How many times have you heard the object of your lust say something like “I could write a book,” or “I could do that way better than that chick” only to do neither. Now imagine me saying “I can write and rap a tune any damn time I want. That dude ain’t all dat!” Well…I would never say anything like that because it’s simply not my style. Experience has taught me to start walking before I do all that talkin’.
I’ve always maintained that rapping is simply not that difficult because the rapper doesn’t need to hit any pitches along the way. Rap is mostly an amelodic genre in the first place. True, you need rhythm. And a certain appealing inflection is helpful. But you can be tone deaf and still rap. Singers don’t have that luxury.
So recently, a local flatbacker I’ve known forever declared that she wanted to write a hooker rap – which of course, she promptly did not do. (What else is new?) At about the same time, I was watching a Top Ten Soul Train dancer video and found some music I’d never heard before but really liked. Motivated to compose something similar in the genre, I jumped on GARAGEBAND and instantly had a problem transferring the bass part I’d devised in my head to the keyboard.
Frustrated for the moment, I began playing something spontaneous and entirely unrelated and within an hour or two, had a track I was starting to like. Now…what to write over the music? Hey! Take a crack at that hooker rap!
After 4 minutes and 30 seconds which includes three verses, three hooks and three interludes, I am now ready to present an unfinished product to the blogger world. Last weekend, I gave it the acid test – firing it up for a young 20-something pro who I knew would be just as judgmental as she could be. But I didn’t tell her what I was playing. When she discovered that it was me, the look of bewilderment, suspicion, jealousy and admiration all rolled into one spoke volumes. Despite my advancing age, I’d struck a universal chord for the community I wish to reach.
So anyway…enough of the bull shit. You know what’s gonna happen now. You get to hear me rap – as a female oddly enough (as this is the story of a girl discovering the rich rewards of escorting). Just picture the narrative coming from some girl you shagged for a fee along the way and you’ll get the idea.
Currently, this ditty has zero redeeming value. But fear not, verse #4 (as yet unrecorded) features a trick robbing and scaring the shit out of the girl – sending her straight back to the counter of Mickey D’s where you’ll find her forevermore. It remains unrecorded because the verse needs work. I decided today to post the unfinished opus now that I’ve seen my audience reaction. Only a serious songwriter/musician would realize the production is incomplete. And there aren’t any of them visiting this blog anyway. (Or who knows?)
Enough! Here goes.