Whenever dad would go off to work, I'd wait for the door to slam and I'd grab a record and turn on the stereo. Eventually, my dad would scratch his head and be like, "Have any of you been going through my records?" He'd ask everyone, and by the time he got to me, I was so terrified you'd think the word "yes" was written on my forehead. I'd get my brains beat out of me, sometimes until I was unconscious. Then he'd put my hands on the radiator and burn them, in hopes that it would keep me out of the closet. But it only peaked [sic] my interest more.

-Grandmaster Flash in a new interview with Newsweek

Remember when tremendously talented people with awful parents worked hard and became great instead of going on coke binges and shopping all day long? I don't, but it must have been wonderful.