So, I find myself transported to an oppressive world of non-choices and bad choices and worse choices when I watch early ’90s South Los Angeles “hood” films such as Boyz N the Hood and Friday.
But, of course, it is impossible to analyze anything without placing my own ideas and opinions and personal history into the mix. I value all voices that are able to examine their lives through music, film, the written word, or whatever other form of creative magic is their preference, and I seek to understand their perspectives as objectively as possible. I hear about the struggle of countless young men and women stuck in endless cycles of poverty, I see existential questions floating up from the lower consciousness of auteur directors, and the whole mess smashes into my brain in new and wonderful and exciting combinations. I hop back and forth from inner-city shootings and gangland violence to the experimental explorations of indie and foreign films. It doesn’t give me any pause or desire to change my listening habits instead, it allows me to keep one eye open on the events of two worlds. Whether it’s the frequency of seeing artists with “Young” in the name (Young Thug, Young Gangsta, Young Jeezy, Young Dro, Young Roddy) or the overwhelming prevalence of ebonics in the song titles (“Mo Money Mo Problems,” “Ova Da Wudz,” “Workin Em”) or perhaps it’s just the effortlessness at finding numerals in the album titles ( Dedication 2, Thug Motivation 103: Hustlerz Ambition, Hunger for More 2, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx), it’s clear I have a deep well of interest in hip-hop culture and music.īut it’s an odd situation to be within because I – sitting in my upper middle class house in the middle a swath of horse farms and hay fields – am quite removed from being involved in the lifestyle most frequently described in hip-hop music. It’s easy to take a look at my iTunes and stereotype me as a typical white country-boy with delusions of the ghetto.