"...some call it music, I call it life..."

Come on, baby, light my fire/
Everything you drop is so tired/
Music is supposed to inspire.
-Lauryn Hill


I am far and away the biggest music snob that I know. I have unique tastes in music. I know this. I am constantly reminded of this. I would think that in a world where everyone carries iPods and where filesharing* is common, where literally an entire world of music is at your fingertips, that maybe I wouldn't be seen as such an anomaly. But in as much as I think less of everyone else in the world because they refuse to share my brilliant musical preferences, I can accept that, hey, perhaps I'm a bit out of the ordinary. I'm a member of two online music communities, MOG and Last, which I thought would give me opportunities to meet other people whose musical tastes were as eclectic and diverse as my own. Then the other day I received some mail on MOG that said: "You have crazy taste in music. You go from Ohmega Watts to Bob Dylan. Now that is classy." And I thought to myself, "Alas! Even here amidst my own kind, yet again I am rendered as an outcast."** I mean, yeah, dude was being complimentary but it still served as a reminder that I do have peculiar interests. So I sat down to think about how I came to be this way. I couldn't come up with an answer right away so I continued to sit. Then I finally figured out the two people who are most responsible: my dad and my brother.

If you were to ask anyone who even remotely knows my family which of my parents is more musical, I guarantee that they would tell you my mom 10 times out of nine (now if I'm lying, fine). My mom loves to sing. Loves it. She's always been a part of every choir that she could possibly join. When we were kids, whenever we would go to her with any kind of problems she would respond by singing a hymn or a chorus. At the time that could be kinda irritating. I'd be thinking to myself, "Dangit, woman, can't you just figure out a solution for me? Claire Huxtable can solve her kids' problems in 22 minutes plus commercials." But while I would say that my love for music comes from my mom, I think my dad is more responsible for guiding what I actually listen to when it comes down to it.

More so than any human being I have ever met in my life, my dad does not give one flying iota of concern as to what other people think about him. If he likes something, then he just likes it. It doesn't matter if it's not popular or if most of his peers think completely the opposite. It just happens to be what he likes. And if he don't like it, he don't like it...that don't mean that he's hatin'. For some reason, when we were younger, my dad has this phase where he really, really liked country music. Anytime we were in the car, the radio woud be on either KSCS 96.3 or KPLX 99.5 (I still remember their jingle: "Guess who's flexing their plex? K-Plex!"). I didn't realize that this was somewhat unusual for many years. When I first took up an interest in DJing, I did what any responsible DJ my age would do. I raided my parents' record collection. Or I tried to anyway. See, most black kids my age would probably be able to look through their dad's records and find what I was looking for: James Brown, Jimmy Castor, Marva Whitney. Nope. Or being Nigerian, you'd think that he'd probably have some Fela.*** Nuh uh. My dad had records from people named Pat Boone, Carole King and Barbara Mandrell. Huh? How the heck was I supposed to find breakbeats in "It's Too Late?" But what ended up happening is that I began to discover and appreciate the quality of this music on its own merits. I can appreciate Carole King's Tapestry for its earthy, piano-driven sound with acoustic guitars gently layered over it. I happen to think that it's one of the best album of the 20th century.

The other thing that my dad did is drive me to search beneath the surface. Not just for music, for anything but especially any kind of entertainment medium. It would happen after every movie he would ever take me to see and also at random times after watching a show on TV or hearing a song. Then the questions would come: "What did you learn?" "What did he mean by this?" "What are they trying to say?" So from a pretty young age, I was constantly trying to find the intangibles and that's grown with me ever since. I know some people just like to hear music that makes them want to dance or go to movies just so they can zone out and be entertained for a couple of hours. Thanks to my dad, I can't really do that. I have a need to find the deeper meaning. It's probably also an extension of this that drives me to seek out music that actually has a deeper meaning.

While it was my dad who planted these seeds, it was Ebun who actually watered them. See, when Ebun started middle school, he took up an interest in the whole Seattle sound: Nirvana, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam. Let me tell you, Ayo and I used to give him all kinds of grief for listening to that white people music. But he didn't care. He liked it. So after observing him for some time, I decided to try it out. Much to my horror, I discovered that I...actually...kinda...liked it. Of course, at first I kept this a secret. But then after a while I said, "Screw it" and openly declared my love for punk and grunge. Ayo never quite got to that point but she did join Ebun and I in our initiation rites (whenever other kids our age came to our house for the first time, we'd introduce ourselves by putting on Green Day's Dookie, and then run around the house, screaming at the top of our lungs and throwing couch pillows all over the place...I miss those days).

Then there's the second part of Ebun's contribution. When he got into b-boying, sometimes I would go with him to various battles and competitions. That's how I was introduced to the funk sounds of the 60s and 70s. At first it was just along the lines of me thinking, "Oh, so that's where so-and-so rapper got that beat." But the more I would hear it, the more I fell in love with it and the more it became a part of me. I love this kind of music with a passion. When I'm alone in my room, with doors closed and locked, with blinds drawn close, this is what makes me dance. When James tells me to get on the good foot, I can't help but comply. Taking up interest in this music caused me to further take up interest in all sorts of music from that era, hence my interest in Bob Dylan and others, such as Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, etc.

Actually, that's probably my biggest beef with modern music "fans." Many of them claim to love music but have no clue about its history. When I first heard Jay-Z say how he's overcharging "for what they did to the Cold Crush" the first thought that entered my mind was, "Wow, that's cool for him to pay homage to the Cold Crush Brothers." The second was "I wonder what percentage of his listening audience even knows who the Cold Crush Brothers are and why that line is significant." Now, far be it for me to claim to be the most well-versed person on all forms of music but I'll tell you this: when I hear a song that I like, that's just the beginning. From there, I want to learn about the artist. Where are they from? What are there inspirations? Who are their influences? (Thanks, pops.) Because I feel that all of that is integral to the make up of the artist. It all factors in to what makes the song worth hearing. Is it unfair for me to expect other people to hold the same level of fervor towards music? Yeah, most likely. And I guess that's what makes me a music snob. That's what makes me unusual.



TITLE TAKEN
Deepspace 5; "The Night We Called It a Day"



* Kids, filesharing is bad. And how do we know it's bad? Because a bunch of rich people in Washington told us so. And we know how they're always right. After all, these are the same people who have told us that marijuana is more dangerous than alcohol and that Iraq was a nuclear threat. So listen to them because they know what they're saying.



** I really think like that too.



*** I was once having a conversation with my mom and, I don't remember how we got on the subject, but she casually mentioned that she and Fela had been friends before he became famous. WTF??? One, how can you have been friends with arguably the most famous musician to ever emerge from the continent of Africa (Dave Matthews notwithstanding) and never have told me this? Two, how do you not own any of his records? And three, I really have trouble reconciling the image of my mom as friends with the public image of Fela. I mean, was she to have been wife number 28? Um...I really need to not think along these lines.

I know that with Nigerians six degrees of separation is more like two, but it's still funny to me when I see it work. A few years ago Wole Soyinka had a lecture tour and one of his stops was in Arlington. Uncle Sola told me to make sure I go see him. I had planned to anyway, but he wanted to emphasize that I go. When I reassured him that I was he said, "Good. I'll tell him that you're coming." I didn't know how well he actually knew Dr. Soyinka so I was like, "Whatever." But after his lecture, I went up to him to introduce myself and he said, "Ah, yes. I've been waiting for you." Holy monkeys. A Noble Laureate was waiting on me, some bum who can barely string two words together. Anyway...that's far too much name-dropping for one post.