2023 Was a Mood

I’ve been listening to a podcast about Ol’ Dirty Bastard, the late savant of the Wu Tang Clan. That turned me on to some ODB music I hadn’t heard before. I sent a YouTube link to Grant of a song I particularly liked (“Protect ya Neck 2 the Zoo,” in case you were wondering). I said to Grant, “Educate yourself.” He wrote back, “I ain’t with that Dad rap, but try ‘No Clues’ by Pooh Shiesty.” 🤦‍♂️ Nirvana fans, be sure never to listen to the Beatles since they were your parents’ generation. Who cares that there is no Nevermind without the White Album or Sgt. Pepper’s? The Pooh Shiesty song is good, btw.

Today, YouTube Music gave me my year in review. No, I’m not on Spotify; yes, I’m on YouTube Music. Why? I’m not you and you’re not me. Here are my music’s top five moods:

As you can imagine, I am the life of any party. Some would say that I am a one-man party. It gets better. Here are my top songs (among other info … I mean, check out my “album cover”).

Yep, one of my top songs is a rapper who spends five minutes listing “that shit I don’t like,” and another is Youngboy going at all the people who hate him. I’ve been told since I was a baby that I need to smile more, that I’m too serious, that I was born with “the eyes of a forty-year-old man” (my dad said that last one at my birth). According to the movie One Crazy Summer, if you are making faces and someone pats you on the back, your face stays frozen in that position. I am proof that it’s true. Just look at the picture on this blog’s home page—I have Bell’s Palsy that never resolved. Stop telling me to smile—I can’t now.

Why do I like raw hip hop? Street rappers see the world mostly as it actually is. Nearly all organizations are little more than mafias. The rules of belonging are these. You must 1. Produce, 2. Keep our secrets, and 3. Kill, excommunicate, or fire whoever we say and do so willingly and without question. Do these things and make sure the money keeps getting passed upward, and you will climb. (If you are LDS and carving out exceptions, you should probably reread D&C 121 and ask yourself whether you truly understand the meaning of “the nature and disposition of almost all men.” Joseph didn’t write that because he had learned the lesson from the deacons quorum. He said what he said.)

A number of other lyrics resonate with me. Gucci: Imma gold-mouth dawg, definition of the South. As troubled as the South was and is, it’s my birthplace and spiritual home. The rest of “Swing My Door” is an excellent treatise on economics. If your kid doesn’t understand price equilibria, well, work through those lyrics. It also has some great lessons for Christian ministers. Graham got assigned to give a talk in sacrament meeting—this would be like being asked to give the homily at another church. He said to me, “Think it’s cool if I quote Gucci Mane, Dad?”

“Probably not,” I said, “but what in particular?”

“That part in ‘Swing My Door.’ It’s a lotta crack smokers in apartments where I stay, and I know they name and face cuz I serve them every day.“

I laughed. “How do you plan to use that?”

“That’s better than most priesthood holders with ministering assignments, right? Gucci knows all his neighbors and serves them every day. Not once a month. And not never like most priesthood holders.”

Well, yeah. But no, Graham did not quote Gucci Mane in sacrament meeting.

I’m also partial to the line, Had a 98 Caprice, Was a rolling drugstore. I had a 1983 Chevy Caprice Classic, cream colored with brown cloth seats. I drove that in high school in 1994-95. At practice one day, Coach Villarreal on our football staff suddenly said, “Laws, you the one driving that piece of shit Impala-look-alike? What kinda car is that?”

“It’s a Caprice Classic, Coach,” I said.

“Fuck that,” he said. “You look like you drivin a Mexican wagon. Like a low-rider Impala or some shit like that.” The whole team laughed. “We’re gonna make you an honorary Mexican, Laws, for driving a hoopty-mobile like that.”

It’s not in my top five songs, but I’m also partial to Pooh Shiesty’s “Forever Shiesty,” particularly the lyric, We vacuum-seal all the pain so the smell ain’t leakin out. Just a brilliant deployment of the imagery of drug dealing to describe that never-ending trapped feeling of needing to do your duty no matter how you feel.

And finally, Youngboy is now living in Utah and has apparently had an Alma the Younger experience—he regrets his violent lyrics and life and apparently wants to become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And to that I say, “Welcome, Brother Never Broke Again. You will find us to be loving, peaceful, and welcoming. When you get a ministering assignment, we advise you to follow Gucci’s edict and serve your people every day. And above all else, remember, we have three main rules.”