Archive for February, 2009

Remember when I said I’d never be inured to heartbreak by the Eagles, but that I didn’t think I could ever fully convert to another team, and that the Stillers were tryin real hard to get me? Well the Eagles are tryin real hard to help em.

The only way not re-signing Dawkins makes sense is if they were cash-strapped. But they aren’t. Not even close. Maaaaybe if there was a top-notch free agent out there, I could see letting him go. Like if there was a 2003 Brian Dawkins out there somewhere, then okay. I suppose that would make good business sense. But this here? Letting him go when there’s not really the prospect of anything better out there? For the sake of what, being cheap? Nah, dawg. That’s not a good look. At all.

I’m sayin. I realize it’s a business. And I realize Dawk’s play-making abilities are starting to diminish. But as one commenter on philly.com said — this is the same situation the Stillers had with The Bus. But they re-signed him, not so much because of what he can do on the field, but because of what he brings to the locker room. Cuz I’m tellin you…I seriously doubt that the Eagles are gonna be close enough to the salary cap to warrant not re-signing him.

And if, by chance, everybody’s feelings are wrong and the Eagles are quietly eyeing some stud safety who helps them to do the impossible and bring home the belt, they better do like the Colts a couple years ago and give Dawk a ring.

That is all.

Part 3. Let’s dive right in.

Mama’s Gun – Erykah Badu. I love this album. Let’s get that out the way first. I love it, love it, love it. It’s easily my favorite of all her albums. Eeeeeasily. I try not to assume that the artist’s persona is necessarily that of the “I” in the songs, but suffice it to say that I would have wifed the character portrayed on this album with the quickness. Especially on the stretch from Didn’t Cha Know to …man, the whole rest of the album. Mama’s Gun is, I think, just about as close to a perfect album as I know. It’s not uncommon for me to say that I can listen to an album straight through, but with Mama’s Gun, I usually do. Having said that, I think its importance comes from the discovery of the last song during a time when I was going through it. Green Eyes is a disturbingly good song, meaning that I really can’t listen to it without being taken back to that time.

Stakes Is High – De La Soul – This is another case in which their most important album is not necessarily my favorite. Don’t get me wrong: I think Stakes Is High is a fantastic album, but I like Buhloone Mindstate and De La Soul Is Dead more. Stakes’ importance comes from the fact that it’s the album that really made me a De La fan. Prior to Stakes, I was cool with De La, but I had never really liked their lead singles enough to buy the album. I know, I know. I was sleep for 8 years. When the single, Stakes Is High, came out, I watched the video every time it came on television, and I went to the record store and bought the 12-inch. For those who know, the first 12-inch didn’t come with the remix featuring Mos Def and Truth Enola. After Stakes, and that same year, I think I saw them in concert, I went and copped their whole discography, just about, and they moved up toward the top of my list of favorite hip-hop groups.

Skin Tight – Ohio Players – Historically, it’s their first album on Mercury Records. The title song was one of their bigger hits. Heaven Must Be Like This is a quintessential funk ballad. And you know good and well none of that has anything to do why this album is on my list. That, lovely, lovely, chocolate brown lady on the amberish-yellow background helped to change the game — or at least define the game for me. Not saying I wouldn’t have been straight had I not run into Skin Tight, but when I saw that album cover, I knew what the deal was. Now understand: as far as Ohio Players album covers go, Honey was the apex. But Skin Tight is the first one I actually remember. But I knew to check for Ohio Players albums after that.

Live From Another Level – Israel & New Breed – I was looking to up my gospel game a little bit when a friend recommended this. I was quite glad she did. My purchase of the album kinda dovetailed with the fact that we sing a lot of this group’s songs at the church I’d started going to. What made this album different was that it was the first of the not-necessarily Black gospel albums that I bought. That is, it’s not quite a linear descendant of gospel as the twin sister of the blues. This album was much more culturally amorphous. A very good album, but much different from the foot-stompin, hand-clappin, B3′d out music I usually bought.

The Devil Made Me Buy This Dress – Flip Wilson Between 7th and 8th grade, I raided my the record player console in my grandmother’s living room. That’s when I rediscovered a lot of albums (the Skin Tight album cover became a poster) and discovered a lot more. TDMMBTD was a discovery. In the mid-80’s, I didn’t really know who Flip Wilson was. I knew he had that sitcom that basically looked like a knock-off Cosby Show, but that was about it. I didn’t know a thing about his stand-up routine. Now, when I was in 6th grade, I had pretty much subsumed Bill Cosby’s speech patterns from Himself. I remember my homeroom teacher had to tell me to cut it out. Flip was different. I was going to enter the speech contest in 8th grade until they told me I couldn’t do The Great Motor Bike and Tennis Shoe Race.

So I’m watchin Right America: Feeling Wronged. My first reaction was pretty much what the filmmakers intended: I was dismayed at the opinions I saw. Jokers talkin about they think Obama is Muslim — or better yet, the Antichrist. But then, I stepped back and peeped game. That video was pretty much the equivalent of the news van going into the ‘hood after an accident and picking out ole girl in the housecoat and pink curlers. I’m sure there were other people they talked to who had more moderate positions, but those aren’t the ones who made the cut for the video.

What I think would be interesting would be to look at the Black folks who voted for McCain, and why. Obviously, in the shots and locations I saw on RA:FW, there weren’t a whole lotta brothers and sisters. The one that was there was, I think, that Black confederate dude in Mississippi. Those types aren’t exactly the people I would be interested in seeing. Nor would I really care to see the hardcore party loyalists, necessarily. Some of them might as well be on the video as it is right now. Naw, I’m more interested in seeing somebody who could effectively articulate an understanding of Obama’s positions and why they voted against him, rather than some visceral reaction to him based on race, religion, or some nebulous fear of terrorism. Moreover, I’d be particularly interested in seeing some Black folks who voted for McCain who were willing to admit that they had to wrestle with the idea of not voting for a Black candidate for president. I don’t think that was everybody, but I’d be interested in hearing from those who did.

Another thing I found very interesting is how frequently the people in the video refer to themselves as “real Americans,” as if those of us who live in cities are fake. This is particularly relevant to me, because so-called “real” America is where I was born. Through the magic of Facebook, I’ve been able to reconnect with a lot of those friends, and I remember seeing some of their comments immediately following the election. I didn’t get into it with any of them, because it’s not worth it to me, but it was curious. I think that “real” Americans have just as distorted a view of what America is and is about as the people they think aren’t real. That is, their idea of America is based on the idea that everybody is like them. So when one of the dudes on the video talks about how Obama doesn’t really know real America because he was born in Hawaii and went to Harvard and lives in Chicago, I’m thinkin, what does dude know about America, really? Living one’s entire life in some small town, surrounded by people whose lives and beliefs are identical can’t give a person an impression of America. Yet, if you listen to some of the politicians and pundits, that’s exactly the implication they make. Like diversity ain’t real in America. Or like the people in cities don’t work hard. Or like welfare is something that goes only to people in the inner-city, and farm subsidies don’t count. Come on, now.

The good thing about looking at something through a fish-eye lens is that it helps you to notice things you may not have seen otherwise. But unless you recognize the kind of lens you’re seeing through, it’s harder to recognize the distortions.

Back again with part 2 of the 25 most important albums. Again, this is in no particular order.

Straight Outta Compton – NWA I posted on this album last year, but it bears repeating. In the same way that Nation of Millions caused a musical and intellectual paradigm shift for me, Straight Outta Compton caused…well, I ain’t gon say it was a paradigm shift so much as it just turned everything upside down. I had never. Ever. Ever. heard anybody cuss so much on a record. It was shocking. And that’s saying somethin for me, because when I was in 9th grade, I was a cussin fool. (And in grades earlier than that.) Thing with Straight Outta Compton was that it was visceral yet real. Like, the part on Gangsta Gangsta where they was 6 deep in the car and got dissed by the girl? That’s real life. As was the cussin. Straight Outta Compton was explicitly anti-politically political. If Nation was Rebel Without A Pause, SOC was rebels rebelling for rebellion’s sake without a pause.

Love Alive – Walter Hawkins – This was one of the definitive albums of my life. Growing up, we didn’t listen to much secular music in the house. Obviously, there was some, but not a whole-whole lot. There was a lot of gospel, though. Love Alive got a loooottta burn. It’s interesting, because back at that time, R & B was heading into its electronic phase, but gospel was still organic. And that’s what drew me: the organ. Love Alive is a cold-blooded album, it’s true, but the piano and organ work is what mesmerized me. Particularly on the very bluesy, God Is Standing By. That was some serious choiring.

Street Level – The Beatnuts – This was the album of 1994. I know Illmatic came out around that time, and I liked Illmatic some, but the Beatnuts album was just…absurd. While I could at least tell myself that Ice Cube and NWA had some redeeming social value, the Beatnuts didn’t even have that. No fake safe sex record, nothing. Straight nihilism. Over some of the baddest tracks I’d ever heard. With the Beatnuts, it was awwwwlllll about the production. They set me up with Reign of the Tec off their EP, Intoxicated Demons. But when it came to Street Level, they were completely off the chain. As I grew into a crate digger, I started to gain a whole new appreciation for the album. Even their throwaway beats were serious. Back then, I thought that if I ever made a movie, the Beatnuts were going to be in charge of the score. Their lyrics were on the serviceable side of ‘meh,’ but the tracks were astounding. Especially Superbad, Let Off A Couple and Juju’s verse on 2-3 Break.

Street Songs – Rick James – Yeah, some of Rick’s most popular songs are on here. But that’s not why this album is here. I was six when this joint came out. Maybe. Might have been five. My babysitter’s grandson used to play it all the time. The last song on the album is Below The Funk (Pass the J). I didn’t hear from this album from the summer before 1st grade until I was at least 21. I thought the song’s official title was Pass The Joint, but I still knew the lyrics. Only thing was, I would say “pass the joint” at the wrong time. But I’m tellin you. Any time you remember a song for 15 years without ever hearing it? That joint had an impact.

Love Jones Soundtrack – I have yet to see Love Jones, but I think this is probably the best soundtrack I’ve heard, including Car Wash. And Car Wash knows it oughta be on this list, because the 45 for Car Wash was the first record I ever owned. But Love Jones was, again, a genre stretcher. At that point, I wasn’t really foolin around with too much r & b. It was pretty much go-hard hip-hop with a little bit of classic soul. That was back in the days when, even when the mood was right, you were likely to hear some Redman. Bobyahead2dis, indeed. The Love Jones soundtrack changed all that. I think there may have been one song on there that I wasn’t crazy about. Other than that, it’s a near-perfect album. I think that’s part of what keeps me from ever seeing the movie. I don’t even want those songs to be attached to a scene in a movie. And please believe, Redman got replaced by that Sumthin Sumthin: Mellosmoothe joint. Trina Broussard’s version of Inside My Love was the truth too. The last two songs officially killed it, though. Jelly, Jelly and In A Sentimental Mood. Jelly, Jelly has the best story: we were listening to it when my little girl was in the car and by about the middle of the song, she’d heard enough and was like, “What’s a jelly roll?” I was at once proud that she could recognize figurative language, but thunderstruck at how I was gonna explain it to her.

The hot Facebook meme is the 25 Albums. (Shout out to Cobb the Great.) On FB, I played along and just listed them. This blog is actually the place I’ve designated to talk about that stuff. I think my first blog post was a list of the songs I was listening to and the books I was reading. I’ve kinda fallen off on listing what I’m reading (as well as reading, period), but to start off the 5th year I’ve been messing with this (I can’t believe it’s been five years), I think we’re gonna run this series of the most important albums.

Now I wanna specify that these aren’t necessarily my favorite albums. Without question, some of them are, but it’s not necessarily about how much I liked the album, it’s more about the impact that the album had on me. There’s not really a point in me doing a countdown list, because I’ve posted on this blog, in its various locations and permutations, multiple times that the single most important album in my collection is It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back. That album caused a complete paradigm shift. The fact that I heard it after I had moved from near-rural Suburban Chicago to inner-city Philadelphia just made the album that much more real. But we’ll talk about Nation in more detail in a minute. I bring that up as an example of an important album that is one of my favorites. Some of them won’t be. But enough preambling. Let’s get down with the get-down.

Ten Summoners Tales – Sting – We gon start off with an album that a lotta people might not think I would like, let alone think is important. This one matters a lot. This one was a genre-stretcher for me. For the most part, I’m a music snob. I’ll cop to that. I know what I like and why I like it, and because of that, it’s kinda hard for somebody to get somethin in that’s outside of those parameters. When I was 19, wearing The Chronic out, a good friend of mine who was staying with me for a few weeks, bought this and played it a couple times. I didn’t particularly care for it at first; it sounded like it could’ve been any random softish rock album. The joint, Love Is Stronger Than Justice (The Munificent Seven), was a pretty good story, but there was something about the beginning of the track that I couldn’t get next to. The song that really got me hooked on the album was She’s Too Good For Me. That old rock ‘n roll-style cut had me noddin my head, and I thought the lyrics were cold hilarious (and autobiographical). What made the album so important is that it was like a multi-genre album by the same artist. Love Is Stronger Than Justice was in a country vein. She’s Too Good had that old Rock vibe. Saint Augustine In Hell…I don’t know what flavor that was, but that organ was serious. Because of all that, Ten Summoner’s Tales widened my musical palate a little bit. For that, it makes the list.

Here My Dear – Marvin Gaye – There are be better Marvin Gaye albums. Maybe. The reason Here My Dear makes this list while the sublime What’s Goin On doesn’t is that Here My Dear is the poster child for my love of melancholy albums. The story behind the album, that its proceeds would be the divorce settlement to his first wife, is interesting, but the fact that it provides the thematic backdrop for the album is what makes it so important. I think I listened to this album the whole summer of 1998. Other albums shuffled in and out of the CD changer, but Here My Dear lived in there. While all the songs on the album are at least pretty good, the two that slay me every time are Is That Enough and You Can Leave But It’s Going To Cost You. On the strength of those two songs alone, I felt that Here My Dear should be required listening for any couple that was transitioning from casual dating to long-term relationship. Here My Dear is serious. Another reason Here My Dear is important to me is that it gives me a point of connection with Tupac fans. Here My Dear is not really Marv’s most superior album on technical criteria; not in terms of song writing, not in terms of album sales, nothing. Where I think it is superior, at least to me, is in its ability to get me to relate. I like other Marvin albums better, but I felt Here My Dear, and that was even before I lived through major, just-shy-of-being-married break-ups. Here My Dear just resonated with me. Hard.

Benny Carter Meets Oscar Peterson – Benny Carter and Oscar Peterson. Oscar Peterson was major to me. He was the first non-gospel keyboardist that I’d ever latched on to. I’d heard other cats – some of them, I’m just now discovering who they were – and they were good, but they weren’t Oscar Peterson good. He had name recognition because my then-piano teacher, Mr. Hendrix, had me fooling with some stuff out of an Oscar Peterson workbook. I don’t think that’s all it was, though. I think Oscar Peterson was technically superior. The song that totally blew the doors open as far as me and jazz was Whisperin’. When I heard the piano solo on that joint, it was over. Benny Carter Meets Oscar Peterson was the first thing I bought with my first paycheck.

Foundations of Funk: 1964-1969 – James Brown – This is probably the most important James album to me, in spite of the fact that it’s a compilation. Or maybe because of it. Because of my slightly anti-stance, I’m not the one who can really get down with a greatest hits album. They may be alright for getting an introduction to an artist, but for somebody whose catalog is as deep as James, that little greatest hits joint wasn’t gettin it done. Then I copped this joint. First of all, these were the full-length songs. No more of the 3:42 radio edit of Cold Sweat. I had the full 7+ minutes. But even more important were the unreleased tracks and alternative versions. And Let A Man Come In And Do The Popcorn. That was the one. That’s the record that really made me a James fan. That’s the record that pushed me past knowin those same 5 or 10 James Brown songs that everybody knows and sent me down in the basement for the true funk. I’ve written about that song other times, so I’m not gonna do it again, but that song’s importance cannot be overstated.

It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back – Public Enemy – Speakin of ‘cannot be overstated,’ There’s this album. It changed everything. Once I heard this joint, I had a different understanding of the world musically and socially. Without this, I’m fairly certain that I would be a significantly different person. Period. That’s why it’s the most important.

My daughter bears me some resemblance. Or it might be more accurate to say that she’s my spi’it ‘n image. Down to the walk, sneer, and laid-back attitude. She doesn’t talk like me, though. At least, she doesn’t sound like I do now. She sounds like I did when I was her age, which is to say that she sounds white. Not completely, but in her first year of being in a class where she’s one of the only Black students, it’s happening. That valley girl-ese is starting to work its way in there.

Now let’s make something clear: when I say “talk[ing] white,” that has nothing to do with standard English. I personally don’t use standard English when I speak in a non-work context, but that’s because I know the rules well enough to break them. But I know I’m breakin em. And why. Naw, “talkin white” is all about diction. Some have theorized that it has to do with the amount of bass in the voice – although I’m not exactly sure how that would work for girls and women – but I’m not quite sure about that. But I know that President Obama, to name a name, uses a fairly featurless version of standard English (featureless as compared to, say, Al Sharpton), but if you hear him talk, he sounds Black. Or at least racially ambiguous enough to think he might be Black. Alan Keyes, on the other hand, if you heard that dude from around the corner, no way you’d guess he’s Black.

I think code-switching is one of the most important skills a person can have, and I want my daughter to have that skill in spades. I mean, she’s my daughter. If anybody should be able to go from the guttural monosyllabic to the ornate polysyllabic in a flash, it should be her. She’s 10, but I talk to her using words like “triangulate,” like it’s nothing. (When she doesn’t know a word, she asks what it means. I tell her and keep it moving.) I also use non-standard constructions, although I’m probably a little more conscious about doing it than I am at other times. The thing is this: I don’t want her to get caught up into speaking just one way.

I’ve been known to make an analogy of language to shoes. Yeah, there’s a basic type of shoe that you can wear all the time, but there are times when that’s not necessarily the best choice. You could wear Stacy Adams on to play ball, but they probably wouldn’t help you too much. Likewise, you could wear Timberlands to a job interview, but that’s tantamount to forfeiting. Ideally, a person would want to match their shoes to the occasion. Same thing goes with language. You wear what fits: both personally and situationally.

Bearing that in mind, I have some definite ambivalencies. As much as I want her to sound like me, it’s ultimately a decision that she’s going to have to make for herself. Because her mother and I are her parents, I’m not really worried that she’ll be conscious of her linguistic tendencies. Moreover, I’m pretty sure that she’ll have the linguistic dexterity to adapt to whatever situation she’s in. I think it’s that I don’t wanna look at her and see me but hear a valley girl.

Consider me an official Petey Greene stan.

I couldn’t make this up on my best day.

Nothing’s really fading this. Not really, it ain’t.

One of my daughter’s favorite things about coming to DC is taking the Metro. One of? Nah. It’s her bar-none favorite. Anytime somebody asks her what we did, it’s never the museums or the bowling or any of the other stuff. The story always starts with “We rode on the Metro.” Period. She explains that her excitement is in large part because they don’t have a heavy rail line where she lives. (She doesn’t use the term “heavy rail,” of course.) While she’s excited by the Metro as it is, DC residents mostly get excited about what the Metro could be.

Enter the Metro Fantasy map from Greater Greater Washington. Ignoring the logistics of adding several heavy rail lines (assuming that all the additions with the exception of the Purple Line are heavy rail), some of this would be intriguing. Other stuff wouldn’t necessarily make quite as much sense. I definitely believe that Metro needs a train that would go to BWI, instead of just running that bus from Greenbelt, though.

As I understand it, the Silver Line and the Purple Line are pretty much in the pipeline, with the Silver being a regular Metro and the Purple being a light rail line. Some additional coverage for southern Prince George’s County would be nice too. But overall, it looks pretty interesting.

I was listening to a CD of my favorite albums and No One Can Do It Better by the D.O.C. came on. Sometimes I forget how complete an album that was. Being that most of my hip-hop sensibilities are shaped by the fact that I came of age on the East Coast, that Compton-by-way-of-Dallas classic isn’t always the first album in my mind when I think classic hip-hop, but whenever I hear it, I always wonder why it doesn’t get more credit.

It’s Funky Enough – The opening track was the first single. Right from the get-go, I had one of my themes for 9th/10th grade. “I am not illiterate/no not even a little bit/ nothing like an idiot/ get it?”

Mind Blowin’ – Again, DOC opens the track by speaking. “This is serious bidness.” In a lotta ways, this song kinda typifies the album in that it’s not one that I would go out of my way to listen to, but when I do sit down and listen to it, I’m always thinkin, this joint is cold. Let alone the fact that it’s structured on that Synthetic Substitution sample.

Lend Me An Ear – Fast tracks weren’t really my forte, but DOC had the skill to make em work.

Comm. Blues – I don’t know how I forgot this joint on my all-time favorite skits. Ice Cube as Granddaddy Caddy on this joint is outta control.

Let The Bass Go – This joint was just flat-out tremendous. The Isaac Hayes sample, the pace, and most of all, the 808 drops. I used to try to kill stereos with the bass at the end of the first verse.

Beautiful But Deadly – It seems that the money-hungry woman has a place on most rap albums. No One Can Do It Better was no different in that respect. It wasn’t quite as disrespectful as some of the others, but I’m sure that I could’ve written a couple pages about it when I was in that Women’s Studies class. Which is not to say that I couldn’t identify with it.

On the interlude between the two, DOC, kinda drunk, says he likes side two better. I agree.

D.O.C. and the Doctor – Come on, son. That Funkadelic sample alone would keep me hype about this song. But naw. DOC had to rhyme over it. Coming, as he did, in 89, when hip-hop writ large may have been at its lyrical apex, DOC didn’t stand out as much as he might have in other years. Or as much as he would have had it not been for the accident.

No One Can Do It Better – Interestingly, for an album that I absolutely love, the title track is one of my least-favorite records. It’s not a bad song, but given its peers, it’s definitely the low-water mark.

Whirlwind Pyramid – The way DOC flowed on the fast tracks, it makes me wonder what a collabo between and G-Rap would have been like.

Comm. 2 – Mostly forgettable except for the Sly Stone/ Mohawks mix.

Formula – Probably the second-best track on the whole album. That dude was cold. Only thing badder than the album version of this song is the radio remix with the vibes. Utterly absurd. That second verse? (First on the remix) Ridiculous.

Portrait of a Masterpiece – The DOC’s last flirtation with that high-speed rap. The interruption in the track always got on my nerves because there was so little rhyming left after he stopped. But I could understand why he lost his breath.

The Grand Finale – Absolutely right. The more I think about it, the more I think The Grand Finale was the West Coast equivalent of The Symphony. It’s just that good. Ice Cube’s verse on Grand Finale probably ranks among his best ever. He worked everything on that joint. And even though Ren gets all the attention for second-billing on this joint, DOC is actually challenging Cube for the best verse. Not to mention that the track is a reworking of Chocolate City. Not to mention Ren’s I make the punk motherfuckers buckle up for safety. That was so close to being my yearbook quote, I can’t even tell you.

All-around, this is just a great album. Song-for-song, it’s probably better than other albums that have more notoriety.