Fahrenheit 45

from See From Space by Baba Brinkman

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about

Commissioned by the Future of Storytelling Festival, a rap adaptation of Ray Bradbury's classic novel for the modern social media and reality television age.

lyrics

This is fun! As far as temperature is concerned
I spit it 451, it’s a pleasure to burn
Fiction, non-fiction, prose, narrative verse
Nabakov, Shakespeare, literature

Gets turned into ashes in a blast of petroleum
I’m grinnin’ into the flames when I’m throwin’ them
I’m looking’ into the future, is it dystopian?
What’s the harm in burnin’ a book if nobody’s holdin’ it?

Crack it open, nothing but ink and paper
Don’t blame the death of it on the village incinerator
Nothin’ but information physically disintegrating
Save the vegetation, give it to the digital innovators

Books are never gonna be banned, just scanned
And delivered to the palm of your hand, this is planned
Obsolescence, Ozymandius falls into sand
If we’re too busy to read it, digest it and understand

Understand? That’s how history’s curves go
No need for old geezers creepin’ on dirt roads
Commit it to memory!? No, read it on your phone 
I’m just gonna check my social media first though…

Daredevils, sex and heroin
If the play sucks just sting ‘em with the theremin
Motorbikes, helicopters, jets
Everything to do with automatic reflex 

Retail, death of attention to detail
Loss of freedom, not all at once, piecemeal
Small opportunities for rebelling
Truth, lies, and storytelling

Truth, lies, and storytelling (Repeat)

Remember the feelin’ of chillin’ under a tree with a book?
The tactility, the smell of it? That feeling was good 
Remember that? How much would you give to get it back?
I try to picture it – all I can see now is a Kindle app

The ink is still black, but now it’s a digital article
And my attention span is a little bit less methodical
Less knowledgable, I sped up quick after starting slow
I don’t even use Kindle now, I switched to Audible

That’s how the story goes, the fire is metaphorical
The seashell in my ears, increasin’ my freedom forty fold
The voice in my head, spinnin’ a thread, but nobody’s home
Any thoughts of my own get burned into “holy smokes”

I listen to podcasts, and watch the political conflag
Like Mrs Montag, feelin’ like everything’s gone bad
Another sexual predator’s about to be given a hall pass
Another presidential affiliate caught red-handed

Like an episode of Cops: Special Prosecutor Edition
I try not to watch but I’m itchin’, I got a news addiction
I used to think thoughts, now I’m glued to the feed
Talkin’ to friends like: “the Orange Clown’s on again, have you seen?”

Fake news beamed into the parlor to prop the scam up
Reading suddenly becomes an oasis in the hot savannah
Conspiracies among readers who want some answers
Switch off the state television propaganda!

Daredevils, sex and heroin
If the play sucks just sting ‘em with the theramin
Motorbikes, helicopters, jets
Everything to do with automatic reflex 

Retail, death of attention to detail
Loss of freedom, not all at once, piecemeal
Small opportunities for rebelling
Truth, lies, and storytelling

Truth, lies, and storytelling (Repeat)

I got sick of chief Beatty gaslightin’
Got enlightened, talked to Faber, got the bug for writin’
Like Bradbury in a library basement typin’
Into devices, never paper fetishizin’

Senses Fahren-heightened, sensitive to fascism
Books died ‘cause they got adapted into rap rhythm
Not a shallow pleasure, a tactic to hack systems
Freedom is needed, nostalgia for the past isn’t

Never try and cage thoughts, let a mind range
Sometimes it’ll take sedatives over migraines
And settle into repetitive blind ways
Like Oedipus, wandering in his dying days

Censorship, it starts from the bottom up
People thinkin’ that they’re motivated by a lot of love 
We must protect the weak, but it’s not enough
Dangerous ideas must be banned from above

Wait! Before you try to call in a leviathan
A salamander to fry it all in fireball
Try a small thing called dialogue
You might just find it viable

Daredevils, sex and heroin
If the play sucks just sting ‘em with the theremin
Motorbikes, helicopters, jets
Everything to do with automatic reflex 

Retail, death of attention to detail
Loss of freedom, not all at once, piecemeal
Small opportunities for rebelling
Truth, lies, and storytelling

Truth, lies, and storytelling (Repeat)

credits

from See From Space, released July 11, 2019
Produced and Mixed by Tom Caruana
Violin by Tim Fain

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Baba Brinkman New York, New York

Science rapper and inventor of several novel hip-hop variants. Canadian transplant to New York. Pathological optimist.

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