...this one's free. Nice, smart, pretty hip-pop soul. It bobs between light and dramatic, with moods from NERD, Beta Band, a bit of Timbaland, maybe a taste of the Dream? Light on the palate, but it's summer you know? Barbeque, patio, driving music, about being in lurve, being drunk, being excited, being melancholy.
Let second era the Ice Cold remixes be happening for real and not just in my imagination!
Here is a remix of Ciara's Ride with Andre 3000 and Bei Maejor.
Hey, Miss Lady.
Pure spun sugar, right? Yeah, but with Andre for some reason. I will not complain. Getting hit on by Andre 3000 while eating cotton candy in a glitter sun shower: now in song format.
Ciara sounds nice too.
Did he just shout out Nicki Minaj? Sir, he did.
Oh, you missed me? How kind of you to say.
And to get you even more excited about Big Boi's new album (although apparently record label problems might keep Senior Three Stacks off it? What? No!) here's the song you loved three months ago. AND STILL LOVE.
Here's a song. It's not new. It's off Charlie Wilson's latest thinger. There was a music video that was centered on Snoop's reality show.
I was entirely won over when he used the phrase "Miss Lady".
Or was it the juxtaposition of the quotidian with the emphatic? Hmm? Stroke chin perspicaciously?
"I went to the mall, just to hang out and stuff and like couldn't find anywhere to park. and then there was this girl and THERE GOES MY BABAAAAYYYY. THERE GOES MY DESTINY. And then she was buying shoes, and I saw her again at the food court. SHE'S GONNA BE THE ONE. WE'RE GONNA FALL IN LOVE. WE'RE GONNA HAVE SOME BABIES."
Mundane details punctuated with dramatic proclamations of strong feelings - this is a formula that works for me.
Also consider that if taken literally, he's actually singing this aloud in the mall. At the girl.
This is the kind of foolishness that brings sweet shoots of spring grass to the tundra of my heart. I am not being snarky, this is a beautiful love song.
I feel like it has a correlate in this:
Which also makes me cozy.
In this one she is explicitly yelling in the church, though.
1) He continues to draw heavily from the Weezy flow which ...
2) Makes him sound a lot like cantankerous Great Uncle Ye. Who's feeling much vexed by the kids next door. Huh??!!! No. You can't have your ball back. Fuck you. Yeah, TELL your mom I said that. Punk ass bitch.
3) The beat itself sounds like his college drop out sound ( child choir, piano, John Legendy swoopy backing vocals) filtered through 808s and Heartbreak (pulsing, building atonal repetition, 'tribal' (hate that term) drums, sample).
4) Tell me he doesn't count Liz Lemon on the list of SNLer who can fuck themselves! Not Liz Lemon!
5) I'm saying it'll be big and bodes well for the album. Yeah yeah, super controversial.
So every single thing that can bring joy? In this video.
I love his stupid friend. Just driving around in some car with ladies and someone in a gorilla suit. Call up your buddy and harass him. Get out by the side of the highway? And DANCE.
The combination of really nicely executed, beautifully lit impressions (Parodies? Pastiches. Um. Copies. Tableaus.(Tableaux) Whatevs.) with the deliberately crafty, homespun ones keeps it extra watchable. Says me.
I wish this had been more like that.
Although I suppose that's unfair. The heaven clip isn't trying to make the girls look like art, more like create the feeling of being a tourist around art (flash fade in, like you're taking a picture, epic shots of cathedrals, stately homes, albeit suspiciously vacant) and to my mind evokes the day dreamy thinking about your girl/boy/other you do when you're wandering around on vacation, missing them.
Or maybe it's just like "Dude, the song's called heaven. Let's go shoot in some churches and stuff. Woo expenses paid Vay-Cay! Also? Hot chicks. But like, classy hot. You know. Like art." Smooth move, Mr. Williams.
"Thousands of people packed the square late Tuesday night and into Wednesday morning, drawn by the ethereal promise of an appearance by the popular comedian. They stayed two hours despite a tiny sound system that made Chappelle nearly inaudible, creating one of the most remarkable spontaneous gatherings in Portland history.... instead of the 200 people Chappelle said he anticipated showing up at the square, thousands did. He had no entourage and, apparently, not one security guard.
Chappelle kept speaking to the crowd, at one point saying he was proud, "when people can stand this close together and not be angry."
He said he didn't realise he was still famous.
Bless. He's so dear! And talented! And brimming with integrity! Maybe this means he's planning a comeback...but, uh, without the planning aspect. Seemingly the show didn't work out so much.
Beyonce released a new video today. All I can come up with right now is "Girl, stop. You are killing them."
Naw, I've got more to say, but I'll leave it 'til I can find me an embeddable, high quality version of the video. Here's a taster of the video:
Naw...I've got to say more because, like, just, Maaaannnnnnn. Go find the video on youtube, I won't be mad.
See, I kind of hated this song when it was leaked way way back in times of yore. I was just not behind the idea of a synthetic casing for Beybey's voice, I wanted to let it breathe. I wasn't feeling this pulsing sort of vibe. I wanted a big warm beat. Two things have now won me over. One, the vibrato she throws all over the bridge. Aaaaah! And now, two, this video. WERK!
(Which reminds me: I'll have to post about Ciara's now-not-too-new video because my girlfriend number two Melina directed it and it Spits. Hot. Fire).
I wasn't feeling the song because I first fell for Beyonce, really and truly, like trying to convert other people truly, when I heard Suga Mama. And that's all wanted her to do for ever and ever. Gut bucket guitar. Saucy ass horns. Come sit on mama's lap.
Re-listen to this song and the first thing you should think is: "If this were someone's first single, we'd all be falling over ourselves in a post-Winehouse longing for retro to be restored. We'd hail this woman as a sexified, saleable Sharon Jones lite."
That won't be the first thing you think, though. The first think you think will be "THIGHS."
So this is really just great. It's really simple, but you'll notice it has three generations of technologically dependant distortions, the type of little things (digital aliasing, projector flickering) that draw you out of the experience of watching. Which is right on theme, his heart breaky detachment from what's good and real and happy and junk. (His angst and this video are So. Post. Modern). But also so savvy and aware of how people watch videos now! And subtle. Almost too subtle, like you think it really is that distorted, like you're watching a bad copy. But you're not. That's just like HOW HE FEELS.
Sometimes you hear a song and it's catchy. Other times you hear a song and you love it. Rarely do you hear a song and get excited about the artist. I am excited as hell about this artist.
And yes, he sounds like Andre.
A lot like Andre.
Don't care! Original in an established way is still original! And he is a baby.
I'm not enthused about the first little bit of the video, but you stick with it kids. It's worthwhile.
They are both products of an interracial marriage. Their fathers, black, hailed from Africa, one from Kenya, the other from Nigeria. Their mothers, white, hailed from the hinterland, one from Kansas in the American Midwest, the other from Edmonton in Canada's frozen north...."When you watch Obama and see the way he pulls people in; he sucks them in like tractor beams; and creates a buzz - that's the same way Jarome does it too," Conroy said. "Their messages are so positive. You can see emotion in the way they express themselves."...During his campaign, Obama spoke frequently about how his values were formed, largely as a result of his upbringing. Iginla says virtually the same things.
Imagine the story meeting: "So, I want to compare Iginla to Obama."
"On what basis? They're totally different."
"No no! They're both HALF BLACK....and I guess they're leaders and junk. Yeah. SO SIMILAR!"
"Oh. Well plenty of people say 'their family helped shape them' and have friends who are willing to say nice things about them."
"They both have Dads from Africa, though. Spooky, eh?"
"Where in Africa? Like, the same town? It's a big place. Doesn't sound TOO too similar."
"No no no! Didn't you hear me? They're both half black. AND half white. THEY ARE SEPARATED AT BIRTH!"
"Fine, whatever, I'm on lunch."
...
Front page of the section!
I'm surprised they didn't point out both their names start with a vowel and end with an a. That is some trivial, ill conceived shit right there.
Sleigh bells ring kiddies. Are you listening? Seriously, are you listening? Pay attention to me! Christmas is the time of year where we gather with our family, sequester those members we like and force them, along with all our bestest buddies to listen to the music we want to rant about. So that's what I'ma do. Let's start with what might end up being the only holiday themed song of the bunch.
There is no one more festive than Bootsy. True story: this version kills the original.
Beyonce's double album probs doesn't need to be a double album. The non-special edition of the thing only has eleven tracks, so from a super green perspective it's kind of a WASTE OF CARBON. BEYONCE HATES THE ENVIRONMENT. Whhaaaaatevs. The reason its a double album is that it allows Bey to indulge her cheesy, middle-am friendly ballad self on the "Beyonce' album and spend another album being the woman who is constantly channelling Prince's various backup dancers (eg: freaking on people, having legs, being the best thing ever).
This is all because, as an overexposed super-celeb B has always remained kind of removed, kind of distant and private. The split personality thing is supposed to give us some insight - she's multifaceted! Maybe bi-faceted. Beyonce's always been far more impassioned in music than in person. The woman has a carefulness when answering questions that White House Press Secretaries would kill for. That's why this interview is kind of awesome. She acts like a person, not an idealized abstraction of fabulousness.
