Killing Me Softly

I’m convinced that if the 16-year-old me could see the 32-year-old me, he’d be thoroughly disgusted. If for no reason than my CD collection.

Anyone who’s known me for maybe five minutes is probably aware of my deep and abiding love of hip-hop. It started back in 1984 when I heard Run-D.M.C.’s “King of Rock.” It was on from there. I’d say probably by eighth or ninth grade, hip-hop was all I listened to. At all. I started off with stuff like Public Enemy, Ice-T, and N.W.A., but it grew into Kool G Rap, King Tee, Big Daddy Kane, and E.P.M.D.

One thing I certainly could not abide by was the R&B of the time. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that R&B was cheesy crap. I couldn’t even stomach rappers having R&B singer on the chorus of their songs, much less the idea of listening to an R&B album. Which is why I knew that my high school friends were a bunch of soft-headed, candy-ass pantywaists for raving over albums by Ralph Tresvant and Guy.

I listened to pretty much exclusively hip-hop until maybe sophomore year of college. I slowly got into soul, funk, jazz, reggae, and some rock (Bob Dylan and Jim Hendrix). I began collecting hip-hop records around the same time, and picked up non-hip-hop records somewhere along the way. I have now accumulated a few thousand vinyl albums and 12” since. And even though I’m still Hip-Hop to the bone-marrow, I’ve gained appreciation for all types of stuff I never would have thought I’d ever listen to.

The Final Frontier was late ’80s/early ’90s R&B. I blame my friends for being a bad influence on me. My friends Eddie, Jabari, and Jumma started carrying about how those albums bump in the car and their other “virtues.” I caved and decided to take a chance. Sometime last summer I broke down and copped “In Effect Mode” by Al B. Sure and both Guy albums. These albums ended up as my gateway drugs.

Since those initial purchases, I’ve bought CDs by artists like Keith Sweat, Johnny Gill, Bobby Brown, Mint Condition, Ready for the World, Troop, and Jodeci. I often use late ’80s/early ’90s R&B as my soundtrack for spending my Saturday and Sunday afternoons lying on the futon in my music room, reading a book, and drinking a glass of lemonade. For God’s sake, when I got my new iPod, I crafted a 75-minute playlist made up exclusively of ballads. It’s pathetic. The 16-year-old me would think I’m such a sell-out. I doubt he’d even talk to me. I’ve sunk about as low as I can go.

Well, I haven’t QUITE hit rock-bottom. I still don’t listen into techno. If you see me listening to an album by KLF, feel free to shoot me in the head. Twice.