From gangsta rap to gangster movies, I love it. I don’t want to say the songs are motivational or the films inspirational, but I’m oddly left feeling that way afterward. From gangsta rap to gangster movies, I love it. I
From gangsta rap to gangster movies, I love it. I don’t want to say the songs are motivational or the films inspirational, but I’m oddly left feeling that way afterward.
From gangsta rap to gangster movies, I love it.
I don’t want to say the songs are motivational or the films inspirational, but I’m oddly left feeling that way afterward.
I certainly condemn murder, drugs and violence, which plays heavily in each medium. So perhaps it’s the characters’ revolutionary nature I enjoy. The I’m-going-to-follow-my-dreams-at-all-costs attitude. I’m going to change the world. Nobody stands in my way. No one dissuades me.
I recently rewatched one of the best mobster movies ever, “Goodfellas,” and followed that up with “Gomorrah,” a relatively-new Italian flick that is supposedly a quite-accurate reflection of the modern-day Mafia. Distinct films, but each carried that underlying theme of the rogue hero. You can’t help but root for the bad guy.
In the musical realm, I’ve temporarily set aside Talib Kweli, Young Jeezy, 50 Cent and Cee-lo Green and just put Eminem’s latest “Recovery” album on repeat.
The way he carefully strings together every verse, unabashedly pronouncing who he was and where he’s headed, there’s something to that kind of boldness that speaks to me. Not being afraid to say out loud what everyone else is thinking — or even just what you believe. I can appreciate that.
Movies and music that cause me to actually feel something, that really leave me thinking, those are the ones I’m quick to queue up again. The mindless flicks and pop tunes admittedly have their time and place, but generally I try not to be an escapist.
I’d rather be handed the harsh reality. Don’t butter it up or sugar-coat it. This is life; sometimes it’s amazingly beautiful, sometimes it’s incredibly ugly.
Gangsta rap and gangster movies — the good ones anyway — have this raw edge to them. Categorically, they can be easy to cast off. But often I’ve found some element of truth in them that keeps me coming back for more.
Given the millions of dollars such records bring in and the loot made at the box office on such films, I realize I’m not alone and that maybe I’m wrong about not being an escapist. Perhaps it’s through the rhythmic words bumping out my stereo and the haunting images flashing across the screen that I leave my reality for an hour or two at a time.
But then again, maybe not. Kaua‘i has all-too-recently brushed up against real-mobster stuff. The Bonanno hit still remains unsolved. I’ll be surprised if that murderer is ever caught.
But I also don’t fear a random killer on the loose. Those jobs seem personal, not a random drive-by shooting. Or maybe I’ve just seen too many gangster movies and listened to too much gangsta rap.
