Leslie Taylor

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Can't say my heart ached greatly to read earlier this month that rap music sales are waning.

I am of the old school. A rhyme, a beat and some sampled tracks just won't cut it.

Barking nonsense, or worse, vileness, into a microphone while a synthesized beat boom-booms from behind is "marginal" music, at best.

I am a child of Earth, Wind and Fire, Staple Singers, Steely Dan, Maze featuring Frankie Beverly -- old school.

Thankful that I am old enough to "remember when," not too disappointed that, according to an Associated Press story, rap music is struggling with declining sales and increasing criticism about the culture's negative impact on society. This, from the very demographic to whom the music is intended to appeal.

I should qualify my distaste. It is not for rap's earlier era, ushered in by the Sugar Hill Gang's "Rapper's Delight." It isn't even for what followed -- the rap of Public Enemy and Ice-T, rap with aggressive, politically charged messages. That, controversial as it was, had its place.

It is for what has followed.

The bling, the objectifying of women, the grills, the spinners, the "sippin' on gin and juice," the overabundance of the "n" word -- surely no one should be surprised that people are growing weary.

One point the AP story made was telling: Rap stars way back when may have rapped about drug dealing and street violence, but they weren't the embodiment of criminals themselves.

50 Cent boasts about surviving nine gunshot wounds and his popularity soars. Snoop Dogg's criminal record thickens, and young people find in him someone after whom they can pattern their lives.

I feel for the few generations that have been fed a steady diet of this particular brand of rap by an industry focused not so much on artistry but on what sells.

But even the young folk are beginning to recognize the rip-off taking place before their ears, and are seeking music of more substance.

Some are pleading for the music of less mainstream artists who represent more positive aspects of black life. Their names are not household: Talib Kweli, Common, the Roots.

Their names may continue to linger on the fringes of the limelight. The industry apparently has little interest in pushing them to the forefront; their music doesn't translate into profit.

Black Entertainment Television (BET) not long ago refused to play the video of one of hip-hop's legendary groups -- the kinder, gentler De La Soul -- because the network claimed the group was no longer "relevant to their audience."

But the "audience" is beginning to shift gears. The "audience" is redefining its tastes. Yet the industry appears to want to continue advancing a type of music in which fewer and fewer people have interest.

Correction: one segment of this genre of music. Several twentysomethings with whom I shared my views were quick to educate me.

Hip-hop is not dead, they explained. Hip-hop is the culture; rap is the music of that culture. To cast too wide a net over an entire culture and declare it dead is wrong, they said.

Yes, they have grown tired of the negativity and the nonsense, even more how it portrays young black people.

But that brand of rap is only a piece of a much larger pie, they explained. There is good, positive rap music out there; the industry simply is focused on satisfying the public's junk food cravings, not its healthier wants.

The public eats what the industry serves.

I leave you with a portion of lyrics from Mims' "This Is Why I'm Hot," No. 1 on Billboard's Hot 100 singles chart:

"This is why I'm hot. I'm hot 'cause I'm fly. You ain't 'cause you not. I don't gotta rap. I could sell a mill saying nothin' on the track ..."

He did, and he has.

Peace. I'm out.

Taylor is a member of The Roanoke Times editorial board.