Stick a fork in hip-hop
I have XM, and I love it. I listen to Charlie Steiner go on and on about baseball, I get my alt-rock fix when I need it, and find out what the world is up to via the BBC. But I, like the masses, enjoy a little pop music here and there. It’s popular because it’s simple and appealing, and I certainly can enjoy a little mindless pop now and again. Lately, though, I’ve been forced to change channels frequently, and not just because of those no-talent ass-clowns in Nickelback. No, the once-enjoyable and catchy world of hook-heavy, beat-driven hip-hop has degraded to a point below even the simple-minded world of pop. Take, for example, the chorus of the Top 20 hit by the self-referentially named “Will I Am”.
Baby where’d you get your body from?
Tell me where’d you get your body from.
Baby where’d you get your body from?
Tell me where’d you get your body from.
I got it from my mama.
I got it from my mama.
I got it from my mama.
I got it got it got got it…
Repeat 2x
Two lines, repeated a 16 times, for each chorus. Hip-hop artists have stopped even being artists: they are merely sample banks for their producers. The only requirements for being a one-hit wonder are 6-pack abs, the willingness to wear “grills” without an hint of irony, and the ability to repeat a catch phrase. That’s it.
So, I bid you adieu, hip-hop. It’s a shame your death throes may come in the form of multiple hit songs whose core message are “Let me buy you a drink” (or possibly “a drank”). May your pristine baseball cap forever be perfectly tilted. Now get off my airwaves, please.