Dear Whoever: How Hip-Hop Speaks My Life, and Saves It
COVID-19 has brought quarantine life to the forefront of the country and caused countless problems amongst people trying to navigate the work and home combined landscape. Peace, quiet, space, scheduling, and snack upkeep have all gone the way of the dodo bird, and as we try to wade our way through, we — or at least I — have added yet another layer of struggle to the mix: writer’s block and focus issues. Sentences stuck in your head, a mind adrift, thoughts never coalescing, it’s a seesaw of uncertainty and doubt, and there have been a couple of days when I wondered if I was even cut out for this writer’s life. Now I know that sounds dramatic and it’s supposed to. And if you knew the time differential between when I had this idea and when I wrote these words, how long it took my thoughts to coalesce, you’d understand.
It’s an odd place to be in, this space where you can’t put your finger on anything solid, and you also can’t grasp the words to say it. It feels like trying to catch a cloud. And I’ve been jumping at the sky for weeks. I mean, I write. But not with the kind of consistency I’d like to. Not with the fearlessness I’m used to. And sometimes not anything coherent enough to show to other people. And while it’s comforting to know that so many people want me to relax, and take it easy, and as much as it warms my buns to have people tell me it’s okay if I’m not super productive because this is a crazy time, it makes me sad that I haven’t been able to write. Because the truth is I’d like to. Words are me. This is who I am. And the last thing I want in a topsy turvy world outside is to also not feel like myself, inside. But just like Cap emerging from the shadows to save Scarlet Witch and Vision from Corvus Glaive, in swooped hip-hop to save me. As usual.
To give you a little background, hip-hop is and has been, the soundtrack to my life. I was born and bred in it, raised on it. It colors everything I do with a bright brush, the most melodic rainbow, and I’m proud to be of the generation who can appreciate both everything it was, and everything it is now. So hip-hop is clear and present. And like everyone, I have my favorites. But some artists just speak to me personally. And one of them is Gregory Skyler Taylor, known to most by his rap name, Skyzoo. Skyzoo is a lyrical dynamo who spins wonderfully crafted stories of his life in Brooklyn, his dreams and his vision. He can be compared to Hov in terms of style and cites him as inspiration but Skyzoo has a mark all his own. He rivals a good number of rappers in terms of consistency, production, and quality and quite honestly, I might be his biggest fan. And as a fan, sometimes I circle back to where it all started — his debut LP, aptly titled, The Salvation.
On this album, Skyzoo has a track called “Dear Whoever,” an open letter of lament and frustration to his rhyme book. Illmind spins Sky’s rhyme into an incredible production backed by a sped up Phyllis Hyman sample whose signature melancholy saxophone creates the scene the rapper needs to spit his vexation. In the song, he details his relationship with his notebook, how he depended on it, worshipped and spilled his life to it, and how it was the perfect non-judgemental best friend. Keyword: was. Skyzoo goes on to express how writing down his thoughts is becoming stale, how his real life is making it more difficult, how it’s not helping him anymore, and how the more he reveals, the less he actually feels like himself. In the chorus, he wonders if he should just sever ties with his notebook, if maybe they’re better off apart. And I’ve listened to that song (and album) dozens of times, but last week I heard it and all I could see was me, and my laptop. Skyzoo was talking about his notebook, but I felt it in my Google Drive. I depended on my work, worshipped it, spilled my life into it. It was my best friend. But this virus and my previous unemployment have me looking at my laptop like it’s betraying me. I can’t make my thoughts stick, and I’m wondering if I should keep my distance. Writing is becoming stale, my real life is making it more difficult, it’s not helping anymore, and the more I reveal, the less I actually feel like myself. Maybe severing ties would be better. Maybe we’re better off apart. Maybe. My last shard of hope is that I’m actually, finally, writing this. So maybe it hasn’t betrayed me completely.
The bright side is that Skyzoo’s song was about a moment of doubt. A moment. A short window where he wasn’t sure of who he was, or who he was trying to become. Now, I mentioned that The Salvation was his debut album, and Skyzoo obviously didn’t give up his notebook forever, because he proceeded to release (at least) one project every year for the next decade. So he found himself. And I’d like to think his lyrical expression of that moment of doubt helped him get there. Having said that, maybe my written expression of this moment of doubt will help me get where I need to be as well. I don’t think I’m quite ready to turn in my laptop just yet. It’s just a short window of uncertainty, I suppose. In the meantime, hip-hop speaks my life. And saves it.
