Make the music with your mouth, X
Since he’s been watching Yo Gabba Gabba, my 2-year-old son, X, has developed some wicked beatboxing talent. Sometimes he and I sit in the living room and have beatbox contests. I rarely win because X has skillz.
One morning, I walked in on X and my wife, KayEm, dancing to Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy.” I didn’t protest because this song has the most creative rhyme ever uttered in hip-hop (Me and Mariah/Go back like babies and pacifyas. – OBD). Eventually, I had to intervene because too much Mariah Carey is not good for anybody.
“Yo, X,” I interjected. “You wanna kick it old school?”
“Ol Kool,” he repeated.
I grew up in the 70s and 80s when hip-hop was new and unique. It was the soundtrack of my youth and I was excited to share the music I loved as a child with my son. Any old school hip-hop rotation has to start with Run-DMC I queued “Sucker M.C.s” on the iPod and pressed play. X immediately protested.
“No, no,” he yelled. I was shocked. What son of mine doesn’t like Run-DMC? I considered calling Maury Povich, but my wife wouldn’t have found the humor in that.
Maybe Run-D.M.C. wasn’t old school enough for him, I thought. I decided to shift gears. I searched through my iPod until I found Mantronix’s “Fresh is the Word.” X was excited when he heard the hi-hat intro, but he quickly lost interest when MC Tee started rapping.
“No, no,” he protested. But this time he started beatboxing.
“Oh,” I said. “You want hear some beatboxing?”
“Yes!” he responded.
“I have something that I think you will like.” I scrolled through the iPod again until I found the perfect song. “Here’s
Mocha Dad is the Original Father MC
your buddy, Biz Markie.” I said as “Make the Music With Your Mouth Biz” blasted from the stereo.
“No, no,” he protested again. Now I was confused. He loves watching Biz Markie on Yo Gabba Gabba, but today, Biz got the “Gas Face.” I was perplexed. If he didn’t want to hear Biz Markie, what did he want to listen to?
Doug E. Fresh? No!
Blake Lewis? Absolutely not!
As I sat there watching him beatbox, the lightbulb finally went off. I frantically searched my iPod until I found what X was waiting for. The speakers boomed with the sounds of “Brrrrrr, stick ‘em. Ha ha ha, stick ‘em. Brrrrrr, stick ‘em. Ha ha ha, stick ‘em. Brrrrrr, stick ‘em. Ha ha ha, stick ‘em. Gonna rock the beat box and a fresh, funky rhythm.”
X pumped his fist and yelled, “Yes!” He started beatboxing with the song and displayed a littler swagger while doing so.
All this time, my son was a Fat Boys fan and I didn’t even know it. I had to play the song at least five times, before X grew tired of it.
Sorry, Biz. It looks like the Fat Boys hold the Human Beat Box title in X’s eyes. But in a few years, I think X will reign supreme.
Stay Strong,
Post Script: A few days after our Old School Hip-Hop Party, I received this e-mail message from my wife KayEm:
X’s teacher said that today when the kids were dancing, X was breakdancing and the other kids were standing in a circle around him just watching. And this morning when he woke up he was beatboxing. I asked if that was his beat, he said no. “Daddy’s beat.” You’re raising an old school hip hop superstar.”
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