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Location: Home.
Listening: "Money Ain't A Thing" by Jay Z and Jermaine Dupre.

Briefly, yes, I'm a "white girl" who loves rap. Worse, I'm a "southern girl" who loves rap--and not just R&B. I've invested some time, studied a little, researched a little, and can give love to everyone from NWA to DJ Quick. I can respect a rhyme, whether or not I agree with the message, and I can recognize these men and women as those who (although with "folk" musicians like Ani Difranco or Dar Williams) continue the purest form of the oral tradition of storytelling in our modern day. I have discussed Homer with freestylers who could improvise the most beautiful, off the cuff lyrics for hours, playing off only one another, as well as professional rappers (Kurupt of the Dogg Pound was a "friend" of a former roommate in college--he and I had an interesting conversation one night about whether or not I wanted a BMW cause his posse liked redheaded white girls--I told him I'd driven BMW's and didn't like the way they handled. He responded "Shit, girl, what do you want?", and I laughed. He was fun--and, in the end, a sweet boy.). I have intense respect for many of the artists who meld music and spoken poetry--they are, in my mind, the bards of our generation.

For me, rap isn't about white or black, although a lot of it has that intention, and, if it does, you must respect that and think about it in that context. However, for me, a lot of rap these days is about sheer exuberance, and how fucking good it feel sometimes to just be alive.

In the Ferrari, the Jaguar
Switchin' four lanes
With the top down
Screamin' out
Money ain't a thing.

I mean, we all know the feeling of having been through lean times and suddenly, when it somehow gets better, you can treat your friends to a big meal at a nice restaurant or get that one thing you've always wanted to be able to just walk into a store and buy. That one moment when, truly, "money ain't a thing". It no longer holds dominion over you. It's no longer an obstacle to the fulfillment of your complete desire. No, you're not what you purchase. You're not "your fuckin' khaki's"--but for that one moment, you own the world. For me, that's what a lot of rap these days is about--achievement, hard work, and the rewards of luck and strategy--and why shouldn't you rejoice in that?.

Y'all ain't for real
Til y'all ship a mil.

It's about the satisfaction that comes from having a talent and having someone recognize that and blazon it to the world. Because rhyming, rapping, is a talent as much as being able to write poetry or to formulate complex mathematic equations. It's about having a natural feel for words and syllables and the lyricism inherent in their structure. Listening to rap is, for me, like listening to Ravel. Laugh, if you will, but I hold to it. There's a melody in the words themselves, without the back beat--there's a cadence and a beauty in the words arranged just the right way that thrills me to the core. I love language, and I hear an echo of Euripides and the anonymous author of Beowulf in Dre and Ja Rule. They manipulate words and their meanings in ways that I often never imagined and, for that, I let them go through, if you will.

More on this later, because it's a subject close to my heart, but for now, I wanted to mention that we have the modern equivalent of The Iliad on our radios right now and, as far as I can see, so few people can see beyond their own political views and social conditioning to recognize it.

Do me a favor and tune into your local rap station for just a few hours each week. I guarantee, if you leave your pre-conceived notions at home and really listen, you'll be pleasantly surprised--and enlightened.