7 Degrees of Separation

[Verse 1 - Nasal MC, calm, precise internal rhyme, boom-bap enters with live snare]
He rolled in loud like a lawnmower Sunday,
told a joke at the braai that he thought was just Monday-
morning humour, harmless, a word he called slang,
laughter like a bolt gun, the whole damn room went clang.
Beer in his fist, volume up past the point,
every punchline a crowbar prying open a joint
in the wall of a house where somebody lives,
and he's grinning like a man who believes that he gives
the people what they want, but nobody asked,
and the mug in my hand got a crack in the glass.

[Drums cut out completely]
[Bass MC, clipped, commanding]
That's not a joke. That's a fuckin' door. Close it.

[Hook - passed line by line]
[Nasal MC]
Everyone you've laughed at knows somebody you love,
[Tenor, breathy]
your cousin, your coach, the one you're thinking of,
[Baritone]
it travels down the wire like a rumour in a small town,
[Bass, then rough low crew doubles]
Seven degrees of separation
[Crew, gang vocals, rough]
(seven degrees of separation)

[Verse 2 - Baritone, weighted pauses, upright bass pulses, banjo chops]
He says, "I've got a gay friend." (pause) Like it's a licence.
Like I'm a hall pass, a stamp, a get-out-of-silence-card.
Drunk in hand he Introduces me round like a trophy on a shelf,
"This is my boy Dave, he's gay," (pause) like a label on a cell.
I'm a whole man, brother, not your alibi,
not the receipt that you flash when they ask you why.
You collect me like a badge, then you throw me a line,
and call it being open-minded... (pause) buddy, that's a sign.

[Drums cut out completely]
[Tenor, breathy, fractured timing]
I'm a person... not a... passport. Fucking stop.

[Verse 3 - Tenor, breathy, fractured timing, slide guitar stabs, tom-heavy build-up, sub-bass trap drop]
The night they shoved my cousin on the pavement,
he stood there with his phone and a face full of... statement?
No. Nothing. A cough. A "agh, it's not my fight."
Streetlight on his jaw, and the jaw wouldn't bite,
wouldn't bark like it barks at the braai on a Friday,
all that thunder in his throat went the quiet, the shy way,
the loudest man I know... (pause) gone silent on cue,
and I counted every second that he let them make it two...
three, four, the boots, the (stutter) the laughter, tge shouting at a rugby game, the closing gate,
and he's telling it Monday like he showed up late.

[Drums cut out completely]
[Nasal MC, calm, cold]
Silence is a vote bro. You voted.

[Bridge - tom-heavy build, chanted, raspy]
One joke, two jokes, three jokes, four,
five more steps to the closing door,
six more years of "I didn't know,"
seven... (hold) and the lights are low.

[Verse 4 - Bass MC, stripped to bass, fuzzed guitar and bare snare only, no percussion layers]
Brown eyes. Father's belt. "Man up" for a creed.
Nobody ever taught him how to bleed
so he's loud, loud's a lid on a boiling pot,
and the steam is all of us, and we get the lot.
He talks about leaving, says he'll fly out one day,
leave the whole damn  thing behind, get the hell away,
[Widebody plane flyover, low rumble, fades]
but a man can't outrun what's built in his chest,
and I still hold the door, and he won't walk through. Yet.

[Final hook - spoken, bare, no crew doubles until the very last phrase]
[Baritone, low]
Everyone you've laughed at knows somebody you love.
[Bass, with rough low crew doubles on the last words]
Seven degrees of separation
[Crew, rough]
(seven degrees)

[Outro - room tone only, no swell]
[Dry camera shutter]
[End]

4182/7500

[Intro - Baritone, spoken, close-mic, dry room] [Dry camera shutter] Names have been changed to protect the guilty. The winds of change are coming bro. Show some respect for the community, for fuck's sake. This one's about my straight friend. The strong, loud-mouthed type. Pain behind his brown eyes tells it all. [Verse 1 - Nasal MC, calm, precise internal rhyme, boom-bap enters with live snare] He rolled in loud like a lawnmower Sunday, told a joke at the braai that he thought was just Monday- morning humour, harmless, a word he called slang, laughter like a bolt gun, the whole damn room went clang. Beer in his fist, volume up past the point, every punchline a crowbar prying open a joint in the wall of a house where somebody lives, and he's grinning like a man who believes that he gives the people what they want, but nobody asked, and the mug in my hand got a crack in the glass. [Drums cut out completely] [Bass MC, clipped, commanding] That's not a joke. That's a fuckin' door. Close it. [Hook - passed line by line] [Nasal MC] Everyone you've laughed at knows somebody you love, [Tenor, breathy] your cousin, your coach, the one you're thinking of, [Baritone] it travels down the wire like a rumour in a small town, [Bass, then rough low crew doubles] Seven degrees of separation [Crew, gang vocals, rough] (seven degrees of separation) [Verse 2 - Baritone, weighted pauses, upright bass pulses, banjo chops] He says, "I've got a gay friend." (pause) Like it's a licence. Like I'm a hall pass, a stamp, a get-out-of-silence-card. Drunk in hand he Introduces me round like a trophy on a shelf, "This is my boy Dave, he's gay," (pause) like a label on a cell. I'm a whole man, brother, not your alibi, not the receipt that you flash when they ask you why. You collect me like a badge, then you throw me a line, and call it being open-minded... (pause) buddy, that's a sign. [Drums cut out completely] [Tenor, breathy, fractured timing] I'm a person... not a... passport. Fucking stop. [Hook - passed line by line] [Nasal MC] Everyone you've laughed at knows somebody you love, [Tenor, breathy] your cousin, your coach, the one you're thinking of, [Baritone] it travels down the wire like a rumour in a small town, [Bass, then rough low crew doubles] Seven degrees of separation [Crew, gang vocals, rough] (seven degrees of separation) [Verse 3 - Tenor, breathy, fractured timing, slide guitar stabs, tom-heavy build-up, sub-bass trap drop] The night they shoved my cousin on the pavement, he stood there with his phone and a face full of... statement? No. Nothing. A cough. A "agh, it's not my fight." Streetlight on his jaw, and the jaw wouldn't bite, wouldn't bark like it barks at the braai on a Friday, all that thunder in his throat went the quiet, the shy way, the loudest man I know... (pause) gone silent on cue, and I counted every second that he let them make it two... three, four, the boots, the (stutter) the laughter, tge shouting at a rugby game, the closing gate, and he's telling it Monday like he showed up late. [Drums cut out completely] [Nasal MC, calm, cold] Silence is a vote bro. You voted. [Bridge - tom-heavy build, chanted, raspy] One joke, two jokes, three jokes, four, five more steps to the closing door, six more years of "I didn't know," seven... (hold) and the lights are low. [Verse 4 - Bass MC, stripped to bass, fuzzed guitar and bare snare only, no percussion layers] Brown eyes. Father's belt. "Man up" for a creed. Nobody ever taught him how to bleed so he's loud, loud's a lid on a boiling pot, and the steam is all of us, and we get the lot. He talks about leaving, says he'll fly out one day, leave the whole damn thing behind, get the hell away, [Widebody plane flyover, low rumble, fades] but a man can't outrun what's built in his chest, and I still hold the door, and he won't walk through. Yet. [Final hook - spoken, bare, no crew doubles until the very last phrase] [Baritone, low] Everyone you've laughed at knows somebody you love. [Bass, with rough low crew doubles on the last words] Seven degrees of separation [Crew, rough] (seven degrees) [Outro - room tone only, no swell] [Dry camera shutter] [End]

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