Can you hear it? They’re screaming it at us! They talk of lives in crisis. Of burdens that bury their hearts. Deeds too dark to discuss whisper out of headphones. But all you hear is the noise. Too bad! Those 60’s Protest Poets had nothing on these children. They don’t apologize for what their words force you to realize, or what they claim to know about, or how they came to hear about it. And too many claim inside knowledge as the source! They ignite the airways with rants about every social dark spot that the mind can conceive. They’re angry and they’re telling us about it. So listen! Don’t lose the message in the language. A new slang, a little gutter mouth; it’s all about the intensity. After all they are, if nothing else, intense. And shock is a practical weapon; sometimes it has to hurt to be believable . They’re showing it, they’re shaking it; they’re putting it right in our face. Youthful cries of disregard and discontent are accented in the base line. They’re shaking their money-makers and bouncing to the booty call. They’re ripping it up and tearing it out; and the remains are left on our doorstep.

Don’t just step over them! Look down, look what’s laying at your feet. Those are not just casual thoughts left for your routine inspection. Look closely; that’s your legacy littering that thresholds. It’s a testimony to your purpose in this world. Do you like what you see; have you seen enough? Have you ever even really focused hard enough to know? If you think so… what about the music? Can you hear the message… or is it still just noise? They are poets and prophets, and serious deep thinkers. These children deal with realities cross-wired with complexities we never knew. Their wardrobe of information is a walk-in closet; and most know how to wear it well. This is not a generation that picks up the gauntlet to strike back a challenge. They grab the nearest pipe instead; single response, game over. Fast, fierce, and in your face; that seems to be the favored style. You only need to listen to know it’s true. The music echos their attitude. It showcases those complexities presented our young. Scratch’ in ain’t just noise; it’s a back beat. It’s the sound of a generation trying to figure it out. And you are expected to at least listen, even if you don’t acknowledge its standard. You don’t have to like the music; but you do have to admit that it is coming from someplace real. Maybe too real? Strikes that cut that close to the surface have been known to leave scars. War wounds that define the times; permanent markers to serve as proof.

And they parade those battle scars around with pride. Hell they pierce’em, tattoo’em, and put them on the Internet. These are nervy children! Brash and edgy; they scrape their fingernails across the blackboard just to see if we will notice. Then they do it again just to see if we will bitch. After that, it’s just because they’ve begun to enjoy it. They have the fearlessness of youth and boldness needed to test it’s limits. There is some suggestion that they can be more rude than bold, and there may be some truth to that statement. A truth the music does not try to hide. In fact, they take pride in exploiting it. So take care to take notice. Don’t make them scratch the blackboard to get you to at least listen. They just might like the sound and turn it into a Rap song; and you know how much you’ll hate that!