Jungle Music and Classical Smut

Don Giovanni: Leporello, where are you?
Leporello: I’m here, worse luck. And you?
Don Giovanni: I’m here.
Leporello: Who’s dead; you, or the old man?
Don Giovanni: What a stupid question! The old man.
Leporello: Bravo! Two impressive feats; to rape the daughter and kill the father.
Don Giovanni: Don’t look at me, he was asking for it.
Leporello: And Donna Anna, was she asking for it too?

Zerlina:
Beat me, dear Masetto,
beat your poor Zerlina.
I'll stand here as meek as a lamb
and bear the blows you lay on me.
You can tear my hair out,
put out my eyes,
yet your dear hands
gladly I'll kiss.

- Mozart, Don Giovanni


Falstaff: Alice! Love calls you.
Alice: Sir John!
Falstaff: Come, I’m firm and fervid. We’re alone…
Alice: No, Meg followed me into the woods.
Falstaff: That doubles the game! She’ll join us!
Carve me up like venison at a banquet;
Tear me to pieces. Cupid is paying me back at last.

- Verdi, Falstaff


Scarpia:
Violent conquest pleases me more
Than soft consent.
I don’t care for sighs or the moonlight.
I can’t strum chords on a guitar,
or tell the future in flower-petals
nor make sheep’s-eyes
or hoot like a turtle-dove.
I desire. – I pursue
what I desire, I satisfy myself then throw her off...
in search of new pleasure.

- Puccini, Tosca


Cold empty bed...springs hurt my head
Feels like ole ned...wished I was dead
What did I do...to be so black and blue

Even the mouse...ran from my house
They laugh at you...and all that you do
What did I do...to be so black and blue

I’m white...inside...but, that don’t help my case
That’s life...can’t hide...what is in my face

How would it end...Ain’t got a friend
My only sin...is in my skin
What did I do...to be so black and blue

- Fats Waller


When that shark bites with his teeth, dear
Scarlet billows start to spread
Fancy gloves, though, wears MacHeath, dear
So there’s not a trace of red.

On the sidewalk Sunday morning
Lies a body oozin' life,
Someone’s sneakin' ‘round the corner
Is that someone Mack the Knife?

- Kurt Wiell, The Threepenny Opera


When your baby won't let you in
Got a few pennies, a bottle of gin
Just call your buddy on the telephone
Let's go get stoned

When you work so hard all the day long
And everything you do seems to go wrong
Just drop by my place on your way home
Let's go get stoned

It ain't no harm
You're takin just a taste
But don't blow your cool
and start messing up the place
It ain't no harm you're faking just a nip
But make sure you don't fall down bust your lip
Let's go get stoned

- Ray Charles, ‘Let’s Go Get Stoned’


Punk rockers encourage suicide, but even they don’t glorify it like Berlioz or Handel, and Leadbelly could certainly teach all these ‘gangstas’ a thing or two about getting away with murder.

So; sex, violence, rape, drugs, race, murder, sadomasochism... what is it, then, that makes modern music the scourge of parents and decent living? Is it because they use bad words? Have poor taste in clothes and jewelry? Actually say the things that used to be hidden behind catchy melodies?

I really don’t know. Someone enlighten me.