Turn Up The Lights

It's been awhile since a rap song just blew me away.  In the past few years, mainstream hip-hop's been little more than a bragging contest. Houses, bank accounts, cars, women, even clocks--how many you got, how much they cost.  It makes for your typical song: fun, silly, catchy, and ultimately forgettable.

It's true, though, that art mimics life, and most of our lives reflect those underwhelming rap songs.  Our own lives revolve around what we can get and who we can get with, about how much and how fast. That kind of life is fun, for sure.  And, just like most modern rap, insignificant and forgettable.
Usually, music fights against the forgettable, against the mundane, shocking us out of our grabbing and grasping to point us to something better, more important, more worthy. Enter All of the Lights.


It's a collaboration between Kanye West and Rihanna, with help from Kid Cudi, Fergie, Charlie Wilson and John Legend.  It's a catchy song, for sure.  But more than that, it's an honest song.  If you haven't heard the song, it's here: ALL OF THE LIGHTS. It's a little explicit, just to warn ya.


All of the Lights starts by asking you to "turn up the lights." Meaning, take a closer look. "We want y'all to see this," Rihanna sings, "Want you to see everything." What they show us isn't a perfect picture, but an ugly reality of the lives of these hip-hop artists and their families and friends: Physical violence, estrangement, marriage problems, family problems--welcome to Kid Cudi's life. Or Kanye's.  Maybe a mix of both.  No matter who wrote it, the song's refreshingly (if disturbingly) honest about the writer's personal problems. It's not ultimately about passing the buck, but about looking in the mirror and admitting what's wrong with the picture.

It's not "normal" to turn up the lights and show people our brokenness, failures and mistakes, is it? I'm usually focused on image-control, making sure everyone thinks I'm okay, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking.  I hide my mistakes and proclaim my victories.  I'm like the usual hip-hop that rolls across the airwaves--insincere and trite.

Lights reminded me of the value of honesty and vulnerability.  Asking for help, letting people into our lives.  Screaming out for help when something's wrong is powerful, it's freeing, and it's the only way to fix what's wrong. No one's life is perfect. Everyone needs help; nobody can solve their problems alone.  We can't pretend like they're not there. We need to deal with them.

After listening to Lights, I realized that I need to shine some lights into the dark places of my life and ask people to take a look. And I need to notice when people are trying to show me the tough realities of their own lives. We all need to see, and all of us need to be seen.