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Posts Tagged ‘analysis’

flo rida

Sure, you know him. Flo-Rida, like Florida but with a hyphen, so also like a Flow Rider, which I guess can only mean good things in the world of rap and beatz and beautiful women.

If I block out the words coming out of his mouth, I sometimes (and I’m sorry to admit it) but I sometimes accidentally enjoy his music.

I’M SORRY.

How can you not screw up your face with a sort of appalled admiration at the man audacious enough to rhyme “I might lose it” with “That’s how we do’z it”?

Unfortunately I struggle to understand what Mr Rida is actually saying in his verses that come at you as an indecipherable wall of sound loaded with body-popping and laydeez and party-rocking.

So it’s a good job poet Hollie McNish is listening. Boundary-bending, fornicating, hyphenating Flo-Rida receives some severe critical analysis in her own rap-poem. You know his whistle? We think it might mean something else. And the metaphor doesn’t quite work like he intended it to.

All you have to do is watch these videos simultaneously. Mute Flo-Rida’s video and listen to Hollie’s commentary over it.

She is GREAT!!!

Here’s some of her other work about sexual imagery:

But to present a balanced argument, with an alternative view point, and not to disparage the world of rap about which I am generally ill-informed, please read this analysis of some of the best rap we have. The offensive and sexist lyrics of Flo-Rida (Florida but also Flow-Rider) aside, rap is a complex and highly technical poetry. It requires a precise sense of rhythm and an ability to quickly and flexibly pull up rhyming words.

I pass you over to Martin Connor to illustrate just how FLOW in a line of rap works. Oh hey maybe that’s what Flo-Rida really means after all. Read it HERE.

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I set up this blog with the intention of showing you how easy it is to close read language. It’s when you take the time to look at words, phrases and sounds in serious detail that you come up with original thoughts about a poem. And when you’re talking about poems or books that have been discussed over and over again, an original thought is GOLDEN.

To try and hammer home to you just how easy it is, I have a chosen to analyse Carly Rae Jepsen’s seminal piece ‘Call me Maybe’. You may know her from works such as… no wait, just that one.

hey i just met you

In case you are unfamiliar with her work, here it is in all its resplendent glory:

I’ll just look at the first four verses. It’s long and stuff pretty much just gets repeated. Over and over.

I threw a wish in the well,
Don’t ask me, I’ll never tell
I looked to you as it fell,
And now you’re in my way

I’d trade my soul for a wish,
Pennies and dimes for a kiss
I wasn’t looking for this,
But now you’re in my way

Your stare was holdin’,
Ripped jeans, skin was showin’
Hot night, wind was blowin’
Where do you think you’re going, baby?

Hey, I just met you
And this is crazy
But here’s my number
So call me, maybe?

Let’s start with Jepsen’s clever play with rhythm. The first three lines each contain 7 syllables, and for the first four syllables of each line, there is a hint of iambic rhythm: unstressed followed by stressed syllable. (See my post on meter for more explanation of this!) We have “I THREW a WISH”. But then we end with “in the WELL” – a three syllable anapaestic foot (unstressed, unstressed, stressed) that allows Jepsen to end with emphasis on the main rhyming sound of this stanza: ‘ell’. It gets repeated three times.

We see the same thing in the next stanza: “I’d trade my soul for a wish.” Note here how the ‘iss’ sound seems to gets passed through the stanza. But Jepsen, fiendish lyrical mastermind, is a fan of ­half-rhymes. “Wish” does not fully rhyme with kiss. Is this a product of laziness – of the senseless, manufactured, hit-hammering, plastic pop-paganda music industry?!? NO! We are of course overlooking the bigger picture! Jepsen is simply rejecting the frequently delimiting nature of a strict rhyming pattern, instead allowing her meaning to transcend what began life as a self-imposed pattern. The sound ‘iss/ish’ washes comfortably through the passage. It remains distinctive enough to feel part of a definite rhyming schema.

carly rae quote

Even more inspirational writing from Jepsen. 60 unfilled diaries’ worth. Celebquote.com

The refrain line “But now you’re in my way” is perhaps the cleverest part of the whole song. Notice how the 7 syllable pattern, the iambic/anapaestic hybrid line, gets broken here. We now have SIX syllables, and the rhyming word we have grown to know vanishes. Instead, Jepsen laments that a young man is obstructing her way, just as she obstructs the rhyming pattern. Oh you couldn’t write this stuff!* Genius! I beat my fists upon the ground in delirious awe of you, ye silver-tongued songstress!

*(She probably didn’t)

Now the tension is buildin’. We’re at the bridge. We powerfully hear Jepsen’s Canadian twang, helpfully represented by the elision of the g that creates the word endin’ of the participle ‘holding’. It also feels colloquial. “Your stare was holdin’” – now that’s not a real sentence. Holding what? Is it grammatically incorrect in order to imitate the informal speech of young, hip, grammatically incorrect Jepsen? Or is it purposefully unfinished – an enigmatic introduction to a male figure that proves equally enigmatic? Or does it rush past its own conclusion, caught up in the verse’s spine-tingling acceleration towards the explosive climax of ‘HEY I JUST MET YOU’.

We’re at the chorus. Overcome with a kind of babbling, euphoric hysteria as she speaks to the young man, Jepsen – and oh my, oh boy is this crazy, no seriously, it really is unhinged – Jepsen HANDS OVER HER TELEPHONE NUMBER. We’re hurried through the chorus in breathless, unpunctuated excitement; the conjunctions that begin lines 2, 3, 4, “and” “but” and “so” respectively, give the semblance of logical progression – as if Jepsen is constructing an argument that has reached its conclusion, something suggested by the summarising ‘so’ of the last line. But do not be fooled! We know that handing over your phone number to a stranger is almost unacceptably kooky. Jepsen structures the verse to give the impression of rational thought but in reality, this is a woman too adrenalized by her erotic encounter to do anything calmly. Asking him to call! Well, I never.

It is not uncommon to chance upon a blogger analysing cheesy pop. Rebecca Black’s unforgettable ‘Friday’ is a must-have set-piece. Here’s one analysis.  Here’s another.

Steph Hicks has written a more serious post about the poetry of modern pop. A lot of people agree with her! What do you think?

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