Chrisco Spins

Julian sent me this and since he won’t ever post on his own I’ll post this for him. Enjoy.

This morning I opened an e-mail from my boy Doug in which he had forwarded a link for the lead-off single for the new Roots album, a track titled “Birthday Girl”. He briefly prefaced it by saying that, even though there had been some negative reviews, he thought the video would be a hit. He asked if I thought it could get regular play.

I really need you to just watch this, please, so you can understand how very silly that question is.

Of course it will get regular play!!! Dorky teen boys getting their “gifts” unwrapped by a mischievous-looking barely legal chick(en head?)* and the implication that as soon as a young lady hits that magic number, she’s smash-appropriate? Yes, Doug, I’m afraid this just may be a hit, if for no other reason than that the video features porn star Sasha Grey. This video is wank fodder for so many reasons. It will probably never matter that Black Thought is actually rhyming about THE TOTAL EFFING OPPOSITE idea.

I dunno, man. I’d say it was a “no-brainer”, but that term just feels oddly inappropriate in this context.

*Do we even use that word anymore? Is it fair to categorize her as such, just because she graduated from high school with dreams to break into the porn industry? Hmmm…

I realized something the other day. A relationship I’ve been involved in for 25ish years has officially come to an end. I’m out of love. All that’s left is the bitterness. Ironically enough, it took an awful movie to make me fully realize my situation. Thank you “Brown Sugar.”

Now this travesty of a movie stars Sanaa Lathan as a magazine editor who starts all her interviews with “So, when did you fall in love with hip-hop?” Taye Diggs is the record producer who loves the music but hates the industry. Oh… and Mos Def is in it. You remember Mos Def? Possible the best modern MC walking the planet who has for all intents and purposes deliberately turned his back on a genre and a culture that stands in direct opposition to everything that makes him great. Sorry for the tangent. I know, “Brown Sugar” is a terrible movie. We’ve established that. Now bear with me.

Watching this awful movie, made me realize that I’ve fallen way out of love with hip-hop. I’m not even mad when people talk negatively about it. I don’t even try to defend it anymore. People call it homophobic and I nod. People say it denigrates women and I nod. People say it ruins our children and reluctantly… I nod. As a matter of fact, forget love… I don’t even like hip-hop anymore.

Is it ironic that I’m out of love at the same point where the “artists” who create hip-hop are more financially successful than ever? I don’t think so. Because despite all the money, no one is about anything anymore. There were always money hungry rappers, but despite Dame Dash’s mantra… no one needs “all the money.” Where are the guys with an agenda? Where are the guys giving back to their neighborhoods? Hell, forget Thanksgiving turkey give-aways, “hip-hop” now has enough money to fund hospitals, public housing, scholarship funds… where are those things?

I could just be an old man. I’ll give you that. But it doesn’t feel the same. Every artist should know the business side, but now hip-hop has more businessmen than it does artists. Everyone can break down a royalty rate, but no one cares about putting changes in their production or variation in their vocals.

And have I mentioned we’ve reached a new level of embarrassing ourselves in public? Flavor Flav is banging his third season of skanks and making Chuck D ashamed they were ever in the same group. MC Serch and the Ego Trip guys are satirizing the culture for fun and profit on VH1. And somewhere Kool Herc is holding his head in his hands and crying.

I say all that, but have to take a step back and say that I still enjoy some songs when I hear them. Rick Ross’ new single got me excited. But I no longer enjoy the music as part of a love for the greater culture that spawned it. Mostly because I don’t think that culture exists anymore. Hip-hop culture was born of a certain era. Unfortunately, I’m beginning to think that era is over.

There will be rappers I like in the future. There will be songs that I enjoy. I’ll see a new dance or hear a new hook and I’ll get an echo of the love I used to have. But just like bumping into an ex-girlfriend, those echoes will be more and more faint. It makes me a little sad to think that at some point hip-hop will be reduced to the equivalent of “you remember old girl… what was her name?”

I freaking love National Public Radio. It helps me combine my two favorite things: being smart, and letting people know I’m smart. The suite from the opera Carmen came on the other day as I was driving, and I rolled my windows down and BUMPED it. I don’t know which was more satisfying, the tension in the syncopated violins over a Jay Dee-worthy base line that defies its European origin or the fact that I got to let the entire City of Decatur watch me melt into it like Blanch Devereaux on a motherfucking cheesecake. Pure egotistical ecstasy, I tell you. Glorious.

About three birthdays ago, my niece surprised me with an iPod Shuffle. Back then it was the epitome of portability — “250 songs in an iPod the size of a stick of gum!” When I opened it, I just sat there in stunned silence for a couple of minutes, the idea of being part of iPod Nation slowly sinking in. It was truly the perfect gift. No longer would my colleagues bray about their iPods and gigabytes and blah blah BLAH blah with me having to sit at my sad desk, taking it like a loser. Now I was not only down with iPod, but I was super-portable! My iPod? Merely as big as a stick of gum. Their iPods? Mammoth-like in that they were around the size of a Camel Hard Pack. Score thus far: Gum 1, Mammoths 0.

Enter the enemy of all those who purchase electronics to win friends and influence people: Technological advancement.

I knew it was all over when my friend D. casually strolled by my desk one evening to show me her shiny new silver iPod Shuffle, aka The Updated Version That, Just So You Know, Is Way Way WAY Much More Compact, Cooler And Portable Than Your Stick Of Gum FugPod Will Ever Be So THERE Ha Ha!

Naturally, my stick of gum Shuffle became the figurative white albatross around my neck. It looked lame hanging on me like some reject from the Flava Flav For Juniors collection. Whenever I tried jogging with it, it would swing from side to side; it was like having my own personal pendulum bearing down on me, Poe-like, and my OCD-plagued soul was the pit. What torture. So of course I went to Target and bought my own itty bitty silver Hey I Downsized And Now I Can Jog With It So Really It Was For The Good Of My Health iPod Shuffle and since then it’s been all good.

Tonight, though, I got out the old stick of gum. It works fine and for all practical purposes, is brand new. I had 197 songs on it from back in the days when I thought it made my life complete and I just erased them all, every single one.

It’s time to start over with a fresh template here, a new beginning for this token that once held me speechless. It was never the perfect gift but it’s one that I cherish because it was given with real purpose, not just to satisfy a “birthday requirement.” Less is more. Holding it now, I understand that.

Nat sent me this last night. But she won’t post it.  So here it is:

We all know Hillary Clinton is leaking superdelegates like a beached oil tanker. But now her street cred is taking a hit too. That’s because 50 Cent is backing away from his support for the New York senator.

Two questions leap to mind here. 1) Fiddy was supporting Hillary? Yep, sure was as he told Time last year. 2) Fiddy listens to political speeches? Sure does.

How much do I love the visual of 50 Cent sitting in his Connecticut mansion watching the Democratic candidates debating the details of their economic policies? I love it a lot.

So what Ashley Dupri was a hooker? There are a lot of women who are hookers. Many of them don’t even have the decency to be upfront about it. Anyone who’s been to an NBA All-Star weekend can co-sign on that.

As a life-long hip-hop fan, what truly condemns her to me is her terrible taste in music. Aspiring musician my ass. Take a listen to this video that she starred in. (more…)

A little background on Papa Jo Jones:
All About Jazz, Drummer World, Jazz Times

Somewhere we lost our way. Somehow we forgot. Bob Marley is the greatest reggae artist in the history of reggae. But despite his greatness, at some point Bob Marley got co-opted by commercials, chain restaurants, and fraternity members driving Jeep Wranglers. It’s gotten to the point that you can’t even like Bob Marley publicly without being lumped into that Gap-wearing, beer-chugging, feathered-hair under a college cap having group of idiots. (more…)