Hip Hop and High School English

Hell, Walt Whitman lived in Brooklyn, the same borough as Biggie Smalls. “So what if I contradict my self – I am large, I contain multitudes,” is a famous line, but it could just as easily have been Biggie’s as Whitman’s.

 So I just finished my first read-through of Paul Miller’s book “Rhythm Science.”  Most would know him better as DJ Spooky.  Some (allmusic) have classified him as “overly intellectual at times (to the detriment of his recordings, interviews, and mixing dates),” but I find his stuff at the very least intriguing for some odd reason.  I will also add that Riddim Warfare and his contribution to the “Under the Influence” series are two of my favorite albums.

But as far as the book goes, it’s not something you can sit down and read in one sitting (at least not something I can, maybe you’re smarter than me).  He has a very dense and spastic writing style, but a read-through will pick up the general sense of the book.  What I find interesting is his ability to demonstrate hip hop as a culturally relative art-form.  Now if you don’t view hip hop as art, then you probably wholeheartedly disagreed with the opening quotation.  In it’s defense, I think this comparison (if you like Emerson) does something to bolster that claim:

Citing Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay “Quotation and Originality” -
But Emerson took the occasion of this essay to look beneath the surface that this cultural saturation fostered.  He wrote redemptively, “By necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote.” And, he goes on to note something that conservative critics of hip-hop will never understand: “It is as difficult to appropriate the thoughts of others as it is to invent.”

Nothing like using Emerson to justify your MPC… 

Without quoting the entire book in various increments, I would like to note it’s a pretty cool read if you’re willin to let yourself disassociate for a bit.  Also, the design of the book is a work of art in itself, with graphics and text getting tangled up and a hole maintains through all the pages except for the last, where an audio cd exists (think like a record sitting on a turntable).  Anyways, if you can get your hands on a copy, I’d recommend picking one up.  There’s also a web-interpretation if you’re into that sort of thing.

Emilíana Torrini – Fisherman’s Woman

I first heard of Emilíana Torrini when she opened for someone (who amazingly (and probably tellingly) I can no longer remember) at a summer concert at what used to be known as Pine Knob. No one really pays much attention to the opening acts, but I distinctly remember Torrini drawing me in. I couldn’t really tell you one specifc aspect that did it; I think it was everything put together.

Anyhow, I picked up Love in the Time of Science a short time after that and liked it. I wouldn’t put it on any best albums of all time list, but it was certainly a solid offering. Fast forward a couple years and while I’m watching TV I hear a voice that I couldn’t quite place, at least not until one of the songs off Love in the Time of Science came on my winamp later that night.

After a little research, I find out that she put out a new CD in 2005, Fisheman’s Woman, and that it’s even available for 6 bucks off of YourMusic. And so, predictably, I picked it up.

While both albums offer her fluttery, floating Icelandic voice and slightly eccentric lyrics…

Did you know that tuna fish
Float up to the surface
Belly to the moonlight just to cool down their heart down
‘Cause it helps them just to think about the hurtful things
I guess it’s just one wait to get them some sedation

- Tuna Fish from Love in the Time of Science

His clothes on the floor
Underwear silverlined
The smell of lavender and tar
Brings me down

-Thinking Out Loud from Fisherman’s Woman

…the new cd is decidedly different from the first. Fisheman’s Woman is decidedly somber, at least lyrically; but it’s a relaxing somber and not at all sonically depressing. She is almost entirely accompanied by acoustic guitar which, while not obtrusive, is also not easily forgettable. If you listen carefully, you’ll pick up on many minimalist sound effects (creeks and whispers) added to further relax the feel of the album.

Some will never get into an album like this. It’s either too girly or too quiet or too slow (or all of the above). Imagine Norah Jones if she were to inhale a little helium and then record right as she drifted to sleep. If female vocalists or acoustical music are to your liking, definitely check out Fisherman’s Woman. If you’re a take it or leave it with this genre, still give it an honest 5-10 plays and see if you’re left humming some of the hooks. I bet you’ll be surprised.

…or think I’m a total sissy.

Nuclear War on the Dance Floor

 

About to throw on Beck’s first single… (that’s a smart joke)

(and given the site name, that’s irony…)

(another form smart jokes sometimes take)

Dice Rolling & the Nuclear Family

On the side of a Chipotle cup I recently drank from:

1985 Called. It Wants Its Fax Machine Back

After years of running with only archaic fax technology for advance food orders, we thought we’d add an alternative solution that’s more hip and useful and now and wow. DSL (or Don’t Stand in Line) fits the bill with the usual Chipotle bells and whistles. It talks back to you with a real voice from a real Chipotle employee and is just like standing in line, except it’s virtual, man, virtual

Just go to www.chipotle.com/dsl directly or to ORDER if you’re already on our Web site. Follow the online instructions, come to our restaurant, head straight to the cashier, and we’ll have your burrito ready for you. You don’t stand in line. Get it?

And if you’re heading home from work or from throwing dice in the alley, place a dinner order for yourself and your loved ones, hop in the your car yabba-dabba-doo-style, pick up your food and go home. No muss, no fuss, and nuclear family stability (or at least a temporary stop-gap measure) has been restored.

Finger snaps, please.

Does anyone else find this as strangely amusing as me?

Welcome

Congratulations… You’re already dumber…