Deconstructing the Rapper

Stuffy professor analyzes the bejesus out of 70s hit

Lyrical analysis of The Rapper by Don Iris and the Jaggers

Rap, rap, rap, they call him the rapper....

Oh, hi, Diary. I'm just about to analyze the poetic lyrics of Don Iris' hit "The Rapper," as performed in 1974 by that excruciatingly well-forgotten group known as the Jaggerz. What (I ask myself) does the song really mean? What, what, what?

Well, let's find out, shall we?

As the tune begins (with a misleadingly innocent guitar lick that might have been nonchalantly plucked by the inoffensive fingers of the Kingston Trio) we find a seemingly omniscient vocalist cum narrator extending a warning to a hypothetical woman (presumably a young and good-looking one, judging by the brassy guitar licks of the bridge that evoke the carnal pleasures of the music hall):

Hey, Girl, I'll bet you
There's someone out to get you

Ominous news, to be sure: The listener has been targeted, albeit vicariously! Nor is the sense of foreboding moderated by the subsequent affirmation that the so-far generic assailant may be found:

anywhere, on a bus, in a bar, in a grocery store.

While his M.O. (that of this apparent stalker) sounds all too familiar:

He'll say, "Excuse me, haven't I seen you somewhere before?

By now, we as listeners are itching to know who precisely is "out to get" us -- i.e., "us" in the person of this potentially defenseless young lady. Whereupon the Jaggerz, as if reading our thoughts, inform us (over the impertinently syncopated insinuations of the percussive bridge):

Rap-a-rap-a-rap,
They call him the rapper

"Ah," thinks the listeners to themselves, "now we're getting somewhere: It seems they call this fellow 'The Rapper."

Rap, rap, rap, you know what he's after

Incidentally, this seemingly aggressive bridge dispels any naive hopes we might have cherished with regard to the innocent intentions of this "rapper." The vocalist cum narrator is right: We know all too well what he (this rapper person) is after -- wink, wink! -- and quite frankly, he should be ashamed of himself!

So he starts his rappin'
Hopin' something will happen

In other words, the protagonist is now "pouring on the charm" in furtherance of his doubtful aims.

He'll say he needs you, a companion...

blah blah blah...

He needs someone to sock it to

Ah, he needs someone to "sock it to," does he? I see. Naturally , this gives our hypothetical woman pause -- in spades! (assuming that one can be given pause in spades -- a transaction which, upon reflection, sounds a little complicated).

Rap-a-rap-a-rap
They call him the rapper....

Yep, it's that insinuatingly syncopated bridge again with the speaker-jarring bass: so brassy and (as 'twere) sassy that you just want to rush right up to the offending guitarist and vouchsafe him a smack upon the face, ideally imparting a reddish glow to the no-doubt smirking countenance.

He's made an impression
So he makes a suggestion

Just as we feared: the hypothetical love interest has "fallen" (or at any rate is falling) for the rapper's lines.

"Come up to my place for some coffee,
or tea, or me."

Ah, gee, the rapper is such a kidder: coffee, or tea -- or ME? (Ha ha!)

He's got you where he wants you, Girl, you better face reality.

The Jaggerz tip their hand here -- which is no doubt difficult while you're plucking away at guitar strings: Till now, we may have plausibly imagined the vocalist cum narrator to be "on the side" of the besieged love interest, the hypothetical young lady with whom we as listeners are fain to empathize. And yet dig the cynical objurgation to "face reality," the implication being that this lady should "cave" to the ignoble desires of the rapper, as if a "low-rent rendezvous" were a fait accompli.

Of course, there are different interpretations of the final lyric. Some analysts even read the "face reality" line as a request on the part of the vocalist for the harassed lady to "break out the pepper spray," i.e. by way of self-defense against the crude and presumably unwanted advances of the "rapper." But then that's the neat thing about great poetry: It can be seen in so many different lights.

Rap-a-rap-a-rap
They call him the rapper....
Rap, rap, rap,
you know what he's after.

Ah! It's always a comfort to come back to the bridge of a song, even when the bridge is sassy and impertinent and makes you want to smack the bass guitarist. (Ah!)


Ahem, and so we come away from the '70s hit with a sense of musical closure, yet an ironic uncertainty with respect to the fate of the hypothetical woman. Did she surrender to the "charms" of this rude (perhaps even lewd) "rapper"? Did she later regret her impulsiveness? Or did the rapper himself, regretting his own impulsivity, sign up for night school (or engage in some other mind-expanding activity), develop something of a personality, and successfully "woo" the woman from scratch, this time with laudable (perhaps even family-oriented) intentions?

Or did she just spray him in the face with pepper spray?

Until we can answer these questions advisedly (and with a straight face), we'll never know the true meaning of the '70s hit "The Rapper." (Still, if you ask me, the "Rapper" was a real jerk, a fact that argues strongly in favor of the "pepper spray" thesis.)