym, the province of body-builders, cage fighters, bouncers and the like – which is fine. Good souls on the whole.

As part of my routine I found it quite beneficial to do long and hard “power walks” on the treadmill machines, which are parked in front of TV’s. The TV’s are tuned to various music channels. These blast out a stream of glossy videos by the popular recording artists of the day. They are culturally interesting because they give a very good guide to the tastes and aspirations of their target audience, the youth of the today. These are clearly sex, flash cars, more sex, dancing and drinking and getting rich quick. I actually quite like some of these tunes, and I am reasonably uplifted by the impressive gyrations of some lovely young ladies bouncing about wearing not a lot, as a middle aged man should be. I see that feminism has finally triumphed, by the way.

But I digress. After three months of lengthy periods of exercise and ogling, not only do I have a body that would make a paratrooper green with envy (slight exaggeration surely? Ed.) But I have also learned how to write a rap song that sells.

Now let me say at once that I have always truly hated and detested “rap”.

Rap, for me is usually the embodiment of ugliness, profanity, low expectation, get rich quick cultural ghetto-ism, resonant of foul mouthed sexism and advocating violence. Just plain nasty on every level.

However, there is always another side to a matter. Now I am sure readers will have heard of Eminem. Eminem is the stage name of Mr Marshall Bruce Mathers III.

Mr Mathers is a superstar of rapping. Now, whilst I would rather stick my hand in the blender and turn it on than buy one of his albums, some of his work has come to my attention in the past, and I can almost “get it”.

Mr Mathers, it seems to me, is a rather astute young man. He and his friend “Doctor Dre” (of whom I have never heard, but I presume that he is a practising clinician of some form, or possibly an academic) have recently concocted a record that I really, really like, because they know the formula to make rap sell in the mainstream.

Here it is.

First it must be aspirational to poor youth, so it must speak at some level about having lots of flash kit, especially girls and cars and trainers. Second, it has to have lots of anger about everything. You have to be angry about being poor (before you became rich) being from the wrong side of the tracks (before you bought an apartment up town), being black in white man’s world, being white when it’s cool to be black (I am not yet aware of any Chinese rappers, but what their take on that would be would be interesting), angry with your parents, angry with your record company who hired you, angry with your record company who dropped you, angry with people who “dissed” you – just plain angry!

Mr Mathers is a gentleman so good at being professionally angry that I believe he once adopted a stage persona which involved wielding a chain saw about. He does good anger.

Then you pile a lot of words together in a particularly dense cadence aiming always to have plenty of half rhymes and rhymes with “ucker” so that some good swearing can take place, which is cool and helps with the anger bit. So for example, chant the following at speed with the emphases highlighted:

I wrote on the Raccoon blog and said didn’t like it
the politics was s**it and so is all the writing
we need jobs man
not blogs man
but there nothing out there for me
I can’t even be a trucker
it’s just a bitch you mother f********

But – and this is the clever bit – once you have got your rap together, you need a hook. That is, a really charming refrain in the chorus which acts as a counterpoint to all the angry shouting. So now you have a record which is not only street credible because of its anger and swearing, but actually rather nice.

This is what the really clever rappers do. Mr Mathers previously did it with collaboration with our own English rose Dido and he and his medical friend Doctor Dre have just done it again in a track called “I need a doctor.” Which brings me to my falling in love. For very astutely on their latest successful track they have brought in a young lady who goes by the stage name Skylar Grey.

Her real name is Holly Brook Hafermann and she is as far as I can tell a very talented songwriter. She wrote and sings “the hook” on this record and has to my ear the most appealing, shades of caramel voice. When heard it I just fell in love with the tone and the emotion. I am quite happy for this to be unrequited. I just love it.

The link to the long video (uncensored please note) is here so you can see for yourself if my analysis of how to do a rap song is right and judge the qualities of Ms Grey. I think it’s actually really rather good. But even if you do not like it, am I right on its playing on aspirations and anger?

Finally, you may have formed the view that I am a little sceptical about the abilities of Eminem. Not a bit of it. I think Mr Mathers is a very smart gentleman and whilst I wouldn’t be able to cope with a large amount of his material, I can see he is really good at what he does. Let me put it this way. I have always formed the view that you can tell real talent and class when a “pop” musician plays live. For example a London rap trio called NDUBZ did it at the recent Royal Variety Performance. They were excellent. My mum liked them.

Now at the recent Grammy awards Mr Mathers reprised his recent hit duet with Rihanna (a song written by Skylar Grey by the way) before launching into his latest hit with the good Doctor and Ms Grey. Rihanna, in case you don’t know, is the sexy pop Diva of the moment. See what you make of that, if you will. For what it’s worth, Rihanna can’t hold a note; Eminem and Doctor Dre are ultra professional and cut the mustard. And the good Ms Grey nails it. Am I right?

Right, I‘m off to get down with the kids.

Randy Hack

PS. Randy’s latest book “Shitfaced by Seven – tales from the Dog and Ferret” is out next month in paperback. £6.99 from Cheaplonk Press

lilith April 10, 2011 at 08:12

I now have the Skylar bit as a ring tone…very strong hook

Gildas theMonk
April 10, 2011 at 08:41

Oooh I want one

gladiolys April 9, 2011 at 08:58

Mr Hack: an artist you may wish to check out is Janelle Monáe . Her album
is called “The ArchAndroid”. Think of her as the secret lovechild of Aretha
Franklin and Prince and David Bowie after some sort of clandestine threesome
where neither will admit paternity. Smut aside, she is absolutely brilliantly,
obscenely, talented.

Randy Hack
April 9, 2011 at 11:07

Thank you, I shall check that out!

Gildas theMonk
April 9, 2011 at 08:46

The debate has gone off in a most interesting and slightly unexpected
direction

Lorenzo April 9, 2011 at 02:24

Yea! la Smudd – rap it up baby, you thunder my vibe.

Cascadian April 9, 2011 at 00:57

2Mac the pub conversation continues, and we can always agree to disagree-
as I will here. I will attempt to answer your three posts briefly.

I too have great respect for people making a financial success of their
lives especially when their start in life is blighted by conditions beyond
their control, to that extent I can admire some rappers achievements. (and I
thank you for the information you provide because I would not seek it myself,
as I have no interest in rap)

As to the lyrics you copied, I admit the storyline is more complex than I
would have expected from the monotonous bass beat that seems to be the
hallmark of all rap, but the stories told seem to conform to my
characterization of rap in general. The subjects are always “victims”, welfare
is prevalent, drug-dealing is glorified. The concept of work is alien.

You can “respect” 2Pac if you want, I decline, he was just another thug,
though a mightily successful thug, which says a lot about the culture of rap,
I think.

Arguing against myself for a moment, I love that rap enthusiastically
espouses misogeny so frequently and that because the rap singers are
overwhelmingly black the institutional womyn’s organizations have remained
silent. I guess in the world of grievance-mongering black rights trump female
rights.

But music is complex, I could not describe why I like the Sex Pistols
“Anarchy in the UK” which is equally as tuneless as most rap, while also
admiring Beethoven’s 6th but not many of his other symphonies. And though I
like some Dylan, I despise most of his output. For me rap falls into a similar
musical hell as disco and I have probably never really tried to understand
it.

I appear to be in a minority as even la Smudd is rapping up a storm.

Gloria Smudd
April 9, 2011 at 06:56

The only rapping I like is the gentle golden foil of a Werther’s
Original.

Cascadian
April 9, 2011 at 08:02

A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.

Not too many Gloria, surely they would ruin your svelte figure.

And then you would need to spend as much time on the treadmill as
Randy, listening to rap, and dodging the roid rage monkeys attentions,
then write about it and………………………………OMG, please let there be news
tomorrow.

Gloria
Smudd April 9, 2011 at 08:58

I’ve always been a sucker for boiled sweets.

2Mac April 9, 2011 at 22:07

Since you have identified yourself as a “minority” I suggest you
immediately set up some sort of victim status and pressure group “You gotta
Fight, Fight for your Writes”

Cascadian
April 9, 2011 at 22:58

I’m a WOG, (white old guy) nobody would be interested in my status and
I certainly do not consider myself a victim ( I will leave that to the
socialists). I like it that way.

Perhaps thats why I do not understand rap

2Mac April 8, 2011 at 23:29

The Rose that Grew from Concrete.

Here is another from the most notorious rapper and self confessed thug in
rap history. In a 6 year period he wrote, produced and performed on several
double albums, starred in 2 motion pictures wrote 200 songs and a book of
poetry and spend months in jail and hospital, they are still releasing new
material 15 years after his death at 25 years old. At times he was angry,
offensive and cocky, weren’t we all at 20.

Accepted as the greatest rapper by everyone, except those who think he is
the second greatest. He will be remembered long after most have been forgotten
for the depth of his writing and emotions from rage to remorse perfectly
captured in music.

Becoming a millionaire when your daddy is a millionaire is easy. Raising
yourself out of the worst places in he US to becoming a legend requies
genius.

2Pac
Dear Mama

You are appreciated…

When I was young, me and my mama had beef
17 years old kicked out on tha
streets
though back in tha time, I never thought I’d see her face
ain’t
a woman alive that can take my mommas place
suspended from school, scared
ta go home
I was a fool with tha big boys breaking all tha rules
shed
tears with my baby sister
over tha years we wuz poorer than tha other
little kids
and even though we had different dadies
tha same drama when
things went wrong we blamed mama
I reminised on tha stress I caused, it wuz
hell
hugg’en on my mama from a jail cell
and who’ed think in elementry,
heeeey i’d see tha penatentry
One day
running from tha Police, that’s
right
Momma catch me–put a whoop’en to my backside
and even as a crack
fiend mama,
ya always was a black queen mama
I finally understand for a
woman
it ain’t easy–trying ta raise a man
ya always wuz commited, a poor
single mother on welfare,
tell me how ya did it
there’s no way I can pay
ya back
but tha plan is ta show ya that I understand.
you are
appreciated……

Laaaaady, don’t cha know we luv ya
Sweeeet Laaaady, place no one above
ya
Sweeeet Laaaady, don’t cha know we luv ya

Ain’t nobody tell us it wuz fair
no luv for my daddy, cause tha coward
wuzn’t there
he passed away and I didn’t cry
cause my anger, wouldn’t
let me feel for a stranger
they say i’m wrong and i’m heartless
but all
along I wuz looking for a father–he wuz gone
I hung around with tha thug’s
and even though they sold drugs
they showed a young brother luv
I moved
out and started really hang’in
I needed money of my own so I started
slang’in
I ain’t guilty cause, even though I sell rocks
It feels good,
putting money in your mailbox
I love paying rent when tha rents due
I
hope ya got tha diamond necklace that I sent to you
cause when I wuz low,
you was there for me
ya never left me alone, cause ya cared for me
and I
can see ya coming home after work late
ya in tha kitchen trying ta fix us a
hot plate
just working with tha scraps you wuz given
and mama made
miracles every Thanksgiving
but now tha road got rough, your
alone
trying ta raise two bad kids on your own
and there’s no way I can
pay ya back
but my plan is ta show ya that I understand
you are
appreciated…..

Laaaaady, don’t cha know we luv ya
Sweeeet Laaaady, place no one above
ya
Sweeeet Laaaady, don’t cha know we luv ya

pour out some liquor and I remenise
cause through tha drama, I can
always depend on my mama
and when it seems that i’m hopeless
you say tha
words that can get me back in focus
when I wuz sick as a little kid
ta
keep me happy theres no limit to tha things ya did
and all my childhood
memories
are full of all tha sweet things ya did for me
and even though
I act craaaazy
I got ta thank tha Lord that ya maaaade me
There are no
words that can express how I feel
Ya never kept a secret, always stayed
real
and I appreciate how ya raised me
and all tha extra love that ya
gave me
I wish I could take tha pain away
If you can make it through tha
night, there’s a brighter day
everything’ll be alright if ya hold
on
it’s a strugle
everyday gotta roll on
and there’s no way I can pay
ya back
but my plan is ta show ya that I understand
you are
appreciated…….

Laaaaady, don’t cha know we luv ya
Sweeeet Laaaady, place no one above
ya
Sweeeet Laaaady, don’t cha know we luv ya, Sweeeet Laaaady

2Mac April 8, 2011 at 22:58

It occurred to me that maybe some of you actually have never listened to
the lyrics of some of the terrible rappers.

Here is one from Tupac about a girls struggle in a society with no help or
hope.

I hear Brenda’s got a baby
Well, Brenda’s barely got a brain
A damn
shame
Tha girl can hardly spell her name
(That’s not her problem, that’s
up ta Brenda’s family)
Well let me show ya how it affects tha whole
community
Now Brenda never really knew her moms and her dad was a
junky
Went in debt to his arms, it’s sad
Cause I bet Brenda doesn’t even
know
Just cause your in tha ghetto doesn’t mean ya can’t grow
But oh,
that’s a thought, my own revelation
Do whatever it takes ta resist tha
temptation
Brenda got herself a boyfriend
Her boyfriend was her cousin,
now lets watch tha joy end
She tried to hide her pregnancy, from her
family
Who didn’t really care to see, or give a damn if she
Went out and
had a church of kids
As long as when tha check came they got first
dibs
Now Brendas belly is gettin bigger
But no one seems ta notice any
change in her figure
She’s 12 years old and she’s having a baby
In love
with tha molester, who’s sexing her crazy
And yet she thinks that he’ll be
with her forever
And dreams of a world with tha two of them are together,
whatever
He left her and she had tha baby solo, she had it on tha bathroom
floor
And didn’t know so, she didn’t know, what ta throw away and what ta
keep
She wrapped tha baby up and threw him in tha trash heep
I guess she
thought she’d get away
Wouldn’t hear tha cries
She didn’t realize
How
much tha tha little baby had her eyes
Now tha babys in tha trash heep
balling
Momma can’t help her, but it hurts ta hear her calling
Brenda
wants ta run away
Momma say, you makin’ me lose pay, tha social workers
here everyday
Now Brenda’s gotta make her own way
Can’t go to her
family, they won’t let her stay
No money no babysitter, she couldn’t keep a
job
She tried ta sell crack, but end up getting robbed
So now what’s
next, there ain’t nothin left ta sell
So she sees sex as a way of leavin
hell
It’s payin tha rent, so she really can’t complain
Prostitute, found
slain, and Brenda’s her name, she’s got a baby

John Leon April 8, 2011 at 21:31

R. H., look up Sonia Christina/Curved Air singing Melinda more or less or
Back Street luv if you want to heart a haunting voice.
I fix Harleys, they
are the LAST bike I would ride, let alone buy to impress a chick, unless you
want a boring one.
Dr.Dre isn’t a musical genius, he is a clever marketing
opportunitist; a musical genius in the modern idiom is some one like the late
Paul Kossoff, worth listening to as a guitar player, but I suppose Rock ‘n
Roll is a bit too passe for a rapper ( read one of the comments from a rapper
about the Free song [featuring Paul Kossoff] Mr. Big. )

Cascadian April 8, 2011 at 20:59

If making money is genius, then yep they are genii.

What I see at work here is the politics of envy and exploitation, the urban
yoof of the USA with their uneducated knowledge of slavery aided by a few
prominent professional agitators are very susceptible to the idea of being
exploited by the “man”(basically a system of working for your living) they are
addicted to welfare and medicare. I will not get offtrack on a harangue of
Obambi with his “hope and change” but his message is all about receiving
plenty for nothing and taxing the “rich”(anybody who works) his approval
amongst the sub-culture is extremely high. This message obviously translates
very well to the welfare crowd and less intelligent in yUK too.

I see nothing redeeming about crap music, beyond it’s initial burst on the
scene when rival groups would regularly have shoot-outs and sometimes kill
each other. Sadly those times are gone.

Some may deem these statements racist, so be it. I prefer to think they are
statements based on observed facts. Some would regard me as an angry white
male, that is possibly true, the difference being I do not inflict nonsensical
rhymes and unmusical tub-thumping on my neighbours while gyrating flashing
supposedly gang-affiliated hand signals.

2Mac April 8, 2011 at 21:41

I politely disagree.

With no formal training in music or business Dr Dre has created a
business empire that would impress the best venure capitalists, he works 18
hour days and has done since he was 16. He earned an estimated 17 million
last year and he has not released his own music in a decade.

He created a business model where the artist owns part of the success and
their own record label which in turn grows by signing more new artists and
cross branding via colloborations with other artists on the same root
labels. He gets commission from it all.

He is personally worth $125 million estimated but he is small fry when
compared to the likes of JayZ who in 2010 alone earned $63 million, “more
than all but seven CEOs of US public companies”. While the money came
primarily from touring, Jay-Z has business interests ranging from music to
nightclubs, from restaurants to apparel, from sneakers to a large chunk of
the New Jersey Nets. He had not formal education and did not even get a
record deal, he sold records out the back of his car for years before making
it. His first job as an employee was a couple years ago as CEO of Def Jam
Records for $3 Million per year.

They have made it from the gutter to the top of the pops with rhytmic
poetry spoken to self produced music. No breaks. No Network of friends and
family. They came out of Queens New York or Compton LA and made their lives
a success, employed hundreds of people, created wealth and changed their
circumstances for the better.

Added to that their music is fantastic, complex, lyrically diverse and
internationally loved by hundreds of millions across all races and
continents. Would you prefer the stayed in the ghetto and put their talents
to creating criminal empires instead of music ones?

Yes, there is some utter shite also but no worse that some of the shite
that comes out of rock that should never be compared to the Rolling Stones
or Bob Dylan.

I love to see people daring to dream and succeeding.

ivan April 8, 2011 at 22:38

I see nothing redeeming about crap music, beyond it’s initial burst on
the scene when rival groups would regularly have shoot-outs and sometimes
kill each other. Sadly those times are gone.

Should we even call it music?

OK I admit I’m from a bygone age and modern music for me stopped with
Elgar with the odd exception of the Shadows.

Lorenzo April 8, 2011 at 20:20

Tinchy Stryder – Catch 22

2Mac April 8, 2011 at 19:54

Bloody auto spell on phone. Dr Dre not Dr See

2Mac April 8, 2011 at 19:53

Dr See INVENTED West Coast Gangsta Rap back in the Mid 80s and is the
producer of the Best albums in hip hop.

Just to give some perspective. He has spent 10 years working on his next
and final album DETOX. He is the most professional producer in hip hop.

The song “I need a doctor” is the introduction to a new generation and
obviously the older generation.

He makes billions producing others, if you have a artist that is not doing
do good ‘He’s the Doctor they tell you to go see’

He is so good he launched a skinny little white boy to top of rap world. He
is over 40 years old. He may not habeas PHD but he is a genius.

electro-kevin
April 8, 2011 at 18:33

Should I be ashamed of thinking that Eminem is utterly brilliant ?

If you don’t get it then you haven’t been listening. The whole point is to
seek out and take on victimhood … and then be very very angry. And get even
more angry when you become successful and people become interested in you.

As soon as the artiste becomes contented it loses its magic.

The bigger the chip the bigger the cheque.

lilith April 8, 2011 at 20:59

I love Eminem too Kev.

You don’t wanna fuck with Lilith, cos Lilith will fuckin’ kill
you…etc…

Livewire April 8, 2011 at 18:11

Shakespeare wrote 7 Ages Of Man
And Randy Hack’s reached the Panicking
Plan

I’m not really old so a Harley I’ll buy
The chicks to impress, I’ll not
need to try

The next age is reached with slippers and pipe
CD’s from the past and
blogs where to gripe

(Maggie Reilly singing Moonlight Shadow knocks Rap in to the cat litter,
apart from Mademoiselle Raton’s of course…))

Livewire April 8, 2011 at 18:48

Reading it again, that rhymer was a bit cruel, next one will have a bit
more sugarcoating… Still recommend Maggie Reilly (on Mike Oldfield albums)
for the purest singing voice you’ll ever here.

Randy Hack
April 8, 2011 at 19:04

Not at all! And Maggie Reilly’s voice is lovely. Pure as chrystal.

Gloria Smudd
April 8, 2011 at 21:27

Ok, I’ll grab the ba-ton
Right here on Madam Ra-ton:
I can’t do rap
or gar-age
Especially not at my-age
(Not least ‘cos there’s a
cat-on
My lap and there he’s sat-on
An’ he’s ‘playin’ the pia-no
Or
‘least I guess he thinks-so;
He’s stickin’ all his claws-in
And
brother, he ain’t paws-in!
My yelps he ain’t a-heedin’
Cos my
cellulite he’s knead-in’
An’ I is goin’ ment-al
Cos I’m in kitten-claw
hell)
So I’m off down the doc-tors
So he can stitch my
poor-sores
Be-fore I drive to the-vets
To euthanise my cat-pets.

(Smudd in da house, comin’ atcher)

Livewire
April 9, 2011 at 05:01

A gentleman and a scholar, sir. Sugarcoating coming up –

The blog had it’s neo-Clark Kent
Whose posts were applauded when
sent
They knocked planes from the sky
And made us feel high
And
not to be gived up for Lent (grammer mangling spoken ‘ere)

Livewire
April 9, 2011 at 05:37

Very good Smuddsta-rap!

The feline looked on with disdain
For a trip to the vet will bring
pain
The retractable claws
Will give owner pause
And doubts
whether plan is quite sane

Gildas
theMonk April 9, 2011 at 08:38

I have just spilled my coffee!

Ed P April 8, 2011 at 17:35

Handy Rack for Randy Hack!

Stabledoor April 8, 2011 at 16:23

By George I think he’s got it! Excellent article. I’m a bit older than you
(51)but it was in the gym watching MTV that I discovered various new
wave/metal bands and it opened up a whole new area and era of musical interest
for me. There’s something for everyone out there and there’s never been a
wider variety of musical genres available. I even quite like Mr Mathers in
small doses but for real rap try Grandmaster Melly Mel and the Furious
Five

Randy Hack
April 8, 2011 at 17:21

Thank you! Actually, on a serious note, I don’t personally like Mr
Mathers stuff – but every so often I can see that he is good at what he does
and talented and smart.
Am I right? Will Raccoonistas be interested,
bothered, appalled or just indifferent?
I’d love to fond that people
listened with an open mind and expressed a view, just out of
interest
R

BXR April 8, 2011 at 16:18

Oh please. Don’t you know how to use
google?

Randy Hack
April 8, 2011 at 17:15

Hahahahah!

Randy Hack
April 8, 2011 at 17:16

Ooops! Wrong button! That’s new to me and the boyz in my ‘hood! I think
you just dissed me off, man!

Anna
Raccoon April 8, 2011 at 15:52

I’s Randy the Hack Man
I’s just a fu*ked up Punk man,
Carpin’ is a
habit,
He’s just gotta have it,
I knows you howl at da moon,
‘Cos you
can’t have dat Raccoon,
That Mr G, he don’t bore her,
Like what a half
baked hacker
A huffin an a puffin on da treadmill machine,
Dun ain’t got
half a chance,
An she just laughin’ dere in France.
An it don’t matter
how long you prance.

Me an dem authors, we write to amuse, write to amuse,
We don’t give jack
s*it how we confuse, how we confuse,
An sometimes Raccoon jus’ blows a
fuse, just blows a fuse,
But this is a day when there jus’ ain’ no news,
jus’ ain’ no news,
The Raccoon’s gone a missin’, chaos ensues, chaos
ensues,
She dun put a spell on me with her damn voodoos.

Nobody give me no nickel, I inna bin paid,
I’s rockin’ an trim, an’
still ain’t got laid,
It’s just a bitch, you Mother f*****.

Randy Hack
April 8, 2011 at 17:18

Superb!