I can make it good, I can make it hood, I can make you come, I can make you go! I can make it high, I can make it fly, make you touch the sky, hey maybe so!
reports: "Brian posted this “new” Sisqo song last November and I finally got my hands on the video. We may be a little late with this one, but that is always better than never. Word is, Sisqó is currently working independently and finished his third solo album, titled Last Dragon (to complete the trilogy), and it is set for release this Summer...Don’t act like you weren’t bumping “Unleash The Dragon” like no tomorrow back in ‘99!!"
'99? Shit, no need for me to even front. I brought this disc back into my life towards the end of January and couldn't get enough for a few weeks. It felt like 1999 all over again.
But seriously Sisqo, what is with this video? Is this your Every Little Step for the two double zero seven?
And no, contrary to popular belief, this is not an ad for the Universal Soul Circus.
If you just so happen to be in Indio, California this weekend, don't be surprised if a familiar face is standing in the background getting her sang on.
"[Scarlett] Johansson is now confirmed to sing backing for the band at their date in Pomona, California....The concert is a warm-up gig before the band play at the Coachella festival in Indio...It is not known whether the collaboration will be a one-off or it will be repeated at the festival."
So you like music and and you live in Los Angeles, but you couldn't snag a ticket to the much hyped and much adored Coachella Music Festival this weekend. Don't fret. Turn that frown upside down and see if you can get tickets to this show presented below: LCD SOUNDSYSTEM/The Standard/This Sunday, April 29th/Featuring DJ Sets from Pat Mahoney and the man with the masterplan, JAMES mothafunkin' MURPHY!!!
OH. MY. GOD! Okay, okay, okay, I need to calm down, yes I know, but you see this song right here, this one right here, this is one of my top ten jams of 2007. And now there's a kickass video to go along with it? AWW SHIT!...but seriously watch the video and try not to do the D.A.N.C.E. or smile from ear to ear. And if you break out in a sweat it's all to the good cause remember, the way you dance is a misery.
I gotta get up early Wedsnesday morning and fly out to New York City, so I don't know if I will attend, but if you live in Los Angeles and have no other engagements, you should weather the hipster storm and check this out.
As soon as this video started and Bizzy Bone opened his mouth [coupled with his tight crossed legs], my mind went straight back to late junior high/early high school. You see it was then that I couldn't afford to support my cd buying habit on my own. I had family members/relatives who were nice enough to come through and buy an album or two for a brotha from time to time. On one such occasion I was strolling through the rap section of the Wherehouse with my uncle when we just so happened to come across a few Bone Thugs-N-Harmony CDs. It was then that my uncle, out of nowhere said, "I heard that Bizzy Bone got a little sugar in his tank. Yes, brotha likes it up the butt," or something along those lines. That's all I could think of as I watched this clip. That is until he started shouting and shit, then I just thought he went and lost his damn mind.
Oh and Tameka if you see this, please get a nigga his plaques already. JESUS!
Another day. Another post working trip to an all you can eat Korean BBQ buffet. Drifting in and out of sleep. Tried to save myself, but myself keeps slipping. It's all in my head. I'm hearing it over and over again. Can't remember the song title exactly, but I have got to hear the song that bears that lyric right now. Go to the iPod, it's not there. WHAT?@#! This can't be right. No The Fragile? On my iPod? Oh no, no, no. Certainly I have made some kind of mistake/spun that click wheel a little too fast. Check again. Nope. No Fragile. It's not here.
...okay?
Now I am just confused. As I have said many times before, I have to be one of the few people who truly adored this album; all one hour and forty-three minutes of it. This was the disc I stereotypically put on in the dark in high school when I felt down. It's also the album that the rents would stereotypically come in and turn down as I sat in the dark being a teenage cliche.
Go back a few days.
Got my hands on two new cds this week. Avril Lavigne's [what? you think I am going back on that one? too late. already typed it.] and Nine Inch Nails' latest. Scanned them both. One went on the iPod. One needed more time and didn't hit me as fast as the other one did. One was played quite often in the past few days. The other one was dusted off today as I worked out and found myself enjoying it more than I did when I first pressed play.
Cut to today.
Beverly Center. Escalator down. Everyone waiting on the sole elevator that will get us to the shops. Relatively average and quiet Monday in Los Angeles. Look to the left. There he is, dressed in black, nearly three to four inches taller than me. Yes I am about to [and in a few seconds will] share an elevator with Trent Reznor, frontman for Nine Inch Nails.
Two minutes earlier...
Did the iPod earphone check. Took them out of my ear, and placed them in front of me to see if the music I was blasting was too loud. [I've had an unfortunate experience back in college where I was rushing to class and jammed myself into an elevator with others who were also rushing to class. Was wearing Bose Noise Blocking headphones. Was playing a screamy Le Tigre joint. You can imagine the looks I got and the discomfort everyone felt. I was that guy. I should have let one rip, drowned myself in cologne, or refused to move from my spot as others entered the elevator just to top off the cliche]
Anyways...
I would go on to turn down my iPod seconds later as I stood in an tiny elevator with Mr. Reznor. Why? Because I got my hands on two albums last week, and the one that was currently playing into my ears was the same one I kept giving a spin all weekend. [And, in case you are wondering, not by him. I needed more time. Not even on the iPod. Somehow I found myself apologizing to Mr. Reznor without saying a word or interacting with him.] Awkward. Especially when you are a young black male in "cut-offs" [
It is with the greatest respect and adoration of your loving spirit that I write you. As a young child, I would sit beside my mother everyday and watch your program. As a young adult, with children of my own, I spend much less time in front of the television, but I am ever thankful for the positive effect that you continue to have on our nation, history and culture. The example that you have set as someone unafraid to answer their calling, even when the reality of that calling insists that one self-actualize beyond the point of any given example, is humbling, and serves as the cornerstone of the greatest faith. You, love, are a pioneer.
I am a poet.
Growing up in Newburgh, NY, with a father as a minister and a mother as a school teacher, at a time when we fought for our heroes to be nationally recognized, I certainly was exposed to the great names and voices of our past. I took great pride in competing in my churches Black History Quiz Bowl and the countless events my mother organized in hopes of fostering a generation of youth well versed in the greatness as well as the horrors of our history. Yet, even in a household where I had the privilege of personally interacting with some of the most outspoken and courageous luminaries of our times, I must admit that the voices that resonated the most within me and made me want to speak up were those of my peers, and these peers were emcees. Rappers.
Yes, Ms. Winfrey, I am what my generation would call "a Hip Hop head." Hip Hop has served as one of the greatest aspects of my self-definition. Lucky for me, I grew up in the 80's when groups like Public Enemy, Rakim, The jungle Brothers, Queen Latifah, and many more realized the power of their voices within the artform and chose to create music aimed at the upliftment of our generation.
As a student at Morehouse College where I studied Philosophy and Drama I was forced to venture across the street to Spelman College for all of my Drama classes, since Morehouse had no theater department of its own. I had few complaints. The performing arts scholarship awarded me by Michael Jackson had promised me a practically free ride to my dream school, which now had opened the doors to another campus that could make even the most focused of young boys dreamy, Spelman. One of my first theater professors, Pearle Cleage, shook me from my adolescent dream state. It was the year that Dr. Dre's "The Chronic" was released and our introduction to Snoop Dogg as he sang catchy hooks like "Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks..." Although, it was a playwriting class, what seemed to take precedence was Ms. Cleages political ideology, which had recently been pressed and bound in her 1st book, Mad at Miles. As, you know, in this book she spoke of how she could not listen to the music of Miles Davis and his muted trumpet without hearing the muted screams of the women that he was outspoken about "man-handling". It was my first exposure to the idea of an artist being held accountable for their actions outside of their art. It was the first time I had ever heard the word, "misogyny". And as Ms. Cleage would walk into the classroom fuming over the women she would pass on campus, blasting those Snoop lyrics from their cars and jeeps, we, her students, would be privy to many freestyle rants and raves on the dangers of nodding our heads to a music that could serve as our own demise.
Her words, coupled with the words of the young women I found myself interacting with forever changed how I listened to Hip Hop and quite frankly ruined what would have been a number of good songs for me. I had now been burdened with a level of awareness that made it impossible for me to enjoy what the growing masses were ushering into the mainstream. I was now becoming what many Hip Hop heads would call "a Backpacker", a person who chooses to associate themselves with the more "conscious" or politically astute artists of the Hip Hop community. What we termed as "conscious" Hip Hop became our preference for dance and booming systems. Groups like X-Clan, A Tribe Called Quest, Brand Nubian, Arrested Development, Gangstarr and others became the prevailing music of our circle. We also enjoyed the more playful Hip Hop of De La Soul, Heiroglyphics, Das FX, Organized Konfusion. Digable Planets, The Fugees, and more. We had more than enough positivity to fixate on. Hip Hop was diverse.
I had not yet begun writing poetry. Most of my friends hardly knew that I had been an emcee in high school. I no longer cared to identify myself as an emcee and my love of oratory seemed misplaced at Morehouse where most orators were actually preachers in training, speaking with the Southern drawl of Dr. King although they were 19 and from the North. I spent my time doing countless plays and school performances. I was in line to become what I thought would be the next Robeson, Sidney, Ossie, Denzel, Snipes... It wasn't until I was in graduate school for acting at NYU that I was invited to a poetry reading in Manhattan where I heard Asha Bandele, Sapphire, Carl Hancock Rux, Reggie Gaines, Jessica Care Moore, and many others read poems that sometimes felt like monologues that my newly acquired journal started taking the form of a young poets'. Yet, I still noticed that I was a bit different from these poets who listed names like: Audrey Lourde, June Jordan, Sekou Sundiata etc, when asked why they began to write poetry. I knew that I had been inspired to write because of emcees like Rakim, Chuck D, LL, Run DMC... Hip Hop had informed my love of poetry as much or even more than my theater background which had exposed me to Shakespeare, Baraka, Fugard, Genet, Hansberry and countless others. In those days, just a mere decade ago, I started writing to fill the void between what I was hearing and what I wished I was hearing. It was not enough for me to critique the voices I heard blasting through the walls of my Brooklyn brownstone. I needed to create examples of where Hip Hop, particularly its lyricism, could go. I ventured to poetry readings with my friends and neighbors, Dante Smith (now Mos Def), Talib Kweli, Eryka Badu, Jessica Care Moore, Mums the Schemer, Beau Sia, Suheir Hammad...all poets that frequented the open mics and poetry slams that we commonly saw as "the other direction" when Hip hop reached that fork in the road as you discussed on your show this past week. On your show you asked the question, "Are all rappers poets?" Nice. I wanted to take the opportunity to answer this question for you.
The genius, as far as the marketability, of Hip Hop is in its competitiveness. Its roots are as much in the dignified aspects of our oral tradition as it is in the tradition of "the dozens" or "signifying". In Hip Hop, every emcee is automatically pitted against every other emcee, sort of like characters with super powers in comic books. No one wants to listen to a rapper unless they claim to be the best or the greatest. This sort of braggadocio leads to all sorts of tirades, showdowns, battles, and sometimes even deaths. In all cases, confidence is the ruling card. Because of the competitive stance that all emcees are prone to take, they, like soldiers begin to believe that they can show no sign of vulnerability. Thus, the most popular emcees of our age are often those that claim to be heartless or show no feelings or signs of emotion. The poet, on the other hand, is the one who realizes that their vulnerability is their power. Like you, unafraid to shed tears on countless shows, the poet finds strength in exposing their humanity, their vulnerability, thus making it possible for us to find connection and strength through their work. Many emcees have been poets. But, no, Ms. Winfrey, not all emcees are poets. Many choose gangsterism and business over the emotional terrain through which true artistry will lead. But they are not to blame. I would now like to address your question of leadership.
You may recall that in immediate response to the attacks of September 11th, our president took the national stage to say to the American public and the world that we would "...show no sign of vulnerability". Here is the same word that distinguishes poets from rappers, but in its history, more accurately, women from men. To make such a statement is to align oneself with the ideology that instills in us a sense of vulnerability meaning "weakness". And these meanings all take their place under the heading of what we consciously or subconsciously characterize as traits of the feminine. The weapon of mass destruction is the one that asserts that a holy trinity would be a father, a male child, and a ghost when common sense tells us that the holiest of trinities would be a mother, a father, and a child: Family. The vulnerability that we see as weakness is the saving grace of the drunken driver who because of their drunken/vulnerable state survives the fatal accident that kills the passengers in the approaching vehicle who tighten their grip and show no physical vulnerability in the face of their fear. Vulnerability is also the saving grace of the skate boarder who attempts a trick and remembers to stay loose and not tense during their fall. Likewise, vulnerability has been the saving grace of the African American struggle as we have been whipped, jailed, spat upon, called names, and killed, yet continue to strive forward mostly non-violently towards our highest goals. But today we are at a crossroads, because the institutions that have sold us the crosses we wear around our necks are the most overt in the denigration of women and thus humanity. That is why I write you today, Ms. Winfrey. We cannot address the root of what plagues Hip Hop without addressing the root of what plagues today's society and the world.
You see, Ms. Winfrey, at it's worse; Hip Hop is simply a reflection of the society that birthed it. Our love affair with gangsterism and the denigration of women is not rooted in Hip Hop; rather it is rooted in the very core of our personal faith and religions. The gangsters that rule Hip Hop are the same gangsters that rule our nation. 50 Cent and George Bush have the same birthday (July 6th). For a Hip Hop artist to say "I do what I wanna do/Don't care if I get caught/The DA could play this mothaf@kin tape in court/I'll kill you/ I ain't playin'" epitomizes the confidence and braggadocio we expect an admire from a rapper who claims to represent the lowest denominator. When a world leader with the spirit of a cowboy (the true original gangster of the West: raping, stealing land, and pillaging, as we clapped and cheered.) takes the position of doing what he wants to do, regardless of whether the UN or American public would take him to court, then we have witnessed true gangsterism and violent negligence. Yet, there is nothing more negligent than attempting to address a problem one finds on a branch by censoring the leaves.
Name calling, racist generalizations, sexist perceptions, are all rooted in something much deeper than an uncensored music. Like the rest of the world, I watched footage on AOL of you dancing mindlessly to 50 Cent on your fiftieth birthday as he proclaimed, "I got the ex/if you're into taking drugs/ I'm into having sex/ I ain't into making love" and you looked like you were having a great time. No judgment. I like that song too. Just as I do, James Brown's Sex Machine or Grand Master Flashes "White Lines". Sex, drugs, and rock and roll is how the story goes. Censorship will never solve our problems. It will only foster the sub-cultures of the underground, which inevitably inhabit the mainstream. There is nothing more mainstream than the denigration of women as projected through religious doctrine. Please understand, I am by no means opposing the teachings of Jesus, by example (he wasn't Christian), but rather the men that have used his teachings to control and manipulate the masses. Hip Hop, like Rock and Roll, like the media, and the government, all reflect an idea of power that labels vulnerability as weakness. I can only imagine the non-emotive hardness that you have had to show in order to secure your empire from the grips of those that once stood in your way: the old guard. You reflect our changing times. As time progresses we sometimes outgrow what may have served us along the way. This time, what we have outgrown, is not hip hop, rather it is the festering remnants of a God depicted as an angry and jealous male, by men who were angry and jealous over the minute role that they played in the everyday story of creation. I am sure that you have covered ideas such as these on your show, but we must make a connection before our disconnect proves fatal.
We are a nation at war. What we fail to see is that we are fighting ourselves. There is no true hatred of women in Hip Hop. At the root of our nature we inherently worship the feminine. Our overall attention to the nurturing guidance of our mothers and grandmothers as well as our ideas of what is sexy and beautiful all support this. But when the idea of the feminine is taken out of the idea of what is divine or sacred then that worship becomes objectification. When our governed morality asserts that a woman is either a virgin or a whore, then our understanding of sexuality becomes warped. Note the dangling platinum crosses over the bare asses being smacked in the videos. The emcees of my generation are the ministers of my father's generation. They too had a warped perspective of the feminine. Censoring songs, sermons, or the tirades of radio personalities will change nothing except the format of our discussion. If we are to sincerely address the change we are praying for then we must first address to whom we are praying.
Thank you, Ms. Winfrey, for your forum, your heart, and your vision. May you find the strength and support to bring about the changes you wish to see in ways that do more than perpetuate the myth of enmity.
Has this ever happened to you? You get a song stuck in your head and you just gotta hear it. You go to your iPod eager to press play only to find that the song or album you are looking for ain't there. This happened a few weeks ago with me and Ambulance LTD. I had to hear Stay Where You Are off their self-titled debut, only to find that Primitive[The Way I Treat You] was the only track my iPod was offering. Don't fret though, the problem has been remedied and I now get to revel in the "well-worn subjects of love, loss, and regret and wraps them in sounds and arrangements that are both soothing and imaginative."
Now, earlier today I learned that the Gorillaz are done producing more albums. Okay. I can accept that. I don't like it. But I can accept it. And then I am hit with this from Entertainment Weekly's Popwatch:
"For all of you music geeks looking for the next big thing on MySpace, you should follow that last back slash with the words: The Red Romance. TRR didn't just appear out of nowhere; they're the remnants of Ambulance LTD, a little indie rock band that released two EPs and a full-length CD in 2004 and even had an impressive whirl on MTV for a while. The trio wasn't creatively aligned with lead singer Marcus Congleton so they did what seemed like the natural rock 'n' roll thing to do: they declared a coup."
-Sigh-
So of course I went over to the band's Myspace page and pressed play. [Oh Myspace and mp3 blogs. Hard to imagine a world without them huh?] And the verdict? I am not wowed and head over heels in love with them the way I was with Ambulance LTD, but I can see why they are currently opening for the Killers. It's as if it's 2004 all over again and the boys are looking to stand out amongst their peers the Bravery/She Wants Revenge/The Strokes/Hot Hot Heat etc. In other words, I dig it. I'm okay with it, and I can accept it. But still, I want better.
Believe me, I adore playing an old school hit like nobody's business, but sometimes there's nothing better than putting on one of your favorite long players, enjoying it for what it is: a tip-top, start to finish "headphone masterpiece".
Say what you want about Pitchfork, but for me they often succeed in turning me on to new bands and/or new albums by some of my favorite artists or new albums that I should give a spin. Last fall I stumbled onto Pitchfork's homepage and there it was, a review for Junior Senior's new album, Hey Hey My My Yo Yo. Now the first time around I missed the bus and slept on Junior Senior. Luckily I did manage to fall in love with Move Your Feet and would later fall in love all over again with the nearly six minute DFA remix of Shake Your Coconuts. If you haven't noticed, I love dance music, or music created with the specific intent of getting you to shake that ass: Scissor Sisters, Basement Jaxx, the new Justin Timberlake, Prince, Janet and Michael, etc. etc. After reading Pitchfork's review, I knew I had to get my hands on Hey Hey My My Yo Yo.[still unreleased in the United States] And I did. And I have been bumping that shit ever since. B-Boy European rapping, clap alongs, sing alongs, vocal turns from the ladies of the B-52's and Le Tigre, traces of Abba, and soul tastic disco. It's so sugary, so fluffy, yet so full of substance. I can't express how much I adore this disc and how it accomplishes the much sought after feat of being unskippable from start to the finish. Seek it out if you are a fan of Motown, Acid House Kings, B-52's, Abba, The Go Team! or rump shaking. And it's the perfect album to play on a rainy Los Angeles day like today. So if you can, go ahead, let a little sunshine in. KEY TRACKS: we r the handclaps/i like music (w.o.s.b.)/dance chance romance
Don't belive me? Just ask the folks over at Idolator:
I like Avril Lavigne. There, I said it. And this song, presented below is one of my favorites. It will also be forever associated with a car accident that I was fortunate enough to be a part of in Insert random town here, New York at the height of its popularity.
Yesterday family, friends, and well wishers all came together to honor the life of my papa, Will C. Harris. Following the funeral, the same group of people came together at the house for the Repast, which was slightly reminiscent of this*, you know minus the chick getting champagne thrown on her and ghetto volleyball game:
But what I really want to discuss is this: How does one manage to feel like he never wants to drink/party again the morning following a Funeral and Repast? It just doesn't make sense.
[*And I am not trying to make light of yesterday's events at all, but I feel I can't forget to mention how some dudes in a couple of "low riders" felt it was necessary to hit the switches and show off as we all stood outside the Mortuary following the funeral service. ]
Yeah, he wasn't the best singer in the world. And no I wasn't rooting for him to win. [I'm going with Jordin Sparks. I'm buying what she's selling.]But for some reason I felt for this kid they call Snajaya as he clutched Lakisha and cried all over her shoulder. Big ups for making it this far Sanjaya. I am sure this won't be the last we'll see of you. [I am sure the folks over at Nickelodeon or the TV Guide channel pulled you aside last night and threw contracts and money at you. Them or KFC.]And since I am all out of words, let's just go with these, taken from the folks over at
"The madness that is Sanjaya is now over. Last night on “American Idol” Sanjaya finally got the boot and really it was time. I felt a bit sad for him because I really think he was having a good time being the nations’ unlikely Idol.
His Ponyhawk and signature smile made him loveable. His voice, well, it wasn’t very good and he never really cared. America embraced him in different ways. Some, like Howard Stern and PerezHilton, encouraged their fans to vote for him to mess with the juggernaut that is “American Idol.” Other people thought that he was sweet and had a good personality and loved the way that he messed with the judges.
I did some research on Sanjaya. He grew up in poverty and has been working in theatre and choral work for some time. He didn’t even finish high school and elected to get his GED so he could participate on Idol. I think this whole experience, as you could tell by the tears in his eyes, was a great adventure for the young kid. I don’t really think he was the popular guy in high school (the creative types never are) and this was his moment in the sun.
He was a smart contestant…picking fun songs and working the camera like we haven’t seen since Constantine. He knew that America’s votes kept him in the competition and even the guest judges kind of fell in love with the cute Indian kid with funny hair. I thought it was cute when he got eliminated and substituted the words, “other than hair” for “how about love.” No matter what you say, you will miss Sanjaya. I’m kind of over this season now. Everyone is really boring. I hope that Jordin wins…she at least has some personality. Maybe Sanjaya can give her some tips on her hair."
DISCLAIMER: I am not an insensitive prick. This statement will make a little more sense after you get through the entire post. Proceed.
"Sorry, I just don't get country music. Blame it on geography. I'm from Long Island, New York, so the only country tunes I knew growing up were Billy Joel's "Travelin' Prayer" and "The Great Suburban Showdown." Besides, any genre that allows "Idol" embarrassments and Bucky Covington to have legitimate music careers is a genre I'd like to stay far, far away from...It's not a shock, then, when I say I know nothing about tonight's guest mentor, Martina McBride. In fact, the only McBride I've ever heard of is this lady. But according to the clips shown during Martina's "Idol" intro package, she sings songs about God-fearing women and being patriotic. In other words, she fulfills every stereotype us Yankee bastards have about country music. Git 'er done, Martina!..."-MTV NEWS correspondent, Jim Cantiello
A lot of people hate on country music. 9 times out of 10 ask somebody what kind of music they hate and they'll tell you with a quickness, 'I just don't like country music.' [That's if they don't go with rap. That one's popular too.] Or the all encompassing music fan will tell you, 'oh I listen to everything...except country.' Now does this mean all country is awful or not worth listening to or purchasing? Of course not.
But 9 times out 10 country music, like rap, pop, or emo-screamo and indie, just begs for a little schoolyard taunting. [Toby Keith anyone?] BBQ stains on white t-shirts, achy breaky hearts, saving horses, riding cowboys, etc, etc.
I thought about this last night during American Idol's country night with guest mentor Martina McBride. [I know, I know. Go ahead, let out a collective who?] Now I don't pride myself on knowing every Tom, Dick, and Harry on the music landscape, but unless an artist is completely under the radar, or had no kind of media exposure whatsoever, it's rare for me to not know who an artist is, or to not have heard a snippet of a song, or caught a glimpse of a music video. And yet, I had a hard time deciphering why Martina McBride was here, on my television screen, as a guest mentor of American Idol.
And then it hit me. I ain't buying what she's selling. Then it hit me again. I am familiar with Ms. McBride. And I know one of her songs. Unfortunately it ain't one of her best.
Another night. Another come down from the scene and debauchery. Sleep is on its way, but before it comes, gotta watch some mindless television, particularly music videos. Press. Flip. Change the channel. CMT. [Don't ask] Now normally my friends and I would have little to no time for the popular country hits of the day on CMT, but sometimes a video is so compelling, so outrageous, that it becomes like a car accident, and you just can't look away. And sometimes, just sometimes, country music, like rap, pop, or emo-screamo, and indie, just begs for a little schoolyard taunting.
Seriously, who hooked these two up? "I've found my double, my twin, with my new girlfriend, Evan Rachel Wood...She's 19 and certainly that's very young, but that's not a problem for me. She likes the same things as me. She understands I like to get up when night falls and go to sleep at dawn."-Marilyn Manson
Boy you got a whole year's tuition around your neck, and a new gymnasium on your finger.
"According to representatives for Romeo, he is is the first nationally known active Hip-Hop star to receive a full athletic scholarship."
Now I don't know about you, but the last person who needs a full ride to USC is a somewhat successful recording artist/actor who's father also happens to be a somewhat successful recording artist/rapper right? Maybe I'm just a dick.
It's been a while since the listening public has had a drama filled, well sung, subtle yet emotion ridden duet burning up the R&B charts. No this song ain't hit the airwaves yet, but TRUST it will be the slow jam for many a mom, dad, daughter, and son when the beat hits the streets.
Why was this track cut from Shock Value? Everyone here sounds inspired, particularly Jay-Z. [oh my god! Loving that ditty-bop/diddy/biggie/cock eyed part]And it's not like anyone would have minded hearing Justin Timberlake sing on yet another hook. [We get it, you two enjoy each other's company in the studio.]-Sigh- And we enjoy our favorite artists coming with it from time to time. Just something to remember next time you're busy cutting corners and making LP decisions.
On last week's American Idol, the guest performer and mentor was Jennifer Lopez. When I first heard this, I, as I am sure many other people did went Really? Her? Think about it. Anyone who watches American Idol knows that the folks in charge are searching for a bona fide powerhouse superstar, and that more times than not, the producers and the judges get stuck on the powerhouse part. A Tom Waits or a Patti Smith, hell even an Omarion, wouldn't in the words of the Game, get far on this talent competition. But once I got over my initial confusion I realized that the producers of American Idol know exactly what it is they are doing. Who better than someone like J.Lo to mentor these kids? She sings, she dances, she acts, she designs clothes, she went from the block to center stage, etc, etc.
And eventually I dug into my vaults and reminded myself as to why she got to this point in the first place. Hate it of love it, you gotta admit that for a while Jennifer Lopez was the shit to many people. Many of her singles provided the backdrop for many a summer ride through the blocks, and bumped from speaker to speaker at a party or on the radio after being requested for the umpteenth time.
And for a while it seemed that Jennifer Lopez was one of the few artists that took the art of a good remix seriously. For J.Lo and her people a remix was something more than a re-hash of a single with an added guest verse on the bridge from the producer of the track or rapper of the moment. Jennifer's remixes were events onto themselves, and once heard, gave more than enough evidence as to why hers was the first remix album in history to debut at number one on the charts. Check it out.
Waiting for Tonight [Hex Momentous Radio Mix]- Sex sells. We all know this. But nothing sells more than a good video, especially when said video holds all the necessary ingredients to keep a beat on repeat. Admit it, when you heard Jennifer Lopez was releasing an album, you laughed and moved on, but then late one night you caught this remix on MTV, or you were in a club and the DJ dropped it into his mix, and you couldn't help but dance. This feeling is re-enacted in this video as the connection between the jungle and primal urge to become a slave to the rhythm is made [a connection made clear in the constant shots of Jennifer winding and grinding in between the leaves, waterfalls, and strobe lights.] J and her girls prepare, arrive, navigate their way through, and eventually unleash the beast within on the dancefloor. Is it any wonder as to why this song is loved and adored by the young, the gays, the blacks, and the whites?
I'm Real [Murder Remix feat. Ja Rule]-Now this is what a summer jam should look and sound like. Light, chill, and smooth like the summer's breeze. An album later Jennifer would remind us all to not "be fooled by the rocks that she's got", but with this video you had no problem accepting her declaration of still being "from the block." The velour jumpsuit, [remember those? There once was a time where you couldn't throw a rock without hitting a p.y.t in a velour sweatsuit], the afternoon basketball games, outdoor house parties, playground shos, etc. It may seem like authenticity overload, but instead it feels loose and playful, no matter how many times the words "I'm Real" are repeated in the background. And big ups (?) for extending Ja Rule's 15 minutes. Thanks to Jennifer, Ja and his Murder Inc. imprint got a few more albums and members added to the entourage than label heads, fans, and executives ever expected.
Ain't it Funny [Murder Rmx. feat. Ja Rule and Cadillac Tah]-Guess who's back? Damn, Ashanti and Diddy must have been pissed. Yes, we got another remix starring J.Lo and Ja in scenes of urban leisure, but the spark is still there. Again J.Lo exhibits some fine music video acting by just making faces at her [unknown to us], ex-suitor. And let's not forget about the song's production now either. If you own the album, J.Lo, from which the original track was taken, you know that the original version of Ain't it Funny is all tango/flamenco light and kind of boring. To say this version is an improvement is definitely an understatement.
I'm Gonna be Alright [Track Masters Remix]- J.Lo, J.Lo, J.Lo. You're too good to us. No more Ja. No more high rise apatments and outdoor basketball games. The atmosphere, like the beat, is humid, sticky, and
Baseball in the street, lawn chairs on the sidewalk, rollers in the laundromat, chilling on "porch" steps, barbershops, and neighborhood record stores; This is J.Lo's block, and she, like her and Nas' vocals on the beat, don't feel out of place...
Yes, contrary to popular belief, some of us still enjoy a good music video and/or remix. So big ups Ms. Lopez. And thank you for putting a little effort into all your remixes and music videos. That, is how you do it.
Oh the Cribs. Man I was all about the Cribs. The Cribs, their debut album, was in constant rotation for quite some time round here. And yes it was easy to peg the Cribs as yet another "the" band jumping on the bandwagon, swingin to and fro, cribbing [no pun intended]from the 80's, and bringing that early cure/the Smiths/Television/Gang of Four sound back. But with those accents, Elmer Fudd pronounciations [surely I am not the only person who noticed this on the debut album], and mod leaning vibes of their hooks and melodies, the Cribs managed to grab you attention. The second album? For me, not so much. But I am having high hopes for this next one, especially after viewing this video. The Cribs. Men's Needs. Check-check the melody.
Hottie, the big breasted, can't cook a chicken contestant from the first season of Flavor of Love is comin at cha on some Stacey Q level shit. Coming soon to a club near you.
Riddle me this, though. Real talk homie listen up. If men love to give up the bling, bling, why was her ass ejected from the Flavor of Love mansion with a quickness? Just saying...
Now if you visit this blog often, you know that old school jams are more often than not posted under the "Old School Funk for the True Funk Soldiers" headline. But sometimes old school joints are so good, so well put together, so classic to a brotha, [see Montell Jordan's This is how we do it] that all I can do is marvel at their goodness as they boldly play on and show us how's it done. This jam, presented below, is one such example.
Day in and day out blogs champion lesser known, not yet signed bands on some Zach Braff [via Natalie Portman of course] "this band will change your life" type shit. It's hard to keep up, but every now and then you press play and you're glad you did. Take Vampire Weekend, for example, a group of Columbia grads, gaining some notoriety over at Stereogum:
"...but these are indie-pop gems of a different cut, pulling on the world music bend of Paul Simon's Graceland and late Talking Heads, wrapped in literary barbs and ample alliteration ("all your diction dripping with disdain," for one)...VMPRWKND cite African bands like Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Kanda Bongo Man as pull points..."
I agree. I'm digging what I am hearing. No suprise here. Do the indie-pop thing correctly and I'll listen without prejudice.
There is nothing wrong with white kids listening to hip-hop. There, I said it. [If I am not mistakened, hip-hop flies off the shelves at a faster pace than it does in the hood.] Nope, no problem with that at all. Music is for everybody and should be embraced by the masses. But this. I don't know how I feel about this.
Now I am not a mean or vindictive person, but the first thing that came out of my mouth when I saw this picture was, 'nuh-uh. No bitch.' Sorry ladies. I don't know where that came from.
The Hills. Yeah...Hard to sit through an entire episode of this show innit? Especially those episodes when Brody Jenner was courting and/or "spitting game" to LC. [I'm a young American and know my pop culture dammit, so yes, I know these kids' names.]
Now I ain't gon lie, those first two seasons of Laguna Beach [particularly season two] are reality tv gold, but the Hills? Sorry, not so much.
PITCHFORK: So you don't think we're in the vulgar era, just that it's something to shoot for?
JOSH HOMME: I mean, I think we're in it, and I'm stoked...Because I think our generation is, they don't want to be dock workers or coal miners. They want to delay adolescence and prolong adolescence, prolong thought about what to do, and try to take advantage of life while it's around, take more artistic jobs, like working at Pitchfork, playing rock music. And I totally understand that. And I also think it's an age of disinformation, where it's not like it's being kept from you, it's more like it's being piled on top of you. And so I think every time you go to make a personal decision, it's like more information comes to light. I think it's not really bad, it's more gluttony rad. It's sort of like indecision. And I think while we're all deciding, everyone samples a little bit of everything. And I'd like to play that party.
...a friend of mine gave me a $50 dollar gift card to the Itunes music store. You see, back in college I took this 3 hr sociology course, that he, in turn, took the following school year. Instead of buying all of the required reading materials for the course, he just went ahead and used mine. Save time. Save money. Skip to the end of the school year. School gives money back for books, he hands some of mine in, forgetting that [oops!] they're not his. He felt bad, I got a free $50 dollar gift card out of it. Now I don't know about you all, but in my honest opinion, giving someone an Itunes gift card should be a sin. Those things are the devil. Whenever a song popped in my head and I didn't own it, I just pressed buy and voila, it was mine. [Trust me, this happened on numerous ocassions.] I even bought a few epsiodes of SNL.
On one such occasion I decided to purchase a track or two from Kelly Clarkson's last disc Breakaway. Let me rephrase that, I wound up buying half the damn disc. You see, Kelly Clarkson, like many a pop artist before her, released fifty-eleven songs from Breakaway as singles, and it just so happens that each and every one of those singles gets the job done and do not dissapoint. [And seriously, who doesn't love Since U Been Gone? Anybody.] It also doesn't hurt that each of those singles were bona fide hits with her listening public, proving once again, why she is one of the more successful winners of American Idol. And after hearing this new track from her forthcoming third album, I don't think she'll have to worry about losing listeners anytime soon.
Brothas and sistahs, I say brothas and sistahs, What the hell is going on? This is a joke right? Or did somebody feel the need, as did Snoop Doggy Dogg, to school Don Imus and the world on the evil ways of a true, bona-fide "nappy headed hoe"? Who knows?:
"HO-Check was created to Help Others CHECK a mate or potential mate. CHECK their Street Credibility! CHECK their ability to Keep It Real!!! For all of you who have been hated on, played, wronged, dogged, lied to, cheated on, broken down, beaten, won on, mistreated, stood up, stuck out, misled, or just down right fucked with, we have put together a forum just for you to CHECK or REPORT that HO!
Help yourself by CHECKing a HO now; Help someone else out by REPORTing a HO now. Remember, It's Better to CHECK a HO than to Save a HO. HO-Check is where you Check That HO!!"
Britney and friends travel to tha crossroads. Together. So they won't be lonely...
Tha Crossroads, Bone Thugs N Harmony. Classic. Breakdown, Mariah Carey and Bone Thugs N Harmony. One of her more sucessful attempts at getting urban up in this bitch. Bone, Mariah, and Bow Wow, Lil L.O.V.E. Mad chill homie, mad chill...
Radio personality Don Imus goes on air and calls a group of hard working college basketball players 'nappy headed hoes.' People are outraged, alarms are rung, and many get confused wondering what year this is, and how what Imus said is
Luckily for all us, Snoop Doggy Dogg is here to say hold up wait a minute, don't get it twisted nigga!:
"It's a completely different scenario. (Rappers) are not talking about no collegiate basketball girls who have made it to the next level in education and sports. We're talking about hos that's in the 'hood that ain't doing s**t, that's trying to get a n**ga for his money. These are two separate things. First of all, we ain't no old-ass white men that sit up on MSNBC going hard on black girls. We are rappers that have these songs coming from our minds and our souls that are relevant to what we feel. I will not let them muthaf**kas say we are in the same league as him."
Thank you for clearing that up for us Snoop. Someone get this man a guest seat on the View. Stat!
So as of late I have been all about the Mark Ronson, particularly his new album Version, a jazz infused, soul laced excercise in the groove featuring the likes of Lily Allen, Phantom Planet, and Kenna covering the Kaiser Chiefs, Radiohead, and Ryan Adams just to name a few. I just can't get enough. Shit, anybody that can take a Coldplay track, rework it, add some horns, and make it sound like the soundtrack to a late 70's early 80's espionage thriller gets points in my book. You too should go ahead and stream it for free at myspace. You won't be dissapointed.
PERSONAL FAVES: The aforementioned God Put A Smile Upon Your Face/Amy Winehouse's inspired cover of the Zuton's Valerie/Stop Me feat Daniel Merriweather [and a unexpected refrain courtesy of the Supremes/And of course, the chopped and screwed version of Britney Spears' Toxic starring Tiggers and Ol' Dirty Bastard. Yes. Ol' Dirty.
Just another sunny Winter's Day in Los Angeles. Children are laughing, dogs are barking, girls and a few gays are traveling in packs. People scurry all over the grassy knolls and cobblestone roads of this outdoor shopping center as if walking in a coherent manner that is mindful of others around them is the greatest of inconveniences. Whatever. None of this will deter me from stopping in the Gap and pretending like I got what it takes to swipe the card and wear the looks on display in the men's department of Nordstrom's. Eyes straight ahead. One foot at a time. Almost there. Almost there. Wait. What the fuck. Is that? Guy and girl. Canoodling outside of the store for all the world to see. Not PDA really. No. More like stitled morning after cuddling. In public. In the winter. For all the world to see. Girl: Large male oxford shirt, no pants, no shoes. Guy: Cut, no shirt, pajama bottomsnot on waist, right above the missle. What is going on? What is this? Why doesn't anyone object? Shield the eyes of those poor, poor unsuspecting children chasing dogs, throwing frisbees, and loving the musical fountain. Hello? Anybody? Maybe I am reading too much into this. Maybe it's all an act. Some upscale performance art improv for the masses. Strictly harmful. Wait. Where was I going? Where am I? Look up. Scan the words. Abercrombie & Fitch... Oh. I should have known. God I hate that goddamn store...
So I finally got around to seeing Grindhouse last night. [Yes, it was awesome! and surprisingly packed for a 9:30 viewing of a three hr movie on a Monday night] The only downside to it all was the fact that immediately afterwards I wanted to view some old episodes of Hunter, Walker Texas Ranger, or Martial Law. Unfortunately neither me or my friend own any of the aformentioned classic dvd sets. -Sigh- Our loss.
The following is BET's Top 25 dancers of all time:
25. Ciara 24. Diddy 23. Big Daddy Kane 22. Rosie Perez 21. Gregory Hines 20. Missy Elliott 19. Tina Turner 18. Aaliyah 17. Cab Calloway 16. Shakira 15. Omarion 14. Bobby Brown 13. Jennifer Lopez 12. Alvin Ailey 11. Usher 10. The Temptations 09. Beyoncé 08. Savion Glover 07. MC Hammer 06. Prince 05. Janet Jackson 04. Chris Brown 03. The Nicholas Brothers 02. Michael Jackson 01. James Brown
Wow. Just wow. I don't even know where to begin. Why is Chris Brown so high? And yes, I love Beyonce just as much as the next man, but a dancer she is not. [And how did she top Tina Turner when many of her moves are trying really hard to recapture that spirit. tsk. tsk.] Oh shit, almost forgot about MC Hammer. No comment on that one. And poor Mr. Alvin Alley, he couldn't even squeeze his way into the top ten because of Beyonce and Chris Brown, and I hate to say it, but yes, Prince. Like Beyonce, Prince ain't no dancer. I am sure he can dance, [and sometimes in sky high stilettos] but he ain't known for busting moves. It's also sad to not have Gregory Hines, Aaliyah, Cab Calloway, hell even Ciara a little bit higher on the list. -Sigh- But then again I can't feel all bad about it, I mean they did make space for Diddy, Big Daddy Kane, Rosie Perez AND Bobby Brown, so all is not completely wrong in the world.
