Rap and Music Are Not The Same Thing

 Hit the play button to hear to the shocking 
music my grandmother listened to while you read.

Saturday Mark and I tried out a relatively new Italian themed sandwich shop here in town. It seemed very nice, modern decor, a nice waitress with an actual Italian accent (she might have been just a good actress for all I know), and a very hip looking young man making the food. As I sat there eating my delicious chicken and roasted red pepper Panini, I noticed that something wasn't right. It was the background music.

♫ Sh-t’s finna get thick again
They say the competition is stiff
But I get a hard d--k from this sh-t, now stick it in ♫

Not really the mood music I’d have picked for dining in the afternoon.

What is it about each new generation that automatically attracts them to the music that is most disturbing to us older farts? I know that it’s nothing new. I’m sure my mom and dad were listening to that crazy swing music back when they were kids, and my grand parents surely ran out to buy the latest cylinder recordings of ragtime music when they wanted to piss off their mom and dad.

I did my part when I was a kid. If my mom or dad showed any interest at all in the music I was listening to, it was immediately discarded as too square. I remember one time my mom walked by while I was listening to ‘The Lovin Spoonful’, and she remarked as to how disgusting the line, Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty, was. That little comment instantly put that record into the cool column. Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, mom hated them all. I loved them.

As we finished lunch at the sandwich shop, the music was still playing.

♫ I’m high as a bitch: up, up and away♫

I glanced over at the kid behind the counter, and then to our waitress. It didn’t seem to disturb them at all. In fact I think I saw the kids earlobe plug bouncing up and down to the beat, which was all it had. No melody, no rhythm, just a beat with dirty words that kind of rhymed. It’s not like I don’t know that I’m old. I know it very well. I just hate to have it beat into my brain while munching on my ten dollar Panini.