Microphone fiend

In japan, tunnnneeeee! on February 13, 2010 at 10:32 am

I’m in Kyoto, sitting down in sukiya, eating strips of beef, on top of rice, covered with three types of cheese and drinking a large bottle of Asahi, at like half twelve/one in the morning, when it becomes crystal clear to me how absurd, clean version of hip hop tunes are. I’m feeling my chopstick skills desert me as I struggle to shovel the rice and beef into my gaping maw. I hear pop out of the speakers none other than the Junior Mafia, Lil’ Kim, Biggie and the rest of their crew spitting out Playa’s Anthem, and with all the swearing replaced by inoffensive alternatives, the flow is corrupted, distorted. As I sing along in my head, adding in all the words they have excised, it breaks my hip hop loving heart to hear the tune adulterated thus. I did smile as the track came on, at the incongruity of the song, and the venue in which it was being played, and me being there to hear it played. It felt like someone/thing was telling me something.

I sat there and tapped my fingers and hummed along, and looked around at the other diners, the native Japanese who couldn’t have cared less what song was on, as they wolfed down their fast food.

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