In today’s hip-hop climate, youthful exuberance is once again exemplified through the teen talents of today… for better or worse. Leading the playing field: Joey Bada$$, Earl Sweatshirt, Robb Bank$, Chief Keef and a plethora of other digital phenoms ranging from the revivalist to the refined to the ratchet.
Another figurine in this spectrum that worries me to my core: Lil Mouse. A 13-year-old Chicago emcee who exploded this past summer with his YouTube hit “Get Smoked.” No, the previous sentence is definitely a reality… and it is also leaving me conflicted like a large fraction of other hip-hop connoisseurs. The song portrays a 13-year-old black male with “the money dance,” intentions to sleep with your significant other and a grisly-yet-playful refrain of “Don’t fuck around and get smoked” echoing through his prepubescent vocal chamber.
Since the video’s release, Lil Wayne even did a remix of the song for his recent (and subpar) “Dedication 4” mixtape, which only exacerbates the violent overtones with his usual snippets of murderous activities everyone knows he doesn’t commit anymore and probably hasn’t for about two decades or so. There are also talks of Wayne potentially huddling Mouse into the YMCMB stable to join the ranks of infamous “teen” megastars Lil Twist and Lil Chuckee. “Girl I Got You” remix, anyone?
Now, have I played this song? Yes. Multiple times for my enjoyment. But no matter how sonically pleasing and devilishly catchy the melodies may be, I still find myself questioning whether or not this is promotable material in my mind’s eye. Furthermore, I am damn tired of seeing musicians as martyrs for our culture in our media that ignore the real problems. The same media that stereotype young black males like me and Mouse, especially in the profession we share.
They will and have done to him what they have done to Chief Keef upon his rise to prominence: victimize and downgrade his character to the point of no return. As if songs like “I Don’t Like” and “Get Smoked” are the absolute origin of every problem in Chicago and they are not products of the systematic forces of oppression that placed them both there in the first place.
I have seen another young black male that may follow in their footsteps.
Recently, at a food spot I will not name, I walked in alone on a warm evening to find an elementary-aged boy in front of a Macbook. As I waited for my meal, I heard the hi-hats and untamed synth notes reverberate from the speakers… with small words following them. My artist instinct automatically compelled me to tune in; I found the young boy freestyling almost effortlessly and he could not have been any older than eight from the sight of him. Small in stature, quiet in nature, yet large in ability, he was watching himself freestyle in an almost neurotic trance of rhythm while starting himself up again upon completion.
Dangerously impressed, I was.
I asked the people behind the counter if I could watch the playback. As I did for the next six minutes, my assumption proved true: I heard this young man rattling off the same subject matter as Keef and Mouse. But even younger. Firin’ clips and fuckin’ bitches. So quiet, yet so focused in rare effortless epigraphs.
My interest peaked as my dismay became somewhat visible. I asked if he was actually rapping without paper or remembering at such a young age. The others behind the counter confirmed as much, pride glowing in their faces. At the moment where my pride met my lingering fear for the future… I left with my meal and the experience did not leave my mind the rest of the night.
The thought that his talent may end up exploited by the world still haunts me as I write this.
The days of Lil Bow Bow and Lil Romeo have long gone; currently, they make me somewhat nostalgic. Basketball, baseball, puppy love, fast food, homework, friendship… they glisten in the remnants of my first exposures to the genre I cherish ever so much. Then I remember… they never disappeared, either; the focus has altered. So what draws me to Mouse or Keef or the boy in the shop? Are these our new ground correspondents for the horrors of youth present and future? Will my children bounce to the refrain of another prototype exposed to the world and manipulated for the spotlight? Better yet, will they become one?
Am I even setting an example worth following?
I cannot fathom the being or machine to blame and I do not align with the hatred sent to any of these young men, for their presence is necessary to teach us about ourselves. They did not create the monster; we merely continue to feed. Someone has to worry and someone has to care that these young black men cannot continue to be thrown into a slaughter they have yet to understand. Spare the subliminal political statements… I doubt a 13 year old is fully equipped with the rhetoric to defend oneself. Spare the blame… this is bigger than everything.
The kids just ain’t alright.
