With momentous events like Chris Brown's unforgivable beating of former girlfriend Rihanna and Kanye West's rude-albeit-amusing microphone hijacking from Taylor Swift at the VMAs, many people in America today forget that musicians also possess a softer side. And, more often than not, that side gets enveloped by the public's perception of a particular incident or song lyric, dwarfing the intended message and harming the very fabric of that musician's emotional core. Well, this is one blogger who refuses to let another angst-ridden artist have his deep, emotional words given up to the public.
Enter Lloyd, and his hit song "Dedication to My Ex (Miss That)."
On the surface, "Dedication to My Ex" is a crude, lewd, and pretty fucking awesome song about Lloyd's desire to re-enter the vagina of a former flame - a vagina currently being utilized by another man. But beneath the surface, beneath the blanket of meaning draped over the song by the public's perception, there is a far more heart-wrenching story involved. In fact, in a recent interaction I was fortunate enough to have with Mr. Lloyd Polite, Jr. (awesome name by the way), he gave me a first-hand account of that exact story...and the result was life-changing.
"My parents got me Seymour for Christmas when I was 6 years old," he laments, his eyes transfixed on the corner wall of a small, downtown LA Starbucks. As he speaks, his glassy eyes try to hold back relentless tears and eventually a single droplet makes its way to the surface, rolling down his almond-colored skin until he brushes it away with a gentle motion. "He was my best friend."
In case anyone happens to be unaware, the chorus of "Dedication to My Ex" goes as follows: "Oh no, tell me where that pussy gone/'Cause it don't feel the same no more/I miss that pussy, that pussy, that pussy." While society, caught in the commonly held notion of R&B artists as womanizing partiers, has placed its label on the song, Lloyd maintains that there is a far deeper meaning surrounding its lyrics associated with his feline companion.
"You never really know what day is gonna be your last to see someone special, and when I woke up that morning...I just..." he continues, halting his emotional confession momentarily to once again hold back tears. This time, as I gently caress his hand to know he is in a place of love and not judgment, he breaks down into a full-on sob. I embrace the troubled artist, his suffering outweighing any potential embarrassment I could be feeling from the eyes of other Starbucks customers. Finally, he's able to bring himself to finish the story.
"I opened the window in my bedroom all the time. I couldn't have known he'd jump out and...and...the truck just came by so fast," he concludes, and at that point I knew no more words would be necessary. What has been recognized by all as a song about the loss of a lustful woman and her sexual prowess is simply a sad man's ode to a fallen furry friend. After composing himself and coming to the realization that his confession would only help him grow as an artist, Lloyd explained that he knew society would never embrace him as the fragile man he had become since losing Seymour, so he embedded the meaning in a song recorded to sound like a typical R&B hit. Even so, this is one reporter who has been touched by a heartfelt story of loss and will surely have a greater understanding of the plight of the R&B singer.
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