In high school, I was friends with Avery Capizzi, a rapper whose claims of connections to hip-hop superstars occasionally earned him derision -- though he was bolstered by, at times, shockingly good music. Early in senior year, he began asking fellow Yorktown High School seniors to rap on his upcoming mixtape. Though many ridiculed the offer, a fair number took the opportunity to transfer our love of hip-hop to an actual product. The result -- the 703 Mixtape Vol. 1 -- was fairly professionally mixed, well-structured, and featured a smattering of awkwardly self-confident suburban teenagers spitting bars alongside a few DC rap middleweights. The response was primarily positive -- enough to spawn a sequel.
Personally, the concept of rapping excited me enough to continue in college. For friends, fraternity brothers and family, my rapping usually incited curiosity, occasionally ridicule, but eventually, accolades and encouragement. Ironically, that encouragement came right as I decided to quit. They don't love you till you're gone I guess.
It took me a while to reconcile my love -- and ability -- of rapping with the other facets of my life: school, interest in media/finance, normal friends who don't rap, etc. Considering I officially "quit," I guess you can say I never actually did figure out where to configure rap. However, as long as there are vocal-less instrumentals in this world, and small apartment parties, I will continue to approach comely females and impress them with a few well-chosen bars. How else will I keep the skill alive? Enjoy a sample below.
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