I'm so judging myself right now

We went to see the raccoon movie this weekend. Apparently it’s called “Guardians of the Galaxy” or some such nonsense, but really, I was in it for the raccoon with a machine gun. And it was totally worth the price of admission.

Music (on cassette tapes, no less) was a major plot point of the film, which made me super happy. And it was 70s era soft rock and a little R&B thrown in for good measure which…

This shit was the bane of my existence throughout my childhood, teen years, and early adulthood. Whenever I hung out with my friends, their parents frequently had this crap on the stereo.

It became the muzak that tortured me wherever I went. It was hell. It was so…fluffy. I was convinced that Lionel Richie was Satan (jury is still out). I was sure that this music was the soundtrack of every conversion-van driving child molester. It was the musical equivalent of a porn ‘stache. It was aural tight, high-waisted polyester bellbottoms that were flattering on no-one. It was Lawrence Welk for the wife-swapping generation. Toothless pap! Opium for the personality-less masses!

I’d hear the opening strains of Escape (The Pina Colada Song) and I’d start having massive fits. Out loud. In public. At work (where I found out I was not alone in my hatred of this song. see, bad behavior sometimes does reap rewards. I found a support group).

It’s not even that I was a proponent of the whole Disco Sucks movement. I have always had some appreciation for disco. I’m a huge fan of funk (sorry, y'all, Easy very nearly ruined the Commodores for me, for forever). I adore all hard rock and punk from that era. It really just was something about the pop rock/soft rock moment that set me off. Similarly, I hated the singer-songwriter musicians of the era.

And then…something happened. I can’t even pinpoint when, or what, it was. I think maybe I was kidnapped by aliens. Possibly it was the massive head wound I sustained in my mid-20s. But I started to really dig other 70s stuff.

(my inner teen is howling with rage right now, and is trying to force me to put on some punk to cleanse)

I KNOW! What is wrong with me? At least with my completely irrational love of shitty pop music, I can pretend that it’s irony. Or an appreciation of the surreal. Or something.

After we got home from the raccoon movie, I immediately looked up the soundtrack, discovered that it is number 1 on the Amazon charts (at least), and immediately set out to make myself a playlist, building off the songs I liked from the film.

A soundtrack hasn’t captured my imagination this much since Garden State.

For the purposes of this post, I'll stick to some of my absolute favorites. I may publish my full list on a page on the blog, eventually. You may recognize snippets of many of these songs, as they've been sampled half to death by contemporary rap and R&B artists, but I still love em.

Of course we have the awesome Shuggie Otis. Who I was lucky enough to see live last year in Brooklyn.

Here’s his Strawberry Letter 23:

Strawberry Letter 23 was covered by The Brothers Johnson, who did another favorite of mine, I'll Be Good To You:

Bobby Caldwell's, What You Won't Do For Love:

I first heard of Bill Withers, from his song Lean on Me, which was the title song for an 80s movie of the same name, but I much prefer Use Me:

And there's America (the band). Most people know A Horse With No Name, but I've always liked Ventura Highway:

Rickie Lee Jones, Chuck E's in Love:

War, Lowrider:

Earth, Wind & Fire, September:

Kool & The Gang, Summer Madness (seriously, this song has been in what feels like every 70s movie, every movie about the 70s, and used every time somebody  just wants to evoke the 70s.):

Looking Glass, Brandy:

Stevie Wonder, I Wish:

Redbone, Come and Get Your Love. I know. It was on the raccoon movie soundtrack. whatever, I still love it:

Los Amigos Invisibles, In love With You:

ok, so that last one isn't from the 70s, but it fits with the theme, right?

Just two more. I swear:

Marvin Gaye, Let's Get it On:

Parliament, P-Funk:

That's all for now folks.

Please, leave me your suggestions for awesome 70s-ness in the comments.

I love you more...

...since I did the week before I discovered alcohol

I got inspired.

By my favorite drug.

Which is responsible for so much inspiration. Or whatever it is the kids call it these days.

Gogol Bordello

Brad Paisley

Barenaked Ladies

Dropkick Murphys

Sisyphus

The Kinks

And, you know, to offset all the quality above, I offer you:

Pitbull

And to finish it off (but no longer with alcohol in the title):

The Dead Kennedys

and I, ladies and gentlemen, am going to go drink.

it's un-american

and I like it.

so recently (and by recent, I mean since the advent of something that I can't actually remember sometime within the last two decades), I've been listening to rap from overseas. I listen to American rap as well, but I've been enjoying what other countries are doing to the art form. Not, mind you, that I claim to be an expert on it or anything.

(I don't know what art is, but I know what I like?)

In keeping with my quirks, I enjoy some of the more surreal shit that's out there. A perennial favorite (with me & my kid anyway) is Die Antwoord. They are a South African pair (sorta maybe a trio), that is part of the Zef movement, which I'm not even going to bother to attempt to define, because, well, I can't. I'm not there, I'm not part of the culture, I have, maybe, a  2% grasp of what it's about, and I'm not even going to try. The other day in Soho (NYC), I saw an aspiring model type coming out of a casting call (with a group of other aspiring model types), carrying a status bag, fancy shoes on her feet, wearing a stocking cap with "Zef" embroidered on it. Cracked me the hell up.

Here's one of my favorites from them, the deliciously disturbing "I Fink U Freeky" (which was alternating with "Call Me Maybe" two years ago, which made for a delightfully fucked up summer.)

From Sweden, we have Yung Lean, who I've been following for a little while after accidentally stumbling across him on YouTube. Or maybe not so accidentally. I mean, my algorithm on google has been totally screwed by searching for random things like images of dolphin vaginas, amputee porn, pili multigemini and Jennifer Lopez, so why the hell wouldn't YouTube suggest Yung Lean for me? Anyway, he just got a writeup in the New York Times and has apparently now played two sold out shows in NYC, which I've managed to be too busy to track lately (you may have noticed my long absence from the blog. stupid day jobs). I would have been really fascinated to observe the crowd at these concerts.

Yung Lean has some pretty damn surreal lyrics, although he seems much more conventional with the production on his music and in his videos than Die Antwoord. This is his latest video, Yoshi City:

And I have to contrast the artists I mention above with Iggy Azalea. Who is uber-commercial. In fact, I'm rather torn about her, given my whole non-ironic love of commercial pop music. She's Australian. She's blond. She's rapping in a very distinctly African-American style (and accent). Her lyrics can be good, or they can be crap, much like this line from "Fancy" that drives me batshit every time I hear it:

"I could hold you down, like I'm givin' lessons in physics"

What does that even mean? 

To pose a few questions: is this actually co-opting on her part? What does it mean when a white woman from Australia comes to the US and finds commercial success through a historically black art-form, that was born of the impoverished inner-city areas here? I guess versions of this question have probably been wrestled with enough, especially after Macklemore took the Grammy over Kendrick Lamar earlier this year. Or since Miley Cyrus started twerking. It's also worth noting that the other artists mentioned above are white, however, I suppose I question them less, as they're maybe adding their own take on the art form, rather than just parroting it? But I don't think that's really fair to Izzy, who I think has a fair measure of talent. Which makes me the asshole. (It's a state I'm comfortable with)

In that vein, I offer you Pu$$y, which I find...mindlessly offensive from a racial standpoint, but I like the song (if the video gets taken down, it's probably up elsewhere, and is googleable):

far cry from Fancy:

Has there been an outcry against her? I haven't been paying attention at all lately.

domo arigato

Mr. Roboto. Because I'm timely like that. That's how we deviants roll, yo.

Maybe its my disaffected teenager-hood, but I've always been a sucker for a good song about being a robot. Android. Cyborg. Whatever.

Which brings us to the best album about being a robot released in 2013. Ra Ra Riot's Beta Love has to be head and shoulders above the other albums about being a robot in 2013. (I have no idea if there were any others) I heard it, and it was love. And I listened to it over and over and over and...

Then I tortured my then seven-year-old daughter by forcing her to listen to the first track, Dance With Me and/or singing it to her constantly. Especially because, like her deviant parent, she can be a wee little Eeyore.

So picking her up from school, it was "how was your day, kid?" With the reply "it wasn't that great" at which point I'd break into song "oh I most/ I mostly had a good day/ it wasn't that great." I think she knows all the words to the song know. Heh.

But I digress. I love this album. That's really my point. And I've been living with it for a while. Listened to it in all sorts of conditions (except Brooklyn. I refuse to listen to this album in Brooklyn. Except for this past Sunday. I feel a little bit too hipstery driving around BK with this album on). It holds up. Favorite track, by far, is I Shut Off, which speaks deeply to my little melodramatic heart happy. 

Moving right along, my favorite song about being a robot has to be Robyn's Fembot. Which I don't know that I should actually write anything about it. I should just post the video. (ok, the video is merely ok. The song, however, is freakin brilliant). Once you go tech, y'all...

And lastly, this brings us to this Daft Punk thing that happened.

Which, because I'm tired, warrants a list:

1. I love the fact that all of these critics and the Grammys voters and everybody else who is highbrow and HAS OPINIONS ABOUT MUSIC THAT ARE CORRECT creamed themselves over this album. But if it had been released two to five years ago, would have been laughed out of existence. Heh. It's got some very Trans-Siberian Orchestra moments on it. 
2. I don't count this as an album about being a robot. Because I think it's really an album about being human by two guys who are either robots, or just really really want to be. (or like the masks. I don't judge...much)
3. It's pretty awesome. (the album. also the masks. I'm a little jealous of the masks. but given that I am now the proud owner of a gorilla suit, I think I can hold off on a robot suit for a while. Instead of going for the future in my costumes, I'm definitely regressing.)
4. Get Lucky is not the best track on the album. I'm not sure what is yet, but Get Lucky isn't it. Don't get me wrong, it's a fun track. I like it. It has Pharrell, and he is magic.
5. Maybe it is Lose Yourself to Dance. Which has the magic Pharrell AND freakin Nile Rogers.

Nile Rogers, kids, is, to put him into context, the OG Pharrell. He's responsible for producing EVERYTHING, and had a pretty excellent hit or two with his band, Chic, back in the day:

But enough about robots. I'm going to bed. Recharging is necessary.

Drunk in Love

in which we discuss Beyonce, Jay-Z, Miley Cyrus and Gloria Leonard.

So, I didn't watch the Grammy Awards. I don't really give a shit about them. It's yet another entertainment industry self-aggrandizing, mutual masturbatory, solipsistic bit of industry insiderness, and I really could give half a hairy fuck.

(and in another post, I'm gonna tell you how I REALLY feel about the Grammys. Maybe next year)

But then the New York Times reported on what they say is a "lively debate" on Facebook and twitter (ok, so I don't give half a hairy shit about Facebook either) regarding the Beyonce and Jay-Z performance during the Grammys. (granted, as my husband pointed out, it has an excellent shout out to mimic octopuses)

Ok.

1. It grosses me out that the NYT is reporting on things being said on social media, especially regarding entertainment. Egyptian protests - yes, I get it. The Grammys? FUCK YOU, NYT.
2. I grossed myself out, first by reading the article, and then by immediately going to YouTube to watch the performance. So here it is:

now you can hate me too.

This was sexy? And intimate? Did I watch an entirely different performance? Jay-Z and Beyonce have what must be the best choreographed marriage in history. And you can take that however you want.

One of the Facebookers was quoted as writing: “No good reason for a married mother to be on a chair with her legs gaped open for the whole world to see.”

Which brings me to my point:

Why shouldn't Beyonce act like a stripper if she damn well feels like it? For that matter, why shouldn't Miley Cyrus, former child star or not?

It's along the lines of what the porn star Gloria Leonard said: “...the whole point of the women’s movement is for women to choose whatever they want to do. Why should my choice be considered any less or more valid than your choice?”

Yeah, I fully support the choices of Beyonce, Miley, Rhianna, and whichever other women out there choose to act like strippers, sluts, or whatever other sexually charged image they wish to portray to the general public.

But that begs the question of whether or not these female stars are actually choosing these particular images, or if they're being chosen for them.

I'm not trying to denigrate their power as self-actualized human beings to choose, based on their gender. But I wonder how much the music business actually allows them to express themselves as they wish to be expressed, and how much of this sexuality (and/or controversy) is manufactured in order to generate record/iTunes sales.

Especially after having read numerous biographies and interviews with male musicians bitching mightily about the music industry not allowing them to fully express their creative personas, as music executives want to continue along the lines of what sells. If this is happening to men in the music business, what is happening to the (historically marginalized) women in the biz?

Comparing Beyonce's expressions of sexuality to Miley's may be like comparing cognac to kool-aid, given that Beyonce is one of the richest, most powerful women on the planet, (or so we're told), and Miley is just testing out her wings, but how much is Beyonce also playing into the market place and how much of this is actually her?

Just sayin'.*

*apostrophe courtesy of my husband.

Lastly, the lyrics of Drunk in Love. Really? Surfboard? I mean, I'm all about dumbass lyrics. I'll admit that Robin Thicke's "what rhymes with hug me?" cracks me up EVERY TIME. But the surfboard/riding on that wood thing? UGH.

soft, safe & sanitized?

in which I have a good "these kids today" moment.

So, you may have heard, the Superbowl happened.

Apparently.

Honestly, I wouldn't have known that it had happened, except that it took place across the river from my city, and the meatheads wearing football jerseys who were in town for it made my commute hell for three days.

(and NYC is making their commute back home a living hell today, in kind repayment. Heh. Snow rocks sometimes)

This morning, after reading through the news, out of morbid curiosity, I clicked on the New York Times review of Bruno Mars halftime show. (also, I like Bruno Mars)

Photo from the New York Times

The review called him "harmless." It pointed out that the Red Hot Chili Peppers (who also played a set at the show) had lost their teeth (so to speak). I'm not sure I can disagree with either of those two statements, so amazingly enough, I'm not arguing with this review. For once.

But the last paragraph... dude. It basically called Mars out as the kind of ultimate American, "reinforcing the idea of the Super Bowl as an indomitable American institution."

Which, for a guy who once said that he had issues before he made it big because of his race, who comes from a Puerto Rican-Jewish-Filipino background...

It made my little American heart smile. Times have changed. And that makes me damn happy.

sex, subtle and not so subtle.

all at the same time, too. 

U2: If You Wear That Velvet Dress (1997)

Jessie Ware: Devotion (2012)

Listening to Devotion lead to the other. All part of this evening's playlist.

Fancy.