I.
One of the coolest nights of my New York life took place on August 29, 2003. The Video Music Awards production had consumed Radio City Music Hall and most of midtown. As the night began I was with new friends (all of whom, with one exception, now lost in time) in an apartment on the Upper East Side, watching the show on TV. Later that night Justin Timberlake was giving a semi-secret after-show concert at the Roseland Ballroom, and my friend (the one who endured) had somehow found out about it and procured tickets. That afternoon I had gone to a thrift store near my apartment on Columbus to buy a cool new shirt. I was ready. Around one in the morning we hopped in a cab to head downtown and joined the long line of people curving around the block to get in.
Inside we stood on our tiptoes and stared at the center of the world. He performed with Timbaland, Pharrell, John Mayer. Relevant-at-the-time celebrities like Jessica Simpson and Cameron Diaz glowed in the balcony as cameras flashed before them. The music was familiar and driving, giving us life. Hours later we emerged into the darkest hours of the morning, exhausted and wide awake. We were in New York City, young and broke and unstoppable.
It was almost a perfect night. On the way in security guards had confiscated the disposable camera I had brought, and as we were leaving I realized I wouldn't be able to recover it -- they had thrown it away in the trash. The camera had photos from a friend's recent wedding, and I was wracked with guilt and fear that the pictures were lost. My friends implored me to get into a cab and leave, but I ended the night by myself sorting through garbage bags outside of Roseland, looking for a camera that of course I never found.
The pathetic ending, though, is necessary to demonstrate the reality of that spectacular night. A better conclusion would have required flights of make-believe.
II.
Of course, that was now ten years ago. And when I saw Justin host SNL a few weeks back, I thought, for the first time, that he looked kind of ... older. Not that he looked objectively old or haggard, but that he no longer looked young. He used to be the Justin Bieber of the early aughts, and now he's too old to get away with something as unabashedly silly (yet awesome) as "Beauty and the Beat." He is in a different space now, ceding the teen-pop ground and moving on to a silkier, more mature R&B tradition.
One funny thing about my job working with college students is that I feel acutely aware of the passage of time, as I become older yet the cohort of people I work with remains static. I see their experience of music become more and more estranged from my own. When they find out I listen to JT or Maroon 5 or anyone like that they are often incredulous, as if I should be at home watching Lawrence Welk.
As a result I follow Justin Timberlake through music with the confidence that I can go where he is leading. He is my spirit animal. And the new album is fantastic: warmer than the last and with solid through-lines connecting its songs to the tracks on the 2003 album, "Justified," that was my soundtrack to those incredulous years ("Nothin' Else" to "Strawberry Bubblegum," "Last Night" to "Tunnel Vision").
Pop culture is a force of the young. Maybe he is still doing those midnight shows, but I'm sure not going to them -- that particular moment has passed. Now we dance in the kitchen with our daughters, cleaning dishes in the evening.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Friday, April 05, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
Lights out
I think I'm going to wrap things up here at ol' Clarity. When I started this blog in January 2005 I wanted to create an outlet where I could write and try to record the significant and small moments of life that seemed worth remembering. Through 550 posts, that idea carried me through law school, getting engaged, getting married, having two careers and having two babies. I am so thankful that I've had this record of the changes that occurred from age 24 to 32 -- it's hard to imagine a more momentous period of my life.
Things change, though, and for a number of reasons I think it's time to wrap things up here. As more loved ones began reading the blog I felt compelled to change the way I wrote or what I wrote about. I began to feel pressure to memorialize everything that seemed significant. And perhaps most importantly, the blog began to feel like a source of guilt rather than an oasis. Now I just feel guilty about about not writing or posting more.
Maybe it's just a function of life with work and two kids under three, but it's hard to muster the energy to think and to write a lot of the time. Of course, in the last few days I've been thinking about what to do here, and new things to write about seem to appear all around me like shiny coins on the sidewalk: Barrow smiling at me the other day as we sat on the couch, a moment of union and synthesis that in some ways feels like the beginning of my fatherhood of him; my great day on Friday, when I picked up some stationary and the Best American Short Stories 2012 at the bookstore and then entered Chipotle to hear a song I love on the sound system. Also the fact that I feel more aware than ever of a certain stratification among my friends as all of our careers and life choices seem to push us in different and undeniable directions. Not to mention what I read this year (the "Game of Thrones" books, the latest LBJ volume by Robert Caro, and not much else) and what I listened to (Drake, Frank Ocean, a lot of dance & pop music).
If I continue writing this blog, I'll feel guilty about not writing more; if I stop writing this blog, I'll feel guilty for stopping. Because of course, a blog I began in 2005 should continue in perpetuity. I feel guilty Barrow won't have as many posts as Alice. I don't know.
So with that in mind, I'm turning out the lights for the time being. I will certainly find another outlet to write when the time comes, but I don't know if it will be here. But maybe it will.
One last thing: over time L and I have developed a silly nickname for each other, "blabe," which comes from one time when I meant to say "babe" but it came out "blabe." This is like how George W. and Laura Bush call each other "Bushie." When Alice was in the womb we started calling her "Little Blabe," or LB, which we still sometimes call her. And when we first started talking about the idea of Barrow, we identified him as "Baby Blabe." A while back L and I were talking about those six-word biographies that are popular these days, and she asked what mine would be, and I responded: "Blabe, blabe, Little Blabe, Baby Blabe."
What a life. So much to be thankful for.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Night rhythms
Tonight, after Alice and I finally got home, after Alice took her bath, after we attempted to FaceTime with L in Atlanta while Alice was in the tub, resulting in an anguished Alice reaching her soapy hands towards L's face enclosed by the distressingly small face of the phone, after reading books and kissing goodnight, after watching the debate, after doing some work and agonizing over the unkempt state of my inbox, after looking around the quiet apartment, I remembered that something good had happened today. I had been worried about something for a while, and got a phone call in the middle of a meeting this morning telling me that things were okay. When my phone started vibrating, I knew immediately what it was, and I was able to stride out of the conference room with the unquestioning confidence I can never seem to muster when I really need it. I got my good news and came back into the meeting, taking that idea and folding it neatly and placing it in my pocket.
And then tonight I discovered it again. To celebrate I decided to pour some Sambuca for myself and add three coffee beans. As Alice slept and the city lay dark and still outside the windows, I cleaned the kitchen and listened to music, washing tupperware and making sandwiches for tomorrow, gathering all my ingredients for morning oatmeal, portioning my carrot sticks for lunch. In the shadowy kitchen I let my iPod be my guide, gliding through the night with the slow, true old songs made for evenings like this.
Ever since I was in high school these late hours were made for music and quiet. Singing low in my night kitchen reminded me of the solitude that I don't often experience anymore, for great reasons -- but what joy there was to be found in those old slow songs, a voice worn and lowered by the length of the day, a clean kitchen ready for the morning, a glass of sambuca at hand, patient and restorative, and the memory of good news to absolve the day of worry.
And then tonight I discovered it again. To celebrate I decided to pour some Sambuca for myself and add three coffee beans. As Alice slept and the city lay dark and still outside the windows, I cleaned the kitchen and listened to music, washing tupperware and making sandwiches for tomorrow, gathering all my ingredients for morning oatmeal, portioning my carrot sticks for lunch. In the shadowy kitchen I let my iPod be my guide, gliding through the night with the slow, true old songs made for evenings like this.
Ever since I was in high school these late hours were made for music and quiet. Singing low in my night kitchen reminded me of the solitude that I don't often experience anymore, for great reasons -- but what joy there was to be found in those old slow songs, a voice worn and lowered by the length of the day, a clean kitchen ready for the morning, a glass of sambuca at hand, patient and restorative, and the memory of good news to absolve the day of worry.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Music of the year, 2011
My music consumption this year was dominated by two big, random albums. Last winter I bought Diddy-Dirty Money's "Last Train to Paris," a completely synthetic piece of music that nonetheless captured my interest for much of the year. For this album Sean "Diddy" Combs gathered two girl singers by his side and attempted to replicate the magic of his old duet with Keyshia Cole, "Last Night." The result was a solid and shockingly consistent album of R&B/electronic/dance music. My two favorite tracks were the classily named "A** on the Floor" and the epic "Shades." Although the videos for this album were uniformly grim and lifeless, like some kind of dank urban vampire film, the music was compulsively danceable and great for running. There were a good 6-8 songs I really loved here, which is rare. This was an amazing album for me.
The second big album this year was Foster the People's "Torches," a relentlessly peppy and energetic jumble of indie rock with deep undercurrents of R&B and hip hop (at least as I found it). The rock elements were balanced by some good electronic arrangements and some definite swag. This album reminds me of training for the marathon in Central Park and it revs me up. There were a lot of great songs on here: "Helena Beat," "Life on the Nickel," "Miss You," among others.
Inspired by "Torches," I followed Foster the People down the rabbit hole of Pandora to discover myself really enjoying some twee white people music performed by dirty hippies. Two songs really wormed their way into my consciousness and conjured great feelings about life and family: The Middle East's "Blood" and "Home" by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros. (I'm a couple years late on the latter, but whatever.) I found myself enjoying a lot of other songs of similar ilk, although I couldn't help thinking that this is music for racists who don't want any trace of black culture in their music. I don't know if this is true or not.
There were some other great songs this year too. I enjoyed the unabashed dance music of David Guetta's "Where Them Girls At," featuring Flo Rida and Nicki Minaj, and Usher's "DJ Got Us Fallin' in Love." The-Dream released an EP online under his given name, Terius Nash, that was mostly forgettable except for the aggressive and rhythmic "Ghetto," featuring a great verse by Big Sean. Kelly Rowland's song "Motivation," featuring Lil Wayne, was an odd little confection. I'm still not sure what the song is actually about, but it always engaged me with its mysterious structure and lilting chorus. The remix with Trey Songz was great too. And Kelly's former bandmate Beyonce had some interesting songs on her latest album, particularly "Countdown," featuring a bizarre use of a Boyz II Men video and a music video that was irresistible and jubilant.
One other album hit it big for me this year, like it did for everybody: Adele's "21." At this point she has reached a peak of cultural saturation, and the recent SNL sketch mocking the emotional depth of "Someone Like You" both proved the point and laughed at the power of the song. But "Rolling in the Deep" remains a profoundly amazing song, and other songs carried a similar power and honesty, especially "Turning Tables" and her cover of "Lovesong."
Overall this didn't feel like a great year of music. There were albums I meant to get, like the new Coldplay and the new Drake, but I just didn't. I feel like I'm aging out of pop music and hip hop, and a lot of R&B feels musty and repetitive. Where do I go now? Into the flannel-clad arms of all these bearded white people? I refuse to let that happen. In the meantime I'll keep listening to find something new, something to keep me moving.
The second big album this year was Foster the People's "Torches," a relentlessly peppy and energetic jumble of indie rock with deep undercurrents of R&B and hip hop (at least as I found it). The rock elements were balanced by some good electronic arrangements and some definite swag. This album reminds me of training for the marathon in Central Park and it revs me up. There were a lot of great songs on here: "Helena Beat," "Life on the Nickel," "Miss You," among others.
Inspired by "Torches," I followed Foster the People down the rabbit hole of Pandora to discover myself really enjoying some twee white people music performed by dirty hippies. Two songs really wormed their way into my consciousness and conjured great feelings about life and family: The Middle East's "Blood" and "Home" by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros. (I'm a couple years late on the latter, but whatever.) I found myself enjoying a lot of other songs of similar ilk, although I couldn't help thinking that this is music for racists who don't want any trace of black culture in their music. I don't know if this is true or not.
There were some other great songs this year too. I enjoyed the unabashed dance music of David Guetta's "Where Them Girls At," featuring Flo Rida and Nicki Minaj, and Usher's "DJ Got Us Fallin' in Love." The-Dream released an EP online under his given name, Terius Nash, that was mostly forgettable except for the aggressive and rhythmic "Ghetto," featuring a great verse by Big Sean. Kelly Rowland's song "Motivation," featuring Lil Wayne, was an odd little confection. I'm still not sure what the song is actually about, but it always engaged me with its mysterious structure and lilting chorus. The remix with Trey Songz was great too. And Kelly's former bandmate Beyonce had some interesting songs on her latest album, particularly "Countdown," featuring a bizarre use of a Boyz II Men video and a music video that was irresistible and jubilant.
One other album hit it big for me this year, like it did for everybody: Adele's "21." At this point she has reached a peak of cultural saturation, and the recent SNL sketch mocking the emotional depth of "Someone Like You" both proved the point and laughed at the power of the song. But "Rolling in the Deep" remains a profoundly amazing song, and other songs carried a similar power and honesty, especially "Turning Tables" and her cover of "Lovesong."
Overall this didn't feel like a great year of music. There were albums I meant to get, like the new Coldplay and the new Drake, but I just didn't. I feel like I'm aging out of pop music and hip hop, and a lot of R&B feels musty and repetitive. Where do I go now? Into the flannel-clad arms of all these bearded white people? I refuse to let that happen. In the meantime I'll keep listening to find something new, something to keep me moving.
Monday, December 27, 2010
The Top Ten Songs of 2010
I spend a lot of time thinking about which songs will appear on my end-of-year Top Ten. Starting around November, I start making lists and comparing play totals. I rely on a complex formula of play counts, emotional associations, the representation of different seasons and life experiences, and how sick I am in December of songs that I loved in, say, May. The goal is to make a list I can return to in a couple of years, play the songs, and suddenly remember how all of this has felt. Before we proceed, let me gently remind the reader that this list is objectively correct and not up for debate. Now, on to the music!
10. Alicia Keys, "Unthinkable (I'm Ready)" -- This year I found myself turning to more mid- to slow-tempo music, and this was the first Alicia Keys song in a few years to really grab me. As usual, the lyrics and instrumentation are lush and sophisticated -- the thread of the rhythm guitar, the crescendo of the bridge, the deliberate pauses between chords. I love Drake's subtle background vocals; his interplay with Alicia's main vocals seems gentle and sweet. I've heard the remix where he busts out a full-blown rap, and it's completely unnecessary. One of the admins in my office was singing this song for a solid four months, and I felt a strong affinity with her. This song is fantastic.
9. Shakira feat. Lil Wayne, "Give It Up To Me" -- I've written about this before, but when I found out L was pregnant last summer, I realized I had to do several things by the spring: (1) get a new job; (2) get a new apartment; and (3) have a baby. Miraculously, I was able to accomplish all of these things. To me this song captures both a sense of potential and pride in the achievement: "You can have it all, anything you want you can make it yours, anything you want in the world, anything you want in the world (give it up to me); Nothing too big or small, anything you want you can make it yours, anything you want in the world, anything you want in the world (give it up to me)." On that last phrase of the chorus, Shakira's voice splits in two, and one track rises robotically upward on this fantastic trajectory -- it is beguiling. The track also features a solid opening rap by Lil Wayne, and some excellent production by Timbaland. The last great thing about this song: my hip hop teacher was prominently featured in the music video.
8. Usher feat. Nicki Minaj, "Lil Freak" -- This song is one of the more nakedly misogynistic songs I have ever had the misfortune to love. It's about Usher at the club, soliciting a girl to go find another girl to bring home for a little menage a trois back at the condo. I find this song to be incredibly aggressive -- "if you're coming with me... you go get some girls and bring em to me..." -- and it's a good song to listen to when I'm mad. Comically, or perhaps pathetically, this song is my version of gangsta rap or death metal. The two redeeming features: the twisted Stevie Wonder sample on the chorus, which brings some chaotic, swooping chords on top of the roiling, driving bass line; and Nicki Minaj's rap break, staccato like a machine gun. Sometimes I listen to it just for those 30 seconds -- that and the last instrumental section of the song, where the misogyny takes a back seat so you can just ride the beat for a while.
7. Maxwell, "Love You" -- I got the new Maxwell album a full year behind everybody else. I don't know why I waited; it just happened. This album was a huge part of the mid-tempo soul revival I was talking about above; the classic vibe, clean production, and lack of any autotune or guest rappers was so refreshing and timeless. It was hard to pick just one song, but this one was always my favorite. The beat is driving and exuberant, and the song marches happily forward. "I can be anything you want me to be, I just want to love you." This always made me think of my wife and daughter, not just from the lyrics but from the happy devotion of the singer. The single best line, at 1:06: the gentle falsetto when he sings: "Listen to the way I feel when love can change you, love arranges you." Other highlights from the album: the scorching "Bad Habits," the plaintive "Fistful of Tears," and the insanely beautiful "Playing Possum." That song destroys me.
6. Trey Songz, "Can't Be Friends" -- Trey Songz was my favorite singer this year. He has a great voice with a unique vibrato (occasionally goat-like, I must say) and a solid falsetto range. In the winter he had "Say Aah," and then he had a whole bunch of remixes on other people's songs. My favorites: his fantastic duel with Mariah Carey on "Inseparable," his bout with Usher and Keri Hilson on "I Invented Sex," his redemption of Toni Braxton's "Yesterday." Unlike the rest of his songs, which portray Trey Songz as basically a horny puppy (or a horny baby goat, perhaps), "Can't Be Friends" is a lot more grown. The spare production -- the pulsing strings, a few piano chords -- belie the honesty and vulnerability of the song. "I wish I never fell so deep in love with you and now there ain't no way we can be friends." The best line: his ad lib at 3:06, "I wish we never loved it," as his falsetto bounces all over the scale.
5. Usher feat. will.i.am, "OMG" -- This is the kind of glossy android pop song that pretty much sums up where we are as a culture right now. This song cannibalizes a few oldies, wraps them up in metallic synthesizers, adds a few crowd-pleasing chants and oh's, and then waits for you to devour it. At this late date in the year, I'm pretty sick of this song, but it was a great for running or dancing. We did many a warm-up in hip hop to this. Will.i.am is a solid producer, and he and Usher had a previous collaboration, "What's Your Name," that should have been on one of my previous Top Ten lists (2007? 2008?) but for some reason wasn't.
4. The-Dream feat. T.I., "Make Up Bag" -- Dream came up with his third album in as many years, and he solidified his place as my favorite artist of this era. This song has a mysterious opening, as the bass line, piano notes, and synthesizer chords all intermingle, and then the lyrics turn out to be fantastically cynical about love: the guy is cheating on the girl; the girl catches him; the girl says, "if you don't want to break up, then you know what to do to make up"; to which the guy responds, "If you ever make your girlfriend mad, don't let your good girl go bad, drop five stacks on the make up bag, drop drop five stacks on the make up bag." The key there -- that "drop drop" repeat. The song rolls forward and grows, broadening out as you wait for that chorus to kick in again. T.I.'s rap is quick, honey-coated, and irresistible. This is one of Dream's richer and more mysterious songs.
3. Toni Braxton, "Make My Heart" -- Toni came out with a new album this year, and let me tell you, it was not that great. I still think she has the best voice in female R&B, but she has moved away from the dark, sophisticated songs that really grabbed me. Her album had a couple of stand-outs, namely "Caught," which was as good as smooth, slow-burning Toni gets. This song, "Make My Heart," was an awesome club track: call-and-response horns, urgent beats, great bass lines, and a catchy chorus complete with "da da dum dum dum, da da dum dum dum." I could not get enough of this song over the summer: running along the Hudson, jamming in the apartment. There are some awesome remixes out there too.
2. Drake, "Find Your Love" -- I heard this song in hip hop, and then I heard it ratified on the streets, jamming out of car windows all summer. "I better find your lovin, I better find your heart, I bet if I give all my love then nothin's gonna tear us apart." The strong beat kicking off the track and leading to the first verse, the way the song opens up on the chorus, like flowers growing towards the sun. Drake's straightforward singing, the "hey hey heys" punctuating the verses. The beat kicking in on the second verse. Dang, just hearing it now makes me think of July. I love the slow groove here, the lazy echo of Drake's vocal track, the piano chords grounding the song. I just want to dance all cool with this one. (And of course, I remixed the song for Alice as I tried to put her arms through her jacket sleeves -- "I better find your fingers, I better find your hand...") Over the summer I was sure this would be my number one song of the year. Until...
1. The-Dream, "Turnt Out" -- The first time I heard this song I was writing at the computer, late at night, and I had to listen to this song six times on repeat. It's your basic "let's have sex right now" kind of song, but it stood out based on the beguiling introduction to the song, the guitar lick on the chorus, and Dream's clever use of falsetto. The bridge of the song really sealed the deal for me -- he's been singing in falsetto this whole time, chorusing "I'ma do ya til you (oh oh oh) turnt out," but the bridge is in his normal range, adding a new heft and urgency and playfulness as he jumps from his lower range to his falsetto. After the bridge the chorus kicks up the intensity, with the synth responding to the lines of the chorus with different rhythms, with Dream doing some impressive vocal runs, with the instrumentation melting together, turning out. This is one of those slow songs you want to dance to; the relaxed beat and pace create plenty of time and space for movement, for expression. This song is confident and hot and solid, and I still can't get enough of it.
So that's the ten. Thank you for reading all of this, if you slogged all the way through. I always feel that I lack the words to describe what the music does and how it moves me. This year I didn't feel like I listened to as much stuff as usual, but the compulsion and connection were still there. I don't get dance hour as often as I used to -- now it's more internal, thinking how I would move, thinking how I wish I could sing -- but dang if I don't still want it. But like they say: Too much is never enough.
Music makes me so damn happy.
10. Alicia Keys, "Unthinkable (I'm Ready)" -- This year I found myself turning to more mid- to slow-tempo music, and this was the first Alicia Keys song in a few years to really grab me. As usual, the lyrics and instrumentation are lush and sophisticated -- the thread of the rhythm guitar, the crescendo of the bridge, the deliberate pauses between chords. I love Drake's subtle background vocals; his interplay with Alicia's main vocals seems gentle and sweet. I've heard the remix where he busts out a full-blown rap, and it's completely unnecessary. One of the admins in my office was singing this song for a solid four months, and I felt a strong affinity with her. This song is fantastic.
9. Shakira feat. Lil Wayne, "Give It Up To Me" -- I've written about this before, but when I found out L was pregnant last summer, I realized I had to do several things by the spring: (1) get a new job; (2) get a new apartment; and (3) have a baby. Miraculously, I was able to accomplish all of these things. To me this song captures both a sense of potential and pride in the achievement: "You can have it all, anything you want you can make it yours, anything you want in the world, anything you want in the world (give it up to me); Nothing too big or small, anything you want you can make it yours, anything you want in the world, anything you want in the world (give it up to me)." On that last phrase of the chorus, Shakira's voice splits in two, and one track rises robotically upward on this fantastic trajectory -- it is beguiling. The track also features a solid opening rap by Lil Wayne, and some excellent production by Timbaland. The last great thing about this song: my hip hop teacher was prominently featured in the music video.
8. Usher feat. Nicki Minaj, "Lil Freak" -- This song is one of the more nakedly misogynistic songs I have ever had the misfortune to love. It's about Usher at the club, soliciting a girl to go find another girl to bring home for a little menage a trois back at the condo. I find this song to be incredibly aggressive -- "if you're coming with me... you go get some girls and bring em to me..." -- and it's a good song to listen to when I'm mad. Comically, or perhaps pathetically, this song is my version of gangsta rap or death metal. The two redeeming features: the twisted Stevie Wonder sample on the chorus, which brings some chaotic, swooping chords on top of the roiling, driving bass line; and Nicki Minaj's rap break, staccato like a machine gun. Sometimes I listen to it just for those 30 seconds -- that and the last instrumental section of the song, where the misogyny takes a back seat so you can just ride the beat for a while.
7. Maxwell, "Love You" -- I got the new Maxwell album a full year behind everybody else. I don't know why I waited; it just happened. This album was a huge part of the mid-tempo soul revival I was talking about above; the classic vibe, clean production, and lack of any autotune or guest rappers was so refreshing and timeless. It was hard to pick just one song, but this one was always my favorite. The beat is driving and exuberant, and the song marches happily forward. "I can be anything you want me to be, I just want to love you." This always made me think of my wife and daughter, not just from the lyrics but from the happy devotion of the singer. The single best line, at 1:06: the gentle falsetto when he sings: "Listen to the way I feel when love can change you, love arranges you." Other highlights from the album: the scorching "Bad Habits," the plaintive "Fistful of Tears," and the insanely beautiful "Playing Possum." That song destroys me.
6. Trey Songz, "Can't Be Friends" -- Trey Songz was my favorite singer this year. He has a great voice with a unique vibrato (occasionally goat-like, I must say) and a solid falsetto range. In the winter he had "Say Aah," and then he had a whole bunch of remixes on other people's songs. My favorites: his fantastic duel with Mariah Carey on "Inseparable," his bout with Usher and Keri Hilson on "I Invented Sex," his redemption of Toni Braxton's "Yesterday." Unlike the rest of his songs, which portray Trey Songz as basically a horny puppy (or a horny baby goat, perhaps), "Can't Be Friends" is a lot more grown. The spare production -- the pulsing strings, a few piano chords -- belie the honesty and vulnerability of the song. "I wish I never fell so deep in love with you and now there ain't no way we can be friends." The best line: his ad lib at 3:06, "I wish we never loved it," as his falsetto bounces all over the scale.
5. Usher feat. will.i.am, "OMG" -- This is the kind of glossy android pop song that pretty much sums up where we are as a culture right now. This song cannibalizes a few oldies, wraps them up in metallic synthesizers, adds a few crowd-pleasing chants and oh's, and then waits for you to devour it. At this late date in the year, I'm pretty sick of this song, but it was a great for running or dancing. We did many a warm-up in hip hop to this. Will.i.am is a solid producer, and he and Usher had a previous collaboration, "What's Your Name," that should have been on one of my previous Top Ten lists (2007? 2008?) but for some reason wasn't.
4. The-Dream feat. T.I., "Make Up Bag" -- Dream came up with his third album in as many years, and he solidified his place as my favorite artist of this era. This song has a mysterious opening, as the bass line, piano notes, and synthesizer chords all intermingle, and then the lyrics turn out to be fantastically cynical about love: the guy is cheating on the girl; the girl catches him; the girl says, "if you don't want to break up, then you know what to do to make up"; to which the guy responds, "If you ever make your girlfriend mad, don't let your good girl go bad, drop five stacks on the make up bag, drop drop five stacks on the make up bag." The key there -- that "drop drop" repeat. The song rolls forward and grows, broadening out as you wait for that chorus to kick in again. T.I.'s rap is quick, honey-coated, and irresistible. This is one of Dream's richer and more mysterious songs.
3. Toni Braxton, "Make My Heart" -- Toni came out with a new album this year, and let me tell you, it was not that great. I still think she has the best voice in female R&B, but she has moved away from the dark, sophisticated songs that really grabbed me. Her album had a couple of stand-outs, namely "Caught," which was as good as smooth, slow-burning Toni gets. This song, "Make My Heart," was an awesome club track: call-and-response horns, urgent beats, great bass lines, and a catchy chorus complete with "da da dum dum dum, da da dum dum dum." I could not get enough of this song over the summer: running along the Hudson, jamming in the apartment. There are some awesome remixes out there too.
2. Drake, "Find Your Love" -- I heard this song in hip hop, and then I heard it ratified on the streets, jamming out of car windows all summer. "I better find your lovin, I better find your heart, I bet if I give all my love then nothin's gonna tear us apart." The strong beat kicking off the track and leading to the first verse, the way the song opens up on the chorus, like flowers growing towards the sun. Drake's straightforward singing, the "hey hey heys" punctuating the verses. The beat kicking in on the second verse. Dang, just hearing it now makes me think of July. I love the slow groove here, the lazy echo of Drake's vocal track, the piano chords grounding the song. I just want to dance all cool with this one. (And of course, I remixed the song for Alice as I tried to put her arms through her jacket sleeves -- "I better find your fingers, I better find your hand...") Over the summer I was sure this would be my number one song of the year. Until...
1. The-Dream, "Turnt Out" -- The first time I heard this song I was writing at the computer, late at night, and I had to listen to this song six times on repeat. It's your basic "let's have sex right now" kind of song, but it stood out based on the beguiling introduction to the song, the guitar lick on the chorus, and Dream's clever use of falsetto. The bridge of the song really sealed the deal for me -- he's been singing in falsetto this whole time, chorusing "I'ma do ya til you (oh oh oh) turnt out," but the bridge is in his normal range, adding a new heft and urgency and playfulness as he jumps from his lower range to his falsetto. After the bridge the chorus kicks up the intensity, with the synth responding to the lines of the chorus with different rhythms, with Dream doing some impressive vocal runs, with the instrumentation melting together, turning out. This is one of those slow songs you want to dance to; the relaxed beat and pace create plenty of time and space for movement, for expression. This song is confident and hot and solid, and I still can't get enough of it.
So that's the ten. Thank you for reading all of this, if you slogged all the way through. I always feel that I lack the words to describe what the music does and how it moves me. This year I didn't feel like I listened to as much stuff as usual, but the compulsion and connection were still there. I don't get dance hour as often as I used to -- now it's more internal, thinking how I would move, thinking how I wish I could sing -- but dang if I don't still want it. But like they say: Too much is never enough.
Music makes me so damn happy.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
The Judges' Save
The second night at home was better. We knew what to expect and L mercifully let me sleep through a few rounds. The funny part, though, occurred earlier. During the entire period of A's existence -- that is, since Monday -- I have been surprisingly unemotional about all of the joyful ruptures in our old life. Last night we were watching the results show on "American Idol," and according to their rules, when someone gets the lowest number of votes, they can perform one last time and the judges have the opportunity -- which they may use at their discretion and may only apply once during the entire season -- to reinstate that person in the competition. This is called "the Judges' Save."
Well, last night, soul singer contestant Michael Lynche, who I really like, got the lowest number of votes. He had one last chance to perform for the judges in the hopes of winning the Judges' Save, so Michael Lynche started singing "This Woman's Work," a song that I have loved for a long time, a song about pregnancy and and childbirth and womanhood and love and devotion and commitment, and I was sitting there listening to it, and I watched the judges conferring among themselves in the foreground of the screen, and then I started thinking about the Oprah Winfrey interview with Tracy Morgan that we had watched a little earlier, where she said that every man has a dream for his family, and then Michael Lynche was finishing his song, filling every single breath with all the passion and desire he could muster as his wife bawled in the front row, and then the song was over, and the judges were whispering, and Ryan Seacrest silenced the crowd, and Michael Lynche stood there like some testament to fatherhood itself, and then the judges bantered, and then they said -- Michael Lynche had won the Judges' Save! He was still in the competition! The audience erupted. And at that point, dear reader, I lost my shit and started to cry. I hadn't shed a single tear since A was born, and now here I was crying all over the place on the couch next to L. We started laughing immediately. "What am I doing?" I said, pointing at my face. "Why the heck am I crying?" I said. But I was still crying.
"He got the Judges' Save," I said through my tears and snot. "I'm so happy he got the Judges' Save."
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Big lights will inspire you
Sarah's post about music and driving and "Empire State of Mind" definitely struck a chord with me, and reminded me of watching Alicia Keys perform "Empire State of Mind (Part II) Broken Down" on SNL a couple weeks back. This song shares the same chorus as the Jay-Z anthem, but Alicia's sitting at the piano for this one, singing verses about the city and its people until the drums kick in at the tail end. When I saw it on SNL the song gave me chills, over and over again, listening to her sing about the struggle of the city, how tired it can make you, but then turning on a dime and singing that sense of striving and urgency that draws people here like a magnet. It's a song that describes the place I've chosen as my home, and it seems like a challenge too, something to live up to. Even the way her voice swoops upward on that chorus, veering perilously close to cracking but finding that note and holding it -- somehow that captures it all, too.
It's been awesome to see the city adopt this song as an anthem. It makes me think about what I'm doing and whether I'm living up to it. It makes me feel like I spend too much time watching TV and eating Chipotle when I should be doing other, greater things. Like how the fact that I work in 30 Rock, just a few floors above the studios where they make SNL, can be such a bitter pill to swallow sometimes. What dreams I had for myself.
But hey - I'm still in New York. These streets will make you feel brand new.
It's been awesome to see the city adopt this song as an anthem. It makes me think about what I'm doing and whether I'm living up to it. It makes me feel like I spend too much time watching TV and eating Chipotle when I should be doing other, greater things. Like how the fact that I work in 30 Rock, just a few floors above the studios where they make SNL, can be such a bitter pill to swallow sometimes. What dreams I had for myself.
But hey - I'm still in New York. These streets will make you feel brand new.
Monday, January 04, 2010
D*** in a box
Man, I still love this song. It has been rumbling around in my head for the last month or so, and then I realized that somehow this saucy little number has entered my mental canon as a legitimate Christmas song. I can look forward to this chestnut every December for the next fifty years.
Of course the true power of the song was only realized a couple weeks back, when L's cousins Kristen and Ryan were in town and we wound up capping off a day of casual but sustained drinking with a three-hour bout of karaoke at a second-floor dive bar in K-Town, glued to the pleather benches until 2:00 in the morning, maintaining a steady flow of O.B. and generously sharing the tambourine, belting out "D*** in a box" as well as many other timeless classics. That was one hell of a night, although we paid the price the next day. Thank God they didn't have sake.
Anyways, I bought "D*** in a box" on iTunes the other day, and it isn't as good. It's a little more extended, and there's no laugh track. Although I can appreciate the production a little more, the song seems a little removed from the scrappy video that was so good a couple years back that I still can't get it out of my head.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The Top Ten Songs of 2009
Whenever I need a break from (1) thinking about our mysterious incoming baby, (2) worrying about work, or (3) moping over our upcoming move from the West Village to upstate New York, I think about which songs will make my annual top ten list of the year. Music is the currency of my life, in a lot of ways, and listening to these songs already provokes such a rush of emotion and memory. Without further ado, and keeping in mind that this list is objectively correct and not up for debate, here are my top ten songs of 2009:
11. Kanye West, "Heartless" & Kris Allen, "Heartless" -- I spent a lot of time this winter listening to Kanye West's bleak, spacey new album. In January I spent several long Saturdays in Newark for continuing legal education, and I have one particularly tart memory of a late January afternoon on a platform at Newark Penn Station, waiting for the train to take me back to Manhattan, watching the snow flurry down through the overhang and onto the cold tracks below. In its own way, it was perfect. Later in the spring and summer I listened to Kris Allen's cover of "Heartless" -- he added a warmth and a fullness that was deliberately absent from Kanye's pulsing, insistent synethesizers. And, unlike a lot of acoustic/white versions of R&B or hip hop songs, Kris did not try to be cute and ironic about it. He played it straight, and the result was greater depth and some beautiful vocals. I wrote about it a little bit here.
10. Adele, "Hometown Glory" -- This summer, when I was really trying to focus on my writing and dig something deep, "Hometown Glory" was the song that opened me up to the process. When James was in town this summer we talked about this song, and I told him how this song just seemed to split me open down the middle. He asked me why this song had such an effect on me, and I really struggled to answer. Maybe the melody, I thought, or the lyrics about home or nostalgia -- but it really isn't any of that. I still don't quite know, but the song retains its undeniable alchemy, its potency. This song goes deep. I talked about it before here.
9. Drake, "Best I Ever Had" -- Ohhh! Heeeey! It's a hip hop love song, y'all! This song is so exuberant, it just makes me feel great. It makes me think of L. It reminds me of Method Man and Mary singing "You're all I need to get by." Drake's rapping and singing, finely retouched with some autotuning, seems genuine and heartfelt yet full of swag. This song makes me dance dorky to it, every time.
8. Ron Browz, Jim Jones, and Juelz Santana, "Pop Champagne" -- This was the song of the night the first time I ventured up to Alvin Ailey for some hip hop, back in January. To me this song sounds vaguely sinister, between the sing-songy chorus and spare instrumentation. Once you embrace that aggression, though, and make it work for you, this song has everything. I wrote about it a little bit here.
7. Black Eyed Peas, "Ring-a-Ling" -- This was another Alvin song. I have really come to appreciate Will.i.am as a producer, and this song, as well as "Imma Be," from the new Black Eyed Peas album, are fantastic. At Alvin, we were doing some popping and locking to this song -- two styles of hip hop I am not good at, not at all -- but this song made it work. The guys are rapping and Fergie is riding into the track on a wave of synthesizers like some kind of electronic sex goddess. The syncopated bass line and the relentless melody, skittering all over the place, capture the sheer impulse and dizzying logic of the late night call. And at the end of the song, when there's about a minute left and he finally admits what the song is about -- a booty call -- there is a slight shift in the music and you get one of those sequences that I just want to live in, when everything is working together and you can think of a million ways to fill the space the song creates.
6. The-Dream, "Take U Home 2 My Mama" -- Dream had a new album, not as good as the latter-day classic he created the last time around, but this one had its moments. This song is pure exuberance, kind of stupid, completely good-natured, like a hip hop golden retriever. This song is another good one for the corny dancing. Yet there are also a few plaintive moments in the song, perfectly balanced by his own smart-ass echo on the verses and his wordless appreciation of his paramour's assets: "her t****** like wooooooo, her booty like oooooooo." You know exactly what he means.
5. Mariah Carey, "Inseparable" -- Mariah's new album turned out to be awesome in a completely unexpected way -- she included a few slow- to mid-tempo tracks that to me captured the essence of 90s R&B. Something about the production, the wordy verses packed into the melodies, a certain sense of melancholy and nostalgia perfectly expressed in a minor key. I have read criticism of her that she doesn't sing in full voice enough, but this song, like several others in the suite, is remarkably restrained until the end, when the wall comes down and she is finally singing and emoting the hell out of it all. As she lets it all go her upper octaves come in and provide some texture, and she is off to the races. One thing I appreciate about Mariah is that I feel like her runs and ad libs are always absolutely focused and necessary - there is never a spare or inarticulate note. This song is my favorite on the album: "no one is inseparable...except for us." My neighbors must love this song too, because I sing the hell out of it whenever I can get away with it.
4. Ryan Leslie, "Out of the Blue" -- This is one of the best slow jams I've heard in a long while. I really love this guy's production, and his vocal range is right where mine is, so I have worn this song out. There is also a moment after the bridge when he is singing, at approximately 2:13-2:28, "I almost died when you left me, baby" -- and this line honestly gives me chills, even now, even when I'm running or standing on a crowded subway. For some reason he says "baby" more like "booby," and what is in his voice at that moment is so honest and genuine. The emotion in this song really strikes a chord with me.
3. Mariah Carey, "Obsessed" -- Ok, this is a dumb song. I understand that. But it was produced by The-Dream (as was "Inseparable," no. 5 above), and I just like it. I like all the broken up "oh-oh-oh-oh-oh"'s. I like The-Dream yelling "Ay ay ay ay!" in the background. Like "Hair Braider" from last year's list, this song is not particularly ingenious or clever or otherwise meritorious, but sometimes it's enough to make you get your groove on while riding the subway, tapping your foot or snapping your fingers or even flexing your butt to the music and assuming no one can see you. And any song giving a shout-out to a dude's napoleon complex is kind of funny.
2. Jamie Foxx and T-Pain, "Blame It" -- I was really late on this song, but it propelled me through the first half of the year. T-Pain's verse is more lively than Jamie Foxx's, but the chopped up chorus is irresistible. This was another Alvin song, but they played it only once, as the class was leaving and we were all filing out, so I was getting my bop on and shuffling across the floor with my jacket and my bag over my shoulder, stopping a minute to groove with the teacher and her pals. It was the kind of song and moment that I really missed.
1. Beyonce, "Sweet Dreams" -- The video to this song actually does it justice -- it captures the groove, the sensibility, the sense of strangeness. I like the ambivalence of the lyrics, the poetry, the changes in mood. I have been interested in this song for months now, thinking about the disparate elements and how they come together, and I think it's a really fascinating piece. My favorite element is the roiling bass line, which envelopes the melody and folds itself around you. Sometimes I listen to the song just to follow that low groove, listening to the song dance on top of it. And then the bass finally relents as the song fades: "Either way I don't want to wake up from you..."
So those are the ten songs that sum up this past year. If you read all this way, kudos and thanks. Once again, it's all about the music that moves me to get my groove on or sing my heart out or take a pen to paper. In a certain way, music does more for me than anything I read or see -- finding music to love is like discovering a new vocabulary, even though I feel like the words I use to describe it are so limited. But it's undeniably there.
Music makes me so damn happy.
11. Kanye West, "Heartless" & Kris Allen, "Heartless" -- I spent a lot of time this winter listening to Kanye West's bleak, spacey new album. In January I spent several long Saturdays in Newark for continuing legal education, and I have one particularly tart memory of a late January afternoon on a platform at Newark Penn Station, waiting for the train to take me back to Manhattan, watching the snow flurry down through the overhang and onto the cold tracks below. In its own way, it was perfect. Later in the spring and summer I listened to Kris Allen's cover of "Heartless" -- he added a warmth and a fullness that was deliberately absent from Kanye's pulsing, insistent synethesizers. And, unlike a lot of acoustic/white versions of R&B or hip hop songs, Kris did not try to be cute and ironic about it. He played it straight, and the result was greater depth and some beautiful vocals. I wrote about it a little bit here.
10. Adele, "Hometown Glory" -- This summer, when I was really trying to focus on my writing and dig something deep, "Hometown Glory" was the song that opened me up to the process. When James was in town this summer we talked about this song, and I told him how this song just seemed to split me open down the middle. He asked me why this song had such an effect on me, and I really struggled to answer. Maybe the melody, I thought, or the lyrics about home or nostalgia -- but it really isn't any of that. I still don't quite know, but the song retains its undeniable alchemy, its potency. This song goes deep. I talked about it before here.
9. Drake, "Best I Ever Had" -- Ohhh! Heeeey! It's a hip hop love song, y'all! This song is so exuberant, it just makes me feel great. It makes me think of L. It reminds me of Method Man and Mary singing "You're all I need to get by." Drake's rapping and singing, finely retouched with some autotuning, seems genuine and heartfelt yet full of swag. This song makes me dance dorky to it, every time.
8. Ron Browz, Jim Jones, and Juelz Santana, "Pop Champagne" -- This was the song of the night the first time I ventured up to Alvin Ailey for some hip hop, back in January. To me this song sounds vaguely sinister, between the sing-songy chorus and spare instrumentation. Once you embrace that aggression, though, and make it work for you, this song has everything. I wrote about it a little bit here.
7. Black Eyed Peas, "Ring-a-Ling" -- This was another Alvin song. I have really come to appreciate Will.i.am as a producer, and this song, as well as "Imma Be," from the new Black Eyed Peas album, are fantastic. At Alvin, we were doing some popping and locking to this song -- two styles of hip hop I am not good at, not at all -- but this song made it work. The guys are rapping and Fergie is riding into the track on a wave of synthesizers like some kind of electronic sex goddess. The syncopated bass line and the relentless melody, skittering all over the place, capture the sheer impulse and dizzying logic of the late night call. And at the end of the song, when there's about a minute left and he finally admits what the song is about -- a booty call -- there is a slight shift in the music and you get one of those sequences that I just want to live in, when everything is working together and you can think of a million ways to fill the space the song creates.
6. The-Dream, "Take U Home 2 My Mama" -- Dream had a new album, not as good as the latter-day classic he created the last time around, but this one had its moments. This song is pure exuberance, kind of stupid, completely good-natured, like a hip hop golden retriever. This song is another good one for the corny dancing. Yet there are also a few plaintive moments in the song, perfectly balanced by his own smart-ass echo on the verses and his wordless appreciation of his paramour's assets: "her t****** like wooooooo, her booty like oooooooo." You know exactly what he means.
5. Mariah Carey, "Inseparable" -- Mariah's new album turned out to be awesome in a completely unexpected way -- she included a few slow- to mid-tempo tracks that to me captured the essence of 90s R&B. Something about the production, the wordy verses packed into the melodies, a certain sense of melancholy and nostalgia perfectly expressed in a minor key. I have read criticism of her that she doesn't sing in full voice enough, but this song, like several others in the suite, is remarkably restrained until the end, when the wall comes down and she is finally singing and emoting the hell out of it all. As she lets it all go her upper octaves come in and provide some texture, and she is off to the races. One thing I appreciate about Mariah is that I feel like her runs and ad libs are always absolutely focused and necessary - there is never a spare or inarticulate note. This song is my favorite on the album: "no one is inseparable...except for us." My neighbors must love this song too, because I sing the hell out of it whenever I can get away with it.
4. Ryan Leslie, "Out of the Blue" -- This is one of the best slow jams I've heard in a long while. I really love this guy's production, and his vocal range is right where mine is, so I have worn this song out. There is also a moment after the bridge when he is singing, at approximately 2:13-2:28, "I almost died when you left me, baby" -- and this line honestly gives me chills, even now, even when I'm running or standing on a crowded subway. For some reason he says "baby" more like "booby," and what is in his voice at that moment is so honest and genuine. The emotion in this song really strikes a chord with me.
3. Mariah Carey, "Obsessed" -- Ok, this is a dumb song. I understand that. But it was produced by The-Dream (as was "Inseparable," no. 5 above), and I just like it. I like all the broken up "oh-oh-oh-oh-oh"'s. I like The-Dream yelling "Ay ay ay ay!" in the background. Like "Hair Braider" from last year's list, this song is not particularly ingenious or clever or otherwise meritorious, but sometimes it's enough to make you get your groove on while riding the subway, tapping your foot or snapping your fingers or even flexing your butt to the music and assuming no one can see you. And any song giving a shout-out to a dude's napoleon complex is kind of funny.
2. Jamie Foxx and T-Pain, "Blame It" -- I was really late on this song, but it propelled me through the first half of the year. T-Pain's verse is more lively than Jamie Foxx's, but the chopped up chorus is irresistible. This was another Alvin song, but they played it only once, as the class was leaving and we were all filing out, so I was getting my bop on and shuffling across the floor with my jacket and my bag over my shoulder, stopping a minute to groove with the teacher and her pals. It was the kind of song and moment that I really missed.
1. Beyonce, "Sweet Dreams" -- The video to this song actually does it justice -- it captures the groove, the sensibility, the sense of strangeness. I like the ambivalence of the lyrics, the poetry, the changes in mood. I have been interested in this song for months now, thinking about the disparate elements and how they come together, and I think it's a really fascinating piece. My favorite element is the roiling bass line, which envelopes the melody and folds itself around you. Sometimes I listen to the song just to follow that low groove, listening to the song dance on top of it. And then the bass finally relents as the song fades: "Either way I don't want to wake up from you..."
So those are the ten songs that sum up this past year. If you read all this way, kudos and thanks. Once again, it's all about the music that moves me to get my groove on or sing my heart out or take a pen to paper. In a certain way, music does more for me than anything I read or see -- finding music to love is like discovering a new vocabulary, even though I feel like the words I use to describe it are so limited. But it's undeniably there.
Music makes me so damn happy.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Inside the fortress of solitude
I haven't said very much this weekend. L went down to Florida to see her grandma, so I've been on my own since yesterday afternoon. I have taken this time to briefly withdraw -- from the world, into myself. I feel like I needed time to regroup. Today I only left the house to go to the farmers market, and then again to eat lunch and read "The Power Broker," and finally I went on a walk around the block a couple of hours ago. I have spent a lot of time reading and watching television. I watched "Sophie's Choice" and "The Contender." I thought a lot about writing, which I've put on the backburner after a couple of daunting weeks at work. I've been listening to a lot of music, too, and when John Mayer's song "Home Life" came on, I felt that strange feeling of nostalgia that music can provoke. It is almost palpable, like drunkenness, like feeling something rolling over your shoulders and consuming you. Hearing that song made me think of how much my life has changed in three years, made me think about how I live and what I have now. It was one of those nights where I was just shuffling through all the music on my ipod, rediscovering old stuff and cobbling together a strange and rich medley of stuff, enough to put me in a reflective mood.
Throughout the day I wondered if I should call somebody up or try to meet anyone for a meal or a drink, but I decided not to. Not to mention that the list of potential invitees now seems pathetically small. It was a beautiful day and I felt bad for not running or spending more time outside, but it was enough to run my errands and feel the breeze coming inside, through the plants and the herb garden perched on the fire escape. I didn't even shower today. But that was my choice, and I figure tomorrow when L comes back I can get all spruced up and be sociable. Today it felt good to dig in.
Also, last night I went to an intermediate hip hop class and really got my ass handed to me. It was pretty tough, intricate stuff and I realized I was out of my league about twenty minutes in. There were only a handful of us in there. Two of the other people had clothing with dance studios' names on them, which was a bad sign. Somebody else was some high school prodigy who had learned choreography from our teacher's DVDs. And there I was in my running t-shirt and sneaks, knowing this may have been a mistake. The teacher, who is a pretty accomplished dude, taught really quickly and didn't break things into eight counts. Instead everything tracked the lyrics of the song, so it was tough to place it within the music. Once I realized that he was really hitting the bass notes, things made more sense. By the end of the class I was about 70% there, I would say. It was fun but also very trying. He was calling me out at times during the class, telling me to not think too much and get stuck in my head. There were moments when I would feel those first hot pangs of stress and panic and embarrassment, and I tried to push it as far away as I could. Beneath the immediate knowledge that you alone are very conspicuously not doing something correctly is a deeper and more gnawing realization that you are not as good as you think you are, Mr. Hot Stuff. It was not fun in those moments. And frankly, if I want to feel bad about myself and get yelled at, I just show up at work. No need to extend that into my...hip hop life, as it were.
Maybe that class is what set me on this course for the last twenty-four hours. Quietness, minimal talking, books and the tv, a few strangled verses of old nostalgic songs. Yet for one day it's enough.
Throughout the day I wondered if I should call somebody up or try to meet anyone for a meal or a drink, but I decided not to. Not to mention that the list of potential invitees now seems pathetically small. It was a beautiful day and I felt bad for not running or spending more time outside, but it was enough to run my errands and feel the breeze coming inside, through the plants and the herb garden perched on the fire escape. I didn't even shower today. But that was my choice, and I figure tomorrow when L comes back I can get all spruced up and be sociable. Today it felt good to dig in.
Also, last night I went to an intermediate hip hop class and really got my ass handed to me. It was pretty tough, intricate stuff and I realized I was out of my league about twenty minutes in. There were only a handful of us in there. Two of the other people had clothing with dance studios' names on them, which was a bad sign. Somebody else was some high school prodigy who had learned choreography from our teacher's DVDs. And there I was in my running t-shirt and sneaks, knowing this may have been a mistake. The teacher, who is a pretty accomplished dude, taught really quickly and didn't break things into eight counts. Instead everything tracked the lyrics of the song, so it was tough to place it within the music. Once I realized that he was really hitting the bass notes, things made more sense. By the end of the class I was about 70% there, I would say. It was fun but also very trying. He was calling me out at times during the class, telling me to not think too much and get stuck in my head. There were moments when I would feel those first hot pangs of stress and panic and embarrassment, and I tried to push it as far away as I could. Beneath the immediate knowledge that you alone are very conspicuously not doing something correctly is a deeper and more gnawing realization that you are not as good as you think you are, Mr. Hot Stuff. It was not fun in those moments. And frankly, if I want to feel bad about myself and get yelled at, I just show up at work. No need to extend that into my...hip hop life, as it were.
Maybe that class is what set me on this course for the last twenty-four hours. Quietness, minimal talking, books and the tv, a few strangled verses of old nostalgic songs. Yet for one day it's enough.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Michael Jackson
I always felt a connection with MJ. As a kid, I found the fact that he had the same name as me confusing, but vaguely positive. Whenever my parents played "Beat It," I would start dancing furiously in a move that came to be known as the "Boot-head Shuffle." Even now, when I hear those first few strains of the song -- those guitar chords pulsing relentlessly, the drum kicking in -- I still feel the ghostly echoes of whatever that old feeling was. Whatever the feeling is that makes a three year old plaster on a scowl and then dance like his ass is on fire for the next four minutes. When I heard "Beat It," I didn't even know the force that was driving me, but lord knows that same thing still pushes me forward every day. I must have heard "Billie Jean" and "Thriller" around that time -- I remember thinking how cool it was that Michael Jackson had a tiger on his album cover -- but nothing shook me up like "Beat It." Only later did I go backwards to his earlier work -- the disco perfection of "Rock With You," "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough." (Hell, only a couple months ago did I hear "P.Y.T." and think to myself, wow, this song is great.) The kid who did those songs, the kid dancing with his big smile in a '70s spacesuit amid the green laser lights, is the one we've all been mourning. He seems so fresh and talented and new, even now, even knowing everything we do. As an obnoxious seventh grader I wrote a paper about MJ and how weird he was, and why that might be. His decline was such a horrible spectacle. Our shameless pleasure in watching him destroy himself was only tempered by the knowledge that real kids actually seemed to be getting hurt. Had he died tragically in, say, 1992, can you imagine the sterling legacy he would have left? Nothing worse than a few weird habits, a chimp, strange but harmless.
But then again, if he departed in 1992 we might not have had "Remember the Time," and that was my song. Also his later stuff -- "Break of Dawn" and "Butterflies" breathed some life into his music on the contemporary R&B charts.
He was a tragic figure, but there was a time, a time of "Off the Wall" and "Thriller" and the Boot-head Shuffle, when he seemed to capture everything that was great about music and let everybody else experience it, too. He was the genesis. At hip hop on Wednesday night we did "Thriller" as a tribute, and coming up this week is "Remember the Time," but our teacher took a few minutes to talk about her own experience of MJ -- the fact that she had auditioned for his last volley of shows in London, that the energy in the audition room was palpable and unlike anything she had seen before, that the people dancing there were giving everything they had, sweating through their shoes, even though Michael wasn't even in the room until the final round, when he was merely a soft presence in the back row of an auditorium. She said she was telling us about that experience because it didn't solely belong to her, but it belonged to all of us, to everyone, and that we should share it too, because it carries on. And so it does.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Kris Allen's cover of "Heartless"
We didn't watched "American Idol" this year, but I heard about this clip and I think it's great. Unlike most acoustic versions of R&B or hip hop songs, this one isn't smirking about white appropriation of black vernacular; this is just a really solid version that actually brings out the musicality of the song and gives it an emotional heft, that Kanye, as a not-great singer, simply can't. Kris Allen's version of "Heartless" makes me love the original in a new way. Congrats to him on his big win, I guess. This is the beauty of pop music, right here.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
"The-Dream is everywhere"
The best part of the current New Yorker, besides the beautiful cover and the articles I wish I could write, is the fact that the main essay in the back section is on my favorite, The-Dream. He has a new album out this spring, nipping on the heels of "Love/Hate," which you may recall dominated my sonic life for most of 2008. Sasha Frere-Jones is my favorite music writer -- he can capture its beauty and complexity in a way that always leaves me fumbling. His genius, though, is in the fact that he shares some of my tastes, which is how I can vouch for his brilliance.Anyways, the new Dream album, "Love vs. Money," is great. He and his collaborator, Tricky Stewart, have not strayed far from the successful formula of their last venture, and they are still playing in the same universe of "ella"s and "eh"s and "Aye!"s. This time around, though, Dream is more ambitious about his skills and his place in the current R&B firmament. His singing has improved, with more traditional vocal flecks and R&B stylings. He offers a tribute to R. Kelly, then slyly supplants him in the final line of the song. Besides the swagger and good humor that characterized the last album, he attempts to lay the groundwork for the larger theme of the title, love vs. money. His songs about money -- "if she wanna make love on the edge of the world, I'll buy it" -- are knowing and briefly convincing. The last 90 seconds of "Fancy," for example, capture the intoxication and confidence and romance of wealth in a way that is genuinely exciting. It makes you want to live in that song.
Since the last album grew on me over such a long period of time, I'm trying to keep my expectations low for this venture and just enjoy it as it comes. Several tracks hooked me immediately: "Take U Home 2 My Mama," "My Love" with Mariah, "Walkin on the Moon" with Kanye, the "Rockin That Thing" remix. I love this guy.
As usual, Sasha Frere-Jones got it exactly right in the magazine:
Hip-hop allowed R&B singers to become aggressive again, to make the language blunt, and to admit a little bit of selfishness into the nice-guy routine. Having run that particular program, R&B is now following [The-Dream and Tricky Stewart] to a more subtle and complex area, where aggression and tenderness are equally represented.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Concert review: Ne-Yo!
Last night L and I ventured forth to Radio City to catch the big Ne-Yo concert, featuring opening acts Jazmine Sullivan and Musiq Soulchild. Given my recent lapse into middle age, I was exhausted by 7 pm on Sunday night, and not really excited to head into midtown to see a concert, but let me tell you, dear reader, that this concert was the shit.It's hard to avoid comparisons to the John Legend show we saw a few weeks ago, so here's the breakdown. This show had tons of energy, the crowd was whooping and clapping the whole time, Ne-Yo had more charisma in his jauntily-cocked hat than earnest ol' John Legend tried to wring out of every song, and the crowd itself was demographically less diverse: mostly well-dressed black people, a surprising number of Asians, and very few white people. Like, a lot of people went to see "Madea Goes To Jail" on Saturday (which I totally want to see) and then made it to the Ne-Yo show on Sunday.
I went to this show thinking I was a moderate Ne-Yo fan, but sitting there in the upper mezzanine, singing out loud so the three fun black girls to my left would know that I am down, I realized that I really love his music. It just has this polish and sense of fullness and completion that I love. His lyrics are simple but insightful, and you can't beat the production. His voice is high but not reedy, but a little further up than I can sing comfortably, unless I decide that I really need to break my larynx with some Ne-Yo emotion. Hearing all of his songs in one fell swoop gave me a huge appreciation for his body of work.
The other amazing thing: Mary J. Blige was at the show, sitting in the third row! I spent a lot of the concert watching the back of her big round blonde hairdo, seeing how she was enjoying the show. "Look, Mary J. is rocking out! She's really into 'Closer'!" Or: "Does Mary J. like this song? He better keep her happy."
Ne-Yo had four dancers, two guys and two girls, and they were excellent. He moved with an almost robotic precision, and his moves were a little flashier and more dramatic than your typical hip hop, but it fit his classic aesthetic. The girls did some sexy grinding all over the place, and they even had this Janet Jackson bit, where they did some awesome moves with scarves straight from her "Alright" video in 1989. I was surprised that I knew that, but I did. Ne-Yo's stage was pretty basic; a staircase near his band, and a light wall behind him. For one of his more treacly songs he had dry ice blasting on stage from the wings, where it tumbled off the stage and into the VIP seating. "I hope Mary J. doesn't mind all that dry ice," I worried. "I don't feel like she would be into that." It was up around her shoulders at that point.
The main thing about this show was that the energy never lagged. The songs moved quickly, no endless interludes, no uninteresting solos by the bassist, and plenty of good patter. Ne-Yo was calling out individual women in the audience, complementing their outfits or their weaves, and he passed out roses to a few lucky audience members. I didn't get one, but L didn't either. Also, he sang a quick medley of the hit songs he's written for other people ("Irreplaceable," "Take a Bow," "Let Me Love You," "Spotlight,") and I liked them more after hearing his takes.
We arrived at the concert in time to catch Jazmine Sullivan's last song, her hit "Need U Bad," which I like ok. She had a good arrangement and was really wailing it out, on her knees in the center of the stage having a "down on my knees/begging you please" Jodeci moment, with her backup singers keeping time for her. I was really into Musiq's first two albums, but I kind of lost track of his career in the last couple years. To me he is part of that male R&B team that I love and live by: him, Eric Benet, D'Angelo, R. Kelly, and others. His voice is rich and he sings in the church R&B tradition I can only appreciate from a distance. He was having a great time on stage, singing and dancing and skipping around, rocking out in his three-piece suit in front his all-female band. Although I must note that I didn't like the sounds his background singers made, and one of them really did look like Star Jones.
I'm listening to Ne-Yo as I write this, and I had a really long day today, feeling worried and insecure at work, having a hell of a workout at the gym and a long cold walk home, and now my wife is in bed and I'm sitting here typing, winding down my day and my thoughts, but I find myself getting hyped up again, just thinking about this show. It was so damn good. My ears were ringing and my voice was scratchy as we filed out of Radio City. Ne-Yo and his colleagues had us clapping and singing and snapping for a night -- and if it's good enough for Mary J. Blige, you know it's good enough for me.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Champion of the world
Seven pm found me at hip hop class, at Alvin. I've realized that if I change into my gym clothes at work, and quickly dart from my office to the elevators without being spotted by anyone wearing business attire, then I can nimbly walk over to 55th and 9th in about fifteen minutes.
This was my third time at this class, and the teacher, who is awesome and pretty funny about the whole thing, was playing some straight-up Usher: "Take You There," great beat, catchy tune, exactly what I was hoping for. There were some moves where I could really get into it, add a little swag or aggression, make it look sharp or loose or fluid, however it needs to be done. About halfway through the class I realized the teacher was watching me, with a half smile on her face. After the combo, she stopped and said to me (in front of the other 20 or 30 people in the room): "I am so glad you are taking my class. I've been watching you since day one, you don't know it but I have, and you're all" -- and here she started rocking my dance face, thrusting her hips and swatting away at some imaginary partner -- "I love it! So masculine! I love your attitude, I am so glad you're here."
Well. I think for me, and perhaps many other men, having a woman like that compliment your masculinity basically opens the floodgates. After that I was trying to do good, but not too good, and just rolling with the beat.
A little while later she was watching me again, and I saw her, so I was trying hard to not screw up (since overconfidence and overthinking is the end of me every time) and afterward she came up to me for a pound: "Yeeesssssss! You do it!" A couple minutes later she had everybody change directions, away from the mirrors, and she told me and a few others to go up front, where we were basically leading everybody else. Then she made us go up front again, once it was time to face the mirror.
As the class drew to a close, after a few more rounds of our eight-counts, when my heart was pounding and I was good and sweaty, after she gave me a few more tips ("push your arms out -- it looks cool the way you're doing it, but for tonight just push your arms out"), she spoke to the whole group: "Don't think too hard, because when you think too hard you lose it. Find the nuances in this song -- this dude [pointing to me] is rocking it out [here she started working my dance face again, people kind of laughed], he's doing him and grooving out...He's feeling the nuances of the beat and not worried about the counts." She went on to highlight somebody else too, but I was not listening that hard. I felt that weird mixture of pride and embarrassment -- pride that you are doing good and doing it with passion, tempered by a little embarrassment that you're in the room to to begin with.
I have really been missing the hip hop element of my life, and tonight was spectacular. I didn't think I would be able to go to class because of work, but I'm so thankful I made it over. In some ways I feel like such a fish out of water at Alvin: too male, too old, too lawyerly, too married, too white. But to lose those preoccupations and just revel in the moment -- and then to have some outside validation that yes, I get it and yes, I belong here -- it makes everything else feel real and true and authentic.
Old white married lawyers doing eight-counts, what?
This was my third time at this class, and the teacher, who is awesome and pretty funny about the whole thing, was playing some straight-up Usher: "Take You There," great beat, catchy tune, exactly what I was hoping for. There were some moves where I could really get into it, add a little swag or aggression, make it look sharp or loose or fluid, however it needs to be done. About halfway through the class I realized the teacher was watching me, with a half smile on her face. After the combo, she stopped and said to me (in front of the other 20 or 30 people in the room): "I am so glad you are taking my class. I've been watching you since day one, you don't know it but I have, and you're all" -- and here she started rocking my dance face, thrusting her hips and swatting away at some imaginary partner -- "I love it! So masculine! I love your attitude, I am so glad you're here."
Well. I think for me, and perhaps many other men, having a woman like that compliment your masculinity basically opens the floodgates. After that I was trying to do good, but not too good, and just rolling with the beat.
A little while later she was watching me again, and I saw her, so I was trying hard to not screw up (since overconfidence and overthinking is the end of me every time) and afterward she came up to me for a pound: "Yeeesssssss! You do it!" A couple minutes later she had everybody change directions, away from the mirrors, and she told me and a few others to go up front, where we were basically leading everybody else. Then she made us go up front again, once it was time to face the mirror.
As the class drew to a close, after a few more rounds of our eight-counts, when my heart was pounding and I was good and sweaty, after she gave me a few more tips ("push your arms out -- it looks cool the way you're doing it, but for tonight just push your arms out"), she spoke to the whole group: "Don't think too hard, because when you think too hard you lose it. Find the nuances in this song -- this dude [pointing to me] is rocking it out [here she started working my dance face again, people kind of laughed], he's doing him and grooving out...He's feeling the nuances of the beat and not worried about the counts." She went on to highlight somebody else too, but I was not listening that hard. I felt that weird mixture of pride and embarrassment -- pride that you are doing good and doing it with passion, tempered by a little embarrassment that you're in the room to to begin with.
I have really been missing the hip hop element of my life, and tonight was spectacular. I didn't think I would be able to go to class because of work, but I'm so thankful I made it over. In some ways I feel like such a fish out of water at Alvin: too male, too old, too lawyerly, too married, too white. But to lose those preoccupations and just revel in the moment -- and then to have some outside validation that yes, I get it and yes, I belong here -- it makes everything else feel real and true and authentic.
Old white married lawyers doing eight-counts, what?
Monday, December 22, 2008
The Eleven Top Ten Songs of 2008
This year I changed my methodology for calculating the top tracks of the last twelve months. Rather than striving for a representative sample of each album I loved, or each artist I was into, this year is strictly by the numbers. I looked at all the new music I acquired this year, compared the play counts, and ended up with this list as a result. The-Dream has five of the top ten songs, and makes an appearance on the sixth; while his was definitely my favorite album, and he sort of deserved that number one slot, it had to go to DK. The numbers don't lie. And with that, here you go:
11. Raheem DeVaughn and R. Kelly, "Customer (Remix)" This summer, when I was in the throes of bar exam-related depression and ennui, do you know who saved me? It was R. Kelly. Sure, he's had some legal troubles related to child pornography, but the man has talent. And he was acquitted. I already wrote about this song (and "Hair Braider," further up on the list) here, but I actually only added this song to my ipod a couple weeks ago. It is an honorary number 11; I still love it, I love everything about Kelly's verse, his ad libs, everything. Now I ain't tryin to smash or outshine nobody, but I just gotta be true, yeah. Doesn't everyone? I recite this line to my colleagues at work constantly.
10. Ryan Leslie, Cassie, and Fabolous, "Addiction" This is a great song to dance to. Textured beat, simple lyrics, long vocals. A great verse by Fabolous at the end, who really reemerged for me this year (between this song and "She Got Her Own"). If I wanted to live inside a music video, this might be one. This one is really fun to sing, too -- his range is right where I am. And this is the guy who produced Cassie's "Me & U" and "Long Way To Go"! Awesome production.
9. Mariah Carey, "For the Record" I was shocked that this song is on my top ten. I didn't think I liked it that much. I was disappointed with her album but this song jumped out at me with its catchy hook, crazy backward-sounding instrumentation and plaintive lyrics. I also feel, and maybe I'm wrong about this but I doubt it, that you could overlay parts of Mary J. Blige's "Be Without You" into this song, and it would sound really nice. That's like a free remix I just gave you.
8. Mariah Carey, Rick Ross, and The-Dream, "Touch My Body (Remix)" Ok, this song redeemed Mariah Carey for me. This was another song that represented the freedom of summer, escaping bar exam prep and going to Chipotle for lunch, as I previously discussed. I found the original version of the song cloying and a little too chirpy and cute, but the remix dirtied it up and made it something to sink your teeth into. And those last few bars, with the chopped up synthesizer -- that's the heart of it, right there.
7. The-Dream, "Luv Songs" Ok, welcome to The-Dream love fest. I had no idea how much I loved so many of his songs. This was the album I listened to all winter and spring, and into the summer. It's one of the rare albums where I know basically every song; it's in the pantheon of my all-time favorites, like "Rhythm Nation" and "Parachutes" and "White Ladder" and "Justified." You know what brought out the beauty and genius of this song for me? Hearing the Chipmunks version on YouTube.
6. The-Dream, "I Luv Your Girl" I didn't like this song at first; as the fall progressed, it grew on me. The laidback vibe. The finger snapping. This song is all about eye contact across the room.
5. The-Dream, "She Needs My Love" This song is part of a suite of several songs on the album, all seamlessly blending into one another. The last minute of this song, when the beat changes, gaining intensity and urgency (Call 911 if my love ain't there -- love that line) and then dropping out, paving the way for something new.
4. R. Kelly, "Hair Braider" The beat of this song is so slow, so fat, so summer-like. I know this song is stupid and everybody hates it, but I loved it, even if it wasn't up to Kelly's usual standards.
3. The-Dream, "Falsetto" This was hands-down the sexiest song of the entire year. This song to me captured all of it, from the eyes to the bumping and grinding to the (how shall I put it) denouement. I loved the words of this song and I loved his lack of vanity in killing those high notes. I felt such a connection to this song that it shocked me to hear it on the radio or see it on tv; I thought this song was mine.
2. The-Dream, "Shawty is a 10" Hey! Party song! This one grew on me for several months. Gotta love the litany of names, the hands-in-the-air, the call and response. I sort of wanted this song to be number one, even though his voice sounds really pinched and rodent-like.
1. Danity Kane, "Damaged" Can't be denied. This song leeched onto me like a parasite for many months, as I discussed earlier. As the year progressed this song developed a surprising emotional resonance for me, and that's the reason it's number one. Behind the slick production and plasticky vocals, I was shocked to discover some real emotion, emotion that stuck in my gut for a long, long time. In some ways I feel like my relationship with this song traced the arc of the year. When I was sick of this song, I didn't need it anymore, and that was all the better. But it was a hell of a thing while it lasted, like the year itself.
With the old year behind us, now I'm looking forward to a winter with the new Kanye album and whatever else catches my attention. I love that feeling of discovering a new song and knowing that soon you will love it and know it inside and out, that you will enjoy it on the surface now, and that even later on, when you hear it you'll be reminded of this particular moment; but for now, you are content to let yourself be surprised and get lost in the beat, enjoying its foreignness and unexpected novelties, maybe later looking up the lyrics online or seeing what the kids are doing to the song in the dance studios and remixes on YouTube. All for that new song with quick lyrics and an eight-count beat.
Music makes me so damn happy.
11. Raheem DeVaughn and R. Kelly, "Customer (Remix)" This summer, when I was in the throes of bar exam-related depression and ennui, do you know who saved me? It was R. Kelly. Sure, he's had some legal troubles related to child pornography, but the man has talent. And he was acquitted. I already wrote about this song (and "Hair Braider," further up on the list) here, but I actually only added this song to my ipod a couple weeks ago. It is an honorary number 11; I still love it, I love everything about Kelly's verse, his ad libs, everything. Now I ain't tryin to smash or outshine nobody, but I just gotta be true, yeah. Doesn't everyone? I recite this line to my colleagues at work constantly.
10. Ryan Leslie, Cassie, and Fabolous, "Addiction" This is a great song to dance to. Textured beat, simple lyrics, long vocals. A great verse by Fabolous at the end, who really reemerged for me this year (between this song and "She Got Her Own"). If I wanted to live inside a music video, this might be one. This one is really fun to sing, too -- his range is right where I am. And this is the guy who produced Cassie's "Me & U" and "Long Way To Go"! Awesome production.
9. Mariah Carey, "For the Record" I was shocked that this song is on my top ten. I didn't think I liked it that much. I was disappointed with her album but this song jumped out at me with its catchy hook, crazy backward-sounding instrumentation and plaintive lyrics. I also feel, and maybe I'm wrong about this but I doubt it, that you could overlay parts of Mary J. Blige's "Be Without You" into this song, and it would sound really nice. That's like a free remix I just gave you.
8. Mariah Carey, Rick Ross, and The-Dream, "Touch My Body (Remix)" Ok, this song redeemed Mariah Carey for me. This was another song that represented the freedom of summer, escaping bar exam prep and going to Chipotle for lunch, as I previously discussed. I found the original version of the song cloying and a little too chirpy and cute, but the remix dirtied it up and made it something to sink your teeth into. And those last few bars, with the chopped up synthesizer -- that's the heart of it, right there.
7. The-Dream, "Luv Songs" Ok, welcome to The-Dream love fest. I had no idea how much I loved so many of his songs. This was the album I listened to all winter and spring, and into the summer. It's one of the rare albums where I know basically every song; it's in the pantheon of my all-time favorites, like "Rhythm Nation" and "Parachutes" and "White Ladder" and "Justified." You know what brought out the beauty and genius of this song for me? Hearing the Chipmunks version on YouTube.
6. The-Dream, "I Luv Your Girl" I didn't like this song at first; as the fall progressed, it grew on me. The laidback vibe. The finger snapping. This song is all about eye contact across the room.
5. The-Dream, "She Needs My Love" This song is part of a suite of several songs on the album, all seamlessly blending into one another. The last minute of this song, when the beat changes, gaining intensity and urgency (Call 911 if my love ain't there -- love that line) and then dropping out, paving the way for something new.
4. R. Kelly, "Hair Braider" The beat of this song is so slow, so fat, so summer-like. I know this song is stupid and everybody hates it, but I loved it, even if it wasn't up to Kelly's usual standards.
3. The-Dream, "Falsetto" This was hands-down the sexiest song of the entire year. This song to me captured all of it, from the eyes to the bumping and grinding to the (how shall I put it) denouement. I loved the words of this song and I loved his lack of vanity in killing those high notes. I felt such a connection to this song that it shocked me to hear it on the radio or see it on tv; I thought this song was mine.
2. The-Dream, "Shawty is a 10" Hey! Party song! This one grew on me for several months. Gotta love the litany of names, the hands-in-the-air, the call and response. I sort of wanted this song to be number one, even though his voice sounds really pinched and rodent-like.
1. Danity Kane, "Damaged" Can't be denied. This song leeched onto me like a parasite for many months, as I discussed earlier. As the year progressed this song developed a surprising emotional resonance for me, and that's the reason it's number one. Behind the slick production and plasticky vocals, I was shocked to discover some real emotion, emotion that stuck in my gut for a long, long time. In some ways I feel like my relationship with this song traced the arc of the year. When I was sick of this song, I didn't need it anymore, and that was all the better. But it was a hell of a thing while it lasted, like the year itself.
With the old year behind us, now I'm looking forward to a winter with the new Kanye album and whatever else catches my attention. I love that feeling of discovering a new song and knowing that soon you will love it and know it inside and out, that you will enjoy it on the surface now, and that even later on, when you hear it you'll be reminded of this particular moment; but for now, you are content to let yourself be surprised and get lost in the beat, enjoying its foreignness and unexpected novelties, maybe later looking up the lyrics online or seeing what the kids are doing to the song in the dance studios and remixes on YouTube. All for that new song with quick lyrics and an eight-count beat.
Music makes me so damn happy.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Did anybody want to tell me about this?
This is the video for "She Got Her Own," by Ne-Yo, Jamie Foxx, and Fabolous, the bonus track at the end of Ne-Yo's current album. Once I had heard this song I was hooked. I've been loving it for a couple months now, copiously learning each guy's part, from Jamie Foxx singing over himself to Ne-Yo's backup vocals to every syllable of Fab's verse. Yet it was only yesterday that I realized there's a video for this song! I feel pretty dumb and behind the times, especially since the video was out since the end of September. I would hear this song playing from passing cars, or hear Jamie Foxx singing a few bars on some tv show, and I'd think, "huh, I love that song, I'm glad somebody else does too." And it's a hit! This evening when I got home I was still so excited by my discovery that I took advantage of my solitude in the apartment to really wail the hell out of the Jamie Foxx verse, twice, which I'm sure my neighbors appreciated.
The video features many of the conventions of R&B/hip hop videos that have marked the genre since time immemorial (that is to say, the early 1990s). The black and white. The unnecessarily letterboxed screen. The empty, dimensionless background. The fake slow-motion effect. The girls moving slowly or looking sensually towards you. There's absolutely nothing new to this video, but it works.
Coming soon: the Top Ten songs of the year!!! (Plus a bonus song.) (Also, the other song that's killing me right now, that I heard at the gym the other night and coveted immediately: Usher's "What's Your Name.")
I had to ask her what she doin in the Caddy
She said 'cuz you my baby I be stuntin like my daddy'
Sunday, November 09, 2008
"Now put your hands up!"
And now for something completely different. For those who find politics tedious, or who don't share my joy in the Obama victory, or are somehow less than riveted by all the election post-mortems that I'm devouring by the paragraph, here's Beyonce, grinding away for three and a half minutes in her new video, "Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)." The song is catchy, produced by my favorite The Dream and his partner in crime, Tricky Stewart, and the choreography is bananas. If this doesn't send a tingle up your leg, Chris Matthews-style, you should maybe check for a pulse.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Young, gifted, and white
Tonight I was at a country club steakhouse in Carlsbad with six other partners and associates from across the country. After a couple vodka gimlets and a glass or two of red wine, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and asked the hostess if I might borrow a pen and paper, and I wrote this:
To be young, gifted, and white: arrive at a steakhouse in Carlsbad - gilded walls, warm familiar lights. Loud red-faced men in dark blazers represent a possible future. A room of garrulous laughter, multiple cocktails per setting - rich men, white men, salads of prosciutto and greens and thick beet juice dribbling down our chins. The power! The ease! Who have we become?
Yet the music - Jill Scott, John Mayer, Erykah Badu, D'Angelo. "Cross My Mind," "He Loves Me," "I Don't Trust Myself," "Didn'tcha Know." Even here, in Carlsbad, among the privileged class, with a blazer and a soft belly awaiting me in some hazy potential future - this is who I am. I tell the waiter the music here is fantastic - amid everything else, he agrees.
To be young, gifted, and white: arrive at a steakhouse in Carlsbad - gilded walls, warm familiar lights. Loud red-faced men in dark blazers represent a possible future. A room of garrulous laughter, multiple cocktails per setting - rich men, white men, salads of prosciutto and greens and thick beet juice dribbling down our chins. The power! The ease! Who have we become?
Yet the music - Jill Scott, John Mayer, Erykah Badu, D'Angelo. "Cross My Mind," "He Loves Me," "I Don't Trust Myself," "Didn'tcha Know." Even here, in Carlsbad, among the privileged class, with a blazer and a soft belly awaiting me in some hazy potential future - this is who I am. I tell the waiter the music here is fantastic - amid everything else, he agrees.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Remainders
Time for another installment of the series, "Things I wanted to write about, but the moment passed." Thanks to my immersion in bar exam preparation, I have basically abandoned emailing, seeing, or really even talking to anyone who (a) I'm not married to, (b) doesn't already have their own keys to the apartment, or (c) doesn't go to the gym or my local Chipotle. With that in mind, here's my email to the world:
1. Last weekend L and I had our best New York City Independence Day, ever. We began with a question: What's more American than Staten Island? Obviously, the answer is "nothing," and that's why we booked passage on the renowned Staten Island ferry to go see the S.I. Yankees play the Mahoning Valley Scrappers. Seriously, minor league baseball is the way to do it. It felt great to escape Manhattan, and although Mahoning Valley was not well-represented in the stadium, Staten Island certainly was. Strong accents, husky people. It's a good thing they have their own island.
The best part is that the stadium was shrewdly designed so that the outfield opens up to the water, with a great view of lower Manhattan, the coast of Jersey, and the statue of liberty. Consequently we had great views of several fireworks displays, as well as a show at the stadium itself, where the fireworks shot above center field as the PA system piped in patriotic tunes like Lee Greenwood's elementary-school era classic, "God Bless the USA."
2. On Sunday I took a practice bar exam: 200 multiple choice questions divided into two three-hour blocks. We took it at the Javits center, where nearly a thousand people (I believe) sat in a room that was like a parking garage, but with fewer frills. I managed a seat in the second row, and as I would return from the bathroom I would look at this literal sea of eager beaver bar applicants and kind of laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Needless to say, the exam did not go as well.
3. Musically, I'm still in a very intensive R. Kelly phase right now. I'm at the point in my knowledge and understanding of "Hair Braider" where I cue up the song, google the lyrics, balance the computer on top of the TV so I can read the words standing up, and then sing the hell out of it, especially the part where R. notes, "My hair braider so hot, I call her my booty shop."
4. Also on the musical front, I finally figured out how to stream my favorite Washington radio station from their website. I feel like I have uncovered a secret passageway back to my core. DC radio is a lot better than New York radio, if you ask me. The DJs are a lot less crude and they are very attuned to DC's musical culture (namely, gogo, and a bizarre tendency to play Maxwell's modern classic "This Woman's Worth" multiple times a day, still). I feel like they resist some of the lockstep programming decisions that forced us all to hear songs like "Apologize" eighteen times in one hour on eight different stations for a year and a half. The link to the site, which, like most radio station sites, is comically bad and stuffed with visual crap and nearly impossible to navigate, is to the right.
5. On the white music front, I've been listening a lot to the new Coldplay album and I'm really liking it. I need to hear it some more to get a full sense of its textures and everything, but it's a marked change from their old stuff (nice work, Brian Eno) but it feels like a very natural progression. They are definitely pushing themselves and moving in a new direction, which I appreciate, especially since a lot of recent music seems like it's just trying to copy previously successful formulas (I'm looking at you, Mariah Carey).
6. Also, at Chipotle the nice lady recently took a look at my credit card when I was paying the other day and now knows my name. This is great, except now other employees know my name too, and I feel uncomfortable. Today some woman was giving me crap for ordering something innocuous like corn ("Whoa! Something new today, huh? Changing it up! Watch out!"), and it made me feel like an idiot. My tip for people in the restaurant industry is to consider that there is a fine line between making regular patrons feel appreciated, and making them feel like giant losers for eating at the same place every day. Today that line was crossed.
7. This afternoon we got our shots and prescriptions for our Asia trip. My shoulders are still sore from where they gave me vaccinations for polio, Hepatitis A, typhoid, and TB. We also have prescriptions for anti-malarial pills and something to help us out when we inevitably get sick from the food. Like most other people, nothing gets me more fired up to travel than the thought of Hepatitis!
8. Also, finally, the bar exam is kicking my ass. They told us things would intensify in July, and they have. But I cut my studies short tonight because I am exhausted and needed a breather. This morning after the gym I came home and puked up water into the toilet before my shower -- that is the sign of a tired person who is not managing his fluids, let alone his mastery of the law. So tonight I'm taking it easy, and then tomorrow we're back at it. The slow boil is heating up -- next Wednesday, once our formal preparation program ends, we're basically in a sprint for the next ten days or so before the exam. And then the exam. And then it's done. Like Diddy says, time and time again: "this too shall pass."
1. Last weekend L and I had our best New York City Independence Day, ever. We began with a question: What's more American than Staten Island? Obviously, the answer is "nothing," and that's why we booked passage on the renowned Staten Island ferry to go see the S.I. Yankees play the Mahoning Valley Scrappers. Seriously, minor league baseball is the way to do it. It felt great to escape Manhattan, and although Mahoning Valley was not well-represented in the stadium, Staten Island certainly was. Strong accents, husky people. It's a good thing they have their own island.
The best part is that the stadium was shrewdly designed so that the outfield opens up to the water, with a great view of lower Manhattan, the coast of Jersey, and the statue of liberty. Consequently we had great views of several fireworks displays, as well as a show at the stadium itself, where the fireworks shot above center field as the PA system piped in patriotic tunes like Lee Greenwood's elementary-school era classic, "God Bless the USA."
2. On Sunday I took a practice bar exam: 200 multiple choice questions divided into two three-hour blocks. We took it at the Javits center, where nearly a thousand people (I believe) sat in a room that was like a parking garage, but with fewer frills. I managed a seat in the second row, and as I would return from the bathroom I would look at this literal sea of eager beaver bar applicants and kind of laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Needless to say, the exam did not go as well.
3. Musically, I'm still in a very intensive R. Kelly phase right now. I'm at the point in my knowledge and understanding of "Hair Braider" where I cue up the song, google the lyrics, balance the computer on top of the TV so I can read the words standing up, and then sing the hell out of it, especially the part where R. notes, "My hair braider so hot, I call her my booty shop."
4. Also on the musical front, I finally figured out how to stream my favorite Washington radio station from their website. I feel like I have uncovered a secret passageway back to my core. DC radio is a lot better than New York radio, if you ask me. The DJs are a lot less crude and they are very attuned to DC's musical culture (namely, gogo, and a bizarre tendency to play Maxwell's modern classic "This Woman's Worth" multiple times a day, still). I feel like they resist some of the lockstep programming decisions that forced us all to hear songs like "Apologize" eighteen times in one hour on eight different stations for a year and a half. The link to the site, which, like most radio station sites, is comically bad and stuffed with visual crap and nearly impossible to navigate, is to the right.
5. On the white music front, I've been listening a lot to the new Coldplay album and I'm really liking it. I need to hear it some more to get a full sense of its textures and everything, but it's a marked change from their old stuff (nice work, Brian Eno) but it feels like a very natural progression. They are definitely pushing themselves and moving in a new direction, which I appreciate, especially since a lot of recent music seems like it's just trying to copy previously successful formulas (I'm looking at you, Mariah Carey).
6. Also, at Chipotle the nice lady recently took a look at my credit card when I was paying the other day and now knows my name. This is great, except now other employees know my name too, and I feel uncomfortable. Today some woman was giving me crap for ordering something innocuous like corn ("Whoa! Something new today, huh? Changing it up! Watch out!"), and it made me feel like an idiot. My tip for people in the restaurant industry is to consider that there is a fine line between making regular patrons feel appreciated, and making them feel like giant losers for eating at the same place every day. Today that line was crossed.
7. This afternoon we got our shots and prescriptions for our Asia trip. My shoulders are still sore from where they gave me vaccinations for polio, Hepatitis A, typhoid, and TB. We also have prescriptions for anti-malarial pills and something to help us out when we inevitably get sick from the food. Like most other people, nothing gets me more fired up to travel than the thought of Hepatitis!
8. Also, finally, the bar exam is kicking my ass. They told us things would intensify in July, and they have. But I cut my studies short tonight because I am exhausted and needed a breather. This morning after the gym I came home and puked up water into the toilet before my shower -- that is the sign of a tired person who is not managing his fluids, let alone his mastery of the law. So tonight I'm taking it easy, and then tomorrow we're back at it. The slow boil is heating up -- next Wednesday, once our formal preparation program ends, we're basically in a sprint for the next ten days or so before the exam. And then the exam. And then it's done. Like Diddy says, time and time again: "this too shall pass."
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