I Should Be a Hipster
By Brendan McDermott
Demographically, I should not listen to the music I listen to. I should remain comfortably within the realms of top 40 hits and Z107.7...actually no, I should be a hipster. Everything about me screams hipster: the ultra-liberal views, the multiple Mac products, the apathetic approach towards organized religion. I should be softly playing Bon Iver and working on my murder-mystery screenplay while sipping Starbucks in Portland.
But the truth is the last time I heard Justin Vernon (frontman for Bon Iver) he was crooning “Star-Fucker” through an Auto-Tune filter on the sixth track of Kanye West’s Yeezus, “I’m In It.”
And I loved it. Because rap speaks to me in ways other music can’t, eschews traditional song formats in favor of storytelling, and blurs genre lines by sampling everything from country to classical. But the storytelling is what I cling to.
I like words. A lot. I like words so much that they’re the only thing I can’t wax eloquently about. Basically, words make me speechless. So when presented with a genre which focuses entirely on rhyming, cadence, metaphors, similes, meter, and so many other elements of poetry and literature, it’s no surprise that I fell in love with it.
And by “It” I mean good rap: lyrics that actually make a statement, beats that have something to contribute, artists that make songs that actually mean something to them. The first rap song I remember hearing was “Air Force Ones” and with all apologies to St. Louis native son Nelly, that song is terrible. Absolutely awful. Glad to know you have nice shoes, now care to say a word about literally anything else in the world? This song was actually traumatic. I remember hearing it play in Patrick’s room and thinking “This is rap?” and then deciding “I don’t like rap. I’m not going to listen to rap.” And, lo it was so. This period of urban avoidance lasted for six long alternative-pop years.*
But then, Patrick pulled a Jimmy Neutron (solving the very problem you caused.) He and John came home from work one day at The Muny and John was complaining about a song Patrick had kept on repeat in the car. The song was Kid Cudi’s “Day ‘n’ Nite” and it holds a special place in my heart.
Normally my official policy is “whatever Patrick likes, I generally don’t” (The Lakers, Yankees, Premier League Team of the Week, “Air Force Ones”) and “whatever John likes, I generally do” (Boston Red Sox, formerly Chelsea**, The Beatles) but I decided to see what song would cause this diverse of reactions in my brothers, because the last one that did this was “Jimmy Cracked Corn” and trust me, John DID care.
So I pulled it up on whatever hand-me-down laptop I was using those days, and well damn I was surprised. This song wasn’t about violence, it wasn’t about misogyny, and it certainly wasn’t about shoes. It was introspective, talking about lost love and general loneliness, real human emotions and I just couldn’t believe it.
Suddenly I was looking up Kid Cudi Youtube videos and buying Kid Cudi albums and creating Kid Cudi Pandora stations. The Pandora stations introduced to some of my favorite artists, such as Atmosphere, Brother Ali, Sage Francis, and Murs. Rather than just hearing braggadocio proclamations of power, wealth, and sexual prowess, I was hearing lyrical stories, self-reflection, and rap activism, music that moved me, music that made me laugh, music that made me cry, music that filled me with energy and motivation, but most importantly music that made me think.
Rap has followed Jazz, Rock ‘n Roll, and Punk music in the long line of “things that are ruining our children (and America.)” But if anything, rap has made me a better person. My favorite songs usually have positive messages, or if they’re negative, they’re that way to teach a lesson. So when I’m listening, I’m learning. Can you say that about your favorite music?
Posted 7.17.2013
Brendan McDermott graduated from St. Louis University High School, Class of 2013. In the fall, he will be a student at the University of Missouri, where he will study journalism.