La musique a souvent servi à des fins politiques, des enjeux socio-culturels. Certains artistes ont même choisi d’écrire des textes engagés en ne pensant que rarement aux répercussions. Personnellement c’est la chansons « Marine » (2006) de Diam’s qui a marqué mon enfance.
Le monde artistique s’éloigne de plus en plus des problèmes de sociétés, sauf quelques branches qui résistent encore. Musicalement, j’ai peur pour cet art. J’ai cette impression que seulement la pop de midinettes (célèbres boy bands dont je ne citerai pas les noms, ou des starlettes pré adolescentes toujours plus aguicheuses) arrivera à faire bouger les foules, à vendre n’importe quoi tant que les paroles raconteront l’histoire d’amour entre Kevin et Samantha. Pourtant ce qui me désole le plus c’est de voir chaque artiste, avec ses propres convictions personnelles, qui tentent de se rapprocher au maximum d’un stéréotype pour augmenter le nombre d’auditeurs, et donc de ventes. Cette décennie marque selon moi un profond anéantissement de la présence de la politique dans les chansons.
Mais ici, dans cet article c’est d’Eminem, le célèbre chanteur de Detroit et qui est à 44 ans le rappeur ayant vendu le plus de disques de toute l’histoire, dont j’ai envie de vous parler.
Eminem a entamé son retour ce mercredi 19 octobre 2016. En effet, il a sorti son nouveau morceau intitulé « Campaign Speech » de 8 minutes, ressemblant plutôt à un long monologue qu’à une chanson. Bien que l’ultime débat entre Clinton et Trump* est passé, la bataille semble être toujours plus intense. Trump toujours plus dans le trash augmente ses propos sexistes et racistes. Les artistes sont de plus en plus nombreux à montrer la haine qu’ils ressentent pour le candidat. Dans ce morceau, on arrive à cerner la pensée d ‘Eminem concernant ce cher Trump et sa peur de le voir un jour diriger le plus grand pays du monde. Eminem avait déjà réalisé un morceau de ce genre pour Bush intitulé : « Mosh ». Je ne pense pas que m’étendre sur le sujet serait une bonne solution, je pense que les paroles parleront d’elles-mêmes.
Album à venir…
*le 8 novembre 2016 aura lieu l’élection présidentielle américaine
La vidéo :
Sources : http://genius.com/Eminem-campaign-speech-lyrics#note-10655738
Lyrics :
Jumped out of the 2nd floor of a record store With a Treacherous Four cassette and a cassette recorder
In Ecuador with Edward Norton
Witness the metamorphosis Of a legend growin’ like an expert swordsman
From the Hessian war and Hence the origin of the Headless Horseman
Born with the endorphins of a pathetic orphan
Endless source and reservoir Of extension cords in dresser drawers And deadbolts on the bedroom doors And sexual torture kits kept in a separate storage bin Excellent boyfriend
Use intercourse to settle scores With women who have vendettas towards men Dickhead is forced in ’til there’s shredded foreskin Reddish torn and they’re only bein’ fed a portion Bed sores and sore shins Pregnant whores can get abortions Fetish for stickin’ metal forks in, self-absorption
Skeletor, I went to Hell and fell a floor A predator, I’m headed for competitors
Better warn ’em, what I lack in tact and a set of morals I make up for in metaphors like a cosmetic store
Stegosaurus, Chuck Norris with a thesaurus
Yes, of course, a mess of warrants You want some? Come and get some, boys! I’m givin’ Daniel Pantaleo a refresher course On excessive force and pressure points And dressin’ George Zimmerman in a fluorescent orange Dress and four inch heels to address the court With a bullseye on his back, his whole chest and torso Are left on the doorsteps of Trayvon’s dad as a present for him
In my present form I’m Desert Storm
Appetite for destruction there’s no suppressant for
Aggressive, forceful, and less remorseful in every morsel
Unpleasant, horrible; hello, gorgeous!
The rebel with devil horns just fell off the yellow short bus
Met a contortionist, said, « When you wanna get sexual? »
She said, « However I fit in your schedule. I’m flexible. »
Expired tags on the Saturn, got Catherine Bach
In the back in Daisy Dukes with the hazards on
At a traffic stop gettin’ harassed, sign an autograph
For this asshole cop’s daughter
Laugh ’cause I called her a brat on it
He spat on it and brought it back lookin’ half in shock
Had a heart attack and dropped dead
Started fallin’ back with it
And got slapped with a Colin Kaepernick practice sock
One ball and half a dick, Apple Watch
Crack front axle, walked in a Bass Pro Shop with David Hasselhoff, pulled Tabasco sauce out of my satchel
Knocked over a fisherman’s tackle box and *crash sound*
Asked if they had a laughin’ stock
That was fuckin’ stupid…
You got it twisted, all ’cause I offered this bitch
A doggie biscuit, you call me misogynistic
Bitch, get to massagin’ this dick!
Like spas in this bitch, slob on it with gobs of lipstick
Got a shoppin’ list for you to run some odds and ends with
It’s not a bitch on this earth I can be monogamous with
She’s non-existent
Robin Thicke with a throbbin’ dick on some suave and slick shit
But I shout derogatives at bitches like fuckin’ missile launches
Misfit, blond and nitwit
Like I’ve gone ballistic, with a frostin’ tip kit
Screamed, « I hate blondes, » and became one, I’m optimistic
Love to start shit
Shovin’ Clark Kent’s undergarments in the glove compartment
Of the bucket, bumpin’ Bubba Sparxxx
I’m double parkin’ up at Targets, trouble causer, a double crosser
Shadiest mothafucka you’ll ever come across
Olympic gymnast, been known for some assaults
A couple lawsuits, enough to cause a stomach ulcer
Same damn brain scan results as Rainman’s is
Something’s off, but when Dustin Hoffman’s
Dressin’ up in your mummy costume
On stage dancin’ to « Brain Damage, » what’s the problem?
Nothing’s wrong, the name brand is back to reclaim status
Run the faucet, I’mma dunk
A bunch of Trump supporters underwater
Snuck up on ’em in Ray-Bans in a gray van with a spray tan
It’s a wrap, like an ACE bandage
Don’t-give-a-fuck persona, to my last DNA strand
E&J in the waistband, at the VMAs with the stagehand
She wants kielbasa, pre-arrange an escape plan
Three-inch blade on point, like a See-and-Say
Consider me a dangerous man
But you should be afraid of this dang candidate
You say Trump don’t kiss ass like a puppet
‘Cause he runs his campaign with his own cash for the fundin’
And that’s what you wanted
A fuckin’ loose cannon who’s blunt with his hand on the button
Who doesn’t have to answer to no one—great idea!
If I was president
Gettin’ off is the first order of business
Once I get in office
Second thing that’ll make me happy’s walkin’ up to Uncle Sam
Naked, laughin’, dick cupped in hand
Screamin’, « Fuck safe sex! »
Throw a latex and an AIDS test at him
Tell Congress I run this land
And I want the rubber banned, and make it snappy
Addiction to friction and static
Addict who can’t escape the habit
Continue to chase the dragon
But as fate would have it, I walked up in Major Magics
Dressed as the maintenance man
In a laser tag vest and a racin’ jacket
With a gauge to blast it
And sped away in the station wagon
Stacey Dash’s and Casey Anthony’s
Crazy asses in the backseat
Throwin’ Stayfree pads at me
Dead passenger in the passenger seat
Unfasten the safety latches
And slam on the brakes in traffic so hard
I snapped the relocation brackets for the monster tires
‘Finna get a murder case and catch it
Like you threw it at me encased in plastic
And send Dylann Roof through the windshield of the Benz
Until he spins like a pinwheel and begins feelin’…
Like a windmiller with a thin build while his skin’s peelin’
And skids ’til he hits a cement pillar
Swing for the fence like Prince Fielder
Knock it into the upper peninsula
You wanna go against ‘zilla? The Rap God
When will I quit? Never been realer
The in-stiller of fear, not even a scintilla of doubt
Whose pens iller than Prince in a chinchilla
Or Ben Stiller in a suspense thriller
Revenge killer, avenge syllable binge
Fill a syringe, ’til I
Draw first blood
Even pop shit on my pop shit, and it’s popular
Couldn’t be more awkwarder
Cause you’re innocence I robbed you of
It’s my fingers that got stuck up
Taught ya ta, not give a
Slapstick, hockey puck
The broad hunter with the sawed off
Like an arm when it’s lopped off of ya
But I’m not gonna, get the shotgun
Or the Glock, I’m gonna opt for the ox
Cause I’m into objects that are sharp when I shop
And it’s not a shock, I’m such an obnoxious fucker
The Rock Hudson of rock ’cause who would have thought
This much of a cocksucker to go across the buttocks of Vivica Fox with a box cutter
That was for 50, little slap on the wrist be warned
I’m unravelin’ quickly
My squabbles, I’m grappling with your time traveling with me
Try and follow, as I wobble, relapse into history, with a flask of the whiskey
Tip it back then I’m twisting wine bottles
Like what happened to Chris Reeve’s spine column
That’s the plan of attack when I’m fixing my problems
Wish my chest wasn’t having to get these rhymes off ’em
But the fact that I have so many rappers against me mind boggles
And why I haven’t come back on these faggots who diss me is
More of a spectacular mystery than a fucking Agatha Christie crime novel
But my patience is wearing thin
Swear I been contemplatin’ rubbing shit in your face ’til I smear it in
Diss you in every lyric until you fear the pen
And never appear again
If you actually had fuckin’ careers to end
But then I think of Molly Qerim and I steer ’em in that direction and forget my ideas for them
Molly, I’m gone off you
Man, light some kush
You’re my first take, I’ll nail you
Can’t lie, I gush
If I won you over, you would be the grand prize
I’m entranced by your looks, come and give the Shady franchise a push
You can get it in the can like some Anheuser Busch
Jeans too small, least three pant sizes tush
Mushed against your damn side, your puss
And thighs are squished
What kind of attire’s that?
I’m ready to be rode
Psychopath, bet you we’ll get it poppin’ like a flat
Light the match to ignite the wrath
Got knives to slash and slice hermaphrodites in half
Piper Chapmans might just have to picket me
Like a scab
Hard to describe in fact
Startling violent perhaps
Are things that come to mind as soon as I start spitting rhymes like that
And you aren’t really surprised at that
But as far as these lines I rap
And these bars, wouldn’t dial it back if I star 69ed the track
Why am I such a dick?