"Kanye West has the potential to be a [musical] genius, if only he weren't so annoying."
--My sister, Caryl

I couldn't agree more. However...

The afore-mentioned artist's "Diamonds from Sierra Leone" is reverberating in my bedroom as I type. The repeating, sampled refrain "diamonds are forever" haunts the rapper's overlayed lyrics about his former state of socioeconomic disenfranchisement and his ongoing battle for artistic validation (e.g., he alludes to his temper tantrum at the American Music Awards a year and a half ago when he didn't win anything).

My foray into rap music has given me a real appreciation for the lyrical construct its empresarios have erected--to wit, that they are emporers, ambassadors, scribes, the urban clergy of the church of the streets, feudal lords of the fifedom. They fully consider their collective flow to be part of a dynasty, the stuff of legend, the veritable smackdown that will stop any foe. I have to admit. Sometimes I get caught up in the hype.

This past winter when my grief was its most accute, rap was the only music that could speak to me. This is because beneath the bravado there is real pathos, the need for vigilante justice, the fear that the lyricist will be overtaken by his own past, his own insecurity. A line that resonated for me deeply at that time was Jay-Z's lyric "What? you gon' box me homie? I can dodge a jab."

The anger intrigues me, because it's sadness flipped inside out. The stuff of Russian tragedies.