This is the second article in a series on Love, Sex, and Pain by Mike Philson.
I was recently in a situation where, for the first time in a long time, I was absolutely unable to smoke, drink, or sleep for an entire week. To smoke or drink could have threatened my health significantly, and given my condition was most easily treated with large doses of caffeine, I was forced to experience a week of sustained physical, emotional, and psychological pain without the comfort of rest and relaxation. For a week straight, it was around-the-clock pain.
After deep spiritual prayers and meditation, I found the best way to channel this pain was through the creation of art, specifically via the production of film and powerful music. A traditional theme in hip-hop and an undeniable part of its global appeal is the unparalleled presentation (and at times exploitation) of pain. The pain and sorrows of the most economically and socially downtrodden and disenfranchised class is articulated with a musical energy that appeals and energizes all who hear. The energy of that pain felt in the author/rapper’s story is often too heavy to keep inside the artist, thus it is transferred via music to all corners of the globe to permeate the listener’s senses. In its most powerful forms, hip-hop can interact with one’s soul. My favorite rappers paint audible pictures of the pain they’ve witnessed or experienced through their music. The origin and prevailing theme of hip-hop music and culture is the struggle to triumph despite severe affliction and pain. The most powerful rappers find a way to capture the process of coping with pain, allowing listeners to occupy a position in that struggle and subsequent triumph.
A particularly striking example of pain in hip-hop is discussed in Tupac’s 1994 classic, ‘Pain.’ Pac mentioned pain as the struggle that made him question living to see the age of 23. Unfortunately, the type of youth that questions if he or she will see the tender age of 23 has quite often faced strenuous periods of pain in epic and Biblical proportions: pain on a spiritual, physical, emotional, psychological, and financial level. Interestingly, a former hustler-turned-rapper I know once described his home – a notorious housing project – as “Twelve buildings of pain.” Music was his conduit to express the pain and subsequent joys present in a life that seemingly began and ended in this world of pain that is constantly manifested through the everyday realities and challenges of life, death, and re-birth.
This type of pain hurts for all those involved, and leads to generations of poverty – a mental, physical, and spiritual lacking that has destroyed once-prosperous areas. However, for the audience of these gripping tales of conquering pain via hip-hop, the story of pain presents a grand opportunity: as listeners and consumers, we can either utilize this musical transfer of painful energy to nourish and energize our mind, body, soul, and communities, or let the negative aspects of pain destroy us forever. While even uplifting journals of pain (The Notorious B.I.G.’s “Ready to Die” or Kendrick Lamar’s “good kid, m.A.A.d. city”) detail pain in a manner particular to the artist and environments behind the music, we all have the option to absorb and utilize the energy behind the soul of the music and to contribute to the worlds in which we operate in a positive or negative way. The music that details choices made along the route to its creation itself facilitates decisions that may lead to either pain, pleasure, or perhaps eternal joy in its most righteous form. My advice is to critically examine the artist, music, and pain you absorb as you listen to musical war stories, and make a conscious decision to extract the elements of righteousness and truth in the music. Let the eternal joy of victory overcome the temporary brutalities of pain.
Comments