please don’t take my pocket knife

The above represents the portion of my mind, in synapses, that is currently alotted for non-task-oriented thinking. Moving cross-country is a brain drain; whaddya know! Until I can form complete thoughts again, here are swatches of inspiration and resolve:
“Don’t Fuck With My Babies,” Scream Club: FYR-style uprising: “I’m gonna stick that sexist bible right up the pope’s ass/gonna steal from the rich and give it to the lower class/once the truths of the revolution become self-evident/we’re gonna get rid of Bush and nominate bell hooks for president.” You gotta have a little idealism to get anything done around here.
“Summertime,” Fantasia Barrino: Her tone is just, like, canyons, especially on the phrase “your daddy’s rich/ and your ma is good-lookin’.”
“The Pocket Knife,” PJ Harvey: “Flowers I can do without/ I don’t wanna be tied down/ White material will stain/ My pocket knife’s gotta shiny blade.” Pretty trad feminine/-ist agency, but sadly, the sentiment is eternal. Tambourines: appealingly provincial. (I might like it cause it reminds me of Young People.)
“Real Love,” Mary J. Blige: The best summer jam of all time?
“Sai do Chao,” Bonde Tigrao & Tati Quebra Barraco: This was prompted by a thread on the Miami bass list about funk Carioca, which DJ Eletro described as making up for the “weakness of Miami bass” by combining booty, techno, and Brazilian pop, with songs about “erotismo, sex, soccer and violence.” I have no idea what this track is saying, but I think we can all agree that bass transcends the language barrier. The polyrhythmic / 909 ass-hit combo just slays.
“Swiney Swiney,” Monie Love: Though its dietary guidelines are weirdly selective, this 1990 anti-pork number is in preparation for my trip to Wyoming, where ma thinks vegetarianism means chicharrones and sno-cap lard are still ok.
“Woof Woof,” 69 Boyz: The underside of which sounds a lot like “Disco Rout”—one of the clearest NEWER examples of the lineage between electro and bass I’ve ever heard. Off 1997’s Booty Mix V. 4: Dogs Get Crunk, which I purchased used over the weekend for $8.50. (Bonus: “Shawty Freak a Little Sumtin’,” featuring a youthful Lil’ Jon, the Eastside Boyz, and Jazze Pha on inchoate styles; no hint at the “WHAT”s of the future.)
I will post these, at some point, on J.Hova’s and my forthcoming audioblog.