Sloppy When You Rap

I baked some chicken for dinner.  And some baked potatoes.  I couldn’t really grill the eggplant so I baked that too. Snow peas.  My vegan older daughter returned ready to eat as well.  She can’t eat eggplant.  Nightshade, it seems.   So, I cut tomatoes and do a classic Chinese dish of eggs, xihongshi and parsley.   There’s a frozen bag of paratha in the fridge and I figure I’ll fry up some of these as well, as it will make the little one happy.

The younger hung out while I prepared the food as I invited her to play her tunes.  She had several BTS songs she wanted me to hear.  Now that I’ve heard this group, and considered photos of this group more than I ever thought I would, I note that my opinions have matured.  I like RM aka Rap Monster.  He’s got the deepest voice.  His mien is sharp rather than cute.  And, though I can’t discern what he’s on about in Korean, his rapping has flow.  My daughter things all that’s fine, but she likes Suga, the other main rapper even more.  He is cute.  His voice is thinner and he seems to inhale a lot when he raps.  She has me listen to one song Cipher, if I recall correctly where she feels he truly rips it up at double-time speed. 

She’s had about eight tunes in a row now and by rights I can now “make” her listen to a tune.  Against proper, parental judgement I think to play her Too Short, the Oakland rapper who is funny, if pornographic, but not for the content of his character, but rather because he is so strong and clear as someone who raps slowly.  Deep, thin, drop-top-Caddy beat from “Life Is” and I try to tell her that, in my opinion, it’s easier to be sloppy when you rap fast.  But when its’ slow, you either speak clearly or you don’t.   She gets the point.  She now needs to leave though, to pick up the older one with my wife before it all gets afoul of Parental Guidance.

Later that night, after the meal, which came off alright, we got into a “she-goes, I go,” exchange.  For some reason, and I wish I could recall the proper catalyst, I think to play her Dylan. I suddenly want her to hear “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll.”  She takes it in.  When it’s my time again we move ahead a year or so in Zimmy’s career and consider “Masters of War.”  Alas, as I get more animated, during my next turn, when I have “It’s Alright Ma” up the full volume, she begins to ask how long the song is, suggesting it’s clearly a violation as its well beyond the length of your average BTS song.  I must plead with her to stay for “Positively Fourth Street.”  If the lyrics had been registering, they aren’t any longer.  Perhaps not surprisingly I continue to listen to “Highway 61 Revisited”, after she makes her way up to her room.

Saturday, 12/01/18