my life as a artist
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does ghetto blaster make glasto better?
Monday 5th May 2008 10:38 PM
On the announcement that Jay Z, the 'rags to bitches', hip-hop super-star, is going to headline the Glastonbury festival, Noel Gallagher says;
'I'm not having hip-hop at Glastonbury. It's wrong.'
Noel, who also 'slams City's sacking of Sven', goes on to say that the festival has a long history of miserable white blokes playing guitar-based songs with unfeasibly long anthemic choruses.
The last time I bothered making the trek to the pyramid stage was in 1961, to see Pearl and Teddy Carr, so it's unlikely that I'll get to see the Jay Z gig. Except for Iced Tea, 10 cent and Snoopy the Dog, my knowledge of the hip-hop scene is sketchy, so I thought I'd check out some of Jay Z's lyrics on the internet.
There could be layers of irony that I'm not getting here, but he mainly talks about what an all-round brilliant bloke he thinks he is. He tells us that he's the best rapper and really hard, and that he's immensely wealthy and gets plenty of sausage action. I suspect that this delusory self-celebration masks a chronic insecurity, and it wouldn't surprise me if he holds onto his willy when he sings.
A lot of Jay's pain comes from a difficult childhood spent on the mean streets of Brooklyn, where he was set apart from his peers by a state of extreme poverty. While the other kids were running around in the latest fashionable trainers, Mr and Mrs Z were so poor that the young Jay had to suffer the embarrassment of 'hangin in the hood' in a pair of Kermit the frog wellington boots. A muddy Glastonbury could offer Jay the chance of healing.
This time when he slips on a pair of wellies, it'll be an act of inclusivity, and maybe, for the first time in his life, he'll be able to experience the practicality and comfort, and that indefinable sense of impermeable nurture, that only rubberised footwear can bring. When I wear wellies, I feel held and protected, and it gives me an almost godlike inner strength, where I feel that I could heal the sick and walk through water.
if it's dry and not a drip-drop
you'll hear the sound of clip-clop
that's the slapping of my flip-flop
as I'm dancing to some hip-hop
by a bloke who thinks he's tip-top
but should be working in a chip-shop
Posted 10:38 PM | 3 Comments | Permalink
