As a passionate rap connoisseur, I tend to be reluctant when denouncing any of the genres of music that, in my opinion, have shaped our generation in such a strikingly visible way. However, if you were to consult say, my parents, on the aforementioned genres, the intense abhorrence that most of their post baby-boomer colleagues share would be expressed without restraint.

Which makes me think, as music tends to do, what exactly did our parents’ parents think about the music of the `60s, `70s and the `80s? My dad reminisced such times, recalling that one day, while playing his Beatles record, my grandfather told him to “turn off all that noise.” This, in turn, inspires me to ask the question: Is my parents’ objection to current-day music actually valid? Or, is it that something happens over time that causes us to be, maybe even in a broader sense than music, resistant to change?

However, when you turn on the radio today, you are pelted with the inspirational words of bands such as LMFAO and Rihanna. The lyrics really penetrate deep into the soul: “Oh na na, what’s my name? Oh na na, what’s my name?” Except in reality, these lyrics, frequently explicit and completely “bleeped” out due to excessive profanity, don’t really tell you anything of substance. In order to find deeper meaning in modern music, you really have to search for the unknown rappers and singers who have yet to be corrupted by David Guetta or one of the many other producers whose sole intention is to create fused techno dance-remixes.

But if you look into the lyrics of our own parents’ favorite musicians, you find that even the most popular of singers tells a story worth hearing. For example, in the Rolling Stones’ hit “Wild Horses,” the singer laments, “I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie. I have my freedom, but I don’t have much time. Faith has been broken, tears must be cried. Let’s do some living after love dies.” This exclamation, a stark contrast to singer Rebecca Black’s “Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal,” suggests that possibly our own generation has forgotten what music has the power to do; which is, as the anti-war music of the `60s and `70s proved, the ability to transform a generation into something better than it is.

While I certainly enjoy a little quality time with Taylor Swift here and there, and I definitely don’t mind driving through Georgetown on a nice day with my windows down screaming along to Enrique Iglesias, I can’t help but notice what our generation has failed to do with the power of music. We have replaced music’s ability to better our generation with the music industry’s desire to make money. And if you ask me, I’m a little tired of hearing Rihanna’s “new” song when it sounds like only the title changed.

I guess music is a hard thing to truly describe. While my parents tell me to turn off Lil Wayne because “that music is horrible,” I think about how my grandparents demanded the same of my parents.  So while that may be an easy reason to keep on listening to the pop sensations that I have come to regard as my favorites, I always pay attention to the lyrics to decide whether I think music is going in the right direction. For now, you, too, can read the words of the famed “Tunechi” and decide for yourself whether Lil Wayne is really the “best rapper alive.” “A blessing in disguise is right before our eyes.  But since it is in disguise, we don’t know that it’s there.” Sorry Wheezy, but where were you going with that?