OK, dudes--you have to forgive me. This is a TOTAL guilty pleasure situation, but I just can't get the sample from this song out of my head. One big room! Full of bad bitches!
I will freely admit that I am having some difficultly fully getting my head around Oakland rapper/phenomenon/thing Kreayshawn, although I do have plenty of speculative hypotheses. One thing I know for sure is that there's almost nothing I could say that this video couldn't. Thus:
Gucci Gucci.mp3
Gucci Gucci, Louis Louis, Fendi Fendi, Prada:
Basic bitches wear that shit, so I don't even bother.
Showing posts with label I Am Not Ashamed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I Am Not Ashamed. Show all posts
May 24, 2011
June 8, 2010
Hall and Oates//Maneater
Just because something’s cheesy doesn’t make it automatically bad. Most of the time, it is bad. But it’s not always bad. If it was, we would never have Duran Duran. We would never have LOST. We would never have The Indigo Girls (gulp). All our guilty pleasures would be immediately obliterated. Enter Hall and Oates.
Mentioning these rock and soul all-stars from Philly in yesterday’s post really got me thinking that it was high time to give them a little shout out. After all, I grew up dancing around to their wonderful hits like, “I Can’t Go For That,” “Kiss on My List,” “Private Eyes,” etc. Album after album contained hit after hit for this half-mustacheoed duo. How did they do it?!
Apparently, it all started with a gunfight and an accidental/ uncomfotably tight elevator ride. From El Wiko:
Daryl Hall and John Oates first met each other at the Adelphi Ballroom in Philadelphia in 1967. At the time they met, each was heading his own musical group, Hall with The Temptones and Oates with The Masters. They were there for a band competition when gunfire rang out between two rival gangs, and in trying to escape, they ran to the same service elevator. Because of their similar musical tastes and close proximity inside the elevator, they quickly became acquainted. On further finding out that they were both around the same age and that both were just starting at Philadelphia's Temple University, they started hanging out together on a regular basis and eventually ended up sharing a number of apartments in the city. It would take them another two years to form a musical duo, and three years after that, they signed to Atlantic Records and released their debut album.
Oh, to meet your musical soulmate (also SOULmate) in an elevator and then shortly thereafter be signed to Atlantic Records…. Those really were the good old days.
In December of 1982, this particular song about a ruthless lady chewing up men and spitting them out (inspired by model Kelly LeBrock) hit number one on the Billboard charts and stayed there for four consecutive weeks.
Before we go to the song, this is probably the best use of a Hall and Oates song I have ever seen.
Maneater.mp3
(Oh oh, here she comes)
Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up.
(Oh oh, here she comes)
She’s a maneater.
I wouldn't if I were you.
I know what she can do.
She's deadly, man,
She could really rip your world apart.
Mind over matter--
The beauty is there, but a beast is in the heart.
Mentioning these rock and soul all-stars from Philly in yesterday’s post really got me thinking that it was high time to give them a little shout out. After all, I grew up dancing around to their wonderful hits like, “I Can’t Go For That,” “Kiss on My List,” “Private Eyes,” etc. Album after album contained hit after hit for this half-mustacheoed duo. How did they do it?!
Apparently, it all started with a gunfight and an accidental/ uncomfotably tight elevator ride. From El Wiko:
Daryl Hall and John Oates first met each other at the Adelphi Ballroom in Philadelphia in 1967. At the time they met, each was heading his own musical group, Hall with The Temptones and Oates with The Masters. They were there for a band competition when gunfire rang out between two rival gangs, and in trying to escape, they ran to the same service elevator. Because of their similar musical tastes and close proximity inside the elevator, they quickly became acquainted. On further finding out that they were both around the same age and that both were just starting at Philadelphia's Temple University, they started hanging out together on a regular basis and eventually ended up sharing a number of apartments in the city. It would take them another two years to form a musical duo, and three years after that, they signed to Atlantic Records and released their debut album.
Oh, to meet your musical soulmate (also SOULmate) in an elevator and then shortly thereafter be signed to Atlantic Records…. Those really were the good old days.
In December of 1982, this particular song about a ruthless lady chewing up men and spitting them out (inspired by model Kelly LeBrock) hit number one on the Billboard charts and stayed there for four consecutive weeks.
Before we go to the song, this is probably the best use of a Hall and Oates song I have ever seen.
Maneater.mp3
(Oh oh, here she comes)
Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up.
(Oh oh, here she comes)
She’s a maneater.
I wouldn't if I were you.
I know what she can do.
She's deadly, man,
She could really rip your world apart.
Mind over matter--
The beauty is there, but a beast is in the heart.
May 4, 2010
Ben Folds Five//Song for the Dumped
I have a sort of complicated relationship with Ben Folds (Five), although obviously not as complicated as Sady Doyle’s relationship with Rivers Cuomo.
Mine is more about legitimately liking Ben Folds (Five) most of the time (a distinct time of not liking them occurs during the cheesiest hit song ever written about abortion, "Brick"). The real problem is that I have a hard time being able to figure out if the songs I do like fall in the guilty pleasure zone or not. It was only recently, thanks to a video posted on a friend’s Facebook, that I realized that Ben Folds (Five) is not actually a guilty pleasure. The proof is in the (Chatroulette) pudding. Regardless, I loved this album in high school. Remember how back then, all anyone could talk about was how the band was SO CRAZY because they only had A PIANO and NO GUITAR. How weird. It was as if no one in the world had ever seen a piano before, especially not to play rock or alternative music. It was as if Little Richie, Billy Joel, Elton John, had never existed. BEHOLD! THE PIANO!
Back to the subject at hand, I also really liked the (sort of over-produced poorly-titled) solo album that followed shortly thereafter. Zack! And! Sarah!
This song is about a breakup gone bad. Really bad. “Give me my money back, you bitch,” bad.
I had this ex who stole one of my favorite hoodies when we broke up and this song always kind of reminds me of that.
Song for the Dumped.mp3
And don’t forget to give me back my black teeshirt!
Mine is more about legitimately liking Ben Folds (Five) most of the time (a distinct time of not liking them occurs during the cheesiest hit song ever written about abortion, "Brick"). The real problem is that I have a hard time being able to figure out if the songs I do like fall in the guilty pleasure zone or not. It was only recently, thanks to a video posted on a friend’s Facebook, that I realized that Ben Folds (Five) is not actually a guilty pleasure. The proof is in the (Chatroulette) pudding. Regardless, I loved this album in high school. Remember how back then, all anyone could talk about was how the band was SO CRAZY because they only had A PIANO and NO GUITAR. How weird. It was as if no one in the world had ever seen a piano before, especially not to play rock or alternative music. It was as if Little Richie, Billy Joel, Elton John, had never existed. BEHOLD! THE PIANO!
Back to the subject at hand, I also really liked the (sort of over-produced poorly-titled) solo album that followed shortly thereafter. Zack! And! Sarah!
This song is about a breakup gone bad. Really bad. “Give me my money back, you bitch,” bad.
I had this ex who stole one of my favorite hoodies when we broke up and this song always kind of reminds me of that.
Song for the Dumped.mp3
And don’t forget to give me back my black teeshirt!
March 24, 2010
Toots and the Maytals, Sublime//54-46
Pat and I played this song the last time we DJed, which got me thinking about it. Then, Mary asked about the Sublime cover, which got me thinking about that. Then, I started thinking (all this thinking!) about how I owed you an extra song to make up for my crazy schedule.
As per covers, the original version of this by Jamaican reggae legends Toots and the Maytals is WAY, WAY better. TatMs (originally just called The Maytals and led by Frederick "Toots" Hibbert) recorded this version in 1969. The song is about Toots’ time in prison, which he served after being arrested for marijuana possession.
The 90s AlternaSkaPunk outfit Sublime covered the song on their classic 40 Oz. to Freedom album, which I enjoyed abundantly in the late middle school and early high school period of my life. Some people hate Sublime, but I still kinda love ‘em (I Am Not Ashamed) and was not afraid to blast this album from my porch during my Ann Arbor days.
I heard a rumor that the band was still touring, but I doubt they could be very good, as the late singer/guitarist Brad Nowell was really who kept them sounding interesting.
54-46 Was My Number.mp3 (Toots Version)
54-46 That's My Number/Ball And Chain.mp3 (Sublime Version)
54 46 was my number.
Right now, someone else has that number.
As per covers, the original version of this by Jamaican reggae legends Toots and the Maytals is WAY, WAY better. TatMs (originally just called The Maytals and led by Frederick "Toots" Hibbert) recorded this version in 1969. The song is about Toots’ time in prison, which he served after being arrested for marijuana possession.
The 90s AlternaSkaPunk outfit Sublime covered the song on their classic 40 Oz. to Freedom album, which I enjoyed abundantly in the late middle school and early high school period of my life. Some people hate Sublime, but I still kinda love ‘em (I Am Not Ashamed) and was not afraid to blast this album from my porch during my Ann Arbor days.
I heard a rumor that the band was still touring, but I doubt they could be very good, as the late singer/guitarist Brad Nowell was really who kept them sounding interesting.
54-46 Was My Number.mp3 (Toots Version)
54-46 That's My Number/Ball And Chain.mp3 (Sublime Version)
54 46 was my number.
Right now, someone else has that number.
December 2, 2009
Beyoncé//Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)
Apparently I am having a poppy week. That said, I am not ashamed at all of how much I like this song.
Although I'm sure I've heard it millions of times, I didn't really think about it until I was watching Glee (the jury's still out on that one) with my mom, girlfriend and little sister at Thanksgiving. My sister showed me the clip where the show's gay character Kurt gets caught mimicking the video of this song with his friends and then somehow ends up going out for the football team and teaching it, choreography and all, to the players. Yeah, it's TV. Still, I haven't been able to get this song out of my head since then.
I also stumbled upon this amazing post on Carrie Brownstein's Monitor Mix shortly thereafter. Now the track is firmly implanted in my brain.
Hey. If you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it! Oh wait. You can't. Yep, this song just happens to also be timely today, as the NY State Senate voted down marriage equality. As my other sister said, "Rat Bastards."
According to Beyoncé (and everyone knows that Beyoncé is not only a class act, but also omniscient), not proposing in time can lead to disaster. Thanks to this recent turn of events in the Senate, my girlfriend may now opt to put on tight jeans, get wasted and dance with dudes in a club. This is not cool, NY. Not cool at all.
Also, last time I looked, this state (and definitely this city) is full of homos who pay taxes to pay your salaries, Senators. We fund your pet projects and we vote you in. If you like us, then you should think about putting a ring on it...or we're going to find some new man to dip up on and you're gonna know how it feels to really miss us.
Until next year, when we can revisit this bill...
Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It).mp3
Your love is what I prefer.
What I deserve
Is a man that makes me, then takes me
And delivers me to a destiny, to infinity and beyond.
Pull me into your arms,
Say I’m the one you want.
If you don’t, you’ll be alone
And like a ghost, I’ll be gone.
Although I'm sure I've heard it millions of times, I didn't really think about it until I was watching Glee (the jury's still out on that one) with my mom, girlfriend and little sister at Thanksgiving. My sister showed me the clip where the show's gay character Kurt gets caught mimicking the video of this song with his friends and then somehow ends up going out for the football team and teaching it, choreography and all, to the players. Yeah, it's TV. Still, I haven't been able to get this song out of my head since then.
I also stumbled upon this amazing post on Carrie Brownstein's Monitor Mix shortly thereafter. Now the track is firmly implanted in my brain.
Hey. If you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it! Oh wait. You can't. Yep, this song just happens to also be timely today, as the NY State Senate voted down marriage equality. As my other sister said, "Rat Bastards."
According to Beyoncé (and everyone knows that Beyoncé is not only a class act, but also omniscient), not proposing in time can lead to disaster. Thanks to this recent turn of events in the Senate, my girlfriend may now opt to put on tight jeans, get wasted and dance with dudes in a club. This is not cool, NY. Not cool at all.
Also, last time I looked, this state (and definitely this city) is full of homos who pay taxes to pay your salaries, Senators. We fund your pet projects and we vote you in. If you like us, then you should think about putting a ring on it...or we're going to find some new man to dip up on and you're gonna know how it feels to really miss us.
Until next year, when we can revisit this bill...
Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It).mp3
Your love is what I prefer.
What I deserve
Is a man that makes me, then takes me
And delivers me to a destiny, to infinity and beyond.
Pull me into your arms,
Say I’m the one you want.
If you don’t, you’ll be alone
And like a ghost, I’ll be gone.
October 1, 2009
10,000 Maniacs//Katrina's Fair
Uh oh. Now I'm on a very specific kick: this certain kind of sometimes a bit folky, sometimes a bit post-punk-inspired rock from the 80s. Can anyone stop me? I doubt it highly.
The stage is perfectly set for my big reveal. My very favorite band from the end of middle school until about the end of high school was the 10,000 Maniacs, who were pretty much just breaking up when I got into them. I know this is extremely nerdy to admit publicly (new tag: I Am Not Ashamed), but I fucking loved them with a passion that is almost unheard of for anything in my life now, let alone some fucking band that basically became adult alternative. That said, BECAME is the key word here, because they definitely didn't start off that way. They started off worshipping New Order and vintage reggae. They stood with bands like R.E.M. and The Pixies at the head of the college rock movement (which really was the forbearer of the later schism into indie rock (originally the righteous path, now totally irrelevant ) and alternative (the dark side?)).
The band was really broken by, you guessed it, the ultimate music diviner John Peel. Hope Chest, a compilation of some of their oldest material, is a stellar album. Amazing lyrics with vivid imagery. Weird sounds. Experimental recording.
Sort of sidenote: In 2001, I had the pleasure of doing a phone interview with Natalie Merchant for The Michigan Daily. We chatted for a few hours. She told me to read a book called Germs, which I finally picked up at The Newark Public Library booksale this year. It was really awesome to get to talk to a childhood idol. And although some of her solo albums are a bit corny, preachy and out of fashion, I kind of still think she's the jam. She's been amazing at supporting political and artistic causes in the world, which can be seen on her website. Apparently she's also in the studio again.
Katrina's Fair.mp3
Miss Lenora P. Sinclair,
Early for coffee in the pool.
"I'm resituating all your words."
Capital,
Space,
Colon
And paragraph.
The stage is perfectly set for my big reveal. My very favorite band from the end of middle school until about the end of high school was the 10,000 Maniacs, who were pretty much just breaking up when I got into them. I know this is extremely nerdy to admit publicly (new tag: I Am Not Ashamed), but I fucking loved them with a passion that is almost unheard of for anything in my life now, let alone some fucking band that basically became adult alternative. That said, BECAME is the key word here, because they definitely didn't start off that way. They started off worshipping New Order and vintage reggae. They stood with bands like R.E.M. and The Pixies at the head of the college rock movement (which really was the forbearer of the later schism into indie rock (originally the righteous path, now totally irrelevant ) and alternative (the dark side?)).
The band was really broken by, you guessed it, the ultimate music diviner John Peel. Hope Chest, a compilation of some of their oldest material, is a stellar album. Amazing lyrics with vivid imagery. Weird sounds. Experimental recording.
Sort of sidenote: In 2001, I had the pleasure of doing a phone interview with Natalie Merchant for The Michigan Daily. We chatted for a few hours. She told me to read a book called Germs, which I finally picked up at The Newark Public Library booksale this year. It was really awesome to get to talk to a childhood idol. And although some of her solo albums are a bit corny, preachy and out of fashion, I kind of still think she's the jam. She's been amazing at supporting political and artistic causes in the world, which can be seen on her website. Apparently she's also in the studio again.
Katrina's Fair.mp3
Miss Lenora P. Sinclair,
Early for coffee in the pool.
"I'm resituating all your words."
Capital,
Space,
Colon
And paragraph.
July 15, 2009
The Grateful Dead//Uncle John's Band
Anika and I went camping in the Catskills last weekend. Even though it totally poured on us (all night) Saturday night, we still had an amazing time. We hiked up Wittenberg Mountain and took a funny day trip to burnt-out hippie-mecca, Woodstock. Some pictures here.
This all really reminded me of summer camp, mostly because we were just a few miles away from Frost Valley . I am one of those nerds who could probably be called a “lifer” of summer camp. I started going for two weeks, when I was just six, in 1989. By the time I was 14, I was volunteering in the barn, tending to horses and teaching beginner horseback lessons.
Camp was, without a doubt, one of the coolest experiences of my young/young adult life. This also might be because, despite the fact that it was officially "YMCA," my camp was a SERIOUS hippie camp, complete with a "World Hunger Day," a mock "Underground Railroad" and our own music festival, where I first played guitar in front of people, Hirdstock (remember, we were just a short drive from Woodstock). Of course, a camp of such a peace/love/wellness caliber attracted a particularly hilarious demographic of counselors, a number of which were serious hippies themselves.
One particular counselor, Zim, was no exception. We frequently played guitar together, including songs by Joni Mitchell, REM, 10,000 Maniacs, Rusted Root (I went back and considered "Send Me On My Way" for this post, and honestly, that song is just not good, guys) and, the ultimate hippie jam band, The Grateful Dead.
I am not ashamed to admit that I own and love two very fine Grateful Dead albums, American Beauty and the ultra-folky Workingman's Dead. Look, no one's going to argue that The Dead's eight-thousand-minute jams sessions aren't hard to handle sometimes. Also, they serve as the butt of many a joke by countless indie snobs. All that said, The Dead kinda rule. You can't beat them for honey'd up harmonies and thick coppery guitar tone. And dudes, I'm sorry, but without these guys, you hipsters don't get your Fleet Foxes or your Blitzen Trappers or your Motel Motels or even your Animal Collectives. Their influence is palpable and essential to the modern-day indie folk/noise/experimental groups--so chill the fuck out, smoke a J (like the crazy guy sitting behind me in the coffee shop garden is doing RIGHT NOW OMG, I love you, Brooklyn) and come hear Uncle John's band.
Uncle John's Band.mp3
When life looks like easy street,
There is danger at your door.
This all really reminded me of summer camp, mostly because we were just a few miles away from Frost Valley . I am one of those nerds who could probably be called a “lifer” of summer camp. I started going for two weeks, when I was just six, in 1989. By the time I was 14, I was volunteering in the barn, tending to horses and teaching beginner horseback lessons.
Camp was, without a doubt, one of the coolest experiences of my young/young adult life. This also might be because, despite the fact that it was officially "YMCA," my camp was a SERIOUS hippie camp, complete with a "World Hunger Day," a mock "Underground Railroad" and our own music festival, where I first played guitar in front of people, Hirdstock (remember, we were just a short drive from Woodstock). Of course, a camp of such a peace/love/wellness caliber attracted a particularly hilarious demographic of counselors, a number of which were serious hippies themselves.
One particular counselor, Zim, was no exception. We frequently played guitar together, including songs by Joni Mitchell, REM, 10,000 Maniacs, Rusted Root (I went back and considered "Send Me On My Way" for this post, and honestly, that song is just not good, guys) and, the ultimate hippie jam band, The Grateful Dead.
I am not ashamed to admit that I own and love two very fine Grateful Dead albums, American Beauty and the ultra-folky Workingman's Dead. Look, no one's going to argue that The Dead's eight-thousand-minute jams sessions aren't hard to handle sometimes. Also, they serve as the butt of many a joke by countless indie snobs. All that said, The Dead kinda rule. You can't beat them for honey'd up harmonies and thick coppery guitar tone. And dudes, I'm sorry, but without these guys, you hipsters don't get your Fleet Foxes or your Blitzen Trappers or your Motel Motels or even your Animal Collectives. Their influence is palpable and essential to the modern-day indie folk/noise/experimental groups--so chill the fuck out, smoke a J (like the crazy guy sitting behind me in the coffee shop garden is doing RIGHT NOW OMG, I love you, Brooklyn) and come hear Uncle John's band.
Uncle John's Band.mp3
When life looks like easy street,
There is danger at your door.
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