The words, “You’re killing me!” come to mind when confronted face to face, or rather voice to ear, with a self proclaimed singer or not so up and coming wannabe rapper. In retrospect the words, “I wish you’d kill me,” lingers not too far behind. These are the thoughts that most people think when less than talented musicians [for lack of a better word] advertise their B-side vocal skills.
Some time last year we discussed the “get out of hell free” card when a vocalist slays a song in the church house. Whatever the denomination, an avid church goer is usually more obligated than compelled to go against the teachings of their religion to blatantly lie through their teeth when comparing a singer’s voice to that of an angel, purposely omitting the rest of their empty compliment – “…an angel of death.” But what happens when the vocals shatter through the sanctuary’s stained glass windows and spills over into the secular streets?
What happens is there is no holy book to protect the tone deaf lyricist from hearing the ugly truth about his/her even uglier vociferation.
Anyone that isn’t bound by a bible Monday through Saturday will easily tell a dying songbird to put a lid on it or stick a sock in it, and that’s putting it mildly assuming those people have enough couth to respect the feelings of the chanteuse’s confidence in his own talent.
Anyone with no manners or remorse, on the other hand, will tell that same chanteuse to shut the eff up or bind their lips together with super glue, scotch tape or quick drying cement. Rappers, even with all of their street cred are not exempt to the same sticky truth of their low budget emceeing, even if they carry a gun – water or bb. To them, a listening spectator begs to keep whatever they’re rapping about wrapped up tightly and hidden in the back of a closet…or under a closet, which ever is the furthest from public earshot. No matter how you spin it though music is a form of expression, even if that expression is frightfully louder more than permanently deafening.
Today most singers and rappers, whether amateur or “professional,” should stick to singing in the shower where they stand a better chance of drowning or completely flooding their vocal cords. Either that or continue performing in church where they can be lied to without judgment, that is until judgment day of course. Alas, those of us that are wise enough to stand on the external side of a recording studio sound booth aren’t that lucky. We are forced to listen to the fashionably damaged stylings of MC Boom Boom from up the block and around da way, Lady ShouldNever, the coworker on the third floor who swears her first single is going to drop at the end of the month, and of course Aaron Neville.
To all of those wannabes that will probably never be, I think I can speak on behalf of everyone that is not looking forward to your selling any copies of the catastrophes that come out of your mouth when I say, “Don’t quit your day job,” advised in my best Simon Cowell voice.