{"id":128648,"date":"2021-12-20T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-12-20T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nursingstudybay.com\/2021\/12\/20\/music-industry-rappers-2\/"},"modified":"2021-12-20T00:00:00","modified_gmt":"2021-12-20T00:00:00","slug":"music-industry-rappers-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/music-industry-rappers-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Music Industry Rappers"},"content":{"rendered":"<div>\n<p>VOLVO, which gets Jacked repeatedly while the Ford hurtles, happily, to the source of the noise. Not to the station\u2019s broadcast booth on a campus across the river, nor to its transmission towers in the suburbs, but rather to Raja Productions in North Dorchester, where black kids from Boson\u2019s now-integrated high schools-Latin, Madison Park, Jeremiah Burke, Manhattan-cut demos and dream of being bigger than even the radio\u2019s new friend, a young man named School D who right now, at speaker-damaging volume, sounds darn big.<\/p>\n<p> \u201cBefore we start this next record\u2026 ,\u201d Schools saying.The record In question Is called \u201cSlinging Rapper,\u201d a brief, bloody tale of ghetto retribution from Side 2 of Schools Smoke Some Kill. The black areas are cut away from the white areas a federal judge ruled in \u201974, and evidence is everywhere that nothings changed since then. On the southbound left of the Fitzgerald Expressway pass 20 blocks of grim Irish-Catholic housing project ( help with nursing paper writing from experts with MSN &#038; DNP degrees)s, the western border of Belfast, complete with Sin Feint graffiti and murals depicting a glorious united Ireland, a neighborhood where the gadfly will get his fibula busted for praising the 74 court order that bused \u201cThem\u201d from wherever it is \u201cThey\u2019 live-theThird World fear carriages-into 97-percent-white South Boston.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<p> On the Expressways right is the place the fibula-busters are talking about: the simultaneous northern border of Haiti, Jamaica and Georgia; a territory that maps of Boston call North Dorchester. Uniting the two sides of the Expressway is just about nothing. Both neighborhoods are tough and poor. Both hate the college world across the river, which, because of Boson\u2019s rotten public schools, they will never see as freshmen.And kids from both neighborhoods can do this hating to the beat of undergraduate radio, which this fine ironing features suburban kids with student debt broadcasting the art of a ghetto Philadelphia roughly their age, once much poorer than they, but now, on royalties from Smoke Some Kill, very much richer. Not that the shared digging of black street music Is news, or even new: twenty years ago, when Morgan v. Hennaing, Boson\u2019s newborn v.<\/p>\n<p>Board of Education, was Inching through the courts, and even dark-completed Italians were sometimes unwelcome In the Irish precincts east of the Expressway, kids In Boson\u2019s Little Belfast sang along with James Brown over the radio I\u2019m black and I\u2019m proud Say it loud I\u2019m black and I\u2019m proud! \u201d Except that halfway through the infectious funk, the crosscuts realize what they\u2019re saying: Jesus Christ, \u201cI\u2019m proud to be black\u201d fear shortcakes, like when you\u2019re in the porno store, you know, and you get lost or something and you find yourself in the men\u2019s part, you know? To the part for men in the part that\u2019s about men, Jesus, and you get the hell auto there. And so they hum\/mumble the suppressed parts \u201cSay it loud I\u2019m mom hum proud Mum hum hum proud! \u201d But rap isn\u2019t funk, rock or Jazz, and the vast crossover move, broadcasting \u201cghetto\u2019 music over college radios to ghettos of a different color, is no simple reenactment of past crossovers. How, for example, does the sing-along fan of Smoke Some Kill mumble his way through these lines: \u201cBlack is beautiful Brown is sick? Slick? Stiff? Yellows K But white anti sit. Raja Productions, modestly headquartered in a mixed black\/Hispanic (the best nursing writing service, a studybay for your papers) Field, Corner section of North Dorchester, is as follows: * One (1) four-car garage fitted with dubbing and remaining gear worth more than most of the rest of the real estate on the block; * One (1) touch-tone telephone (leased); * Two (2) Chevy Blazers, vanity-plated RAJAH and RAJAH, each equipped with cellular phones and slick tape decks (also leased); * One (1) VS. with Kathleen Turner\u2019s Body Heat cued up on the morning in question; * Most importantly, eight (8) promising acts under binding contract.If, as has happened to many local labels, Raja were liquidated to satisfy creditors, these would be the pieces. But there are stores of value in the converted garage beyond the reach of the auctioneer\u2019s gavel.<\/p>\n<p> School D, the original Signifying Rapper, looms irresistibly from the pages of rap \u201cfanzines\u201d Hip-Hop and The Source; and Raja\u2019s prime, unmentionable asset is the consuming ambition of the artists in its stable to be the next School D. Or the next Ice T, or Cool Moe Dee, or L. L. Cool J. , or hover\u2019s the special hero of the kid cutting the demo.On this particular morning, Late vs..<\/p>\n<p> Van White\u201d and \u201c10% Ids\u201d-since today is Tam-Tam\u2019s day and Tam-Tam is, at 16, a tough girl in the MS Late mold who, like MS Late, can dance, look good, and tell men to beat it, all at once. Or so claims Tam-Tam\u2019s producer, promoter, and Dutch uncle, Gary Smith, who opened Raja on Martin Luther Kings birthday, \u201989, with his older brother Ante. Ante, the elder statesman, is 25. Gary, 22, runs the company while Ante travels with his boyhood-friend-turned-boss, quadruple-platinum, Prince-derived rapper\/singer, Bobby Brown.Raja was founded in part with an investment from the 23-year-old multi-millionaire Brown, a native of Roxbury. Brown now lives in Los Angels. Ante and Gary Smith turn a healthy profit making demos at $500\/tape, but the brothers aren\u2019t in the health business.<\/p>\n<p> Their aim: to follow in the corporate footsteps of Defy Jam, a once similarly tiny production company run from a basement in Hollies, Queens, which since its basement days, has given America Public Enemy, L. L. Cool J. , the Beastie Boys, and much of the rest of that culture-quake called rap.Gary Smith doesn\u2019t compare Raja to Defy Jam, and, unlike Defy Jam\u2019s Russell Simmons, Gary reduces pop, soul, and R&amp;B as well as straight rap, and actually prefers R&amp;B. But how many sophomores at nearby Jeremiah Burke can afford to dream in R&amp;B, to front music lessons and $500 for an nth-hand sound set-up, find three friends to learn drums, bass and keyboards, and then raise another $500 to make a demo at Raja? Anybody with a larynx can rap, however, and Raja\u2019s brisk business in rap demos pays the taxman, Boston Edison and the Chevrolet Motor Credit Corp..<\/p>\n<p>Twenty minutes farther south on the Fitzgerald Expressway, across the Nipponese River and into the pricey suburbs, is the scene of John Achiever\u2019s boyhood, more gently celebrated as Massachusetts Miracle country, where technology ventures are started at the rate of five per week, four of which will fail within 12 months. Raja\u2019s Gary Smith is secret brother to the men of the suburban Chambers of Commerce, sharing their worries about cash flow, overhead, and the enforceability of his contracts; but Garry world and theirs are as far apart as those of Ward and Eliding Cleaver.Worriers in suburbia fear that ballooning property values will hike taxes on computer executives\u2019 seaside homes. In Agar\u2019s neighborhood, property values are actually falling. Waiting less than patiently for Tam-Tam, Gary honks wick. A tall, grave girl with an angel\u2019s heart-shaped face crosses the ghetto street and climbs into the back seat of RAJAH . She has, apparently, at least two voices, the cynical, sexy rant heard on tape this morning telling Pebbles men anti worth it, and the whisper in which she now says hello.<\/p>\n<p>As RAJAH re-crosses North Dorchester, heading back to the soundproof studios to get the days work started, Gary and DC Reese hash out production details. Tam-Tam\u2019s a dignified island in the back seat, and a shiver accompanies the thought that this could be the Motor City in \u201963 with Berry Gorky and an eighty-pound teenage Diana Ross, Just voted Best Dressed at Sacs Technical High School, driving cross-town to Ask Tam-Tam about Diana Ross, and she gives a beatific smile.She\u2019s 16; she can remember only with difficulty the first rap she ever listened to, when rap was new and she was 8; Run-DIM or somebody, she mumbles in response to what suddenly seems a foolish question about her influences. Like most of rap\u2019s black audience (as distinct from rap\u2019s white audience, which is usually a decade older), Tam-Tam has no first-hand recollection of James Brown except as a source for rap. She is too young to have attended segregated schools.She was in diapers during the violent first few months of desegregation in Boston and can\u2019t remember the awful day in 74 when \u201cpro-neighborhood\u201d marchers from Irish South Boston came upon a black pedestrian at City Hall and beat him with pole-mounted American flags. Tam-Tam has star presence, and like many who do, she seems to see very little of what goes on around her, the price of the star\u2019s intense focus on self.<\/p>\n<p> She reminds you of Senator Gary Hart. He, too, had star presence.In front of a crowd, Hart was riveting; in the elevator riding up to the auditorium, he was barely there. Being barely here in the neighborhood Tam-Tam calls home is probably not such a bad thing, and perhaps her drive to be star someday is an elaborate way to wall out the now and here. Ambition is, finally, a form of hope, a scarce commodity in North Dorchester. Back in Raja\u2019s control booth, DC Reese and producer Ralph Stacey are programming the rhythm track for what will be \u201cHo, You\u2019re Guilty. Drum parts are taken from a Roland TRY-909 Rhythm Composer, a synch which electronically reproduces programmed beats on the user\u2019s choice of drum-matrix.<\/p>\n<p> The TRY-ass\u2019s keys, on a console designed to resemble, vaguely, the familiar piano, are named after the sound ACH creates-bass, snare, mid-tom, hi-tom-and the sounds are named after the actual drums which, until the TRY-909, were required to make those sounds. The TRY-909 even sports a key named HAND CLAP, making it possible for the first time ever to clap hands with a single finger, rendering obsolete the Zen Joan about the sound of one hand clapping.The finished \u201cHo, You\u2019re Guilty\u2019 will sound lush with percussion, melody, and instrumental breaks. Not one human musician will be employed in the recording process. Each percussion line is programmed onto the mixing board as a separate track: a snare track, a bass track, a clap track, etc. Reese has been studying the classics lately, too, biz: James Brown\u2019s Dead on the Heavy Funk from shish, including the ageless groove, \u201cFunky President,\u201d in which James announces his third-party candidacy.Some of Bobby Bard\u2019s Dead guitar, and a holy moment when James exhales rhythmically, have been isolated from a store-bought cassette of Dead, re-recorded on clean tape, then re-re-recorded onto a computer-readable memory diskette from which the sample is retrieved and altered by Ralph Stacey using a Roland D-50 linear synch.<\/p>\n<p> The guitar and the exhalation then go, as altered, from the synch to yet another of the UT of these 24 strands. As Reese and Ralph Stacey mix the 24 tracks onto one master tape, Tam-Tam sips lemonade in the corner of the booth.You ask her if she is interested someday in learning about the obscure digital technology the two men manipulate on her behalf. She doesn\u2019t seem to register the question. \u201cThe other career besides rap I\u2019d like to pursue is modeling,\u201d she says. \u201cI\u2019m five-seven. That\u2019s the perfect height for a model.<\/p>\n<p> \u201d Mixing takes the rest of the day. Producer Ralph Stacey at one late point corners you with a flinty stare and an uncomfortable question: \u201cWhy do you want to write about AP, anyway? \u201d It is lucky that at that minute Reese is done mixing.Tomorrow the Raja staff will tape Tam-Tam\u2019s vocal track and lay this over Reece\u2019s rhythm track. Then the sound will be \u201cfattened\u201d with stacks of horns, guitar hooks, bells, canned applause, and whatever else they decide to take from other tapes or work up on the Rolando. The final demo tape of \u201cHo, You\u2019re Guilty\u2019 will then be shopped to the 20 major, minor, and tiny labels who might release the demo as a 12-inch single. Everyone\u2019s ready to call it a day. Gary Smith\u2019s already huddled with some new want- be stars in Raja\u2019s reception area.<\/p>\n<p>Reese plays the mixed rhythm track once through over the big speakers in the control booth, and Tam-Tam immediately stands, modeling forgotten, utterly alert. Reese gestures to her with maestro hands. She raps at an absent Antoinette in the hard, sexy voice you haven\u2019t heard since this morning, extemporaneous but on beat: \u201cI\u2019m a female You\u2019re Just a fairytale. \u201d The small-w we here are two white Boston males: one native, one oft-transplanted; both residing in Cambridge, a dim, ethnic-Portuguese neighborhood whose gentrification we abet. M. Is an attorney with a taste for Jazz, Blues, funk; D. Radar student and would-be drifter who watches TV instead of sleeping.<\/p>\n<p> Our cultural tastes and interests are day and night. They converged only lately, when Ad\u2019s stereo arrived UPS and we discovered we shared an uncomfortable, somewhat furtive, and distinctively white enthusiasm for a certain music called rap\/hip-hop. * About our passions and discomforts we could determine only that they were vague &amp; distinct contexts and catheter brought to bear across the same ethnic distance on the same thing. For instance, we agreed that real or serious rap is not FAD or Tone Loc orBeasties, Egyptian Lover or Fat Boys, not experiments or foreshadows or current commercial crossover slush. \u201cSerious\u201d rap-a unique U. S. Inner-city fusion of funk, technician reggae, teen-to-teen \u201chardcore\u201d rock, and the early ass \u201cpoetry of the black experience\u201d of Nikkei Giovanni, the Last Poets, etc.<\/p>\n<p> -has, since its late-ass delivery at the record-scratching hands of Africa Bumboat and his Zulu Nation, Sugarbird Gang, Cool Here and his automated Hercules, and Grandmaster Flash, always had its real roots in the Neighborhood, the black gang-banger Underground. Black music,We concurred as to the where\u2019s and when of rap\u2019s begetting-mid-to-late ass\u2019 South Bronx house parties; then, by decade\u2019s end, block parties, with municipal electric lights tapped for a power source, literal dancing in the streets; by \u201982, regular rap- houses and then \u201cfloating clubs\u201d-the Rosy every Sunday, The Boron\u2019s Disco Fever HTH-everybody Breaking to a new musical antistatic being fashioned from records and turntables and an amateur Ads ad-lib banter; a very heavy reggae influence at the beginning; the more rhythmic pure rap an offshoot, its brisker, sparer, backseat signed for Breakneck, and the smooth-rapping portrayer who Just didn\u2019t want to shut up when others\u2019 music was on.We agreed, too, on rough chronology: amateur house-partiers giving way to professional Ads, pioneers; they, too, then overshadowed by new art-entrepreneurs, former Breakers, failed singers, gag-majorettes; then the rise of \u201cIndies,\u201d the tiny independent labels that keep most new music on life- support-Sugar Hill, Jive, Tommy Boy, Wild Pitch, Profile Records, Enjoy-then, after King Tim Ills \u201cPersonality Joke and Sugarbird Gangs \u201cRapper\u2019s Delight,\u201d an entree into urban black radio; then to underground \u201cMix\u201d radio; then corporate levels, digital technology, very big money, the early-ass talent that became an early Scene\u2019s cream- Spooning G. And Sequence, Eric Fresh, Unknown DC, Egyptian Lover and Run-DIM. Then, Spring \u201984, the extraordinary Midas touch of Rick Rubin and Russell Simmons\u2019 Defy Jam label (now under contract to CBS) from which sprang a mid-ass stable of true stars, in the Underground-public Enemy, L. L. Cool J, Slick Rick, the still-unparalleled Eric B.<\/p>\n<p> And Racism-and L. A. \u2018s alternatives: Cool Moe Dee, L. A. Dream Team, and others.And now, at decade\u2019s end, an absolute explosion of rap-as-pop, big business, MAT, special fashions, posters, merchandise, with only a few big, new, cutting-edge acts- L. A.<\/p>\n<p> \u2018s N. W. A. , Philadelphia School D, Imam\u2019s 2 Live Crew, De La Soul\u2019s House-blend of rap\/funk\/]jazz-remaining too esoteric or threatening or downright obscene to cross all the way over and cash in with big labels. By \u201989 rap is finally proving as \u201cimportant\u201d (read also lucrative) to an anemic shock-and rebellion-music industry as Punk was an exact decade ago. This was all Just data. We agreed on it, and on how it as curious that we both had such strange, distant facts down cold.<\/p>\n<p> Our point of departure, essay-wise, was always less what we know than what we felt, listening: less what we liked than why.For this attempt at an outside sampler we plunked down and listened to thousands of hours of rap, trying to summon a kind of objective, critical, purely \u201caesthetic\u201d passion that the music itself made impossible. For outsiders, rap\u2019s easy to move to, hard to dissect. The more we listened and thought and drank beers and argued, the more we felt that the stuffs appeal for two highbrow, upscale whites was Just plain incongruous. Because serious rap has, right from the start, presented itself as a closed show. Usually critical questions of culture, context, background and audience reduce quickly to vexed questions about prepositions. Not here.<\/p>\n<p> No question that serious rap is, and is very self-consciously, music by urban blacks about same tonal for same.To mainstream whites it\u2019s a tight cohesion that can\u2019t but look, from outside the cultural window, like occlusion, clannishness (sic) and inbreeding, a kind of reverse snobbery about what\u2019s \u201cdefy\u201d and And WASP-only country clubs. Serious rap is a musical movement that seems to revile whites as a group or Establishment, and simply to ignore their possibility as distinct individuals-the Great White Male is rap\u2019s Grand Inquisitor, its idiot questioner-its Alien Other no less than Reds were for McCarthy. The music\u2019s paranoia, together with its hermetic racial context, helps explain why from the outside it appears to us Just as vibrant and impassioned as it does alien and scary. Other incongruities.Rap is a \u201cmusic\u201d essentially without melody, built instead around a digitally synthesized drum- and back-beat often about as complex as five idle fingers on a waiting-room table, enhanced by \u201csampled\u201d (pirated) \u201ccrush roves\u201d (licks or repetitive chord-series) conceived and recorded by pre-rap rock icons, the whole affair characterized by a distinctive, spare, noisy, clattering \u201cstyle\u201d whose obsessive if limited thematic revolve with the speed of low-I amperage around the affirmative circuit of the MS\/rapper and his record-scratching, sound- mixing Ashcan Panda, the D]. The rapper (the guy in the cameo cut or Kananga hat, pricey warm-up, unlaced Aids, extra thick gold chain or oversized medallion) offers lyrics that are spoken or bellowed in straight, stressed, rhymed verse, the verse\u2019s syntax and meter often ordered for rhythmic gain or the kind of limiting-for-rhyme we tend to associate with doggerel about men from Nantucket.<\/p>\n<p> The lyrics, nearly always self-referential, tend to be variations on about half a dozen basic themes, themes that at first listen can seem less alien or shocking than downright dull.Egg: Just how bad\/cool\/fresh\/defy the rapper and his lyrics are; Just how equally UN-all-these his music rivals are; how troublesome, vacuous and acquisitive women are; how wonderful it is to be \u201cpaid in full\u201d for rapping instead of stealing or dealing; how gangs are really families, \u2018canines constant bad news. And, in particular, how sex and violence and yuppie toys represent perfectly the urban black liveried to late-ass American glory. The masks are many, too many for anything really but direct aural inspection: rap personae can change frequently even within single albums, the rapper delivering Hard, violent Black Nationalist communique on one cut, dubbing against Trinitarian steel drums on another, basking in big label eclat on a third, cracking a head and then defy outwitting someone muscled and dumb, cooing to his \u201cpitch\u201d and then on the flip side, threatening to go get his gun again if she can\u2019t learn who\u2019s boss.Though any crew naturally wants its own distinctive game and face, the quintessential rap group is unsentimental, chameleon\u2019s. This is either by weird design, or it\u2019s a symptom and symbol of ass facelessness..<\/p>\n<p>. Or most likely, it\u2019s Just a good old venerable synecdoche of rap\u2019s genre itself, one that\u2019s now moving so fast it can\u2019t quite fix on its own identity -? much less hold still for anything like cool, critical classification or assessment, from outside. The Mac\u2019s Alice Toasts-queue DC hovers ever nearby over his buffet of connected turntables and the black Germans of a whole lot of digital editing &amp; playback rush groove, and the \u201csound carpet,\u201d I. E. Kind of electric aural environment, a chaos behind the rapper\u2019s rhymed order, a digitized blend of snippets, squeaks, screams, sirens, snatches from pop media, all mixed and splattered so that the listener cannot really listen but only feel the resultant mash of \u201csamples\u201d that results. The most recognizable of these samples range from staccato record-scratches to James Brown and Fungicidal licks, to M. L.<\/p>\n<p> K. \u2018s public Dream, to quotidian pop pap like \u201cThe Theme from Shaft,\u201d Brady Bunch dialogue, and \u2018ass detergent commercials. We have now read every review and essay to do with serious underground hip-hop available in every single on-line periodical except for one or two underground newsletters (biz. The City Sun, Fresh-Est) circulated in parts of the Bronx demimonde where learning about rap is as hard for white outsiders as scoring fine China White or Asks.From the kind of sedulous bibliographical research to be expected of conscientious lawyers and PhD, the following has become clear. Outside England, where the Punk-weaned audience has developed a taste for spectacle-through- windows, for vicarious Rage and Protest against circumstances that have exactly 0% o do with them, most of what Rolling Stone calls \u201cdevoted rock consumers\u201d (meaning we post-baby-boomers), plus almost all established rock critics, tend to regard non- crossover rap as essentially boring and simplistic, or swaggering and bellicose and dangerous-at all events, basically vapid and empty because of its obsessive self- referentially..<\/p>\n<p>. N short, as closed to them, to us, as a music. Unrecognizable as what we\u2019ve been trained and adverted to buy as pop\u2026. Great to dance to, of course, but then what might the white audience for today\u2019s mainstream expect? Rap, whether second or sterile, is today\u2019s pop music\u2019s lone cutting edge, the new, the unfamiliar, the brain-resisted-while-body-boogies.<\/p>\n<p> And that resisted, alien, exhilarating cutting edge has always been black. \u201cWhat have you left me? What have I got? Last night in cold blood my young brother got shot My homey got Jacked My mother\u2019s on crack My sister can\u2019t work \u2019cause her arms show tracks Madness, insanity Live in profanity Then some punk claim that they understanding\u2019 me?Give me a break-what world do you live in? Death is my sex-guess my religion\u201d* What makes this stuff so much more disturbing, more real to outsiders than the Punk Rock even those of us who remember it could never quite take seriously? Maybe even a closed music has to have some kind of detente with received custom: I always found it tough to listen straight-faced to a nihilist lecture from someone with a chartreuse Mohawk and an earring in his eyelid who punctuates his delivery with vomit and spit. All doctrine and pronouncement, exclusively anti-, this Punk of a void, nothing human to grab onto. I have no idea what a Punk performer thinks, feels, is, day-to-day\u2026 N fact I always suspected he had no day, but Just retreated to his plush coffin at cockcrow.<\/p>\n<p> Can you imagine a Punk with four-foot hair and spiked jacket and nose-ring, say, eating a bologna sandwich? Replacing a light bulb? Putting a quarter in a meter? Not me, boy. And even Barnum, who knew fear sells, also knew that foreshadows aren\u2019t frightening when the freakishness supplants all resemblance. 0% affinity = 0% empathy. And fear requires empathy as much as it does menace or threat. Public Enemy and N. W. A.<\/p>\n<p> , Ice T and School D discomfit us, our friends, the critics we read and cornered, because the Hard rappers\u2019 lyrics are conscientious about being of\/for the real lives and attitudes of recognizable, if alien, persons.Here\u2019s where it\u2019s a level up from mere spectacle: ideology in Hard rap is always informed by incident or named condition. This makes rap not only better than Punk, but way scarier. Serious Hard raps afford white listeners genuine, horse\u2019s-mouth access to the life-and-death plight and mood of an American community on the genuine edge of IM-\/explosion, an ugly new sub-nation we\u2019ve been heretofore conditioned to avoid, remand to the margins, not even see except through certain carefully abstract, attenuating filters. For outsiders, rap is hard to dissect, easy to move to. The command is: dance, don\u2019t understand; participate, don\u2019t manipulate. Rap is a fortress protected by the twin moats of talk and technology.<\/p>\n<p>The first is that nu style of speak-the \u201cdialect drug,\u201d De La Soul calls it-that rappers fashion from Jive and disseminate through record stores to all of us. Some in-words, like \u201cfly,\u201d meaning \u201cfunctioning,\u201d have been in coin since the beginning, now venerable as Old English because they turn up on Grandmaster Flash cuts from \u201982. Others, like \u201cdead presidents,\u201d rap for $$, are either coming into or going out of currency, depending on when you read this. Rap, a club language, has yard ways to describe one\u2019s own or others\u2019 looks. \u201cFly\u2019 is how a man digs a woman. One would never describe oneself as \u201cfly,\u201d even when cataloguing one\u2019s own attractions (done more in rap than anyplace except perhaps Village Voice personals). Fresh\u201d means irresistibly stylish, oft-modified by \u201cfunky,\u201d \u201ccrazy,\u201d or \u201cstooped,\u201d predominantly used to convey the fly-news of things other than women, including oneself or one\u2019s rap, which two concepts rappers, like schizophrenics, can\u2019t always keep separate in their heads.<\/p>\n<p> \u201cDope\u201d means \u201cdefy,\u201d and \u201cdefy\u201d means crazy funky stooped fresh. Synonyms include: the sit, the It, the cool, the than, the word, the grooviest, the categorical imperative, die hallucinates, the that-which-Potter- Stewart-would-know-if-he-saw. A defy rapper is so style-defining as to make the stylish mere copycats. To be defy is to rap to the beat of a different drum machine-not seeking solitude, but rather confident that others will follow. The defy rapper Mac\u2019s a defy rap, which rap defy-lay tells of its own (and the rapper\u2019s) defy-news-so defy, as MIMIC manager, entrepreneur Russell Rush Simmons brags, that it had to be on a label called Defy Jam.Rap celebrates power, equating strength with style, and style with the \u201cI\u201d in wrong; to \u201cbite\u201d is to thieve another\u2019s dope beat. And only the ill would bite.<\/p>\n<p> Early remembered pop was the first fake music ever, since what the record buyer of \u201963 experienced as Aural Event on his turntable couldn\u2019t happen live. Rock began to become an Illusion of Event which technology made possible; rock became more like the movies, starting down a long road at the end of which was MAT. Not that this kept Phil Specter up nights. The gurus of the studio had fatter fish to clean, for the new freedom to shape sound had come at a price. With each magnetic jump from live, as tape was made of tapes which were themselves tapes of tapes, the hiss and crackle of interference multiplied.Dual high-bias media with 2 units each of sonic garbage per 10,000 units of Elvis Presley, retyped on similar 2-units-per-10,OOH tape, became 4 units of hiss; retyped, 8; then 16; then 32. As the sound got fuller, it decayed.<\/p>\n<p> The solution was a breakthrough called multi-tracking-using recorders that could capture and play back on 2 (as in stereo), 4 (as in \u2018ass then-ear-shattering Sergeant Pepper\u2019s Lonely Heart\u2019s Club Band), 12, 16, and today 24 parallel tracks, eliminating he hiss of transference from one machine to the next. Rhythms, melodies, harmonies could all be captured on separate tracks, allowing the performer or producer to mix and listen and re-mix, adding vocals or lead instrument on yet another track. Rap Edison like Cool Here, Grandmaster Flash and Africa Bumboat began as party Ads, not musicians.Their wiring of twin turntables to a mixer, allowing them to \u201cstack\u201d the sound of two different records while rapping into a mike, was a kind of crude, extemporaneous multitasking. Technological loops like those in the NASA-queue studios of CBS and Polygraph were now in the hands of the homeboys. Carter was President. The Bee Gees, with five Top-Ten hits in twelve months, were king.<\/p>\n<p> Digital recording, the science dividing Raja\u2019s Tam-Tam on tape from Tam-Tam as heard \u201clive\u201d is a technology that converts music to codes or \u201cdigits. \u201d The codes are \u201cread\u201d by a computer, one combining sophisticated sound-to-code translation hardware with a number-crunching COOS and a high-response synthesizer, at speeds of 40,000 digits per second and up.The recorded sounds, reduced to numbers, can be shaped, mangled, muffled, amplified, and even cannonaded. ** Hardware then translates the digits, as read and altered, back into sound, which can itself be recorded on multicultural and combined with yet more sounds. The result: hiss-free reproduction on an infinity of tracks, each of which can itself be manipulated infinitely. Digital recording, part of the ass sea-change in how pop gets made, divides the responsibility for the final song more or less equally between the performer, the engineer at the mixing board, the producer who coordinates the multi-tracking and mixing process, and the electronic hardware that actually \u201cmakes\u201d the music we buy.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>VOLVO, which gets Jacked repeatedly while the Ford hurtles, happily, to the source of the noise. Not to the station\u2019s broadcast booth on a campus\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7641,8827,10535,10533,10534,10531,10529,6744,10532,10530,7741],"tags":[10553,10549,10616,10615,7687,10254,10627,10104,10247,8857,10552,10295,10900,2984,3903,10548,10622,8901,10551,8907],"class_list":["post-128648","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-australia-essay-writers","category-australia-essays","category-do-my-university-assignment-for-me","category-essay-pro-dissertation-writers","category-homework-help-services-best-websites","category-i-need-help-writing-a-page-paper-assignment","category-masters-essays","category-nursing-studybay","category-pay-someone-to-write-a-paper-for-you","category-website-that-writes-assignments","category-studybay","tag-1-assignment-help-online-service-for-students-in-the-usa","tag-ai-plagiarism-free-essay-writing-tool","tag-australian-best-tutors","tag-best-trans-tutors","tag-buy-essay-uk","tag-can-someone-write-my-assignment-for-me","tag-cheap-dissertation-writer","tag-essypro","tag-help-me-write-my-dissertation","tag-help-with-writing-an-essay","tag-help-write-my-paper-ai-free","tag-homework-for-you","tag-nursing-bay","tag-nursing-essay","tag-nursing-study-bay","tag-online-essay-writers","tag-phd-essays","tag-studbay","tag-write-my-assignment-help-for-college-students","tag-write-my-essay-for-me"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128648","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=128648"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128648\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=128648"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=128648"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.studyproessays.com\/help\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=128648"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}