To Hip Hop Heads and Haitians, with Love

"I'm sick of feelin impotent watchin the world burn, in the era of apocalypse, waitin my turn." -Immortal Technique

It's crazy how big events can make you feel so small. I mean, when in the booth or in front of the laptop or behind the podium, one can feel so big, so bionic. But when that same person is in the wake of a quake or a plane crash, it's hard to rise up, let alone mutter something inspired. Listening to Immortal Technique and Nas can get any hip hop head hype, but when Biggie says "Blow up like the World Trade" or Im says "burying your fam like a central american earthquake" it can put a lump in your throat immediately. There's something so real and visceral about their words, almost like you can feel the power summoned by the very disaster, or see the images those tragedies created as the words are spat into the microphone. Hip Hop is real life. Prophetic and revisited. Over and over for some real heads. And spat by any and all who can feel it. Real hip hop i guess. And that's why I can stay up late-ish and listen to old records because they convey real life situations and say things that i can't say myself. So with that, I send a hearty heart out to the doctors without borders, to the red cross, to unicef, to the UN, to Obama's administration, and most importantly, to the victims of this natural disaster and those throughout the world.

If, indeed, we are in the age of apocalypse, and hip hop is the voice of the people, maybe we need some more positive prophets. I mean, maybe i do need to pay attention to these holy hop warriors. If it's about praise and not so much worship. I know how to worship on my own (or with instrumental accompaniment). It's the praise that God inhabits...maybe we need some more of that goin up behind the podium, in the booth, or within the halls to even out the burden of proof here. To me, it's a simple equation: sound + words --> (+) or (-) w/ power = inspiration either negative or positive...it can get the asses shakin, or get the tambourines shakin....but what does it do in the face of earthquakin? Ok that was corny, but for real! I can send my donation and put my prayers in, but what can I really do?

As an aside, there should be free trips and free lunches for volunteers when it's time to make the trip(s) down to Haiti.

Brooklyn Museum - Questions re: Who shot rock n roll...

Now, you all know by now that I'm not the type who always needs to be complaining in print. I'd much rather coexist and love life with y'all than the alternative. But there is a time and a place for everything...and right now, i feel like complaining. Now, i've seen my share of the Cadillac Records, Dream Girls, and The Five Heartbeats, and Ray, so I know where rock and roll came from from a Hollywood perspective and beyond. I understand the contributions of greats like Ray Charles, Howlin Wolf and Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, and Etta James, at least on a superficial level. But nowhere in the vault of Brooklyn Museum's exhibit on Who Shot Rock and Roll do they honor Ray Charles, Muddy Waters, or Howlin Wolf. That's sort of to be expected, but what I did not expect was for them to put a sweaty, screamin lookin version of Tina Turner on the cover of their coffee table book and as the exhibit portrait. She looks terrible...for Tina. They had postcards where she was mid performance or posing for the camera where she looked oh so tasteful. My problem with it is this, she's an icon for black females, and for black pop/rock artists. Just as Elvis is an icon for the white rock 'n' roll "movement." But get this, not once, do they show Elvis, who is front and center for much of the exhibit, with as much as a hair out of place. He is perfectly coiffed, debonair, laid back, obviously posing - even his rendition of Heartbreak Hotel was a performance, and calmly if suggestively done with his modified crazy legs basic ass pelvic pump. And the girls go wild. Cat was type smooth. But not once do you see him break a sweat, lose a curl or get too loose...meanwhile Tina is Centerstage lookin like she been on stage for two hours givin her all to the camera and moreover, the fans. the juxtaposition is priceless man. Their heroes, our heroes. Personally, i'm like fuck it, just give Elvis the cover and give Tina two pages, one well done and neat and crisp, the other sweatin and carryin on. Had a whole video of Heartbreak Hotel anyway already....upon first breath in the exhibit...just to set the stage, so to speak.

The portraits of the Beatles were great. The work on Grace Jones was priceless. i wasn't impressed with the Michael Jackson photos, suprisingly - there were less than 8. And how do Biggie, Jay-Z, LL Cool J, Salt N Peppa, or Puff Daddy figure into the Rock n Roll equation? Please tell me before I tell someone off. I didn't see Eminem in the equation anywhere - where was that punk rappers portrait. Actually that Momma said knock you out was a real crossover. lemme shut up then. aight i'm off.

big balls

The Giants lost today, ending their run to defend their Championship reign. Not a big deal, but definitely something that I could have had fun with over the next few weeks. Oh well...big dose of chokage in the O-line of the Giants and of course, the now-panicky again Eli Manning. Tuff stuff youngblood.

But tonight was also the golden Globes and when it's 25 degrees outside I can definitely appreciate looking at Angelina and Beyonce, and Jennifer Lopez, and Penelope Cruz for a while. What I noticed was, that while second rate white actors were in the audience, second rate black actors definitely weren't....interesting, huh? Maybe not, but it is an elite event I suppose.

Oh, one important thing, and the reason why I wanted to post: there was a shooting in Queens at the site of a music video where some thugs plugged among two others, a dude who was 33 with a wife and attempting to start a family. Here's what I want to know, is it possible to like extract sperm cells from him and keep them alive for some sort of posthumous conception with his wife so they can have children still? Is that crazy or brilliant? It has some kinda Seven Pounds wildness to it, but I think it has merit. I don't know - if my wife passed I would kinda want some of her eggs to raise some children - but then we'd need a surrogate carrier and all that, that's kinda different. I'm saying, for a fallen soldier in the field, you know that would be the shit...How long after death do the testes stop working or storing sperm cells? I'm just curious homey. Might have the next big operation!

no offense was intended with any of these statements at all. sorry if i fell short of sensitive.

The next time you hear from me i will have started using my intelligence to become more knowledgeable. it matters. so that doesn't mean you can just ask me any question and I'll have the answer, but it will mean that if you ask my opinion, I will have a viable, relevant answer. that's a start. If we're here to stretch his will, we're here to stretch his will. Stretch it with a little brainwork first.

rock bottom

Well. here I am. does it get much lower? homeless. jobless. mental case. hopefully not handicapped but maybe disabled. who am i right now and who's life have i taken authority over. not my own, i'm sure. how to flip this thing around before cast and crew are hurt for real? do i ask for more help - i mean from more than the usual parties...or do i stay the course until something opens up for me....cuz the usual joints don't seem to apply here. like Common said, i'm just opening my mental window for alittle while so maybe u'll climb in or just look in. likely a quick look will afford you a laugh. not at my expense, however, cuz i'm broke.

travelin tunes

now, traveling isn't exactly something i'm opposed to. getting my kicks on route...um, whatever...is something i enjoy just as much as the next person. but when my tunes conked out this trip, it really peeved me. like, all the sudden i went from cruising with complete control and autonomy to all of the sudden basting in the hot sun, squirming in an uncomfortable seat, and paying close attention to the mile markers. what is it about the sounds that make the ride that much more enjoyable? whose bright idea was it to put the first 8-track player in the car? kudos...seriously. whether it's the radio, with it's overcommercialized hip hop music, jazz fm, or classical, something hits to make that ride oh so smoove. here's to travelin tunes, and here's to getting mine fixed up just right.

the DMV ain't so bad

So I still ain't quite on my job, bu I'm on my j.o.b. I'm sort of wavering right now. And I'll tell you why. Anyone who's been to the DMV knows - the administration of necessary things in this country could use a little push. I mean, honestly, you walk in the door, see mounds of people, poor unfortunate toddlers who should be home with a sitter, and you just think to yourself, How long do I have to be here?! So you state your claim, take a number, and wait your turn. While you're waiting, if you're organized, you go over your forms, try to avoid eye contact with any sketchy passers-by, and mind your own business, but the entertainment has just begun. There's the eager 16 year old who just passed the driving test and is fixing her hair and makeup in her pocket mirror while her father beams with pride. There's the businessman who is grumpy because he just cruised in from out of town and only wants to change his plates so he can get back to making power moves. And there's the punk cat tough guy who has had his license suspended and is trying desperately to get back on the road so he can cruise the strip for hotties. And as you're sitting, minding your business and quietly taking notes, you can't help but chuckle to yourself that this mixing pot, this veritable cauldron of attitudes, ethnicities, and ideologies, is where you will have to spend the majority of your day if you want to get your wheels.
Ahhh. So after a sigh, some pudgy dude who smells like smoke sits next to you and folds his arms. You're hoping he doesn't say anything dumb cause you really don't want to have to respond and fake smile. Someone's breathing down your neck from behind, and the number you have seems to be ages away from the number being called. You try to picture yourself driving on the highway, tunes blasting, far above this lowly waste of a day, when all of the sudden, she walks in. To the casual observer, she's just a pretty young lady, but you want to know more. She looks half confused, half confident, and totally out of place, but as she fills the room with her scent, a calm excitement starts to flow. All of the sudden, you wake up from your daydream and you're at full attention, willing her to come sit near you. You notice her smile as she accepts her number calmly and looks for a seat. Some of the soccer moms hold their husbands a little tighter as their pupils dilate. As she strolls closer, you notice the way she's gripping her folder, personal documents situated elegantly between her manicured fingers. She slows down as she approaches your seat and you:

a. give up your seat and smile charmingly
b. smile charmingly but keep your seat (long line)
c. put your head down and think hard of something witty to say
d. (here's where you respond, big shot. best response gets "BEST RESPONSE" honors) keep it clean or you're outta here.