This evening, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine about music and gigs, and in the course of the chat, I used the following phrase ‘He still does a bit of The Rap..’ It was out of my mouth before I could even tinge it with a bit of humorous irony. I said it, and apparently, I meant it. I used the word ‘The’ before a genre of music. Like an old person would. And it scared the shit out of me. It also scared the shit out of my poor friend who had the misfortune to hear me speaking like an 86 year old from the village of Ballygobackwards whose idea of modern music was having their own Compact Disc of Daniel O’ Donnell that their eldest got them for Christmas.
I couldn’t believe it. My own brain had betrayed me. To me, it was the intellectual equivalent of wetting myself in public. This phrase, ‘the Rap’, coming from a person who used to write ‘2Pac Lives!’ in my journal, a person whose friends were too afraid to tell that he had been mown down in a hail of bullets for fear I may become paralysed with grief and refuse to sit my Leaving Cert in protest. A person who knew all the words to ‘California Love’ and most of Snoop’s ‘Doggy Style’ album (and still does…word.). And in one fell swoop I had become an ‘auld wan’. Kill me now.
Over the years in the arrogance of youth I had taken the piss out of people who put the definite article in front of certain types of music… “So is your grandson still listening to The Heavy Metal then?? Sure you know if you play it backwards you can actually make out the words ‘kill your parents while they sleep’…I read it in Ireland’s Eye.”And so now here I stand, also guilty of this abominable crime. Karma, you’re some gowl…
To erase this disgusting and shameful spectacle from my memory, I must now go and dig out my 90’s rap and hip-hop back catalogue in order to re-group. I will also sit and watch Menace II Society, Friday, Juice and New Jack City while drinking buckets of Kool-Aid and hollerin’ at my homies from my front porch.
Catch y’all on the flip side home skittles….