by Harold McMillan

Get this, there's family having dinner and an argument breaks out between the teenage brother and sister. Heated words and hotter emotions spill out all over the place for about 15 minutes. The parents let this go on for another 15 minutes before they intervene. But they don't stop the argument, they take sides and keep the insults and verbal jabs going.

A half-hour later, the volume in the house is still loud, punctuated with an occasional wrap or two on the table with glassware, and even louder, almost rhythmic argument and catcalls.

The neighbors, at this point, are forced to listen, are disturbed, hot and bothered, just short of calling the police. Then...it stops. The house goes back to the quiet of a normal dinner hour on any other weeknight.

The neighbors figure that the parents finally got a handle on the disturbance between the kids and reclaimed order. No harm done. Just a normal family argument.

The next night, same time as the night before, the kids start up again. Maybe even a bit louder tonight. It seems to the neighbors to be a continuation of the argument from the previous night. The thing is, there is some intentional variation, but this loud family seems to have a cadence, a rhythm, a special language that is consistent from the previous verbal bouts. They are still pissed about the same things, argue the same points, describe the same issues with the same words, vary the details-the rhythm-but the bitching and grand-standing has much in common with the previous night. It's louder.

Once again the neighbors listen for a while, learn the issues, pay attention to the alleged perpetrators and victims, get really tired of listening to this family's crap, and questions whether they should call the cops.

The irony here is that the mother in the neighbor family is a cop. She really doesn't want the hassle of calling the precinct and having them send someone to breakup a family fight. After all, what more can she expect from these kind of folks. What she knows is that they are loud, ignorant, unschooled, and very emotional.

So the neighbor lady, the cop, takes it on herself to try to use pressure (of her superior position) to shame and somehow appropriately educate her loud and argumentative neighbors. She figures that her loud neighbors just come from inferior stock and she can use them as examples of how not to be for the rest of the neighborhood -- especially the kids.

The cycle of dinner time arguments goes on and oh-my-God on. It becomes the norm instead of a rarity. Mother cop takes it on herself to spread the word all over the neighborhood about these loud folks next door.

"They are so vulgar. We can't make them have self-respect, but we certainly can keep our kids away from them."

As mother cop moves forward with "putting the word out on the street" about these undesirables, she picks up supporters for her cause. But there is something that is even more troubling to her, after she has had a chance to talk to other parents in the neighborhood. Low and behold, her neighbors are not the only family that has fallen into the nightly dinner-time argument cycle. It's happening all around the neighborhood. Dammit, it's a movement, even. All of these undesirables seem to be protesting the same things, in the same way, like they all have these common complains and bitch and moan about them in much the same ways.

As time passes it becomes clear that there are two opposing camps of neighbors in the 'hood. There are those who know the "common rules of decency" and those who don't. And that seems to be about the only connection: there is agreement that some folks know how to behave and the others don't.

The first thing that really bothers the lady cop is that her neighbors (the loud ones) don't see their arguments as a problem at all. The loud neighbors apparently think that they are working on developing some kind of language, it's not a problem. In fact, they don't even call what they do "arguing."

After the lady cop has gone to have several conversations with the parents next door, the loud neighbors finally spell it out to the lady cop.

The parents at the loud house finally tell the lady cop from next door to butt out.

"There is no argument here, we are just speaking a language that you apparently don't understand. And you know what? You don't have to understand. If you can't dig what we are saying, then I guess we ain't talking to you no way!

In fact, lady cop from next door, we like it that way. That mean it's working. It's insider talking, it's signifying, it's a family conversation and you ain't-apparently-in the family. But I tell you what, your daughter seems like she know exactly what we be talking about.

Maybe you need to be minding what's going on in your own family, 'stead ah mine."

"Huh! These ignorant folks are just gonna ruin the culture and our kids."

OK, I, the narrator of this little tale, am back.

Does this sound familiar?

The truth of the matter is that the loud family knew exactly what it was doing. And, because they were hanging out with a bunch of other loud families, the "insider talkin'" network was growing as fast as those who practiced the rules of common decency. And, they were having a lot more fun.

Doing a fast-forward here, the rub comes for the decent folks when more and more of their youth learn the words, the moves, the look, the sensuality, the "cool" of the loud families. And ultimately, when the kids go, so too does commercial enterprise, big business, middle America. 'Cos, like it or not, with the kids go their parents pocketbooks.

It usually takes about ten years, but if it gets to that point, then it's too late, it's gone, it's middle America by year 15. And by year 15, the original loud arguing family has moved on to some other form of argument. It's about the argument, not about going "middle America." By then, the argument has lost it's edge and it's just another way for the Lady Cop and her family to capitalize on what was once just a bunch of "insider talkin', signifying, and family conversation.

That is my take on the hip-hop revolution. But that ain't a new thang in American cultural history/music/pop culture. See, it doesn't start as "pop." At the beginning it is definitely outsider, ghetto, marginalized, folk, evil crap to the establishment.

Then somebody sees how cool it is to the youth, and likewise, they see just how fast they can take that to the bank. And, the thing that makes pop culture pop culture is that it is out of the ghetto and bankable. The challenge then becomes disguising it so it looks, tastes, sounds, and feels ghetto.

Ghetto is bankable in a society that is too clean scrubbed in the soap of denial for it's kids thirst for some real soulful nasty.

And, it is the kids who will pay to hang in the fake ghetto. Because they don't really have to live it. They can just buy the CD, DVD, FUBU, and Phat Pharm Phashions.

The good thing is that the real ghetto kids then have a chance to complete the ultimate switch-a-roo. Bright ghetto kids, and their middle class cohart wannabes, get to go to the bank big-time, directly out of the pockets of middle America. Often without middle American parents even realizing what is going on.

Ever end up at a stop light next to a frat boy's jeep and get bombarded by his subwoofers belting out classic NWA rapping about jackin' a frat boy's SUV and daring his cop daddy to try to do something abut it?

Is he listening to the words of what he paid $16.99 for? Does he hear what NWA is saying directly to him? Is it just the cool beats?

Make no mistake about what I'm saying, that little story ain't just about the hip-hop revolution. It's been going on in American music culture since the turn of the last century.
Ragtime.
Blues.
Original jazz.
Swing.
Bebop.
Cool.
Hard bop.
Rock and roll.

By the time it makes it to middle America, the family just ain't spending that much time arguing about it anymore. The family is busy arguing about something else you ain't heard of yet. And the first time you hear it, you won't like it.

But don't worry about it too much. If you ain't in the family, ain't nobody talkin' to you no how. You'll just have to learn about it later... when the fake stuff gets on the radio, then on a McDonald's commercial, and middle America can take it to the bank.

Just relax and remember, if you can't dig what the kids are saying in those (Top Ten selling) rap hits, it's ok. Chances are, they ain't talking to you no way.

Is this really any different from your parents not understanding why you turned it up loud enough to make your ears bleed, got high and tripped while you listened to Jimi Hendrix's live version of "Voodoo Child."

Let the kids wave their freak flag highand enjoy the groove.