• "Hand-Clapping songs improve cognitive development in children." - LiveScience, evidently just now hearing about how I won the entire school's spelling bee when I was in second grade. That means I had to go up against fourth and fifth graders, and I won, and it's all because of mom and dad's record collection.
Look at you, North Carolina! Shining star, baby! "Who Dat" blew up the proverbial spot a couple days ago, and I'm hungry for the instrumental so I can raise up, take my shirt off, then twist it around my head and spin it like a helicopter. It's the handclaps, sure, but that bassline gives me a magical feeling of '90s nostalgia because of a certain Christopher Wallacian quality. Pink gators, my Detroit players/Timbs for my hoo-li-gans in Brook-lynnn. "Who Dat" into "Hypnotize"--that would be a nice mix.
Shirley Ellis - "The Clapping Song." Joy, just pure joy. My parents used to play this when I was little and show me how to cut a rug right there in the living room. Obviously they saw the hips blooming on me and knew I'd have to learn how to move them in a rhythmic fashion in order to get boys to buy me things.
• I’m supposed to believe that Tiger Woods drove a Buick and Dr. Dre uses an HP to make beats. "STOOPS!," the 15-year-old in me says. Good one, advertising! E for effort, and T for nice try.
Sometimes advertising is successful, though, like in the case below. "Evolve," a Gatorade x David Banner wonderful thing, contains a song Banner wrote, produced, and arranged. And now, of course, I need it in instrumental form even though the singing is pretty great. Nice intro to build to crescendo. Courtesy of UGC.
• Detroit might someday legalize weed, perhaps. I live in California, where the streets are paved with gold and there's greenery in a dispensary on every corner and we don't have to worry about something called "sticks" or "stems" (I don't smoke but I've listened to enough songs to know). So, Detroit, you're onto something good here, even though the slow, state-by-state legalization of things gets tiresome. States’ rights vs. federal law means I have to leave Arizona if I’m too swarthy-looking (I always get guesses of Spain, Argentina, Brazil, sometimes Italy), I have to go to Michigan for weed, and then on to Iowa or DC to marry my girlfriend.
"Cali Hills." Where is the instrumental of this, and may I have it, please, Stones Throw? PS, look at Guilty up there, lookin like he's about to go to work in a factory so his kids can eat, like every dude in a Springsteen song or a gentler Joe Jackson. Goddammit I love a blue-collar-lookin MC.