My iPod is nothing more than a revolving audio whore-house. Loaded with albums, radio sets and podcasts, it is my daily sanctuary in a faceless commute. Most people assume that it contains nothing more than the revered soundtrack of a 21st century nomad (jazz, opera, folk, grime) and you would be right to assume so, but over the last year, a new genre has crept into my playlists and is fast becoming my sound of choice.
Dubbed ETM, (emotional trap music) it is the broody tale-telling of drug-related exploits, atop of some of the most furious, bass-laden infectious yet melodic compositions. Many are surprised when I valiantly come to the defence of Rick Ross, Young Jeezy and The Clipse but to me, these writers are marvels, combining trademarked cadences and vowel-heavy haphazard ablibs with urban vernacular, resulting in lofty narratives of consumerism, hedonism and all the hallmarks of ‘a life in the trap’.
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