The Bold Beats and Classic Cuts of a Millennial

Like Kendrick Lamar, I was born in 1987, the end of the Ronald Reagan era. I came of age as a millennial just outside Seattle, Washington. But I didn't listen to grunge. At least then.

There was something in the water in the "poorer" zip code of the two that cover Kirkland, Washington. Of course "poorer" is a highly relative term. In Kirkland, it's like comparing who's less rich, which is even truer today.

Back in the 1990s though, Kirkland boys in my zip code, predominately white, all listened to hip-hop. One of my first musical memories was a baseball teammate in the earliest years of Little League yelling out after getting a hit:

"Birthdays was the worst days. Now we sip champagne when we thirsty." (Juicy, Biggie)

We all thought we were disadvantaged. Some more than others. Hip-hop resonated with its bottom-to-the-top themes.

I became obsessed. People told me to check my skin color. They called me "Kirkland's Most Wanted." They being other white kids, that is.

But the music spoke to the struggles in my young mind. I tried everything to get my hands on hip-hop CDs. It was a tall task in a religious house that prohibited parental advisory material. Soon MTV and the local Seattle hip-hop radio station, KUBE 93.3, were also banned.

That censorship fueled my love for hip-hop even more.

The bold beats of hip-hop, however, as influential as they were in my youth, were not my musical origins. They certainly do not define my musical tastes today, although occasionally I still find myself craving supa dupa lemonade bars.

Let's take it back to the beginning. To the music that made a man. To the melodies that soothed me when I was down, the beats that hyped me when I was up, and the classic cuts that inspired me when I needed a jolt.

This is the Soundtrack 2 My Life.

Lookin' Out My Backdoor

Parents have significant influence on their children's musical tastes. At least in the early years.

My dad's love for classic rock dominated the airwaves of our house. Vinyl records spun. Speakers served as end tables for lamps and pictures.

The first sounds coming through those speakers, in addition to those of my dad's Camaro, were the sounds of John Fogerty and Creedence Clearwater Revival.

"Doo doo doo, lookin' out my backdoor."

It was the first song I remember singing as a kid. We had a backdoor. I looked out it. The literal reality was so clear and entertaining to me.

Plus, who doesn't like saying "doo doo doo" as a little kid?

Here Comes The Sun

Those younger years were so innocent. Everything was happy, sunny, and safe. I was lucky to enter life that way.

The Beatles played more than any other band in our house. Their messages of love, peace, and prosperity filled my young brain.

There's a Beatles song for everyone. The one that reminds me the most of the safety and innocence of youth though is Here Comes The Sun.

Even after a bad day, or a long cold lonely winter, the sun always rose again.

Gettin' Jiggy Wit It

My formal introduction to hip-hop was much like my childhood. Innocent. I mean, it's The Fresh Prince after all.

In 4th grade, each student had to answer a series of questions about themselves. A different person was featured per week. It was meant to celebrate individuality and differences.

I still remember writing Gettin' Jiggy Wit It in response to the question "What's your favorite song?" Chumbawamba was a close second.

I first heard Will Smith rap through the speakers at a skating rink everyone used to go to: Skate King. There's something about rollerblading to the beats of Big Willie Style while figuring out what flirting is.

Guerilla Radio

Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2. Playstation.

This Rage Against the Machine song was not even on my periphery before playing this video game. Yet for me, it became iconic, up there with the GoldenEye theme song or the sounds from HALO.

It's obviously about more than a song or a video game. It represents precious memories with friends. Bonds we shared (and in some cases still do).

There was beauty in wasting away the day or night with a few of your best buddies, competing or playing co-op in a video game, much to our parents' chagrin.

The music of those games became the soundtracks to our friendships.

Country Grammar

There are moments in life when you remember exactly where you are when you experience them. I first heard Nelly's Country Grammar when it played on MTV. It changed my world.

A few of us were sleeping over at one of our friend's houses. He happened to be the only African-American boy in the school. His parents had few rules and there was little supervision. I don't even think they were home when us 12 and 13 year olds witnessed Nelly and the block party that was the Country Grammar music video.

We were all doing mean mugs and shoulder shrugs.

I planned to put chrome rims on whatever car I could buy when I turned 16. I bought sports jerseys, wore baggy pants, and rocked Air Force Ones. Hell, I even tried putting a white band-aid on my face.

Forgot About Dre

I was too young when Dr. Dre dropped The Chronic, but I was ready and waiting when The Chronic 2001 arrived. Between the beats and Eminem's lyricism, not to mention the speed and fluidity of his raps, I was in absolute awe. How could anyone forget about Dre?

Prior to this song I had heard rumblings of Eminem. Kids were going around saying, "Hi, my name is, wha! My name is, who?" Then I finally got my hands on the Slim Shady LP.

Another life-defining moment. It was a license to enjoy hip-hop as a white boy.

Eminem could go toe-to-toe with the best MCs in the game. And he had no filter. If he tried to say half of what he said in the late 90s and early 2000s, he would definitely get "cancelled" today.

Sounds that I knew would never get cancelled were those coming from any Dr. Dre production. I had never heard beats like those on The Chronic 2001. It sent me on a journey through west coast hip-hop, from the mainstream to the underground.

Regulate

Maybe my all-time favorite hip-hop song. Between Warren G's bars and Nate Dogg's hook, this song is so sweet and satisfying. I played it on blast in my college dorm room, letting everyone know who the hip-hop savant was on the floor.

Regulate played multiple roles for me, which is why I love it so much to this day. It tells a story you can get lost in. It has melodic beats you can chill to. And it delivers a message - REGULATORS, mount up! - that you can get hyped and inspired by.

Triple threat. Plus, 2Pac is in the music video.

"Where rhythm is life, and life is rhythm."

93 'Til Infinity

Then I went way down the rabbit's hole of the more underground hip-hop scene, starting with these guys, Souls of Mischief. One of the best hip-hop songs and beats ever. I don't care what anyone says.

Souls of Mischief is part of the hip-hop collective Hieroglyphics, hailing from Oakland, California. They taught me how to chill and reflect on life through this song.

Sometimes it gets a little hectic out there

But right now, yo, we gonna help you on how we just chill

There were so many nights where my friends and I sat and philosophized about our evolving lives while this song played in the background. Life can get hectic. If you don't pause, chill, and reflect, it will pass you by.

The L.A. Song

The best summer of my young life was spent in Los Angeles. My good friend was going to school in L.A. and let me sleep on his couch one summer. All of the hip-hop music I had religiously listened to suddenly came to life.

Now I could appreciate verses like "it's like the 405 at 5:30, nobody's moving" when these San Francisco Knights rapped about them. Although it's probably blasphemy for some San Francisco rappers like People Under the Stairs to tell me what L.A. is like.

Heroin Girl

"I wish I could go back, yes, back in time." Around this time in college I also discoverd alternative rock and grunge. My good friends had always listened to it, but I knew what I liked: hip-hop and classic rock.

Everclear was my portal. Their album, So Much For the Afterglow, was one of the first CDs I ever owned largely because it was not parental advisory. The themes were darker for me than some of the energetic hip-hop songs whose gangster themes weren't reality for me.

Everclear and the grunge scene brought realism. The pains of adolescence and growing up. Falling in and out of love. Losing friends to drugs and death.

I painted multiple summers with one of my best friends. Everclear was on repeat. Heroin Girl in particular.

Future Sound

Then I went to law school. My passions for writing and waxing poetic, and let's be real - debating - fit perfectly with the coursework. This song by Jurassic 5, another of my all-time favorite west coast groups, often plays through my head while I write.

I rebuild cause I'm a rebel

My education and rhythm is on a higher level

Smash til the dust settles

Imagine writing a legal brief while feeling the power of those lyrics. Unstoppable.

Opposite of Adults

Some songs fit a time and place. When I lived in Philadelphia during law school, this song came out from the local hip-hop duo, Chiddy Bang.

Opposite of Adults told my story at the time. I was now an adult, but still felt like a kid. I wanted to tell "my mommy, 'I'm sorry, this life is a party. I'm never growing up."

But I couldn't afford to do that anymore. I had to build a career. I had to make money to support myself, which many of my millennial friends were struggling to do.

Many of my peers were couch surfing and back at their parent's house. I had to hustle and get it if I wanted to avoid a similar fate.

Gettin' It

More than any genre in hip-hop, I've loved songs that motivate. Music that makes you want to jump out of bed and take on the world with vigor and gusto. That's why this song by Too Short is a daily driver for me.

Quit complaining

Bout how you can't spend it cause you ain't got it

You got what it takes but not enough to get started

I hope you get the message, no it's not a test it's

Just me ridin legit, they can't arrest me or bust me

Life is limited. Go out and get it everyday.

Despacito

I was married in Miami. This song played nonstop in 2017. There's a Justin Bieber version, but the original is too good to pass up.

This song represents my complete arrival to adulthood. Marriage. Work. Taking it slow.

Despascito is also a reminder to live in the moment with the love of my life. Slow the fast world down as much as possible. Cherish every second.

You Were Right

As I have aged, I've listened to hip-hop less. I'm not a fan of the Soundcloud rappers. So much of the lyricism is dead. Kanye went crazy.

Nowadays I look more and more for songs that bring me peace. Songs I can play in the background while I work. If I hear outrageous wordplay I simply get too distracted. And if I want to be gettin' it, I need to focus.

RÜFÜS DU SOL filled the void. This Australian trio is probably my favorite group of the past decade. Their sounds are acquatic, positive, and peaceful. As the world has grown more and more chaotic, I constantly return to them more and more.

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)

Then I had a son. I find myself playing the same music my dad played for me. This one in particular is a naptime favorite.

The Beatles, once again, play nonstop. But every now and then, this dad drops the stylus on some Money Trees to remind his son he can still regulate.

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For more of Johnny P's writing, check out his Medium page.