To me, this is like a chicken versus egg question. Has our culture defined our art or is our art defining our culture? How do I come to this?
Well.... I was listening to some Eminem recently. I know, you are probably saying, "But why is a 40-something listening to Eminem?". First off... I think he is brilliant... twisted, irreverent, and damaged.... but brilliant.
Second, after seeing 8 Mile a few years ago, I knew there was more for me to learn about Gen-X. Being a post-boomer myself, yet certainly not a Gen-Xer.... I find myself drawn to want to understand more. Plus my kids are being raised in this culture so it is all the more important.
In addition, my new W and I are systematically watching the full set of episodes of Sex and the City. A show I never paid attention to when it was current. Yet when we saw the movie, I was compelled to look back into the storyline that led up to the movie. Plus, two younger women I have worked with are big fans and seem to define some of their lives and values from the show. So I felt it not only curious, but prudent and relevant to learn more.
So back to the original question.... how do art and culture work together? Is it not safe to say we are living in a Divorce culture? Where it is not only just ok to pack in a marriage for any reason and at any time, but it feels like it is almost expected. It feels like the norm. Many people feel they have the right... which our legal systems certainly confirm with the "no-fault" aspect of divorce law.
The edited lyrics to Sing for the Moment (a knockoff of the old Aerosmith tune) are copied below. It is fairly long. Sorry about that.
Is this not a testament of how someone feels and experiences he's had expressed as an art form? Is art typically not an expressions of feeling and experience?
Does this artistic expression then not perpetuate the culture and pain of which it provides an account?
Tricky stuff.
Lyrics below,
Peace.
BlackSheep
Sing for the Moment, by Eminem:
These ideas are nightmares for white parents Whose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earrings Like whatever they say has no bearing Its so scary in a house that allows no swearing To see him walking around with his headphones blaring Alone in his own zone, cold sweat and he dont care He's a problem child, what bothers him all comes out When he talks about his [bleep]in' dad walkin out Cos he hates him so bad that he blocks him out But if he ever saw him again, he'd prolly knock him out His thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back Talkin black, brainwashed from rock and rap He sags his pants, du rags and a stocking cap His step-father hit him so he socked him back And broke his nose, this house is a broken home There's no control, he just lets his emotions go Come on...
[Chorus:] Sing with me, sing for the year Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear Sing with me,just for today Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away
[Verse #2] Entertainment is changin, intertwine it with gansters In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum Only you're unholy, only have one homie Only this gun, lonely, cuz don't anyone know me But everybody just feels like they can relate I guess words are a mother[bleep]er, they can be great Or they can degrate, or even worse, they can teach hate Its like kids hang on every single statement we make Like they worship us, plus all the stores ship us platinum Now how the [bleep] did this metamorphasis happen? From standin' on corners and porches just rappin' To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' [bleep] But then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn you Fans turn on you, attorney's all want a turn too To get their hands on every dime you have They want you to lose your mind every time you mad So they can try to make you out to look like a loose canon Any dispute, dont hesitate to produce hand-guns Thats why these prosecutors wanna convict me Strictly just to get me offa these streets quickly But all their kids been listen'n to me religiously So i'm signing cds while police fingerprint me They're for the judges daughter, but his grudge is against me If i'm such a [bleep]in' menace, this [bleep]doesnt make sense, B It's all political, if my music is literal and i'm a criminal, How the [bleep] can i raise a little girl? I couldn't. i wouldn't be fit to You're full of [censored] too, Guerrera, that was a fist that hit you!
[Chorus]
[Verse #3] They say music can alter moods and talk to you But can it load a gun for you and cock it too? Well if it can, then the next time you assault a dude Just tell the judge it was my fault, and i'll get sued See what these kids do, is hear about us toting pistols And they want to get one, cos they think the [censored]'s cool Not knowin' we're really just protectin' ourselves We're entertainers, of course this [bleep]'s affecting our sales You ignoranus. but music is reflection of self We just explain it, and then we get our checks in the mail It's [bleep]ed up ain't it, how we can come from practically nothin' To bein' able to have any [bleep]in' thing that we wanted thats why we sing for these kids that don't have a thing Except for a dream and a [bleep]ing rap magazine Who post pinup pictures on their walls all day long Idolise their favourite rappers and know all they songs Or for anyone who's ever been through [bleep] in they lives So they sit and they cry at night, wishing they die Till they throw on a rap record, and they sit and they vibe We're nothing to you, but we're the [bleep]in' [bleep] in their eyes That's why we sieze the moment, and try to freeze it and own it Squeeze it and hold it, 'cos we consider these minutes golden And maybe they'll admit it when we're gone Just let our spirits live on, through out lyrics that you hear in our songs And we can
