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DMX
Charted: #27 in February 1990
A few years ago, a funny but telling incident occurred to me that will forever remind me of DMX. Some time around 2000, I was asked to appear on television to participate in a discussion on contemporary music and its effect on teenagers. This was when death-camp Goth (a la Marilyn Manson) and gangsta rap were the prevailing styles. I took the more liberal view, stating that music didn’t directly cause violence, and that parents shouldn’t ban music. My viewpoint was that if a parent did ban some types of music from their household, they were only making things worse, for three reasons. First of all, banning something might only make it that much more appealing to impressionable minds. Second, they won’t stop liking it just because you say that they should (so they’ll most likely continue to listen when you aren’t around), and finally, a ban prevents a reasonable discourse between parent and child. Sitting opposite me and taking a more conservative perspective was a frumpy female child psychologist, who seemed to feel that parents had to take control of their kids’ music before it caused them to run amok. She reminded me of a teacher I abused mercilessly when I was in the sixth grade. At times her perspective galled me, but more annoying was her lack of musical acumen. Trying to make her argument, she said, “When we were kids, Alice Cooper sang about blowing up the school. That was alright, because we (sic) were only talking about blowing up buildings. Now, they sing about blowing up people and that’s a big difference.” While she said this, she wagged her index finger as if to say that we were all very naughty little boys and girls.
Now, I can only presume that she was talking about “School’s Out.” Although I’ve listened to that song hundreds of times (mostly as a kid, but I still like to play me some Alice from time to time), I never derived anything about blowing up school buildings from the lyrics. Yes, he sings the line, “School’s been blown to pieces,” but the song was about summer vacation, not blowing up schools, and it certainly didn’t advocate that kind of thing. At this point, I felt a bit riled and thought that the discussion had gotten ludicrous. While I mentally prepared my rebuttal, the camera lingered on her frown for a moment or two, then panned to me for my counterpoint, and things immediately went bad. Although I didn’t know it at the time, my longish hair looked as if I fell asleep in a wind tunnel, and it dangled in space above my right shoulder as though it could defy gravity. Completely unaware of my comical appearance, I start to make the point that lyrics don’t make kids do bad things and don’t cause harm, provided parents take the time to remain close to their children. As I’m saying this, the station cuts away from me and superimposes the CD photo of a nude DMX drenched in blood from head to toe onto the screen, along with the following lyrics;
I got blood on my hands and there’s no remorse
And got blood on my d*** cause I f***ed a corpse
(from “Bring Your Whole Crew”, by DMX)
Now, how ridiculous is that? There I was, making all nice about artistic integrity, and an artist’s right to challenge our way of thinking – I’m even trying to make it sound like it might be a good thing for music to be controversial - and DMX goes and messes me up. It really was a bad hair day for me.
I guess my point here is that DMX is just the kind of guy who is going to mess with your perspective, regardless of who you are or what you’re thinking. Even if you defend him, or agree with him, you stand to lose. As horribly nasty as the above lyrical couplet is, it really works to get your attention, and to hold it. In a sick way, it’s even kind of funny, since it’s such an exaggeratedly ridiculous and absurd boast. DMX is the gangsta’s gangsta, but his saving grace is that he can make you laugh, even if he’s talking about killing you. It’s an uncomfortable laugh, though, and his perspective doesn’t leave much room for counterpoint, which is exactly why I’m going to shut up now and let DMX get the last word;
N**** runnin' his mouth? I’m a blow his lung out.
Listen, yo’ ass is about to be missin’.
You know who gon’ find you? Some old man fishin’.
Grandma wishin’ your soul’s at rest
But it’s hard to digest with the size of the hole in your chest.
(from “Party Up,” by DMX)
 
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