Too Short

Ink on paper, 14 x 17 inches, by Allan Reinke
The following is stuff from a failed "essay" of mine, hopefully improved by the music links...

"Here's my chance / to dance my way / out of my constriction" - Bootsy Collins

I think the world would be a better place if we could all plug in to the cosmic current and "let it flow."  Every bit of the universe throbs with rhythm, layered & syncopated, from the pulse in your wrist to the lighthouse strobe of a pulsar, and all we have to do – to feel at home – is find the beat.  (I blame the hippies for giving cosmic talk like that a bad name, and what with the drugs, light shows and bare feet, there was no way they could find the beat.)

[ Bootsy's Hollywood Squares remix at YouTube* ]

"I can drink a whole Hennessy fifth / some call it a problem / I call it a gift" - Xzibit (pronounced "exhibit"), rapper

Now that we have the technology to become gods we choose instead to become Fantastic Voyeurs, snorkeling through the dyed hair and dead brain cells of D-list celebrities, watching them sin and suffer in our place.

I just hope Xzibit sounds as clever now as he did when he spit out those fearless lyrics, and isn't drinking generic vodka at the back of a supermarket parking lot, listening to his brain cells burst like bubble wrap.

I've been a big hip hop fan since the mid '80s.  Though too much of it is brain-dead pop music, or vicious just to make a buck, there's a huge amount of beauty if you know where to listen: to the life-affirming intelligence of the layered soundscapes, the playful boasting and bittersweet yearning.  And that's what I love about the music beyond its sound: the recognition that life is a struggle, a bittersweet thing that's trying to kill you just as hard as you're trying to love it.

[ Rhyme Poetic Mafia's bittersweet lament G Life at YouTube ]

"Life is the only thing worth living for" - Flipper, a sometimes glue-sniffingly-slow punk band

[ Flipper's Sex Bomb at YouTube ]

That might be the deepest one yet, and a good way to close – but here's just one more, from Too Short, a rapper who turned a sparse sound and dirty mind into gold, at least for a while:

"Life is / ... / too short..."

[ Too Short's Life is Too Short at YouTube ]

* Warner Music Group (WMG) made YouTube remove the video I used to link to here, likely cheating Bootsy out of some money, and certainly some glory, because listeners unfamiliar with this tune will never hear it and become fans.

There's a difference between outright piracy for profit and low-key sharing on the web, but corporations like WMG, Sony and Disney are only interested in protecting their profits, not the culture they've been allowed to monopolize and suck dry.

RIP Allan Reinke

I've been the luckiest person on earth in a way -- no one I was really close to has died until now -- so this is new to me.  I understand that grand and tidy thoughts about death serve the living (me), not the dead, and I don't want to start an "Obit" series here.  But the idea of Allan's life passing unmarked bothers me, so I'll plant this virtual tombstone.

He was ornery and funny, with a wealth of arcane knowledge.  (That's a pathetic description; he was one of the fastest and funniest people I've ever known, and for a hermit he had a huge amount of charm.)

He had a few problems that kept him from finding his creative "voice," and his balance.  He'd been receding from the world (and from friends like me) for years, and I would guess he felt backed into a corner he couldn't escape.

After sorting out the involuntary blizzard of memories and feelings I had after hearing about it, I came to a conclusion: that the true sum of a life is in what's passed on to other people, and radiated out from there.  At best, a hopeful chain reaction of fascination and warmth.

Allan would have been disgusted to hear me say something so sentimental; but when he was up to it, he generated a lot of that warmth.  And I'm sure a lot of people who knew him still carry it, just like me.

Allan's artwork illustrates this post:
[ Too Short ]