YA Confidential First Post

It's my first post at YA Confidential today, and I've written a tribute to one of my favorite artists. Please stop by, read, and comment. Thank you!

Poetic Analysis of a Hip-Hop Song

Sorry I couldn't find a better, or official, video of this song, but for some silly reason, Lupe Fiasco doesn't have an official Youtube channel.

Anyway, people really seemed to like it when I did a Poetic Analysis of a Pop Song, and some even said they hoped I'd do it again, so here it is, with another song I like.

I love this song, but it's an excellent one to breakdown with a literary analysis, because it's full of subtext, symbolism, and metaphor. Keep in mind, that any analytic reading of any kind of literature is going to be highly subjective, so these opinions are heavily based on who I am. Here are the lyrics:

[Lupe Fiasco]

Uh.. yeah

He just sits, and watches the people in the boxes

Everything he sees he absorbs and adopts it

He mimics and he mocks it

Really hates the box but he can't remember how to stop, it

Uh, so he continues to watch it

Hoping that it'll give him something that he can box with

Or how the locksmith, see the box as, locked in the box

Ain't got the combination to unlock, it

That's why he watch-es, scared to look away

Cause at that moment, it might show him

What to take off the locks with

So he chained himself to the box, took a lock and then he locked it

Swallowed the combination and then forgot, it

As the doctors jot it all down, with they pens and pencils

The same ones that took away his voice

And just left this instrumental, like what

Okay, so on the simplest level, and this might seem obvious, but it's deeper than it first appears, the box is television, or the internet. If you didn't notice that at first, I'm sure you see it now. But on a more fundamental level, beneath the foundation, if you will, this song is about consumerism, media, marketing, and propaganda. It's about the standardization of our youth, and how we are telling them who to be, what to wear, and what to buy.

He sits, and he watches the box (media in any format), and anything he sees he adopts it. He is a consumer, especially a young, impressionable consumer, and he is aware he is being manipulated (he mocks it), and he hates that he's being manipulated, but he's chained to the box. This is an essay on that fact that the messages are all around us. Billboards, airbrushed magazine covers, blinged out pro-athletes and rock-stars. It's everywhere.

He's scared to look away, because he's convinced that he can discover a way to transcend the box, from within the box. This is the paradox of media and control. Because, realistically, you can buck the trend, be a creative artist or musician, not fall into the hole of a number two pencil multiple choice bubble test, make something new and unique, but then you need the box to be able make any money doing it. It's a necessary evil. Or is it?

The doctors are us. The parents, the teachers, the ad execs, the CEOs, the politicians. Everyone who is telling him what he needs to do, what he needs to buy, and who he needs to be. We are taking away their voices.

[Chorus: Jonah Matranga + (Lupe)]

And he never lies (he never lies, he never lies, uh)

And he never lies (uh, he never lies, he never lies, no)

And he never lies (he never lies)

Cause he never said anything at all

When I first heard this song, I thought the chorus said "daddy never lies," and I was all prepared to go into how daddy was the media, in a kind of big brother reference, but then when I looked the lyrics up, that argument wasn't going to work anymore.

You can laugh at me now.

[Lupe Fiasco]

He just sits, and listens to the people in the boxes

Everything he hears he absorbs and adopts it

Anything not coming out the box he blocks it

See he loves the box and hope they never stop it

Anything the box tell him to do, he does it

Anything it tell him to get, he shops and he cops it

He protects the box, locks it in a box

when he goes to sleep, but he never sleeps

Cause he stays up to watch it, scared to look away

Cause at that moment, it might get stolen

And that's the last of the boxes

So he chained himself to the box, took a lock and then he locked it

Swallowed the combination and then forgot, it

As the doctors jot it all down, with they pens and pencils

The same ones that took away his voice

And just left this instrumental, like what

Much of this is repeated from the first verse, but there are some new ideas. For those who don't know, cops it is slang for buys it. But then things get worse. He locks the box inside another box (like a TV in an apartment, perhaps), and starts to get paranoid. Clearly you can't steal the media. Someone might take your TV, but the message is still out there, all you need to do is look around. So what's he afraid of? I would argue he's afraid of losing his identity. So many young people (many, but not all) identify themselves and their personalities by external, surface things like clothes and jewelry, and all their little screens. If you've ever had to take your child's iPod away so that they could consider their behavior for a while, you know what this means.

[Chorus]

[Lupe Fiasco]

(Anything at all..) He never lies

Uh, and you can't tell me just who you are

You buy new clothes just to hide those scars

You built that roof just to hide those stars

Now you can't take it back to the start

And you can't tell me just who you are

You buy new clothes just to hide those scars

You built that roof just to hide those stars

Now you can't take it back to the start

This chorus gets a bit more overt. You don't have to have physical scars to want to hide something that's on the inside. We all had identities when we were young, skaters, gangsters, nerds, band-kids, jocks. We want to fit in, it's human nature, so we find a group that we have something in common with, and we conform. But it's not that simple. We are not only what we wear, or what clique we hang out with. We can't see the stars of who we really are, because we build so many barriers to keep that person hidden.

[Chorus]

[Lupe Fiasco]

(Anything at all.. anything at all..)

Uh, and you can't tell me just who you are

You buy new clothes just to hide those scars

You built that roof just to hide those stars

Now you can't take it back to the start

And you can't tell me just who you are

You buy new clothes just to hide those scars

You built that roof just to hide those stars

Now you can't take it back to the start

You can't take it back to the start, because you're only born once. You only get one chance to define yourself, obtain knowledge of self, and make that first impression on people.

What I think Lupe's trying to say in this song, is that we need to be ourselves. We need to stop telling everyone that white and skinny is the only kind of beautiful, that expensive cars and diamond earrings are the only proof of success, and that everyone should want to be just like everyone else.

At least, that's one man's interpretation.

Poetic Analysis of a Pop Song

Happy Friday friends and readers. I hope today finds you well and full of inspiration. I had intended to critique my friend Alexia Chamberlynn's query today, but I screwed that up when I missed blogging on Wednesday.

I like to do two posts in a row for query critiques, so that you all can see the query without all my analysis. So, anyway, I hope Alexia doesn't mind if I save hers for next week. Today I'm going to do something a little different. Watch this video (I'm sure you've heard the song):



I'm not a big radio listener (except for NPR), and I don't buy CDs at Best Buy, but I have become aware of this pop song that I like a bit. It has a very underground hip-hop feel to it, even though it's clearly Big Record Label (that's like Big Oil, if you need to understand the Capitalization) material.

Anyway, I'm going to analyze the lyrics for you here, because I think there are some pretty clever metaphors in the verses.

Here's the chorus:

My heart's a stereo

It beats for you, so listen close

Hear my thoughts in every note o-oh

Make me your radio

Turn me up when you feel low

This melody was meant for you

So sing along to my stereo

I'm not analyzing this part, because while being sung by Adam Levine from Maroon 5, who clearly has a great voice, it's not particularly poetic in its lyricism.

Here's the first verse, which is spit by Travie McCoy (spit means rapped, but I hate that word):

If I was just another dusty record on the shelf

Would you blow me off and play me like everybody else

If I asked you to scratch my back, could you manage that

Ye-yeah, chicka Travie, I can handle that

Furthermore, I apologize for any skippin' tracks

It's just the last girl that played me left a couple cracks

I used to used to used to used to, now I'm over that

Cause holding grudges over love is ancient artifacts

If I could only find a note to make you understand

I'd sing it softly in your ear and grab you by the hands

To keep me stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune

And know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you

So I'm probably going to go three layers deeper than was ever intended here, but that's what music and poetry is all about, right? What is means to the reader and the listener, even if that's not what the author intended?

To me, this is a sad but hopeful story of an awkward young man who's been hurt by love. Let me tell you why I think that.

First of all, in hip-hop culture, especially among DJs and crate-diggers (people who hunt for old records in thrift shops) a dusty record does not carry the same connotation it does for most people. To a hip-hop producer, a dusty record is often an old funk classic that hides a hidden gym. A breakbeat, like on Amen Brother, by the Winstons, or Apache, by the Incredible Bongo Band, can be sampled, and mixed into the beat for a hip-hop track. If you're old enough to remember Vanilla Ice versus Queen and Bowie, you know what a sampled breakbeat sounds like, even if that's not an example of how it can be done well.

So my point is, when he compares himself to a dusty record, it's not the insult it sounds like on the surface. To me he's saying that he's a diamond in the rough. A nice, nerdy guy that any girl could love, but who's been stepped on in the past. This is supported by other metaphors in this verse, like "play me like everybody else," (play means to take advantage of in hip-hop culture) and "skipping tracks ... couple cracks." This is another vinyl/record metaphor, which I just absolutely love, because like in a relationship, there are any number of things that can make the needle jump the groove.

The second instance of the chorus is a little different, but we're not analyzing that one either. Here's the second verse:

If I was an old-school fifty pound boombox (remember them?)
Would you hold me on your shoulder wherever you walk
Would you turn my volume up in front of the cops (turn it up)
And crank it higher everytime they told you to stop
And all I ask is that you don't get mad at me
When you have to purchase mad D batteries
Appreciate every mixtape your friends make
You never know we come and go like on the interstate

I think I finally found a note to make you understand
If you can hit it, sing along and take me by the hand
Just keep me stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune
You know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you

This whole song is essentially a love song, but this second part can go a little deeper if you look into the subtext. A big boombox was a symbol of revolution for the hip-hop culture of the Bronx in the 1970s and 80s. Without the boombox, Breakdancers, also known as B-boys and B-Girls, never would have been able to take their art form to the streets, and never would have been able to express themselves in a way that ended up catching the attention of the mainstream media. It's also a symbol for defying authority, because boomboxes were often confiscated or destroyed by police, and to "turn [its] volume up in front of the cops" is certainly a reference to challenging authority.

Those old boomboxes were heavy, though, and expensive (mad D-batteries means you have to buy A LOT of batteries) so when he talks about carrying one on your shoulder wherever you walk, to me that's a metaphor for the burden of emotional baggage that every person brings into a relationship. A human being is a complicated thing, and their past can make them cry as easily as it can make them sing.

Anyway, this post has already gone on too long, but I wanted to share with you guys how even a silly pop song can have a deeper meaning, if you look more closely at the language. I think about comparative language like metaphors a lot, and I probably over-use them in my creative writing, but then again, there is nothing quite like the perfect turn of phrase, is there?

The Love Movement

This video doesn't really have anything to do with anything, but I enjoy this song: Find a Way, by A Tribe Called Quest, from their final album, The Love Movement.

You don't have to listen to it if you don't want to.

Last week, my friend, Renae Mercado, asked her readers how they deal with rejection.

Here's what I had to say:

Now I realize that's a bit idyllic, I mean rejection will always hurt, always sting a bit like freezing air biting against the mucus membrane of your nostrils in the morning, but I'm a Pisces. I can dream.

I vote we should start a movement. We should start calling rejection subjection instead. I just got subjectively subjected to a subjection.

Word.

In other news: my follower project experiment worked. Since last Tuesday I've gained 49 new followers. Alex and I are planning a blog fest to help it work for all of you as well. Elana may also get involved. We haven't figured out anything official yet, but I will keep you posted.

In further other news: I'll be critiquing two interesting queries on the blog the rest of the week. So be sure to come back. You might learn something. Or, even better, you might teach me something.

In final news: please visit my friend Michael Gettel-Gilmartin's Middle Grade Mafioso blog this morning. He's got a great interview up.