Jolt of Joy

Who's feelin' like a pimp?

As I endeavor to write more often, I sometimes have an idea of what I’m going to ramble on about on a given day. And other times, things pop into my head over the course of the day and I decide that this new thought is what I must share. That CERTAINLY this is the thing people have been dying to hear. Or at least it’s something I can wrangle into something funny. I’m often wrong, but that’s the idea. Today is such a day.

I grew up in something of a cultural blackhole, which led to some very large gaps in my cultural knowledge or fandom. I know there were kids in my high school that were into rap and hip hop as that genre exploded in the ‘90s, but for whatever close-minded reason it never caught on with me. My limited rap listening was mainly reserved for the Beastie Boys, which I consumed in large quantities. I never had MTV at any point in my life prior to college, so my exposure typically came from things my older brother introduced me to, or things my friends were listening to, and there were not a lot of rap fans amongst my immediate friends. 

I think in my head, I had this sense that the music was not intended for me, which clearly makes no sense. I had no issue listening to rock music about teen angst, even though I was never particularly angsty. I could easily have broadened my horizons, I just didn’t.

It was an odd feeling getting to college and realizing I had no idea what many of my peers were talking about as it related to music, television, and other bits of pop culture. Music, in particular, was an awkward blind spot. I remember the hip hop artist Busta Rhymes played our fall concert my freshman year. I had never heard of this person, and certainly did not know any of his music. My palette expanded moderately throughout college, but this remained a genre of music I didn’t engage with very much. If things came across my radar, they were put there by friends, and while I would often enjoy them, I rarely pursued it further. So limiting, so shortsighted, and yet that was my reality.

As I have gotten older, I could easily address this empty space in my musical inventory. I have virtually every song ever recorded at my fingertips due to streaming services, and yet broadening those horizons rarely occurs to me. Whether it’s working through Taylor Swift’s complete catalog (still in progress, I think I’ve covered three albums so far) or checking out artists featured on the podcast 60 Songs that Explain the 90s — which I adore — I dabble in exploring new things and then rarely follow through. Perhaps this little post will spark a renewed effort, but given my track record, it’s pretty unlikely.

At this point, you all are surely wondering what happened today that made me tackle this odd topic. The impetus was this: on my morning walk of our delightful golden retriever Sunny I heard a lyric that is my favorite (non-Beastie Boys division) rap lyric of all time. Every time I hear it, it makes me so happy that I wanted to write about it and revel in its genius. But I felt it appropriate to lay out my very limited history with the genre before celebrating these lyrics. Context is important, and in this situation the context is that I have no idea what I’m talking about. That rarely stops me, and it certainly won’t now.

I believe I actually know the history of my path to the song containing the lyrics, mainly because my rap rolodex is so limited. I was living in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania and serving as the sports information director at picturesque Juniata College. I badgered my college friend Meg — whom I knew had greatly broadened her musical horizons after college — into making me a few mixes with some of her favorite stuff. It was mostly indie rock of the era — which introduced me to several bands and songs that remain favorites — and also included a song from Jay-Z.

To give you all an accurate picture of how limited my knowledge of rap is, I will offer the following bit of information: Jay-Z is certainly one of the most universally popular, accomplished, and celebrated rappers of the 21st century, if not all time. Without looking it up, I think I can name two of his songs. One of those songs contains my favorite lyrics. I used to like listening to the song Meg put on the CD (yes, CD) when I ran. Astute readers may recall in the fall of 2022 back at my old blog, I was taking suggestions for songs to put on a running playlist. I received some suggestions, but mostly put a bunch of stuff I liked on there. Things I remember enjoying running to in the past, or quickly tagging songs I heard on the radio that I liked and putting them on the list. I recalled having a good time running to the song Meg shared with me, and thus, it earned a place on the list. It’s probably one of 5-10 songs on the list that might be classified as rap. At present, the playlist consists of 76 songs and is five hours, 26 minutes worth of music.

I don’t run very often anymore, but I do walk Sunny nearly every morning and that playlist is a peppy way to start my day. Especially on days like today when Dirt Off Your Shoulder from Jay-Z’s famed The Black Album comes on. And I’m treated to my favorite lyric.

We open with a rather blatant use of the n-word, which is admittedly a barrier of entry for some when it comes to rap music. I’m not going to wade into those waters, so let’s just acknowledge it’s use and move on. The song begins with the following:

“If you feelin’ like a pimp, n**** Go on, brush your shoulders off”

I will freely admit to you all right here, I have no idea what it means to brush ones shoulders off. But I’m confident, based on context clues, it is an exciting, cool, and aspirational thing to do. So already I’m intrigued. Jay has me excited by the prospect of brushing things off my shoulder and feelin’ like a pimp. Feelings, I will add, I rarely feel, and don’t feel even while enjoying the catchy nature of the beat and lyrics of this song. Then he drops the next line, which never fails to bring a smile to me face:

“Ladies is pimps too, go on, brush your shoulders off”

Perfect. Elegant, simple, profound, inclusive. Chef’s kiss. Ladies IS pimps too. Damn right, Jay.

The at-times rampant misogyny in rap music is absolutely another barrier for entry, and yet Jay just brushes it aside. Brushing dirt off shoulders is for EVERYONE. At least everyone who feels like a pimp. In case you were wondering, that means ladies too. Let there be no doubt.

One of my former bosses would often use the phrase “belt and suspenders” as a reminder to have backup plans on important items in the event something goes wrong. To me, that’s what the second line is all about. He suggests from the opening that anyone worthy of being a pimp should brush their shoulders off. But on the off chance some jackass tries to suggest shoulder--brushing worthy pimps does not include ladies, well let him assure you, it does. Belts and suspenders. Ladies is pimps too. What more needs to be said.

All from the man fortunate enough to be married to Beyonce, so I think we can all trust his opinion.