Rap. Music. We all love rap music. I think it’s the beat, there’s a magnetic quality to it. The beat swells, makes itself Known. I declare that The Beat and its particular qualities surpasses any other component in the musical compendium. Yes, lush tonal washings may lend the piece a certain facile beauty; but without the man, banging a stick, it is nothing.
Complex syncopations and articulated nuance may be achieved through the correct manner of disciplinary instruction. One may also incite spontaneous exhibitions of rhythmic spasmody through a studied manipulative of one’s footing. A controlled leaning of the upper thorax, accompanied by slight shoulder shrugs has been suggested in many publications as a fine accompaniment to any gentleman’s gib.
When displaying what you may consider to be masterful displays of bodily contortion, please be aware of your surroundings. If found buffooning in a fashion contrary to the given theme, you will be disciplined by a large man of authority.
Your close companion who sits at ease in your shadow, in the strictest sense only, is playing an invisible role, your knowledge of which is to be discouraged. If it were not for his presence, your confidence would falter, and the mere notion of outward expression would your conscience reject.
So look I’ll paint a brief picture of a likely scene. You’re dancing. You and your mate. Dancing. There are hundreds of people here. Everybody’s here for a good time. You engage two young lads in a conversation about boxing. Turns out they’re MMA heads. I demonstrate my deadly shadow boxing, guard high, shoulder out, throw a 1-2 and bob my head a bit. The kid turns round and says ‘I’d have got ye with a body shot,’ showing just how he’d go about it.
I gave it some thought later and resolved that I’d think about tucking my elbows in, to protect the ribs. Another young dude was giving me the lowdown on the Influencer Boxing scene. He gave Tyson fury a good chance to beat Usyk. I said look at fury’s last three or four main opponents, none of them were great movers, And none of them were unorthodox, excepting maybe Wilder. I’m thinking Usyk’s movement will make things very interesting, maybe ultimately it’ll come down to who wants it more.
Back in to Snoop! Keep meeting old friends, the boogie’s on in our wee section, feels good, like a football match. The fella right in front of me has really gotten into things by now, he bangs his head off his chest in a frenzy then turns round to spit in my face ‘are you talking to them two young boys?’
I answered ‘Yeah, the boxing.’
‘Those are young lads, young boys I’m telling ye.’
I didn’t know whether to console him or buy him a burger.’ I sort of nodded as a token of my Understanding. ‘Yes those are young boys.’
He went back to crying tears of Heineken as some hip hop tune triggered something deep in his blessed guts.
There were about four songs left and the whole thing was dying. We gave it our all to keep the beat alive. This was becoming a night for all to treasure, we had to see it off with a rally.
The aged Snoop was delivering on the craic, the Southern fellas who’d done support deserve a mention too. But yeah Snoop was bringing it all home, nearing the finish when, who but our beer-drenched admonisher should step right over the row of seats in front of him, positioning himself between two bewildered teenagers. He seemed to be engaging them in some earnest spiel of drivel, but the surrounding punters became more than a little disquieted by the wretch’s approach. He protested with, yes, outward elbows, shaking off the concerned punters, insisting upon the importance of whatever sage measures of whittled wisdom he was dispensing so benignly.
He was bustled off, with his visibly perturbed ladyfriend now lecturing me on the significance of the surroundings. Luckily, the whole charade was surreal enough that I could accept the lecture without too much embarrassment.
Upon arriving home, stepping into sacred solitude, I weighed up the night’s happenings, and noted briefly the deep sense of gratitude that accompanies such blessed moments. A one off night, here’s to many more.
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