[end rap] is probably a thing Rawss writes in his notebook so he knows when to stop heaving cliches into the microphone. End rap, William!, he jots down. He underlines it for emphasis.
A slow-witted fellow whose skills include really capitalizing on the popularity of DePalma and really pushing my buttons, Rawss once tried to get away with the line Lookin straight in the eyes, they show vagina on a professional mixed tape. I heard his gmail password is “password,” too. Or “password1,” maybe, to try to throw people off.
When [end rap] is on an Aesey-related transcription, though, it is charming. And when Aesey discusses the cancer beast, it's all heart and alienation*, that mix at which he is great. (The whole “masticated fuscia”/“baby teeth” thing, and the flow charts/beeping couplet are especially lovely) * “what it is to be a fucking human being” (David Foster Wallace)
The verse is about Camu Tao and it's on a new Kimya Dawson song called “Walk Like Thunder.” You'll feel a little down after his verse because disease is a shattering thing, but then he swoops in and reminds you that you're here, you're not a robot, this is life, you're breathing, and there's pie!There's pie.
“I just got a RZA mug for my birthday just recently” - Gucci, I'm pretty sure. But I might be paraphrasing.
“You can't be deep without a surface.” - Jonathan Lethem, regarding the birthday girl. I hate it when you can't pick just one favorite ridiculous bathing suit RZA mug photo out of the bunch.
It's my birth date and here are the 2 songs that'll be in my head all day (I mean, other than “Recently,” of course):
The Falcons' (old-timey Wilson Pickett and Eddie Floyd!) love song for the birthday girl- “I Can't Help It.” Falling in love, head over heels, etc.
• Philip Marlowe's thoughts on the sexy girl who's not me:
Congrats, Marlowe! Best Use of Words to Make Logan Feel Bad about Herself! The problem is my greed, though. I want it all, identity-wise. It's too hard to pick just one thing. Half the time I'm pleased being me, making my way through the world, even with all the affection from LAPD officers. But then half the time I want to be the not-me girl, smooth and shiny. Cops never try to talk to her, I bet.
And then I remember Ghosty said Nice girl that's clean, that was raised to cook/On the couch chilling, shorts on, reading a book, and I'm like, Philip who? Such is the pleasure of language.
This week's other awards, culled from the week's collection of all the LA sign quotes, Harpers mag snippets, and rap lyrics that bounce around in my head while I'm at my government job (your tax dollars at work, people):
Most Efficient Use of Words in Which our Narrator Tells a Saga of Where He Once Was and Where He is Currently. Pusha tells a better story in 1 line than Rawss can in 32 bars. Also when you download Fear of God your computer will save it under his DMV name (terrence_thornton_mixtape.zip), a thing I keep yelling about because it just amuses me so much! (sorry, everybody)
•This is tailor-made drug dealer theme music Test it on your tongue or either watch a fiend do it I got you hooked and I laugh as you lean to it.
“Raid” again. Best Use of Evil (that last line). Ooh he's like Nino Brown except from Virginia.
•It's like Raaaaaaid, spraying on you roaches The AK is an animal, it is ferocious A n---a wanna sing but we is the dopest Watch that n---a disappear, hocus pocus Ring, ring the n---a won't sing Ring, ring, I keep that bitch clean Ring, ring the n---a won't sing Unless he is an insomniac and dying to dream.
Pharrell, in, oh would you look at that--it's “Raid,” a song by Pusha T of the rap duo the Clipse.
Best Tribute to a Household Item Other than Pyrex. Best Use of Pharrell's Weird Deep/High-Pitched Voice--there's nothing else like it in music. I also love the cheerful, punchy piano, 'cause it's nice “bitches-double-teaming” music as my grandma would say. The perfectly-placed ding in “Drop It Like It's Hot” (you should think about it...take a second) is probably P's finest moment (next to the almighty spy chord, which isn't really a moment as much it is a ubiquitous thing from '98-'02). Snoop's exaggerated delivery gets tiresome in the song but that DING sounds like the call for a threesome to begin, oh god it's like the very souuuuund of girls undressing. You got your willing ladies and your neck-tatted pretty-faced producer. “Annnnd places, everyone!” DING.
Hocus pocus, I just learned, comes from an old-timey Latin blessing in mass--Hoc est corpus meum, meaning “This is my body.” I am guessing that's not the first time P has used such a phrase to his own ends, most likely while in the company of ladies. By the way, P, this is my body; you like? (I mean, that's what I would say if I engaged in groupie antics which of course I do not. HI MOM.)
•Sleeping with the finest The thread count is bindless Security blanket of cocaine, I am Linus
Pusha T, “I Still Wanna.” FUCKYES, Charles Schulz raps. Peanuts raps. Thumb-suckin, socially-anxious-children raps. Dumbest Line That Still Works Somehow.
Forgive me for this one, please. I can't take it when you look at me that way; just hear me out.
Best Simile in a Catchy Dumb Power 106 Rush-Hour Banger with No Redeeming Value Other Than Pure Aural Pleasure. But see, that in itself is redeeming value--the pleasure. I realize that everybody's quick with the bad music/junk food metaphor--“Potato chips are also SO SO GOOD, Logan, but they are bad for your body.” Jerk, listen: if they taste good, they are good for your body. You're overthinking it.
PUSH WEIGHT LIKE MY CAR BROKE DOWN, by the way. Not sure if you heard it the first time. So crisp and clean, and it's funny but I've never heard anybody say it like that before, even with the years and years of songs about how being a dopeboy is in the blood and it'll always be with an MC despite shine/fame/money. Love it. He also says My car breakfast--745. Aha. Haha. Cute.
•Bullshit convo, five minutes invested Now she buck naked lying next to you via text message.
Best Use of QWERTY. No getting around it; this is just pure poetry. So much is said here about menfolk and womenfolk, and in fewer than 20 words.
•My family know--rarely seen, they know I'm married to my dream So in love with that green that my bitch every day threatens to leave The only thing that's left for me is to suggest that she do what she please
Best Use of Manners by a Southern Gentleman. I could quote you a hundred GTFOH raps by some of the greatest lyricists this world has ever known (come by apt. 15 tomorrow night, around 7:30). I don't mind screamin on em/“I'm mad at you, woman” raps. Passion is a good thing. But it's a little guy from N-O who shows restraint that gets the award today. I suggest that you do what you please, my dear. I'm also thrilled to announce that the instro has hereby just been added to the “Logan Walking Down the Street on a Sunny Day” song canon.
•We can share beginnings, walk before you run, but she so independent And I could see us fly, the sky is the limit We so real, got my own quarter mill Counting money on the bed, watching Deal Or No Deal In a perfect world, just my guns and my girl
Pusha T, “Feeling Myself.” This particular “Feeling Myself” has a hideous R&B hook and is not as good as the Mac Dre one, tragically (although Pusha could also get away with the line I treat my bitch like my ATM card). And it's pretty unremarkable as far as lyrical creativity goes, but I just like the incorporation of boring game show. Best Use of Boring Game Show?
• If people don't like it now, they will.
Albert Ayler
The Joker's henchmen break into the museum and empty the display cases; this occurs repeatedly, again and again: finally it can be reckoned upon beforehand and becomes a part of the exhibition.
Jonathan Lethem
a) Most Accurate Description by a Jazz Genius of Your Mom's and Your Mailman's Feelings about Odd Future 6 months ago.
b) Most Accurate Description of OF's Current Stranglehold on Music-Consuming Human Beings.
• Please, pretty please I just wanna see you down on your pretty knees (Sorry, Mom)
This is a love song to coke and that line is code for “I just wanna sit in a room and stare at you, pretty white lady, 'cause your value as determined by capitalism in the unregulated free market has made all my dreams come true.” Alas, this cannot totally make up for This Week's Worst Use of Kanye (who insists on trying to do sex raps because he is delusional and doesn't know how ridiculous he appears), and Worst Attempt at Disguising a Reference to Oral (You are such a champ, how you take it on the chin). This does, however, get Second-Best (after Curren$y) Use of Manners and Decorum. Please, pretty please. I figure if you're a dude it's hard to keep up with girls who sometimes like to be bossed around but who also appreciate dudes saying please and thank you. But I always say just rely on the context of the situation, you know? That should tell you which way to go.
•Get off my elevator.
Best Use of Old Kool Keith to Soothe After a Hard Day at Work in a High-Rise Downtown. Backrub please, pretty please.
•I just brought a drop just recently I killed the parking lot just recently I just brought a whip just recently I made another flip just recently I just bust a check just recently I bust a bad bitch just recently I’m screaming out “who want a piece of me?!” I just got a deal just recently
I just got a bikini just recently! I just made an illegal left just recently! I can't stop singing this hook just recently! I just had a birthday just recently! (oh wait, no. It's tomorrow.) Best Use of Catchy. Best Use of the Word “Just” (Twice in the Same Line!)
Lambo round that Autobahn, 50 says in the not-hook (sometimes I manage to tear myself away from the hook). This reminds me of that Monch interview in the Voice, wherein he describes “Immigrant Song” as “sounding like someone either riding a horse through a snow forest or doing 120mph on the Autobahn,” fucking YES that's exactly what it sounds like! And I'm not even a big Led Zep girl! MONCH YOU NAILED IT/WHERE THE FUCK IS QUEENS RAWRR RARRR RARARA. Monch. Goddammit I love him. (Even though he said Fuck you; pay me on “Assassins,” a cliche straight outta '99, and that's almost unforgivable.)
•My people sleep in coffins, I miss em--I’m breaking down In the face of a bad bitch that I’m ‘sposed to be taking down Baby ride while I’m crying, I’m dying inside 'Cause my pain is Poseidon or a giant leviathan that I’m hiding from the world They hit me with everything but the kitchen sink How ironic--same place I vomit when I lick a drink Apparently I need to get a shrink How can therapy take care of me when I don’t give a fuck what n---s think?
Yet another song between the years of 2009 and 2011 that sounds like a video game. And JESUS CHRIST I think I just linked to a song with Budden on it. Crooked I's good, though. He veers dangerously close to crybaby Eminem territory with those lyrics, but that last line redeems it. Best Way to Bring it Home with a Closing Line. Get 'em, Long Beach.
•I speak of world peace, war, famine and flood Watchin Pan's Labyrinth while I'm unraveling bud
Pharoahe Monch, “Evolve.” Best Mention of the Mundane/Everyday. One day I'll do a Random Tribute: Raps about Watching Movies While Rolling/Smoking Ls post, even though Ls is east coast slang and we don't say it that way out here. He also says Please seize the moment in the struggle against Lucifer. K, Monchie! You got it. (If I have time today after doing laundry)
• You gotta take it back to face the fact These D’s look at us as just another case to crack If I bust a gun in the hood I get Attica or the cat I bang a gat in Iraq I get a pat on the back Best believe I know better than that This a lesson for all my listeners, this shit ain’t just regular rap It’s the greatest story that ever been spat
Saigon, “The Greatest Story Never Told.” Best Use of “Spit" in Past Tense. Most Success with Preachy Lyrical Content While Still Holding My Interest. Regarding the beat: Best Just Blaze Doing an Impression of Just Blaze in '01. And aw, the Attica thing reminds me of this:
I just got this Archie Shepp just recently! I just stared at the cover for 8 minutes straight just recently! It's almost my birthday just recently!
1. People, it was the chopping off of the “I” in “imagination” that did it.
This week in 1971, “Just My Imagination” was at #1. Eddie Kendricks was the main man, the glory-grabber, the point guard on this one, plus I heard Kendrick Lamar was named after him*, but Paul Williams was the assist leader with those gravelly vocals on the song's bridge.
In '71 it was Vietnam and Manson all over the place. I bet pretend womanly love was nice to think about, a dreamy distraction, if you were driving around back then and it came on the radio. Yesterday it came on at CVS and I got a few minutes to myself for pretend time, imagination time--no stupid fears about radiation levels or keeping up with coke slang. Just my 'magination on the hook, Eddie Willis' guitar, or the whole string section: not sure which one jabs my warm beating heart the most, but all together they made the best valentine ever to looking and wanting.
*I did not actually hear that. But I feel like it might be true.
2. Am I a bad person because I like that Weezy/Game song more than I should and that Lil B/Grae/Phonte song way less than I should?
God no! I'm a bad person because I just heard about the time Fear was on SNL ("It's great to be in New Jersey") and that's no way to retain my nerd championship belt, because I think my sweetie pie Curren$y looks stupid in BBC gear (although I'm too nice to tell him, which I believe makes me a pretty good person), and because I crave rewards just for being born--kind gestures and material items. I want all these things for my birthday (03/29), starting with item a above. I am requesting an adapted version of the shirt, though--a girl's cut, please. I need one that hugs a too-skinny-but-still-curvy ladybody.
b. Just like my beloved Ghosty doll, this is something that I would make fun of if you had it on your bookshelf but it's something I'm totally allowed to have and be braggy about. (I'm adorable!)
(I couldn't wait on you to get me the poster.)
fancy-lunch-in-Santa-Monica attire is similar to "church clothes" except I'm a heathen so that phrase means nothing to me. (The invitation actually said "ladies must wear stockings," because it's 1948-?)
c. A nice high-res version of that photo of James Baldwin and Nina Simone--individuals whose combined presence in a picture on my bookshelf shall, I hope and pray, bathe me in epicness each day. Get up out the bed, turn my somethingsomethinglalaswagswaggolfwanggolfwang/Take a look in the mirror and say whassup, then kiss my first two fingers and press them onto the Baldwin-Simone photo for luck as I run out the door. Framing of the photo is not necessary, because I'm not greedy and I'll be happy with the photo alone, and because frames are expensive. Why are frames so expensive? (I'd like the answer to this as a birthday present). They're made of, what, wood and glass?
Spice 1, Avey Tare, Jay Reatard and Hodgy on the remix.
e. Roberto Bolaño, The Return. Vibrating Porn Stars and Two Chileans Arguing about Knives is the name of your next mixed tape.
f. A new Curren$y collection of carburetor/naked flesh/sticky & citrus-smelling raps, now rather than later. NOW PLEASE.
g. Derek Lam's ram-head-clasp bag. Even though astrological signs, like Jesus and message boards, are just another attempt by humans to make sense of the world and judge each other*, the fact remains that Aries is my sign/I know that I can rhyme. Additionally, sometimes I rhyme in riddles/Plus I make the honeys** wiggle.
*astrological signs are also useful when it comes to naming OutKast albums.
** just myself. I make myself wiggle--haven't you seen my driving-in-the-Civic dancing? (yesterday it was Snoop's “Gangsta Luv”). There's no room for anything but wiggling in a Japanese compact.
h. THE JAGGERRRZZZZZ. All those z's are because 2-3 times a week I feel like I'm dozing through life, drifting along in a haze of Power 106, oatmeal and tea for breakfast every morning, rent checks, cops asking me how my day is going in obvious attempts to get me to have sex with them. The people across the hall playing cumbia on Sunday mornings is pretty nice, but it's not enough to save me from the daily sleepwalk. I need this round black piece of vinyl to feel alive again. And to feel closer to Curren$y.
i. Soft furry pelts and boots (not made from anything that once had a face, obviously; I'm not a monster), and a room that's sunny all the time--and empty except for a bed. I'd prefer not to have to trick for any of it but who am I kidding. Sorry, Mom.
My ideal man gets me cruelty-free fur and lets me be Frank Lucas' side piece in my spare time. Here's Diane Kruger, livin the dream.
Bobby Womack - “Across 110th Street.” Just found out Bobby's got a brother named Friendly and that's real funny 'cause friendly is what I'd like to get with some sheets and fur in a room that's sunny all the time (and empty except for a bed).
Who posted this on a guitardork message board? Was it you? And if so, why haven't you called me? Christ I'd like you to call me, please--I am daydreaming about you. I'd also like you to warm those hands up, chief, 'cause you're bout to give out lots of backrubs. Not to brag, but I'm down in all the best possible ways and my love is heavenly when my arms enfold youuuu, so I think you'll be very happy. I like discussing weird factory mods, and how Eddie Willis is known for his signature style of muted riffs. And I'll call you the don before during and after _______ (various things we take part in together).
“Lay Low.” Fellow drivers of Civics within a 50-mile radius of LA County, I know you're with me on this one. There's Nate's perfect vocals, of course, but also KEYS.
He also doesn't judge me when I discover a thing that I shouuuulllllld've known a long long time ago (it was Bobby Womack, not Ike Turner! JESUS, LOGAN, who played guitar on “Family Affair”)
(It's Sly's birthday. Kanye's fond of kid stuff--labels, lasers, lights; Sly was into space travel, coke, and girls with my skin tone back when it really meant something).
The only people you should trust to teach you about the general history of the world are Chomsky and Zinn. (Everybody else is either on the payroll at Fox or is trying to get website hits by making up dumb outrageous facts.) And the only person you should trust to inform you of important events in the Allman Brothers story is the girl whose middle name is Melissa.
On March 12 and 13 in 1971, the Alllman Brothers Band's At Fillmore East shows were recorded--40 long years, but put it on the platter and I swear it throbs like it was made yesterday. (For the record, “Live at the Fillmoe, East” is a Rappin 4-Tay/San Quinn collab song that has yet to be made, but it exists in my heart and in my fantasies.) Anyway, before Duane Allman's crying guitar played over the montage of everybody from the Lufthansa heist getting theirs, the wreckage of past sins finally coming to light, his crying guitar played in the living room on the platter while I lay on my stomach and colored. I'm a grownup now but I have a thousand pictures of him on my laptop because I still love him. Sometimes I swear I see him at Trader Joe's (nope; it's just all the boys in the neighborhood go 7 months between haircuts and wear nothing bigger than an M in t-shirts). He was quiet in real life, they say, and he was usually high, plus he died when he was 24; these are qualities that usually make me fond of a musical individual. And before I wanted to ride with the kid, and before all I wanted to pretend my name was Sally so I could ride around with abandon (ride, Sally. Ride.), before I was down to ride and definitely before I was prepared to ride or die, before I fully committed to the hoo ride lifestyle, before I begged the sweet chariot to swing down, stop, and let me ride, before I loved breathless ladies' man Toney Knight Rider, way before I wanted to ride the plain bow in flare gully yellow rain coat, before I Ruff Rode and really believed in the Stop, drop, shutemdown-openupshop mantra (which is what I will forever think of any time I hear “Free Earl”), before I obeyed when a Gulf Way Blvd g told me to pop the trunk, get it crunk, it's time to ride, show them boys I got that front back and side to side, baby, basically before I ever wanted to take that ride, and way before I asked myself how should I ride?, I knew running away and riding was the way to go 'cause Duane and the last 12 frets on his guitar were like honey, let’s ride.
“Midnight Rider.”
mp3. It's OK if you think of that Devil's Rejects opening when you hear it. I don't mind. The shit was pretty incredible. (Good job, Rob.)
King Curtis - “Games People Play.” Duane's guitar on this isn't really a standout performance, but still. So lovely (01:20). And the original is kind of like “Ether” but directed at half of humanity, and with harmony and a la-la-la chorus. mp3.
“A reveler takes a sip of bourbon as he sits next to a sleeping man on a couch during the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club parade on St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans on Mardi Gras Day March 8.” (Patrick Semansky/Associated Press - The Big Picture)
Yo Gotti & 8Ball - “Walkin in Memphis” (Wally Sparks mix). Because I needed a Wally something or other to complete the post, of course, but also because Memphis meant “city of white walls” in ancient Egypt. And because the Civic has stock rims and nearly-bald tires, but this song is always on the playlist during hot sunny days driving around LA and it feels so good I'd swear I have gangster whites.
L-R: Librarian, Coffey (back of Goin' for Myself), stripper/librarian.
Silver magic ships you carry/Jumpers, coke, sweet Mary Jane. Dennis' spooky pale intense face is pleasing and trance-y just like that Pusha T flaming GIF, and he obviously knows how to dress, but I'd like to focus for a sec on his quality production work, please. Sixto Rodriguez - “Sugar Man.”
Caramel complected/body like heaven (ummm no). Your favorite nerdy bikini-clad sarcasm peddler.
Tomboyish tendencies in a girly package.
Music nerd making my way in the world. The more emotion I put into it/the harder I rock.
I bow at the altar of Phil Spector, Rick Rubin, and Large Pro.
I find that I can amuse myself to no end. I got front & back, and side to side. I am a real person and NOT viral marketing for Stones Throw. I also have a government job so please don't tell too many people I'm in my bathing suit on the Internet.
Nothin else to tell, really.
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