Slumberlord
Monday, January 30, 2006
Zero times any other number also equals gay
I’m hooked on You Tube, a free dumping ground for all sorts of bizarre videos, clips and recorded nonsense. This site has run up an insane number of hits lately from people looking for the “Lazy Sunday” video from Saturday Night Live. But there are some cooler things available too…
David Bowie – “Fame” (Live on “Soul Train”)
Kids in the Hall – “Daddy Drank” skit
“Thriller”-esque Japanese “Legend of Zelda” commercial
Ladytron – “Seventeen” video
A series of “Walker: Texas Ranger” clips on Conan O’Brien’s show
A kitten trying to stay awake
I’m hooked on You Tube, a free dumping ground for all sorts of bizarre videos, clips and recorded nonsense. This site has run up an insane number of hits lately from people looking for the “Lazy Sunday” video from Saturday Night Live. But there are some cooler things available too…
David Bowie – “Fame” (Live on “Soul Train”)
Kids in the Hall – “Daddy Drank” skit
“Thriller”-esque Japanese “Legend of Zelda” commercial
Ladytron – “Seventeen” video
A series of “Walker: Texas Ranger” clips on Conan O’Brien’s show
A kitten trying to stay awake
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Eric. B and Rakim – “Follow the Leader”
There are lively songs, and there are energetic songs, and then there are songs with so much ravishing hunger that it makes everything else look small and superficial (and sated) by comparison. The beat drops from geosynchronous orbit, and “Follow the Leader” is a laser-guided mission statement that skates purposely across the atmosphere before plummeting down toward a city block in Queens, sliding over the rippling airwaves: “Music makes mellow, maintains to make, melodies for MCs, motivates the breaks.”
Coming into focus it’s a tentacled rap Cthulhu, all churning tambourines, haunted house question marks and point-blank scratches. And then there is that voice, that rolling, inky black voice that can wear down stone and reshape the earth. “I’m about to flow as long as I possibly can” is not empty boasting. Rakim’s suitcase bomb rhymes require extensive unpacking not because they’re layered with textual meaning like a Bob Dylan song but because they wallow in a rich syllabic and alliterative primordial ooze, harkening back to the way words were when they were just sounds, intuitive, something beyond the clumsy grasping of language, something approaching telepathy. Then built up all around that – “A little knowledge is dangerous” – is the meaning and the context and the words themselves, but beneath that is always this unerring primeval fire consuming everything, just burning it up and leaving ashes if even that.
There are lively songs, and there are energetic songs, and then there are songs with so much ravishing hunger that it makes everything else look small and superficial (and sated) by comparison. The beat drops from geosynchronous orbit, and “Follow the Leader” is a laser-guided mission statement that skates purposely across the atmosphere before plummeting down toward a city block in Queens, sliding over the rippling airwaves: “Music makes mellow, maintains to make, melodies for MCs, motivates the breaks.”
Coming into focus it’s a tentacled rap Cthulhu, all churning tambourines, haunted house question marks and point-blank scratches. And then there is that voice, that rolling, inky black voice that can wear down stone and reshape the earth. “I’m about to flow as long as I possibly can” is not empty boasting. Rakim’s suitcase bomb rhymes require extensive unpacking not because they’re layered with textual meaning like a Bob Dylan song but because they wallow in a rich syllabic and alliterative primordial ooze, harkening back to the way words were when they were just sounds, intuitive, something beyond the clumsy grasping of language, something approaching telepathy. Then built up all around that – “A little knowledge is dangerous” – is the meaning and the context and the words themselves, but beneath that is always this unerring primeval fire consuming everything, just burning it up and leaving ashes if even that.
Monday, January 16, 2006
That bitch Katrina
This thought isn’t fully formed, but it seems apropos that I throw it out now on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, as it is a subject the good doctor would surely be stridently addressing if he were still alive today.
In “The Mayor Song,” New Orleans rapper/producer Mannie Fresh calls in to a radio talk show to criticize the mayor of his city. The mayor first says he’s interested in hearing Mannie’s complaints about crime and other problems, but he eventually deflects the blame to others. So Mannie goes to the governor, who doesn’t want to speak to him and seems – in Mannie’s opinion – uninterested in the problems of the masses ready to riot outside her door. He finally takes his crusade to the president, who can’t help because he’s busy playing golf.
It may sound like a fairly predictable response to the Hurricane Katrina disaster that hit the Gulf this fall, but for one thing – It appeared on “The Mind of Mannie Fresh,” an album that was released at the end of 2004. Listening to the song now, its prescience is eerie, and the absence of similar songs in the wake of the disaster is a bit unsettling.
Some rappers have used their fame to raise significant amounts of money for charities and relief efforts. And naturally it takes some time for these people to get back on their feet, much less record protest music. Kanye West has of course been a high profile hip-hop critic of the Katrina response, but he is not from New Orleans. But now that five months have gone by, where are the rappers and producers from New Orleans’ thriving hip-hop scene, many of whom lived in the worst-hit areas of the city?
A few recent Cash Money tracks mention Katrina, but only in passing. In “ Get Ya Hustle On” Juvenile recommends using Katrina checks to buy cocaine, which is a novel form of civil disobedience, albeit a counterproductive one. His fellow Hot Boy Lil’ Wayne hits a more positive note, saying in “Feel Me” that he’s got to “bring the hood back after Katrina,” and that the middle initial in his name now stands for “FEMA.” So he’s representing the city certainly, but – thus far – not saying much else in the tracks I've heard.
The most direct response I’ve seen comes from a surprising source – No Limit staple the 504 Boyz, which in this manifestation is really just Master P himself and a few of the label’s other staples rotating in at random. But “Hurricane Katrina (We Gon Bounce Back)” seems to be as much about half-forgotten No Limit rappers bouncing back as it is about their city’s attempts to recover. There’s some occasional editorializing on the part of Master P, but nothing that shows a particular degree of insight or, more tellingly, a particularly personal stake in the matter.
So, I’m still waiting. I’m still waiting for a serious, skilled MC, preferably from the Gulf region, to make an album, mixtape or at least a single that seriously addresses Katrina. Rarely do racial and economic issues come so sharply into focus, and there’s still a huge opportunity in the next few months to prove how well suited hip-hop is to addressing this issue.
(While I haven’t seen a lot of people talking about this issue, there are some interesting reactions over the past few months at www.poplicks.com, including at least one mp3, although the link is now dead. Google the page for Katrina references to see what they have to say).
This thought isn’t fully formed, but it seems apropos that I throw it out now on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, as it is a subject the good doctor would surely be stridently addressing if he were still alive today.
In “The Mayor Song,” New Orleans rapper/producer Mannie Fresh calls in to a radio talk show to criticize the mayor of his city. The mayor first says he’s interested in hearing Mannie’s complaints about crime and other problems, but he eventually deflects the blame to others. So Mannie goes to the governor, who doesn’t want to speak to him and seems – in Mannie’s opinion – uninterested in the problems of the masses ready to riot outside her door. He finally takes his crusade to the president, who can’t help because he’s busy playing golf.
It may sound like a fairly predictable response to the Hurricane Katrina disaster that hit the Gulf this fall, but for one thing – It appeared on “The Mind of Mannie Fresh,” an album that was released at the end of 2004. Listening to the song now, its prescience is eerie, and the absence of similar songs in the wake of the disaster is a bit unsettling.
Some rappers have used their fame to raise significant amounts of money for charities and relief efforts. And naturally it takes some time for these people to get back on their feet, much less record protest music. Kanye West has of course been a high profile hip-hop critic of the Katrina response, but he is not from New Orleans. But now that five months have gone by, where are the rappers and producers from New Orleans’ thriving hip-hop scene, many of whom lived in the worst-hit areas of the city?
A few recent Cash Money tracks mention Katrina, but only in passing. In “ Get Ya Hustle On” Juvenile recommends using Katrina checks to buy cocaine, which is a novel form of civil disobedience, albeit a counterproductive one. His fellow Hot Boy Lil’ Wayne hits a more positive note, saying in “Feel Me” that he’s got to “bring the hood back after Katrina,” and that the middle initial in his name now stands for “FEMA.” So he’s representing the city certainly, but – thus far – not saying much else in the tracks I've heard.
The most direct response I’ve seen comes from a surprising source – No Limit staple the 504 Boyz, which in this manifestation is really just Master P himself and a few of the label’s other staples rotating in at random. But “Hurricane Katrina (We Gon Bounce Back)” seems to be as much about half-forgotten No Limit rappers bouncing back as it is about their city’s attempts to recover. There’s some occasional editorializing on the part of Master P, but nothing that shows a particular degree of insight or, more tellingly, a particularly personal stake in the matter.
So, I’m still waiting. I’m still waiting for a serious, skilled MC, preferably from the Gulf region, to make an album, mixtape or at least a single that seriously addresses Katrina. Rarely do racial and economic issues come so sharply into focus, and there’s still a huge opportunity in the next few months to prove how well suited hip-hop is to addressing this issue.
(While I haven’t seen a lot of people talking about this issue, there are some interesting reactions over the past few months at www.poplicks.com, including at least one mp3, although the link is now dead. Google the page for Katrina references to see what they have to say).
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Do Spanish people say OMD instead of OMG?
Checkout robots are pretty common these days in Jewel (Albertsons) stores around Chicago. The savings for stores must be huge once customers become acclimated to them (next they will figure out a way to get customers to stock the shelves for them). I imagine one day there will only be one or two traditional checkout lanes, flanked by a dozen buzzing, blinking, beeping machines. This is great for most people but those traditional checkout clerks were probably one of the last lines of communication with the lonely bachelors of the world, who become ever more isolated in modern society. They pay at the pump with a credit card. They have IPass for tolls now, no chance to say hello to the attendant. Seriously, with whom else do these guys talk?
I thought about allowing the robots to speak, but I don’t think it would help much. Imagine how the conversation would go.
“FROZEN DINNER $1. FROZEN DINNER $1. SIX PACK OF OLD STYLE $4. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?”
“Ah, no, you know, I’m just going to rent a movie or something. I should probably call my mom too.”
“…THAT SOUNDS NICE.”
“I was going to ask you, do you know if that girl with the dark-reddish hair who works in produce is… married or anything?
“SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND, HE PICKS HER UP ON HIS NINJA ZX-6R EVERY NIGHT.”
Oh. Ok, I figured as much. Hey, you want to get a beer or something?”
“NEGATIVE. I AM BOLTED TO THE FLOOR.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Anyway, uh, take it easy I guess.”
“…”
Pretty sad, right?
Checkout robots are pretty common these days in Jewel (Albertsons) stores around Chicago. The savings for stores must be huge once customers become acclimated to them (next they will figure out a way to get customers to stock the shelves for them). I imagine one day there will only be one or two traditional checkout lanes, flanked by a dozen buzzing, blinking, beeping machines. This is great for most people but those traditional checkout clerks were probably one of the last lines of communication with the lonely bachelors of the world, who become ever more isolated in modern society. They pay at the pump with a credit card. They have IPass for tolls now, no chance to say hello to the attendant. Seriously, with whom else do these guys talk?
I thought about allowing the robots to speak, but I don’t think it would help much. Imagine how the conversation would go.
“FROZEN DINNER $1. FROZEN DINNER $1. SIX PACK OF OLD STYLE $4. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?”
“Ah, no, you know, I’m just going to rent a movie or something. I should probably call my mom too.”
“…THAT SOUNDS NICE.”
“I was going to ask you, do you know if that girl with the dark-reddish hair who works in produce is… married or anything?
“SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND, HE PICKS HER UP ON HIS NINJA ZX-6R EVERY NIGHT.”
Oh. Ok, I figured as much. Hey, you want to get a beer or something?”
“NEGATIVE. I AM BOLTED TO THE FLOOR.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Anyway, uh, take it easy I guess.”
“…”
Pretty sad, right?
Monday, January 02, 2006
My review of what I imagine an Arcade Fire show would be like
The band doesn’t appear until an hour and a half after the show’s scheduled start. The crowd is restless. Finally William comes out and begins hyping up the audience, encouraging them to make some noise. They do. Eventually the rest of the band emerges in throwback Expos jerseys. The band’s DJ does a medley of “Crown of Love” and “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” while Win and Regine pass the mike back and forth. A large maple leaf flag unfurls near the end of the song. Someone in the audience keeps yelling “U-S-A, U-S-A” and finally Win gets into it with him and tries to club him with a mike stand and security has to throw the kid out. Win and William do a humorous semi-improvised sketch about the availability of marijuana in Canada while some set changes take place in the wings. The band then launches into “Wake Up” and is suddenly joined on stage by Tim Kingsbury, who is wanted by police for stabbing a bartender in Winnipeg with a broken pool cue. The show ends abruptly when the police arrive to arrest Kingsbury, who disappears out the backdoor and escapes in an Escalade believed to have been driven by a member of Metric.
The band doesn’t appear until an hour and a half after the show’s scheduled start. The crowd is restless. Finally William comes out and begins hyping up the audience, encouraging them to make some noise. They do. Eventually the rest of the band emerges in throwback Expos jerseys. The band’s DJ does a medley of “Crown of Love” and “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” while Win and Regine pass the mike back and forth. A large maple leaf flag unfurls near the end of the song. Someone in the audience keeps yelling “U-S-A, U-S-A” and finally Win gets into it with him and tries to club him with a mike stand and security has to throw the kid out. Win and William do a humorous semi-improvised sketch about the availability of marijuana in Canada while some set changes take place in the wings. The band then launches into “Wake Up” and is suddenly joined on stage by Tim Kingsbury, who is wanted by police for stabbing a bartender in Winnipeg with a broken pool cue. The show ends abruptly when the police arrive to arrest Kingsbury, who disappears out the backdoor and escapes in an Escalade believed to have been driven by a member of Metric.
