I used to hate rap music. I still remember sitting in a study hall, hearing my friends chatter about the latest rap album and, in my 7th grade squeak, crying out, “Rap is garbage! It’s all, ‘do drugs, shoot people; I’m so cool!’”
At the time, my disgust with rap music made sense. Neither of my parents liked the genre, and I’d grown up in a home soundtracked solely by classic rock.
Things changed the following year. Usually, I sat with the same kid on the bus ride to school; he was a year older than me and had a monopoly on the music in the back of the bus. He shared his music with me, splitting his earbuds between us. You can probably guess what type of music filled his library.
Though rap wasn’t my cup of tea, I’d take anything over the sounds of the bus—little kids babbling and bus gears grinding. At first, listening to rap for half an hour each day was exhausting. But I began to warm up to certain songs. I’d find a rhythm catchy, a rhyme entertaining. There was something there, though I wasn’t sure what.
Everything clicked the day I heard the song “Thugz Mansion” by 2Pac. It captivated me. I remember racing home after school that day, hopping on our desktop computer and pulling up the song on YouTube. My career as a rap enthusiast had begun.
Rap music is often victim to criticism. Some even claim that it isn’t “real music.” This is not only narrow-minded and arrogant—it is disgusting.
These claims can really be boiled down to two points: one, rapping isn’t musical, and two, rap songs aren’t made with “real instruments.” Both are ridiculous. First, the art of rapping is inherently musical; raps aren’t just words being spoken—they are delivered with rhythmic patterns in mind. They flow and follow meters. Second, to discard drum machines, samplers, production software and the like as “fake instruments” is to restrict the definition of instruments. This viewpoint is completely ignorant of the evolution of music and a trade just as skillful as playing an acoustic instrument. I can understand the gridlock of tradition, but that doesn’t imply inauthenticity. If something can be learned to be played and used to create music, why shouldn’t it be considered an instrument?
Often, I’ve found that rap takes the best of its influences and packages them with its own flairs. There’s something for everyone. For the hyper-literate, the sheer volume of rhymes will entertain for hours; wordplay, poetic devices and both complex and simple rhyme schemes are abundant. It appeals to the scholar and the schoolboy, the party-goer and the activist. With social justice issues closer to the core of rap music than any other genre, there are scores of artists for those seeking socially-conscious music. With roots in block parties and clubs, there’s plenty for the casual listener as well. Even linguistics-heads can revel in the often ear-bending enunciations used to make words rhyme.
Many criticisms of rap revolve around content—the stereotype I held as a 7th grader—that their lyrics only deal with money, drugs, sex and violence. This demonstrates a mere cursory knowledge of the genre and is also a flawed viewpoint. Many rappers who discuss these topics do so as an expression and reflection of their environments. As they say, art imitates life. And even if songs glorify this type of lifestyle, who’s to say that’s a bad thing? Why not expose ourselves to things that make us uncomfortable? Why not explore the darkness in the world?
If rap isn’t for you, that’s fine. But please, don’t discard the genre as worthless.
Trombly is a member of the class of 2018.
