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!
My God, who wrote this song? Wait, wait, what was that? Was that the chorus? Damn...bring that shit back!
And did I see Boomerang Berry doing the butt in a Patti Labelle tour jacket in the 4th act?
Patti Labelle on why she appeals to the gay community so much:
"I'm every gay man's mother—come and sit on mama's lap! It ain't no sugarmama stuff either—they just really connect. Maybe because I looked like a drag queen back in the day and I still can go there if I want. When I wore those outrageous hairstyles, I guess they said, "She's really out." I'm not a gay woman; I'm just a woman who loves people."
Well I dug into the vaults. [and by vaults I mean my giant black leather CD case of yesteryear that hasn't been opened in quite some time. I'm surprised bats didn't fly out when I unzipped it.] Nuzzled deep in the back beneath Mya's debut album and adjacent to Musiq Soulchild's Juslissen and Mya's Fear of Flying was this, created a long, long time ago:
Hot as Fire. Cold as Ice.
i. ANTHEM FOR THE YEAR 2000 - silverchair ii. ANYONE CAN PLAY GUITAR - radiohed iii. ARE YOU GONNA GO MY WAY - lenny kravitz iv. BASKET CASE - green day v. BIG BANG BABY - stone temple pilots vi. BRAIN STEW - green day vii. HASH PIPE - weezer viii. LAST RESORT - papa roach ix. MILES AWAY - goldfinger x. MISS WORLD - hole xi. PAINT BY NUMBERS - self xii. RIGHT NOW - sr-71 xiii. SMOOTH CRIMINAL - alient ant farm xiv. VIOLET - hole xv. WHY? - Blink 182 xvi. WRONG WAY - Sublime
Fuck a college degree. Fuck a job. And most importantly, FUCK EFFORT. I'mma just go ahead and showcase my marginal singing and dancing abilities for all the world to see on YouTube and wait for Dan Deacon and Girl Talk to come knocking on my door seeking a tour mate. You just wait. I'mma get paid bitches! PAID!
Don't ask me how I know this song or why it's on this old mixed CD I made a long, long, time ago [along with some old school Green Day, this little band named Self, Silverchair and God knows what else].
"So I just saw this black lady right. Nice weave ponytail, door knockers, too tight i think i'm 20 halter, beneath a matching fitted jean suit. We pass in the crosswalk. She has a blind person's walking stick extended in front of her. I mean exteendeeddd...but get this: i don't think she was blind. Why? Cause we made eye contact which then made her look down at the asphalt with a quickness, as if to say "damn this nigga got me. Look down and walk ahead. Just walk ahead..."
Look, it's one thing to see Jason Lee attached to this, I mean it's not like I have ever been his biggest fan or anything, but David Cross as well? The artist formerly known as Tobias Funke? The man who elicited many a chuckle last Friday when he appeared on screen as Allen Ginsberg in that showing of I'm Not There I attended?
I'm, I'm, I'm just flabbergasted.
Not gonna lie though, this cartoon was my shit back in the day, and I did laugh a few times while viewing this trailer last night. I blame the Dancing With the Stars high I was riding on.
I was in a literary panic earlier today. Yesterday evening I finished Dutch: A Memoir of Ronald Reagan [SIDENOTE: For those of you keeping score at home I am three for three on the political books. Prior to Dutch I read For Love of Politics: Bill and Hilary Clinton, The White House Years. And before that I read Dead Certain: The Presidency of George W. Bush. Yeah...I thinking of reading something on JFK's presidency next or Charlie Wilson's War.]
Anyways...,
Where was I?
Oh yes!
So For some reason I am breezing thorough this current issue of Vanity Fair. [I think that's because it's such a page turner. Really. You all should check it out. Even the Julia Roberts article is fair, for lack of a better word.]
So me being me I need something stat, before this mag comes to an end. Luckily for me, it's November, meaning a lot of magazines are all about the big year in review December issues. And that's what I just got. GQ's annual December Men of the Year issue.
Now unlike most people I read magazines like books. Literally. Every single word. Letters to the editor, style tips, notes on articles' photographers and authors... everything top to bottom. Even if I got the magazine because of a particular article, it just has to wait til I get to it.
And since I am not quite done with VF I decided to just skim through GQ's pages and of course stopped and read for a little bit when I got to the year end music review. [Surprise, Surprise]
Now I can be like everybody else [or myself previously] and post GQ's picks for the best albums of the year and rant and rave and wax poetic about all that, but not this time, for another list caught my eye, and it goes a little something like this: THE DISAPPOINTMENTS Surprisingly middling albums by perennial favorites
Wilco - Sky Blue Sky T.I. - T.I. vs. T.I.P Bjork - Volta Arcade Fire - Neon Bible Common - Finding Forever Arctic Monkeys - Favourite Worst Nightmare
Interpol - Our Love to Admire Bright Eyes - Cassadaga
Now for me, three of those albums are not like the others. But for the most part, yeah what happened T.I.? I have yet to listen to that album past track 10. Real talk. And I paid for it on its new release Tuesday. And Volta's not a bad album, but the excitement I had for it going in far exceeded any excitement I have had for it since I bought it. In other words, it ain't getting played much.
And then I got to thinking. You know, I bought a lot of music this year, and they sure as hell ain't all been winners.
And then I made a list. THE DISAPPOINTMENTS
Five - Iron and Wine - The Shepherd's Dog
Boy with a coin did everything a new single should do. (1) It made me tap my feet (2) It reminded me that Iron and Wine had a new disc coming out AND (3) It made me excited for said release. And then I bought it. And then I finally gave it a full run through one day on my way to work. And then I got bored midway through. And worst of all, Boy With a Coin was buried deep in the album towards the end. -Sigh- Sucks, cause I really enjoyed me some Our Endless Numbered Days.
Four - Bright Eyes - Cassadga
First off, let me say, this album is not, repeat NOT, bad. In fact, for the first five tracks or so, it is quite majestic and wonderful to listen to. From the sprawling opener that is Clairaudients (Kill of Be Killed) to the simple melodic baroque like swoon of Make a Plan to Love Me. And let's not forget about lead single Four Winds, which just so happens to be one of the best singles of the year. [If you don't know, now you know]And then midway through something funny happens. I just drop out. I don't know. Maybe I need a few more spins. I mean I like me some long players, and I'm Wide Awake It's Morning was quite the long player. Guess I was just expecting a little bit more of the same this time around.
Three - Prince - Planet Earth
A message to Prince from Tauwan Patterson Sunday, November 11, 2007:
"...Yes, rest on your laurels: Purple Rain, Sign O' the Times, 1999, etc., but don't alienate the people within that fan base that take their love and adoration for you beyond those albums. Those people who were excited as hell when you came back with Musicology, kept the party rolling with 3121, and even purchased the mediocre, seldom played [by me] Planet Earth. And let's not forget the many of us who found some diamonds in the rough with many of those post Sign O'the Times, 90's albums. We love you Prince. You of all people should know that. We don't need a Super Bowl performance to remind us of your musical prowess, we already knew, as I stated before that your name is Prince and you are funky. That's why we craft our websites, attend your shows, and defend you in countless conversations. It's what we do cause we WANT to do it...Act like you know..."
And act like a song or an album that's not a diss record directed towards fans [i.e. "P.F.U.N.K."] deserves to be just as funky and out of this world as your previous good shit.
I'm just saying.
Two - She Wants Revenge - This is Forever
Ooh I tried. Lord knows I tried. But I just can't do this one. And this is coming from someone who enjoys the first album [swagger jackin and all] and wanted so much more after seeing them open for the Moving Units a few years back. But I. Just. Can't. Do it. Each and every time. I get to track three of four and literally turn and look the other way. I even think it became one of the albums I found myself deleting to make room for more disk space on my comp not too long ago.
Nuff said.
And finally...
One - Nine Inch Nails - Year Zero
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Don't Forget About Us
I have been listening to a lot of great albums lately. Not singles, ALBUMS.[though I have been enjoying me some bangin' singles] 2007 has been pretty good to this popular music fan thus far, and it's quite magnificent that I've managed to absorb and/or give repeated listens to so many albums without overlooking whatever else is hot, sitting in my music collection, or coming at me every Tuesday.
Wait!
I take that back.
You can also say that 2007 has been the year that some of my favorite artists have released new albums that I have purchased, and, since the date of said purchase, I have either let them pick up dust, or get little to no play for some strange reason.
These are their stories.
Nine Inch Nails. Year Zero.
iTunes Last Played: June 15, 2007 Previously...: Unlike most people The Fragile is my NIN record, and as of late I have been scrambling, yes scrambling to get With Teeth back in my life. What happened?: Is the "schtick" [the beats, the lyrics, the theme of it all] getting old for me? Nothing really begged me to come back repeatedly. I ain't been this dissapointed with Trent since that one time in H&M where he seemed to think that those blue cargo shorts he had in his hand were a good idea.
Still love the Fragile. Still trying to get With Teeth. Still ain't played this since June 2007.
"Kevin Federline, father of the year? Well, not quite, but Details magazine has deemed Britney Spears’ famous ex one of its “50 Most Influential Men under 45...To be specific, Federline, 29, is listed in the No. 7 slot as a “Good Father” alongside Larry Birkhead..."
I still can't believe that this little old guy from a little old town in little old Maine was [is?] a raging cokehead/alcoholic, who at some point [or multiple points] dipped his hands into Britney Spears's cookie jar.
"...Last week I was shocked to read in an American newspaper that although the rapper Nas' next album's title was going to be "Nigger", the paper wouldn't print the word. Then I searched on Google for Patti Smith's "Rock N Roll Nigger" to see if it would be there. It was there..."-Caetano Veloso tells the Los Angeles Times
You know with that whole tour cancellation and everything, one was quick to forget that the White Stripes dropped a new batch of tunes this year. Glad this video came along to remind me to press play on Icky Thump...
Now I'm no elitist music fan. [Not in the least. Wait til you see my favorite discs of 2007 list, set to commence this Saturday], but I don't like this so-called Top 100 Editor's pick list. How you gon make room for Year Zero [placed above Jay-Z's American Gangster I believe], Hilary Duff's Dignity, and Jennifer Lopez's Brave [oh yeah, she's there] but make no room for Ne-Yo, Of Montreal, or the Klaxons, just to name a few. [Can you tell who's on my list?] I mean Amy Winehouse didn't have to be put on that there list twice did she? Did she?
In stores next Tuesday...TUESDAY!... TUESDAY! "Like Daft Punk?...Well tomorrow might be your lucky day as the mysterious duo will be online answering questions from their fans to help spread the word about their new cd, Alive 2007..."
Oh year end albums' lists. Let the bitching commence!
So Amazon.com has one upped all the blogs and magazines in circulation right now [Except Stylus, but they had a special reason for doing so].
Yeah that's right, the time has come for the 1st (? - I could be wrong who knows) Best Albums of 2007 list. It's akin to the whole, Thanksgiving is over, time for Christmas spirit and the end of the year as we know it festivities that pop as soon as Black Friday commences. Hell, Starbucks has been all about the X-mas, excuse me, winter cups for most of November, and this morning I was greeted with a giant Christmas tree in the lobby of my office building coupled with a giant Menorah standing in the middle column of doors. [Yes it was taller than me. And yes I wondered aloud before walking in, "What no Kwanzaa decorations?]
And who sits atop their list with the album of the year?....
Feist. The Reminder.
Yeah...
I don't know how I feel about that, but whatever.
Amazon's Top Ten:
1. The Reminder - Feist 2. Sound of Silver - LCD Soundsystem 3. Graduation - Kanye West 4. In Rainbows - Radiohead 5. Back to Black - Amy Winehouse 6. Neon Bible - Arcade Fire 7. Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga - Spoon 8. New Moon - Elliot Smith 9. Wincing the Night Away - The Shins 10. Raising Sand - Robert Plant and Alison Krauss
And yes, I still know all the words to the song presented below. Largely because TBT [my "rock band" from college] performed a soulful slow acoustic remix of this at a coffee house during my freshman year.
Beck Announces a Special Los Angeles Club Performance
SUNDAY NOVEMBER 25TH @ ECHOPLEX
Tickets on sale Friday November 23rd at 5pm
2 ticket limit. The only way to retrieve your tickets is at will call the night of the show. You MUST bring the credit card you used to purchase tickets and a matching, government-issued photo ID to the box office the night of the show. These tickets are non-transferable.
So it's Thanksgiving morning and things are a little lackluster around here. I don't really do football that often, and I'm a little hungover. What's a boy to do between now and a nice early afternoon workout session?
ONLINE SHOPPING!!!!!
Just nabbed me three goodies from Best Buy dot com, where all HBO DVD's are 50% off, this means I finally got my hands on Flight of the Conchords for only $13 ffing dollars and 49 cents. And Lisa Kudrow's The Comeback [which, by the way, is always missing in action no matter what store I go to] for only $17.49. And lastly, A Scanner Darkly, fo' 99. That's right, 4.99... Ah. Good times.
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.
Vintage 2Pac. Vintage K-Ci pre- riding dirty on Jojo's shoulders. You gotta love it. And you gotta still know all the words.
WARNING: May not safe for work.
BONUS:
And because I was gonna walk away and catch me some Private Practice but since I am bumping All Eyez On Me I couldn't cause this song came on immediately following How Do You Want it?
So I don't know if you've heard, but last Tuesday Alicia Keys dropped her third full-length LP, As I Am. And she wasn't alone. Her disc was up against Celiene Dion's new batch of material in like 25 years, and a holiday themed album from the much ballyhooed [and Oprah promoted] kid from Ally Mcbeal. [Yes, I'm talking about Josh Groban.]
Stiff competition right?
And yet Alicia goes and pulls a Mary J. Blige and sells a whopping 742,000 copies of her new disc to [much deservedly] nab the number one spot, leaving Celiene and Mr. McBeal in the dust. Damn.... Get em girl.
I tried to take it back and play RHCP's Give It Away at a party Friday night, and everybody looked at me like I was naked in the middle of a crowded room. Not a good look son. Not a good look at all...
"The Red Hot Chili Peppers on Monday sued Showtime Networks over the name of the television series "Californication," which is also the name of the band's 1999 album and a single on it..."
At least when it comes to pre-release singles, that is.
I remember the first time I heard her debut single Fallin. I was hitchin' a ride on that Late Bus. That's the one that comes two or three hrs after school ends, for the kids who want to hang out, get some tutoring in, or in my case, stay after school for some Academic Decathlon sessions.
The bus was awash with the sounds of kids talking, traffic buzzing, and breezes blowing in the wind.
And then there was the Wave.
Cause there's always the Wave.
94.7 the Wave to be exact.
It was there, but merely in the background as if it was providing the present soundtrack to what was this,
my,
so called life.
No one pays attention to the radio. We're all too busy chatting, sleeping, or kneckin' in the back to actually give a damn.
But this one made me listen.
This one stopped me dead in my tracks, they way all good singles do.
What was this? This soul, this fire, this passion radiating from the bus's speakers?
I never really found out that day. Part of a song block. Stuck in the middle.
But the song stayed on the brain. And a few days later I had a freshly downloaded copy of a much beloved album, Songs in A Minor.
Cut to a few years later. Bowdoin College. Post dinner with Paris, D-Rocka, and the gang.
Ride in the snow back to my apt.
"A Tauwan, you hear that new Alicia Keys yet?"
"What is this? This soul, this fire, this passion radiating from this Camry's speakers?"
The superbly Kanye West produced track You Don't Know My Name. Nearly six minutes of pure old school [as shown in the video], slow grooving bliss. Cell phone interlude and all.
Cut to the present.
All over the blogs.
New Alicia Keys.
No one.
Now me and first listens can be a little rough. It can go in one ear and out the other and get some shrugged shoulders and an "eh" from Tauwan Patterson. [See Jay-Z's Blue Magic, Rihanna's Umbrella, and Spoon's The Ghost Of You Lingers]But I live for this shit. I'm still the type of kid who loves it when a good lead single pulls me in and has me salivating til new release Tuesday comes around and I lose 10-15 dollars on that new disc.
I just need a walk with it. Me and my iPod on a warm, sunny walk through the streets of Los Angeles, and BAM(!) I'm sprung.
And that is how I fell in love with No one.
The raw, heart tugging burst of passion that is the lead single for Alicia's soul stirring new album As I Am.
A grower not a shower.
Because of No One I went in wanting track after track of that tarnished soul music, sequenced just right, coming at you bit by bit, second by second, vertebrate by vertebrate.
But it just didn't.
It was slow moving. Soul appeared in bits. And for some reason John Mayer thought it was a good idea to provide vocals for the track he put in work for. [Who does he think he is? Will.i.am?]
PART TWO: Monday. Post work. Pre-bedtime.
I don't know.
It's still the same Alicia. She's just a little older. A little wiser, and fully aware of who is she and/or wants to be.
It's all here.
It's in the way this album feels live without having that word or the word unplugged attached to it.
It's in the way she pushes and pulls, simmers and soars, showing that her voice, not the piano, could very well be her favorite instrument.
It's in the way her voice soars with youthful exuberance on the soulful odes to young, unsaturated love, Teenage Love Affair, and Wreckless Love.
It's in the way that the a few tracks [See John Mayer's Lesson Learned, and album close sure Looks Good To Me] reach for the Adult Contemporary sky without coming off as trite, overwrought, or outside her comfort zone.
It's in the way I found myself coming back, again and again. Starting at the top, and ending at the end, lost for what to play next when the disc came to a close.
Simply put, it's stunning and if you're not careful, will tug away at your heartstrings.
All here. The maturity. The fire. That passion. It's all here, laid bare, as if we've all gained access, yet again, to the Diary of Alicia Keys.
And seriously, how great is this damn song?
And let's not forget about this "destined to be a classic" [I'm talking popular at Black weddings and in emotional reconnecting scenes in future Tyler Perry vehicles for years to come classic] second single.
Are you a sell out? Yes. Don't let it bother you though, cause apparently I am also a sell out, and so are your parents and everyone you've ever known. The only way to avoid selling out is to live like a savage all alone in the wilderness. The moment you attempt to live within the confines of a social order, you become a sell out. Once you attempt to coexist you sell out. If that's true, then selling out is a good thing. It is an important thing. If we didn't do it, we'd be fucked, quite literally, by everyone bigger than us physically who found us fuckable.
The pseudo-nihilistic punk rockers of the 70's created an impossible code in which no one can actually live by. It's such garbage. The idea that anyone who attempts to do anything commercial is a sell out is completely out of touch with reality. The punk rock manifesto is one of anarchy and intolerance. The punk rockers polluted our minds. They offered a solution that had no future. Of course, if the world would have ended before Sandinista! was released then everything would have been alright. It didn't. Now we have all of these half-conceived ideas and idiot philosophies floating around to confuse and alienate us. I think it is important to face reality. It is important to decide whether you are going to completely rail against the system or find a way to make it work for you. You cannot do both -- and if you attempt to do both you will only become even more bitter and confused.
When I was younger, and supported my parents, I chose to float between the two. A lot of people choose to do this. There are so many confused young people running around now polluted by this alloyed version of the tenets of the punk rock manifesto. Of course they're confused. It isn't possible to be in chorus with capitalism and anarchy. You must pick one or the other. Very few people are willing to do it, though. The worst kind of person is the one who sucks the dick of the man during the daytime and then draws pictures of themselves slitting his throat at night. Jesus Christ, make up your mind! The thing is, there is a lack of balance. When capitalism is working on a healthy level, everyone gets their dick sucked from time to time and no one gets their throat slit. It's impossible to be a sell out in a capitalist society. You're only a winner or a loser. Either you've found a way to crack the code or you are struggling to do so. To sell out in capitalism is basically to be too accommodating, to not get what you think you deserve. In capitalism, you don't get what you think you deserve though. You get what someone else thinks you deserve. So the trick is to make them think you are worth what you feel you deserve. You deserve a lot, but you'll only get it when you figure out how to manipulate the system.
Why commercialize yourself? In the art industry, it's extremely difficult to be successful without turning yourself into a cartoon. Even Hunter S. Thompson knew this. God knows Duchamp and Warhol knew it. Some artists are turned into cartoons and others do it themselves. I prefer to do it myself. at least then I can control how my cock is photographed. Why should it be considered such an onerous thing to view the production of art as a job? To me, the luckiest people are the ones who figure out a way to earn a living doing what they love and gain fulfillment from. Like all things in this life, you have to make certain sacrifices to get what you want. At least most of us do. If you're not some trust-fund kid or lotto winner, you've got to slave it out everyday. People who wanna be artists have the hardest time of it 'cause we are held up to these impossible standards. We're expected to die penniless and insane so that the people we have moved and entertained over the years can keep us to themselves. So that they can feel a personal and untarnished connection with our art. The second we try to earn a living wage or, god forbid, promote our art in the mainstream, we are placed under the knives of the sanctimonious indie fascists. Unfortunately, there isn't some grand umbrella grant that supports indie rockers financially and enables us to exist outside of the trappings of capitalism.
The thing is, I like capitalism. I think it's an interesting challenge. It's a system that rewards the imaginative and ambitious adults and punishes the lazy adults. Our generation is insanely lazy. We're just as smart as our parents but we are overwhelmed by contradicting ideas that confuse us into paralysis. Maybe the punk rock ethos made sense for the "no future" generation but it doesn't make sense for me. I like producing and purchasing things. I'd much rather go to IKEA than to stand in some bread line. That's because I don't have to stand in a bread line. Most people who throw around terms like "sellout" don't have to stand in one either. They don't have to stand in one because they are gainfully employed. The term "sellout" only exists in the lexicon of the over-privileged. Almost every non-homeless person in America is over-privileged, at least in a global sense.
Obviously, I've struggled with the concept. I've struggled because of the backlash following my songs placement in TV commercials. That is, until I realized that the negative energy that was being directed towards me really began to inspire my creativity. It has given me a sense of, "well, I'll show them who is a sellout, I'm going to make the freakiest, most interesting, record ever!!!" ... "I'm going to prove to them that my shit is wild and unpolluted by the reach of some absurd connection to mainstream corporate America."
I realized then that, for me, selling out is not possible. Selling out, in an artistic sense, is to change one's creative output to fit in with the commercial world. To create phony and insincere art in the hopes of becoming commercially successful. I've never done this and I can't imagine I ever will. I spent seven years not even existing at all in the mainstream world. Now I am being supported and endorsed by it. I know this won't last forever. No one's going to want to use one of my songs in a commercial five years from now, so I've got to take the money while I can. It's the same with pro athletes. You only get it while you're hot and no one stays commercially viable for long. It's not like Michael Vick is going to be receiving any big endorsement deals anytime soon. As sad as it may seem, one of the few ways most indie bands can make any money whatsoever is by selling a song to a commercial. Very very few bands make enough money from album sales or tour revenue to enable themselves to quit their day job.
Next time you see a commercial with one of your favorite bands songs in it, just tell yourself, "cool, a band I really like made some money and now I can probably look forward to a few more records from them." It's as simple as that. We all have to do certain things, from time to time, that we might not be completely psyched about, in order to pay the bills. To me, the TV is the world's asshole boss and if anyone can earn some extra bucks from it and they're not Bill O'Reilly, it's a good thing.
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.
So remember a few weeks back how I was all about Ms. Jilly from Philly? Well, I'm back in that state of mind again, except that now I can't gets me enough of the one they call Ms. Alicia Keys.
“You look at Essence magazine, and they wouldn’t put a rapper on the cover. They wouldn’t put Nelly on the cover of Essence. Why? I don’t know. Would I like to do it? Of course I would. Why not? You wouldn’t put me on the cover because of the ‘Tip Drill’* video … that’s probably your main focus. But yet still, you put Halle Berry on the cover. She’s had a 15-minute sex scene with some white guy in front of a couch … I mean you can’t tell me that ‘Tip Drill’ was worse than watching that sex scene between Billy Bob (Thornton) and Halle Berry. You can’t tell me that. That was longer than four or five minutes. You feel what I’m sayin’?”-Nelly
Brace yourselves people. This AIN'T safe for work.
TRUST.
"I said it must be yo ass cause it ain't yo face." SMH. Straight jokes son.
1) The hair. 2) How come her acting wasn't this great in Dreamgirls? 3) Speaking of acting, as dramatic as this all is, it's still one of her more subtle performances. 4) The hair. 5) The one minute and thirty-seven seconds mark: She sings three kids, but puts up like fo', five fingers. Still gets me everytime. 6) The one minute and fifty-five seconds mark: Take em to the streets with that head roll. Houston stand up! 7) The nod to Hov at the two minutes and fifty-five second mark.
I came in late to this whole inside, below the radar, "indie rock" thang. To be completely honest, me and "inside/below the radar/indie rock/not playing on Kiss FM, Power 106, or 92.3 Beat" music don't really go back that far. As cliche as it may sound, I expanded my palette and opened these ears to music "bubbling from the underground" [aight that's enough of that] til college...in 2002...or 2003. And since graduation[...in 2006] I've tried my best, but please forgive me if I've succumbed to what's popular, trendy, and charting, and/or been in heavy rotation for me before the brief stint as a young, twentysomething assistant music director at a college radio station in a small New England town.
Plus it's just hard yo, knowhati'msayin (?), keeping up with the Johsons, and the CMJs, and the Filter Mag e-mails, and the Oink's, and the Pitchfork's, and the blogs [tee hee], and the remixes, and all the other notes from the underground. [my bad] Maybe that's why the last few tracks I played were from Mya, Chris Brown, Kanye West, and now the Flaming Lips. It's just easier for me you know.
But I still try.
And that's why I don't and [won't] let everything just fall through the cracks or pass me by. Take this for example.
So I'm in the "gym" working out, reading the paper, and watching 60 Minutes, [Contrary to popular belief I am 23, not53.] and this segment comes on. Ladies and Gentlemen, [particularly those who, like me, were born between the years of 1980 and 1995] I present to you,
Have you gave me a spin lately, lately, lately, lately... "...In response, Prince registered the Web domain name "Princefamsunited.com" and posted a seven-minute funk jam called "PFUnk," alerting fans to its presence on fan site message boards. The song makes no secret of its target: "The only reason you say may name is to get your fifteen seconds of fame, nobody's even sure what you do," Prince sings. "I don't care what people may say, I ain't gonna let it ruin my day." Toward the end Prince tells his fans, in his famed helium-like "Camille" voice, "I love y'all, don't you ever mess with me no more," before taking out all his anger on his guitar. Prince goes as far as calling one person, likely a member of the PFU, "a big fat punk", and threatens someone called "Weemolicious" by singing "Look here Weemolicious, you and your boyfriend, lemme tell you somethin' right now, you run up on me again with words or otherwise, I'mma knock both you punks out." He also sings that he wants digital music to dissapear..."
Prince, Prince, Prince, Prince, Prince. What's going on brotha? Why all the hate and animosity towards your fans man? The same fans who supported that Emancipation thang, the Crystal Ball montrosity, the SLAVE on your face thang, that Black album, or anything else that was put on wax, just to be put on wax because your name is Prince and you stay funky. It's an undying love man. One that manifests itself through these fansites, web communities, and webpages. I understand the whole "I don't want my shit getting out there for free" part, but seriously Prince, what the hell? Yes, rest on your laurels: Purple Rain, Sign O' the Times, 1999, etc., but don't alienate the people within that fan base that take their love and adoration for you beyond those albums. Those people who were excited as hell when you came back with Musicology, kept the party rolling with 3121, and even purchased the mediocre, seldom played [by me] Planet Earth. And let's not forget the many of us who found some diamonds in the rough with many of those post Sign O'the Times, 90's albums. We love you Prince. You of all people should know that. We don't need a Super Bowl performance to remind us of your musical prowess, we already knew, as I stated before that your name is Prince and you are funky. That's why we craft our websites, attend your shows, and defend you in countless conversations. It's what we do cause we WANT to do it.
No hype. No Gloss. No pretense. Just me. Stripped...
So you know I went ahead and copped this album on Tuesday right? I mean why wouldn't I? And for a week or so now I had been getting myself ready for it, bumping the Vol 3. The Life and Times of S -dot- Carter, revisiting the Blueprint [Heart of the City stand up!], and hitting the good tracks on Kingdom Come.
One thing I did not do was get my hands on it before it hit the streets. You see I have been doing this thing lately where I get all excited about new release Tuesdays and have faith that when I drop my 10 to 15 dollars on an album from one of my favorite artists, I'll be rewarded with something that knocks from start to finish, or at least 75% of the time. And let me tell ya, I lucked out with this one. [Surprise, Surprise]
Say what you will about the iPod, but there's something wonderful about spinning that dial hitting >II and ta-ta-turning the volume up, letting a kick drum, dizzying rhyme, or nice 4/4 beat hit your ears, bob that head, and stop you from reading that page, walking that street [I said street, not track], and make you go damn or simply sit up straight and pay attention.
It's nice.
And with each play this album is doing that for me. Blue Magic will pull me in, Hello Brooklyn will stick in the head [I'm hearing Prince in Lil Wayne's voice sometimes, but maybe I am reading too much into it], and Party Life makes me want to stand up and declare "Hip-Hop. Not Dead." I don't know why, it just does. But at the end of the day the bits and the pieces coalesce to form a mighty whole, and when you purchase an album [or download one] that's all you really want or could ask for right?
So in conclusion, Jay-Z. American Gangster. Schooling you fools trying to score a miliion "saying nothing on the track."
Magaretta16 (7:51:51 PM): this white guys dance cracks me up Magaretta16 (7:51:57 PM): i think you will enjoy
OneTokenBlackGuy (7:57:22 PM): OH MY GOD OneTokenBlackGuy (7:57:26 PM): and the funny thing OneTokenBlackGuy (7:57:33 PM): a lot of chicks dig this kind of shit OneTokenBlackGuy (7:57:44 PM): this is why I don't spend my time in pretentious "straight" clubs OneTokenBlackGuy (7:58:00 PM): though I don't spend all my time in pretentious "gay" clubs either OneTokenBlackGuy (7:58:01 PM): haha Magaretta16 (7:59:28 PM): yea but at least in gay clubs, the guys can dance Magaretta16 (7:59:39 PM): and you don't get heckled by weirdos Magaretta16 (7:59:42 PM): if you're a girl anyway OneTokenBlackGuy (8:00:03 PM): Obviously you have never seen a built shirtless gay man in action
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.
In honor of the release of Jay-Z's American Gangster and because I am, for some reason, bumping that Fear of Flying, what? I present you with this. Mya. Jay-Z. DJ CLUE. DESERT STORM. Best of You. PART 2. EEEAAA!
Damn them Baby blue North Carolina jerseys used to be the shit!
So I am listening to this new Chris Brown disc right. And track three, Take You Down, comes on and I'm all "aight Chris I see you." It's a well put together track. And old school to a T. If you like your R&B sweetly harmonized and of singing male with over-sized jeans, no shirt, timbs, and a rain jacket circa the years 1992-1996, then this track is for you. Hell if you loved you some Al B. Sure at the height of his fame or own a well worn out copy of Don't Be Cruel, then this track is for you. Yeah, it's that good.
And then it ends.
And then track four begins, With You.
-ROLLS EYES AND SUCKS TEETH-
Look y'all, I love Irreplaceable as much as the next man, and I can see why any artist would want their own Irreplaceable in their artistic cannon. And yes, I am well aware of how good a raw, uninhibited and/or smooth, effervescent R&B vocal can sound over an acoustic guitar, but SHITGODDAMN Y'ALL.
[And here I was thinking this was a problem that only affected Ne-Yo.]
But seriously. StarGate must be stopped, or at least reprimanded and placed in the corner til they spice things up a little. How many of y'all [despite how much you may adore the track now]was stopped dead in your tracks that first time you heard Hate that I Love You following, Shut Up and Drive, thus breaking up the dancefloor monopoly that had reigned supreme to no one's chagrin until then on Rihanna's Good Girl Gone Bad? Huh? Just me?
Quit playin.
And then there's Rihanna's duet partner on the track, Ne-Yo, who probably presented said track as "your Irreplaceable." Look I ain't gon lie, Ne-Yo's Because of You is one of my favorite albums of the year. It's perfectly sequenced, masterfully executed, and escapes the current trend some current male R&B albums follow of being uninspired, with a decent ringtone or two, and a whole lotta space fillers.
And then you get to track 12. Go on girl. Is it a Scott Storch joint? How about a Darkchild production? Bad Boy? Nope. Nope. Nope. It's a StarGate production. So you know what that means? -Sigh- Acoustic guitars, a tired ass melody, and a yearning by you the listener to go back and revisit Beyonce's joint, even if you were sure that said track was all but retired to that part of your music collection best suited for karaoke, drunken social gatherings, and trips back down memory lane. [See Outkast's Hey Ya, Journey's Don't Stop Believin', and for some, Sir Mix-A-Lot's Baby Got Back]
But not for StarGate. Don't you ever for a second get to thinking the musical odds and ends that provide the foundation for B's hit is non-recyclable.
Boy are they lucky they're the Spice Girls cause my attitude towards this song and video went from "why the hell am I watching this?" to "wow, I guess I don't mind it all that much" in no time.
"...This weekend marked a huge step for Compton's economy -- TARGET opened, expecting to bring in $2 million in tax revenue and 1300 new jobs. Compton has the highest unemployment rate in the county with a quarter of its population, 100,000, living below the poverty level. Also known as the murder capital, this year the city has the lowest homicide rate in 20 years..."
The Factory. Robertson. West Hollywood. Early Thursday Morning. Sometime between 2 and 3 a.m.
"So okay...let's do this." "Santa Monica or this way" [points towards Melrose] "That way." "Wait, wait, wait. Slow down. Stop. We just interacted with them. We don't want them to think we are following them or something" "Right. Right."
Pause. Continue. Melrose. Robertson.
You ever seen a fight start from a distance.
You know, when the guy or girl throwing the punch comes out of nowhere to punch their "opponent" in the face.
Yeah....it was like that.
Except he had a camera.
An expensive camera.
And he left his engine running with the door open.
DING...DING...DING...
"CARSON!"
"CARSON!"
"Monorail! Monorail!": Oh my god it's Carson Daly. Carson Daly. What? Huh? -Says those who stand around.
But soon the Carson talk is gone, and more paps have arrived and more people are stopping in their tracks.
ROB says: hey let's get out of here, prompting Dave to grab his arm and say no, this is kind of awesome to watch up close.
And it is, for now before us sits a black Surbaban SUV. Tinted windows except for the driver and his passenger who earlier asked for directions from the crowd.
Bad move.
"Monorail! Monorail!": It's Britney Spears! Britney! Britney! Oh my God! Roll down your windows! Let us see you.
This goes on for nearly thirty minutes. Somebody got close enough to see.
Window never goes down. Never really see her face.
And the car don't move.
Shit, the car can't move.
This is sad.
Sure the few papparazzi grew like whoa and were manageable, but now we got camera phones, curious gays, and drunkenedess galore.
Poor, poor Britney.
There has to be about 20-30 people directly in front of the car, and I ain't even got time to count the peeps on the sides all up in the windows. [You know with the whole being lifted and tired and hungry]
"Bump this. Enough. Let's bounce."
And off to Norms we go!*...
Eventually the crowd lets the SUV through, but we still don't know for sure if it was Britney's ride, but I am pretty sure it was. And let me say this: I feel for the girl and all celebrities, at least at that moment. Seeing that shit on TV or TMZ is one thing, but watching a girl sit in her car, motionless with the motor running for nearly 45 minutes cause 25-30 people are all up in her grill [literally. ain't being "urban" this time] unable to get to the fun that we just lost ourselves in was pretty sad.
Damn.
Guess it is hard out there for a pimp...
*Norms. Turket Burger. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
