Original Opening before I made this evergreen: I’m at Yale to write. Mishka Shubaly is my teacher. He over heard me not knowing what trap music is and told me to write about it. I was probably only supposed to bang out a sentence or two. I did all this instead. It’s not very good but it’s free content…
Trap music is another sub genre within “dance music.” Why there needs to be yet another fractured approach to background noise for people on MDMA is beyond me but it exists. The always reliable Wikipedia tells me that “trap” refers to a location where drug deals occur. Ok. Sure. I’ll go with that. I call such places “Denver” but to each his own.
Further, trap music stylings are supposedly filled with darker lyrics, so I guess it’s the Emo Music for people wearing glow sticks. I don’t hear any real lyrics when I listen, but maybe my ear isn’t finely tuned enough to discern the different levels of bass and what it is saying to the people.
More from Wikipedia:
“Trap producer Lex Luger broke out of relative obscurity, gained huge popularity, and went on to produce more than 200 songs between 2010 and 2011…”
I’m not gonna just refer to Wikipedia, don’t worry, but: 200 songs in two years? Fuck off. I’m won’t pretend someone can’t be prolific in their writing, but 200 songs in two years is a joke. That’s two new songs PER WEEK. Yeah. That’s a deep form of music, one that is slaved over, where the artist is giving his all to every note, who has cried into the vinyl as a hit is burned into life.
There IS a sociopolitical aspect to trap music in that it was originally an off shoot of rap and R & B but has become much more associated with the EDM culture, one I’d stereotype as white kids in the suburbs taking designer drugs and sucking on pacifiers. It was one thing when Whitey stole GOOD music but this is just sad.
As for my personal impressions… it sounds like every EDM and dance, bass-heavy song I’ve ever yelled over at a crappy club someone dragged me to that I then endured in a state of bemusement before eventually getting angry at my isolation in a sea of people I wish I was but will never be. It bleeds out a numbing bass drum, repeating the very same beat that some asshole in my freshman year of undergrad dorm blasted at 2am every weekend. Usually, I have to pay a quarter for my bed to vibrate like that.
Buuuuuut: It’s fine for what it is. I get why people want it played at a club, particularly if they’re on drugs. You don’t need to pay attention to it. It can come and go in your evening. It sets a solid rhythm for people who dance/dry hump in public. It is the background soundtrack to the drug fueled and irresponsible fun had by those younger than I. As such, I humbly bow to them all, acknowledge that the older I get, the less sense new music will make, and wish them well as they do what the young do. God speed, kids, just don’t take the brown acid.
