I never wanted to be one of those old men who says, “You kids and your so-called music these days…”
But as I approach fifty years old, I just have to say, “What the hell is up with you kids and your so-called music these days?!?”
I have been driving for Lyft recently. I’ve got a great 2012 Honda Civic Si with an excellent stereo system. Generally, I keep the Sirius/XM Satellite Radio tuned in, but I also have an AUX port and cable that I offer to my riders if they want to deejay during the ride.
So, I happen to pick up these two attractive young white women, no more than half my age. They eagerly accept my offer to deejay for the ride and ask me to turn it up.
What then emitted from my car stereo speakers could only in the loosest definition of the word be called “music.”
First of all, it begins with a single, low-bass “wuuuuuuuuh” that might charitably be called a bass drum, if you can imagine sound waves traveling in super slow motion. It’s somewhere between that and a 50Hz feedback loop on a over-leveled microphone.
Then it is peppered with a staccato ticking sound, as if a prodigious drummer were rolling alternating 32nd notes and 64th notes on a closed hi-hat.
That’s it for the “music” part. There are no guitars, keyboards, horns, or strings. Just the “wuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-wuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh”
Then the vocalist comes in, mostly with “uh…. uh…. yeah…. uh….” before he gets to the lyrics.
Now, I’m not really good at understanding rappers’ dialogue, what with all the slang and strange grammatic license, and my own struggles with dyslexia. For what I could make out, it seemed to be a tale about miner named Nicholas. This miner, as far as I could tell, was beloved by female dogs, and somehow thought those dogs could make a pirate’s treasure applaud.
I think the lyric went, “Yeah, yeah, bitches lovin’ Digger Nick, gotta have that Digger Nick, bitches make that booty clap, booty clap for Digger Nick…”
The rapper continued with various lines about how Digger Nick makes domestic cats wet, asking donkeys to retreat toward Digger Nick, and how those female dogs should decapitate themselves and present their skulls to Digger Nick.
I glanced at the two young women in the back seat. They were into it, rapping along with every line, mouthing every profanity, and in no way offended by the misogynistic Animal Farm that the rapper was performing.
I just shook my head, remembering a time when Warrant’s Cherry Pie was considered salacious.