A Letter to L'il Wayne

Dear L'il Wayne,

I had the joyous opportunity of seeing you perform live in Toulouse, France last Saturday and I must begin by applauding you for one heck of an entertaining evening. While back home I’d likely swap tickets to your show for a pack of gum, I wouldn’t miss the chance to witness a crowd of your non-English speaking, chain-smoking fans for anything in the world.

At least with a half-full concert I got to get up close n' personal!

It was well worth the wait, after your poetic opener Mac Miller, to stand in the half-full concert hall for an hour in the toxic fumes of my fellow rap lovers for you to then come on and do a 40 minute show. Whoever said 'big things come in small packages' must certainly have seen you perform live, because the price was indeed big.

I will be honest; other than admiring your genius use of abbreviation in A Milli, or the symbolic representations in “lick me like a lollipop,” I admit that I am not very well-versed in your repertoire. Therefore, I sincerely appreciate that you simplified your lyrics to the words  'f*** y’all,' ‘b****’, 'p****' and 'n*****,' chanting them repeatedly so that new fans like me can easily follow along. A brilliant strategy I must say, for the foreign crowds especially, teaching them English through song in a fast-paced yet manageable way.

About that last word I mentioned. You know the one I'm talking about. At least the Frenchies certainly know it because they showed no shame in exclaiming it, like a children's sing-along, in the same repetitive, audacious manner as you did. I am curious to know how you feel about their open expression of this taboo word. Perhaps they are not quite as globally aware, their brains so full with pastries and cheese. Do not hold it against them.... their accents are quite adorable. I, on the other hand, a fellow American born in a nation or no prejudice or racial divide, could not bring myself to echo such words that could potentially connote racial slurs. Therefore please understand, Mr. Carter, that my choosing not to sing this word found in nearly every line in every song, was a sign of respect rather than complete bewilderment that I actually live in a world where such songs could possibly top the charts.

Dear petit Weezy, you may have noticed a lack of energy in the crowd. This, I can assure you, has nothing to do with your skills as an artist, but rather serves as a demonstration of 'The French Way.' When you said 'Jump!' and nobody jumped, it was not that they didn't want to but rather it is not customary for them to do so. When you shouted 'put yo hands in the air' and everyone simply took photos on their phones, they merely intended to express their approval of your words and actions. And when you asked "if anyone who's out there came here tonight with their homeboys say yyyeeeaaahhhh" and no one responded 'yeah'... well perhaps just try slowing down and enunciating.

Although the entirety of the show proved overwhelmingly loud, I can recall two favorite moments. First, during the ten minute intermission while you changed aka just took off your shirt, the DJ played snipets of all your legit features in tunes ("Swagga Like Us," "Mrs. Officer," "Soldier") which brought me back to my youthful teen years blasting them in my minivan on the way to school.  The other greatest moment, I remember very clearly, occured when you finished your last song. You ran off stage, the lights blared on, and the cleanup crew went right to work, saving the audience from the anticipation of an encore. And what better way to end than a cigarette burn from the guy to my right who, kudos to him, managed to finished 6 drags throughout the smoke-free concert. Rather than yell with rage, however, I smile, thanking him for the scathed mark on my forearm that will serve as a permanent souvenir of the night and a reminder as to why I tend to skip concerts with artists who sing "Ask dem hoes about me" and "I feel like f****** sumthin."

XOXO,

Ashley



P.S. Props to the lighting and design crew... the display actually looked really legit!

P.P.S. Forty minutes.... seriously man?