February 29, 2004 (0) Comments

Okay, RE: the man's language. I know the leaders of countless peoples' movements--movements wrought by rage and dissatisfaction, unbearable marginalization, and/or boundless measures of hope--came up w/out formal ed. To drop some marquee names in US social change: Joe Hill of the IWW, Cesar Chavez of the NFWA, Emma Goldman of pacifistic anarcho-feminism, Malcolm X of the Muslim Mosque, Victoria Woodhull of general prescience and prestige--all were self-educated, if they even made it to high school. (Side note: The Teenage Liberation Handbook: How to Quit School and Get a Real Life and Education, was like, numero uno seller when I worked at Reading Frenzy, back in the late '90s.)
Alternately, as Jane Dark pointed out in an email, Judith Butler, bell hooks, Mike Davis all tread the cobblestones of university in order to evolve humanity. They are the supersonic isotonic academia freaks. And we need them to help change our lives. (bell hooks changed my own life as recently as early Februrary.)

RE: College. I do not believe college/university to be the sole dwelling place of The MAN. I believe in equal opportunity. If EVERYONE received equal access to education, there would be less bullcrap stankin up this shantytown. See part A of this outline for more info.

I'm really just trying to blog-reflect parts of my own experience w/out getting too livejournal on y'all. Growing up, one of the most damaging lessons a kid can learn is the idea of college as, solely, a means to an end: college as a vessel for entering the economic workforce, and nothing more. But it's a cultural reality. And that sucks, 'cause then Kanye makes songs berating college kids as total fukkin poseurs, resulting in the deep annoyance of many, including Monsieur O-Dub.

Now I'm going to write about the b-boy battle.

P.S. God love the single moms of the world.

¡ another addendum to clearcut confusion !: I am not a single mom, but I know many, including my own.

February 28, 2004 (0) Comments

From now on, all choreography shall be influenced by the free and sweeping moves of Greg "Deerhoof's drummer" Saunier.

Your memories are never as good as the live show. Greg Saunier, drummer of one kick, one snare, and one crash, perched on a milk crate, his oh-about-6'3" lankiness sprawling from behind, flailing like spackle from the knife of so many Jackson Pollocks. You forget about Greg Saunier's varying states of drum-face, so sincere and nothing like the impassioned wince/orgasmface of classic-rock-convention guitar soloists. It's just what happens: Greg shooting lasers from his eyes at the cymbal. Greg looking pained but hitting the perfect roll. Greg scrunching his face on the kicks, then leaning gently into the mic for a pure moment of falsetto. You get the feeling Greg is the kind of person whose legs loving preschoolers would grasp for dear life.

Deerhoof live show accoutrements--Greg's faces, Satomi's minimal interpretive dances, Chris and John's yogi concentration--they're practically performance art. Deerhoof live is more than a band, they are a traveling circus of wonderment; somewhere, maybe in the green room, they have dancing fleas. I hardly ever know how to unpack their music--I mean, there's the obvious dichotomy between Satomi's candy-cane vocals and the jetties of guitar and rhythm--the arty pop band thing, you know. And last night, in the newly cavernous Meow Meow, I realized that many of their songs are in major keys.

In my realm of understanding, major keys are simple territory--major keys are the first ones you learn in piano, major keys are often what many new and lesser musicians stick to, because they're easier to play. Major keys, they got ease; Middle C, Major G, Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge, Boricua, Morena, Boricua, Morena, etc. But Deerhoof, in major keys, and broke notes in all the right places, makes simple sound complicated, and vice versa. (I think they may have said that very thing once, in an interview.) They're about good, solid, visceral feeling, in primary colors slightly askew, but everyone's parts are incredibly technical. Greg, like, grew up in a drum school run by wolves. Conclusion: they are magical wizards.

February 27, 2004 (0) Comments

I do not regret one teeny iota of the self-imposed, self-education trajectory/personal curriculum on which I've embarked. I am just wondering how the reality of capitalism can damage the idea of education, for those of us who grew up thinking capitalism is a cage. And how access to formal education can butt heads with one's particular social "place" (economic, racial, personal, familial factors, etc.). I am VERY pro-people exploring other options before they go to school. I believe nomadic DIY culture, activist self-education and supportive alt.school communities such as the one we have in Portland--i.e. PDX Freeschool--are important, feasible, healthy. But I am also of the belief that taking down The Man is more effective when you know how to speak his language.

Speaking of education, and parental discouragement: Real Women Have Curves, the movie, is one of the sweetest, honest films I've seen RE: the matriarchal relationships of first gen. Mexican American women. It was first written for the theater, so its embers burn slow and its characters are deep, a fact which apparently disappointed some commenters on the thoughtful, reliable IMDB boards. If you are all tempted to see M. Gibson's crucifixion peep show this weekend, but don't want to give yr money to scary crazy people, you should rent that, maybe.

Also on that topic, I am starting to read "Our Lady of Guadalupe: Faith and Empowerment among Mexican American Women", a 1994 text by Jeanette Rodriguez. Its thesis: the icon of La Virgen, and her equal (-or-higher?) footing with Hey-zeus in Mexican Catholicism, fosters feminism in first and second generation Mexican American women. How hot is that topic, muchachas?

February 26, 2004 (0) Comments

From some spam:

"From: May Burroughs
To: Julianne Shepherd
Subject: no more lying in applications - buy a degree from an accredited university here

GET YOUR UNIVERSITY DIPLOMA
Do you want a prosperous future, increased earning power
more money and the respect of all?
Call this number:
1-720-834-2989 (24 hours)
There are no required tests, classes, books, or interviews!
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Receive the benefits and admiration that comes with a diploma!
No one is turned down!"

From "Blisseur Hahn's Fook Mag," my friend's bizarre, highly enjoyable mini-zine:

"My first choice for college: Harvard
Second choice: The Academy of Wolves"

Lately Jessica and I have been talking academia and education, privileges neither of us has experienced properly but that dangle from above with the glitter and precariousness of a diamond chandelier. In certain ways, I understand where Kanye is coming from on "All Falls"--parental obligation is the absolute last reason to go to school. But I bet it would score mega points on Family Feud for the "Why do middle-class people go to college?" question. I can't imagine being a parent, trying to teach my kid that education is important for reasons other than attaining that amorphous rich-person's job up in the sky, despite all cultural arrows to the contrary. Because, what they don't tell you enough in this capitalistic, reward-based pogo convention, is that education is important for its magic powers to elasticize the world. That the world gets bigger and more wonderous and scarier and more managable at the same time, the more you understand of it.

It guess now it's a little different, since the college-automatically-leads-to-job thing is a myth debunked. Kanye, in "School Spirit": "This nigga graduated at the top of my class/ I went to Cheesecake, he was a motherfucking waiter there." In one line, he sums it up: no jobs + no college = enrollment plummets nationwide. This is obvious and sweeping, but it must be reiterated: education in other countries is abundant and valued, because it is culturally more important to be smart than to be rich.

Also, I don't know how it would be different if someone of relative life-authority over me had actually grasped the scruff of my neck at 17 and actually said, "Yo, you should go to college simply because the world will Get BIGGER." I probably would have thought they were [uni]corny.

addendum! O-Dub kick-started this topic about like, a million years ago, or two weeks ago, whichever is more internet-accurate.

February 25, 2004 (0) Comments

Holy crap. If Ms. Kandia Crazy Horse says she can shoot lightning bolts from her hands, you better believe it. Here she is on Andre 3000's Grammy costume brain drain.

February 25, 2004 (0) Comments

It's probably unsurprising that certain blog non-updaters don't tell anyone it's their birthday until the day after their birthday.

Happy birthday to everyone who never told us it was their birthday. Also to those who did. It is a goddamn birthday bonfire up in this ski lift.

February 25, 2004 (0) Comments

If anyone w/cable taped Ego Trip's Illest Minority Moments, AKA VH-1's Dumbest Diffusive Re-titling, and wants to trade a copy for some hand-embroidered sweatbands (or other semi-amateur handmade goods), I would be stoked.

My email is julianne@portlandmercury.com. I do not know how to make that into a hyperlink.

February 25, 2004 (0) Comments

From my oldest, dearest friend and common-law brother, Steven Lankenau, AKA the only out gay person in our entire high school, Cheyenne, WY, 1994:

From: Julianne Shepherd
To: Steven Lankenau
Subject: RE: homophobes
Date: Tue, 24 Feb 2004 16:12:29 -0800

G. W. B. is seriously going to get BEAT DOWN

From: Steven Lankenau
To: Julianne Shepherd >
Subject: RE: homophobes
Wednesday, February 25, 2004 6:47 AM

I am just so very happy that my personal life will once again be a huge topic of raging debate among straight white men.

---
Meanwhile, O-Dub kills it with a skillet.

February 24, 2004 (0) Comments

Speaking of patriarchs and homophobes, you have noticed we are at a crucial point in the gay civil rights movement.
The following message, courtesy my friend Michael, reiterates the detestable conservativism rampant in my generation--conservativism manifested in flippancy and masked as hip and funny, when in actuality, it is not. Apparently, adversity or struggle is a foreign concept to these moldy bozos.

PS John "I believe in civil union" Kerry needs to step up to the plate and throw down for queer love.

BITCH-MAGAZINE STYLE INBOX TRANSMISSION:
"BOYCOTT RIDE SNOWBOARDS!

Last week in Montreal there was a National Snow Industries Association trade show. Ride Snowboards (based in WA) had a booth display that included a banner which read, "The worst thing about riding a Burton is telling a friend you're gay." Burton is one of Ride's biggest competitors and apparently this is a part of their marketing plan. Please pass this along to people you think would be interested. Visit Ride's website and send feedback regarding the advertisement."

February 24, 2004 (0) Comments

P.S. What is up with people doing the Vice Magazine "Richard Pryor without the context" joke thing? That's like, Mesopotamian in its dull level of hate. That kind of sarcasm is not even as smart as rubbing two sticks together for fire.

February 24, 2004 (0) Comments

From Stephen, AKA DJ the Incredible Kid:

"We are in Chandigarh... the city was designed by Le Corbousier and it
reminds me of American housing projects more than anything. The
greens of the trees are beautiful and give a hint of the legendary
fertile soils of the Punjab. We went to the Nek Chand Rock Garden
today. It is a famous construction of recycled materials, lots of
porcelain-mosaic people creations and beautiful walks through
organic molded concrete walls and the occasional deceptively realistic molded
concrete trees blending in with the real ones. Much nicer and cooler
than I thought it would be.

Since we are here in the middle of the week we are missing out on
any bhangra parties. We just missed a Jazzy B concert by 3 days. He
is Vancouver-born, UK-residing and actually popular in India unlike
almost all bhangra not "folky" and native to Punjab. Our friend DJ
Rekha regaled us with stories of a show of his she saw on the East
coast and given how much of his music we have been hearing blasted
every day in Delhi it is quite disappointing to realise we missed a
show of his, and in Punjab no less."

February 24, 2004 (0) Comments

I don't have MTV so if this is ancient history, SARS*... but like, have you seen this video for "Pull My Hair Out?" (SCROLL DOWN)
Sasha pointed out Kanye's daffy bear suit on the cover of "College Dropout." Celebrity DJ Samantha Ronson's video stars a gesticulating Toonces wearing a princess crown. Is Dame Dash going coo-coo for cocoa puffs? Will he appear in Ronson's next video wearing a toucan outfit? I hope so! The video is, in fact, on some Freedom From vs. Cody Critcheloe vs. a fourth-grader's-bedroom-aesthetic art direction. (But it is not as surreal as Salvador Dali vs. Walt Disney, screwed and chopped.)
The song is a non-entity, kind of Veruca Salt mid-'90s throwawayable guitar rock, which is disappointing because as the only/first (socialite) (super rich) (white woman) (of Foreigner lineage/sister of Mark) Rock Musician on Roc-a-Fella Records, Samantha Ronson's got more flint for the critical shotgun than Miz Phair. Also, Duncan Sheik is lauded.

This month's "Nylon" magazine says her record initially included loops and samples but that approach was scrapped because, according to Ronson, "I steered a lot farther away from hip-hop on Roc than I would have if I were on another label. It would have been too contrived, the whole white girl doing hip-hop thing. I just want to rock."

(Earlier in the interview, the writer asks if her Roc connections "might scare potential fans away," and Ronson replies, "I played a show in NY and all these MCs were there. Label don't mean shit." Contradictions!)

So it looks like she's suppressing her instinct to be hiphop in order to be taken more seriously, because as we have seen, white women rapping is a sticky matter, stickier than white men rapping-- next/lower-than on the reverse-totem pole of cross-cultural go-ahead. Entire publishing empires are banking on shit like this, but suffice to say your average hiphop consumer would probably rather hear the NKOTB christmas album, or Pauline Oliveros Deep Listening, before hearing white ladies rapping. (Unless, of course, the white ladies rapping are rapping for irony's sake. Then a whole non-hiphop audience comes into play.) As a result, Celebrity DJ/Rock Artist Samantha Ronson, who by her own admission above believes white girls rapping is gimmicky, wiped clean the loops and samples in her record. This is a shame because the above song could have used a little scratching for snazz. Then again, it's possible it would have just sounded like Beck.

*phonetic abbrev for "sorry," time-sensitive. I believe only myself and my housemate ever used this term actively, back when three people had SARS but it got reported like it was Paris Hilton. I cannot even tell if this joke is in bad taste anymore.

THINGS TO BOYCOTT:
My boss just saw crazy M. G--son's crazy uber-conservative crucifixtion film, and said it was easily ten times more violent than Kill Bill. "Yes, but was it anti-Semitic?" you ask? And he responds, "Yes; and it was, in fact, anti-EVERYONE." The Braveheart hath thrown his javelin of hate upon the world.

THINGS TO NOT BOYCOTT:
The awesome Grey Album (see previous post)

February 24, 2004 (0) Comments

Let it be known that if Travis were on the Nobel Prize Committee, he'd hold up a foam number one finger with the name Mikhail Saakashvili, the US-educated, power-to-the-people/Western-idea-motivated new president of Georgia. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Let it be known that if I were on the Nobel Prize Committee, I would use the company Leer jet to travel to Georgia, where they have amazing architecture and the most interesting language, which is Persian in origin but closely related to Greek.

Also, I am totally not feeling Nader right now at all. I used to--even did time at the People Have the Power Tour. Even sat thru Eduardo Vedder and his flying Bruce Springsteen covers, and when Portlander/Green Partyer Danny Glover introduced Jello Biafra as "Jello Kennedy" etc. But like, unless he knows something we don't (which is entirely possible), multiple-party politicking seems grossly selfish when other, bigger, more immediate issues like abortion rights, religion rights, privacy, et cetera are at stake. It seems so obvious. Even The Nation thinks so.

February 23, 2004 (0) Comments

From the inbox:

Danger Mouse Responds to Controversial 'Grey Tuesday'
(Los Angeles) – Originally intended to be a musical experiment, Danger Mouse’s Grey Album now seems placed in the middle of a brewing showdown between music activists and major music corporations.

Danger Mouse’s Grey Album uses the full vocal content of Jay-Z’s Black Album, recorded over new beats and production created using the Beatles White Album as the sole source material. Danger Mouse explains that "all the music on the Grey Album can be traced back to the White Album. Every single kick, snare, and chord is taken from the original Beatles recording." The resulting record, being touted by music critics as one of the best remix records in the history of the genre, is a unique hybrid of work from one of hip-hop’s fastest rising stars.

Downhill Battle, a music activism group, has organized Grey Tuesday (greytuesday.org), as a “day of coordinated civil disobedience” to protest EMI’s cease-and-desist order against the Grey Album as well as a broader protest against major labels attempt to “control what musicians can create by limiting their use of samples.” Hundreds of websites are expected to participate.

“It’s flattering,” says Danger Mouse. “I did this project because I love the Beatles and Jay-Z. I knew when I produced the Grey Album that there might be questions and issues that this project would bring up, but I really don't know the answers to many of them. It was not meant to be anything but an artistic expression, and I still hope that that is the way it's perceived".

According to Downhillbattle.org, the protest aims to draw attention to “how the major record labels stifle creativity and try to manipulate the public’s access to music, and it’s the perfect way to explain to non-experts why the copyright system needs to be reformed.”

“For better or for worse, ‘Grey Tuesday’ is a watershed moment," says Waxploitation CEO Jeff Antebi, the manager for Danger Mouse. “We are seeing the rapid speed of peer-to-peer come head-to-head with a rabid, worldwide consumer demand for forbidden fruit. The internet makes it almost impossible to hold things back from the marketplace."

In an incredible year so far for Danger Mouse, he has already received massive critical acclaim for his Danger Mouse & Jemini Ghetto Pop Life debut on the Lex / Warp label. SPIN calls the album a "remarkable debut." URB dubbed it an “instant classic,” and Q says it’s "spellbinding."

Danger Mouse is currently producing an array of artists including Prince Po, Tha Alkaholiks, MF Doom and Cee-Lo amongst others.

---

P.S. Monsieur Danger Mouse deserves extra points for using the classy "grey" spelling vs. the "gray" spelling.

February 21, 2004 (0) Comments

My friends Anju and Stephen, whose superhero bhangra DJ personas are DJ Anjali and The Incredible Kid, have been visiting India for about a month now, and Stephen's been sending the most amazing emails. Here's part of one, reprinted with permission:

"I'm in New Delhi now. It's been several days and the time passes very fast here. Because I haven't been doing too much in the way of sightseeing (excepting the Lodi Gardens and Jantar Mantar), the city seems like one endless parade of varied shopping districts. Being aware of everything that either a) exists only in India or b) is so much cheaper than in America or c) both unavailable otherwise and incredibly cheap, I feel a great compulsion to pick things up before my return to the states. Instead of Spiritual India it is more like Consumer India.

I've even been to McDonalds twice--which, as Anju first stated, is 2 more times than in the last decade. They have a separate all-veg kitchen, and everything on the menu is either highlighted red for non-veg or green for veg. "Veg" and "Non-Veg" are the universal terms for describing your diet in India. The McAloo Tikki Burger is gross and only the McVeggie Burger with cheese is tolerable. The McDonalds' corporate death machine has now acquired a couple more of my dollars in the service of destroying the earth. The fries weren't even that warm.

P.S. The first time was for curiosity (Punjabis in turbans behind the counter). The second time was because Anju's cousins wanted to eat there."

February 20, 2004 (0) Comments

I am pissed because my high-impact danceaerobics class, "Dance It Off," has been mysteriously replaced by "Cardio Caliente." The old Dance It Off teacher was the best, and famous for her awesome disciplinary outbursts. In my favorite class of all time, she slipped into full army-sergeant mode, screaming, "Do you know what this move is, people?! It's called the FLAVOR FLAV!!! IT IS NAMED AFTER FLAVOR FLAV, who was in PUBLIC ENEMY!!! You don't HAVE TIME to fix your PONYTAILS, LADIES, because YOU! ARE! DANCING! The FLAVOR FLAV!!!"

The Cardio Caliente teacher is perky, sweet and soft-spoken (for a trainer), and instructed us in lite variations of cha-cha and merengue. I already know the cha-cha and merengue. I want to know more about the Flavor Flav. However, I did learn that Gloria Estefan's 2000 album "Alma Caribena" is FANTASTICALLY romantic.

February 19, 2004 (0) Comments

Dan Howland publishes "Journal of Ride Theory," an obsessive fanzine exploring the cultural impact of Disneyland, and other amusement parks. Once, I mentioned that, as a child, I liked the "yo-ho-ho," warring-pirate song from The Pirates of the Caribbean. Two days later, Dan hand-delivered copies of the sound-effects reels from the Pirates AND Haunted Mansion rides.

Now, he's discovered Raymond Dasher's reel-to-reel field recordings from the '64-'65 World's Fair, including what Dan calls"the complete and completely awful World's Fair Suite by Ferde Grofe." (Scroll down to February 6 entry.)

February 18, 2004 (0) Comments

Super-busy right now, so here are some newish cuts from my workouts, that get me going 250 mph on the cross-trainer (w/ comments written at about that speed):

* Hil St. Soul "Copasetik & Cool": Sucked in by cover sticker: "If you like Indie.Arie or Angie Stone, you'll love Hil St. Soul." Hello, I am an easily targeted demographic. Continues long nu-soul/R&B tradition of corny lyrics vs. great delivery = excusable ("You're all that & then some, plus a bag of chips"? Hil, meet my friend Mya. She's fallen, and she can't get up because of love.) Strong delivery; melisma, zilch; British, so beats are crumblier, but not by much; Roots Manuva appears briefly. Liner notes: thanks Boubs, aka "Miss Current Affairs."

* Candi Staton Reissues on Capitol = Listen, baby, men are bastards but they can't help it--and we need them to dance with us. "I'd rather be an old man's sweetheart (than a young man's fool)" is my new mantra; septuagenarians may phone me at 294-084(you have to guess the last number.)
(Note: I shamelessly bit "guess the last number" from my friend Nathan, who is a walking one-liner. Our last lengthy conversation was about a corndog.)

* Ty "Upwards": What happens to a good emcee after grime and Drew get hold of him: bouncement? Goodbye to "Awkward" jazzy consciousness, barring "Music 2 Fly 2" ("The city is my perch and I look out with an eagle eye, breathing in its pulse, fixing my eye on the tender nape of its neck," etc. [not a real line]) British again, so I miss cultural references: "I'm coming like a Levi's ad, I'm higher"? Pardonnez-moi?

* Queer Eye for the Straight Guy soundtrack: Old fave songs ("Good Luck" B. Jaxx, "Move yr Feet" JR/SR) become GAY FRIENDLY (or WERE gay friendly but are now explicitly labeled as such). What would Laura Bush think? What is Kylie Minogue thinking? Both need rebooting.

* Make Believe EP: the only rock album I can currently get with on the rowing machine. Tim Kinsella is a whirlpool and I can't get up because of love.

February 17, 2004 (0) Comments

P.S. MEGA CONGRATULATIONS to Seattle's amazing Massive Monkees crew. I've long thought they were the best b-boys in the entire universe, but finally, for once, I'm relieved of the burden of constant hyperbole: last week, they took home the grand title at the 2004 World B-Boy Championships in London! Also word to finalists from LA's Style Elements and Super Crew, who placed third and second, respectively. Look at the Fresh Coast, just taking over like it's no damn thing!

February 17, 2004 (2) Comments

"I think he's on Letterman tonight, instead."

Fateful words from Eric B. AKA DJ The Evil One, sub-promoter of last night's Ludacris/Chingy/Kanye West/David Banner show, which became last night's Ludacris/Chingy/David Banner show. Upon hearing of Kanye's cancellation, I threw myself at Eric's feet, and wept.

David Banner was charming, but likely high. He rapped for about five minutes tops; his posse took care of the other 15 minutes. It was the tour kickoff, and it's possible Banner had never performed to so many people at once. Or he acted like it, rather--a little showy-offy, jumping onto speakers, wrapping a towel around his head like a goofy bandana, turning around and mugging his full-back MISSISSIPPI tattoo, jumping off the stage and literally running circles around the audience (Room capacity: 4000/ attendance: approx. 2500/ average age: 17) while girls in spiked Gucci knockoffs gave chase and grabbed at his shirtless rotund torso. Again, he was charming, seemed stoked, WAS ACTUALLY SMILING, got the other half of the audience to point to our side and say,

"You ain't crunk, bitch!"

to which we responded
"Yes I is, ho!"

That went on for at least three minutes, but was carloads more fun than the excruciating half-hour chant of "Get drunk... get high... and fuck" at Snoop Dogg's last WACK show. Most tent-revivalist moment of the evening came mid-set, right before "My Lord," when Banner flashed that jillion-watt smile (lit up the stage as much or more than Chingy's bling, by the way) and asked,

"Do y'all smoke weed? Oh! Sorry, there are little kids here. Do y'all smoke marijuana? Put up your lighters if y'all like to smoke marijuana! Yeah!
Now, do ya'll believe in God, that God is the one true way? Put your hands up if you believe in God!"

I threw my hand up; my incredulous friend Katie turned to me and said, "You believe in God?!" And I do, actually, in a non-specific way, but mostly I was so moved by Banner's vehement and focused passion for preaching The Way of the Lord in that moment that my heart swelled up and I pumped my fist--pumped it like NEVER BEFORE--for the whole of the song. I was pumping my fist for David Banner, and his posse, and the play-acted baptism they were carrying out, but I was also pumping my fist for God. Someone in an interview I read recently--the actor's studio guy in the NYT mag, maybe--was asked the question, "What would you like God to say to you at the Pearly Gates?" The response was, "I want God to say, 'Hey, I exist, but you can come in anyway." As for me, I would like God at the Pearly Gates to be all, "Hey, Julianne, I DO exist, but it's cool you blasphemed me all the time, cause I totally saw you pumping your fist for me at the David Banner show." And then my mom could stop praying rosaries for my lapsed-Catholic salvation.

Uh... anyway, this is probably no surprise, but I can't express how many different ways CHINGY SUCKED. Chingy sucked UP AND DOWN, Chingy sucked LEFT and RIGHT, Chingy sucked in circles, figure 8s, Dick Clark's New Year's Spectacular, Bob Barker's Arbor Day Extravaganza, Chingy sucked on a unicycle and Chingy sucked going up in the godforsaken Glass Elevator. Chingy SUUUUUUUUCKED. I don't believe he rapped at all; I think his sole artistic purpose was telling all us available ladies that he is single, and flossing his five-inch-wide pendant spelling out "Chingy" in diamonds, which a member of his crew would periodically lift up off his chest like a serf and hold up, to catch the light and reflect back onto the fine available ladies in the audience who were DEFINITELY NOT going home with him tonight.
By the way, the ladies/lady-girls were unfortunately screaming holes in their lungs, and I was reminded of being 12 and cutting out photos of my fave musicians and hanging them on the wall, because that was our rite of passage. We cut from countless magazines--Bop, 16, 17, Teen, basically every magazine up to the invention of Sassy, and while in retrospect it is frustrating and almost shameful and a little sad, the boys we cut out were for the most part fairly innocuous--who were the *NSync of 1988, again? New Edition, NKOTB, LL, Fresh Prince?

But imagine being 12 and cutting out Chingy's photo and hanging it in your locker. He is not only the object of your inchoate pubescent longing, but his records convey that in his world you, as a female, have the non-choice of the Ho/bitch role (and the boys, they should totally be pimps and floss just like Chingy, because some dumbass rewarded his complete dearth of skills with a... RECORD CONTRACT? WHAT?). I swear to god I heard 16-year-old girls, fondly, breathlessly, calling him their "baby-daddy," as a term of endearment.

SO ANYWAY< DOWN WITH CHINGY, who not only played "Right Thurr" last, but played it TWICE. IN. A. ROW.
That's how sucky Chingy sucked.

After Chingy, aka my current symbolic-Saddam-statue of everything-that's-wrong-with-everything, Ludacris sounded like a Rhodes Scholar. One thing that differentiated Luda from Chingy and even the charming Monsieur Banner is that Ludacris actually rapped... actually formed these ephemeral things like "thoughts" and "ideas" and put them together with "flow."

Katie doesn't go to many hiphop/rap shows and her main beef was that none of the artists were as good as Lyrics Born. I got all Harvey Fierstein and was just like, "Honey... tell me about it."

February 15, 2004 (1) Comments

Last night's DJ Report: Man, older bourgie art-patron weekenders are NOT feeling Sticky and Ty. Neither Angie Martinez and Eve. JJ Fad, Stacey Q, Sleeze Boys, though: some sounds they can get down with.

Today on Pocos Pero Locos, the featured guest was Lil Rob. When he and host Khool Aid were not emphasizing Lil Rob's consistant holding-it-down for Latino hiphop, and his vehement desire to cross over w/his new single, they were discussing bootlegging. Bootlegging robs Lil Rob. It discourages him, and all other artists populating Latino hiphop, from making more records, because it decreases their already nonexistent revenue. I can feel that; I do believe in ethical downloading. (For instance, support the dudes who are obviously running their shit out of a basement. And don't DJ downloaded music, lest you violate/rupture the natural economic cycle of DJing.) But when they played the title track off Lil Rob's new record, "Neighborhood Music," which is released this Tuesday, they actually put a "Pocos pero Locos" digitized voice tag over the track, a la Murs "The End of the Beginning," I hung that shit out to dry. I think it was a good track, but I DON'T KNOW FOR SURE, BECAUSE OF THE WACK ROBOT.

Speaking of Murs: I guess it's not surprising that this interview got printed.

Apparently the amazing Memphis-based Freetoes Records comp SOUTHERN RAW DIVAS is getting maje airplay onWFMU.The album came into my possession last spring via my friend/partner in Miami basspreciation, Jennifer, who went back home to FLA and came back with copies for all her ladies. (Burned and xeroxed ones; unlike Lil Rob, possibly-a-producer Mr. Troll ends SRD's album by shouting out all the bootleggers, thanking them for helping spread the SRD gospel. That said, for SRD booking info please contact (901) 315-0832.)

The SRD are the collected ladies of TN crunk; trunk-junking booty beats and pitch-shift-crazy synths abound. SRD get just as nazty as their male counterparts, but assert their strength via direct role-reversal switch-up*. Mostly it's economic power they want (Miss T's "I Be Pimpin": "Pimpin is my game, you know/Gotta get the money, yo"; "I'm a Mac," where Ms. Unique advises listeners to keep freeloading dudes at bay), but they have no qualms about telling papi exactly what he needs to do to get 'em off.

Skit, featuring the SRDs smoking gunja and gossiping about sex:
"I was with this muhfucka last night talking about 'who da man? who da man?' I told that motherfucker, 'I'M DA MAN! I'M DA MAN! I'M DA MAN, motherfucka!"

Followed by Ebony's "Bootie Call," which begins with the rhethorical question, "Do they ladies run this motherfucker?" "Bootie Call"'s chorus features a posse of said running-the-shit ladies coyly advising any potential suitors that if they like the titties, first they gotta lick the kitty. Makes "My Neck My Back" look like Khia's application for nursing school.

As production/performance goes, my favorite SRD song is "Ready 2 Rumble" by Lady C, Ms. Monet, Dee-Dee and Ms. Unique, the super-amped precursor to a whole posse throwdown, rapped lightning-speed over the luscious din of booty-invoking sub-bass and tinny, trebly, canned snare. They're asking if "U ready 2 rumble, bitch?" but they're not just talking about any bitch: they're ready to rumble ANYONE--man, woman, or Ego Trip staffer--who dare talk even amorphous modicum of shit, a kind of crunk "Gossip Folks" but with stratospheric fear factor and, presumably, bigger subwoofers (the real test of strength).

The kind of shit-talking that provokes Eminem prodigy Dina Rae to rumble is more specific. In the new song "And?", which is just hitting Portland big-time, she expresses her weariness at those gossip folks who hold her to her past, who say she ain't shit without Eminem, who "think they know but don't think," call her "a video ho, stripped in the club, hooked on drugs." Ms. DR's response: "AND?" The main message being, "I have to deal with enough in the industry w/out yr BS." On the moderate success of song-I'm-obsessed-with "Can't Hold Us Down" and "Gossip Folx," (whose intro D.R. bites like her teeth are coming in), it'll probably work as a single, mainly because the chorus is delivered in the Eminem style of snotty consonant overemphasis. And also, because she's now one of like, three girls they ever play on hiphop radio.

*PSA: This is a really Bust mag ca. 2000 thing to do, and in bell hooks' definition of patriarchal destructure, will ultimately fail because it still reveres trad male roles, which always result in power imbalance/gender friction.

February 15, 2004 (4) Comments

Last Night: "The internet has gotten so boring."

Tonight: "Sometimes, pop culture makes me feel like I am taking acid."

February 15, 2004 (0) Comments

You've probably already read "The Permanent Scars of Iraq" and "Betrayed by the Game", two not entirely unrelated stories in the NYTimes Magazine.

They reminded me of Lt. R. Rojas. About three months ago, I was at a bar, celebrating my friend's birthday, when two soldiers, wearing full camouflage, sidled up to our table. They were stationed at Ft. Lewis, Washington, in Portland for their weekend because "Seattle sucks," and they meant to join us for potential drinks, or? But Rojas' trying to run game on me landed him in a pool of my own curiosity. As such, while his friend spilled Rolling Rock on Katie and gave her sloppy knee grabs under the table, Rojas and I spent three hours talking about Iraq.

Rojas was about to be deployed there. His friend was going to S. Korea. A month earlier, they'd both received their vaccine shots for Anthrax and Smallpox, and showed us the scars: quarter-sized scabs marring their upper arms. Rojas said the whole unit puked for the first couple weeks, but eventually the nausea subsided and the wound stopped spreading. The puking, he said, didn't excuse them from their daily duties. They still got up at dawn, did their laps, did their chores. Par for the course but with side effects.

Rojas was 22, and he wasn't cocksure or bombastic like his older, higher-ranked friend; he was quiet and sweet, infinitely polite, and of course didn't fit into my stereotypical notion of what the Army does to somebody's personality. (Keep in mind I grew up in Cheyenne, WY, home of FE Warren Air Force Base, where cocky young Strats trolled all the high school hangouts in hopes of landing unsuspecting tenderonis. I can't tell you how many girls in my graduating class got pregnant or married or sometimes both, to boys from the Base.)

Rojas grew up in Cocoa Beach, FL, and said he never felt passionate about anything. After graduation, his sole hobbies were smoking pot and playing video games. He joined the Army because he didn't want to spend his life "as a loser," and he didn't love it but straightened him out, got him off drugs. He didn't know what else to do, or feel like he had any other options.

When I asked him if he was scared to go to Iraq, he seemed resigned to the idea, talking matter-of-factly about "if I die over there" and that he'd left everything in his will to his little brother, who is eight, and looks up to his every move. He writes him letters and tells him never to join the army, and to try to do well in school.

I asked him if he would stay in the Army upon his return, because he didn't seem as gung-ho Armed Forces as a lot of other people I've known. "What else will I do when I get back?" he answered. "The only things I can do are drive a tank and shoot planes out of the air."

February 13, 2004 (0) Comments

This is complete bullshit.

February 12, 2004 (0) Comments

If you are not doing anything tomorrow night, and are in the Portland area, I will be DJing at Holocene AKA "The Ho" with the esteemed Kenneth James (Aesthetics), Brian Foote (Outward Music, Nudge), and Seattle teen electro-aerobics queen Anna Oxygen, for the highly Pacific Northwest-centric/ Cascadian secessionist DJ weekly, "Cascadia." See me and Brian fight over who gets to spin LSK's "Life Without You!" The bastard!

More soon RE: new music, the game, the Erykah Badu/Common/dead prez Healthy Eating DVD. Can we all agree that raw foods are mind foods?

February 11, 2004 (0) Comments

WHO WILL START: ZACH OR SHAREEF?!
potential probz right there. Find out tomorrow in the "Blazers Vs. Nuggets," part 2938432 of this ongoing saga of hometown pride.

February 11, 2004 (0) Comments

You see, my friends, I really do [grudgingly] know that this is an okay trade. I have two main problems:

1. It's like Nash, Patterson, and Cheeks gave up on the season, to make such a MAJOR trade this late in the game. I don't want them to give up on the season. I require at least a moderate amount of excitement for my $10.

2. Sheed's role as a tragic genius, AKA a good player with a bad-and-sometimes-maniacal-attitude, has cultivated strong but tumultous bonds with the most passionate of Blazers fans. For better or for worse, Rasheed Wallace has been the godhead of the team. Yes, perhaps now Sweet Monsieur Randolph's head will sprout in its stead. Yes, perhaps the team will play better, more in tandem with one another. Yes, perhaps now 10-year-olds wanting autographs won't get cursed out by 6'11" tall pro basketball players at airports just for asking.
But still, my intial shock was akin to the one felt by parents when the nest is emptied. I'm not alone; no less than four Blazer cohorts have called on me for mutual counseling/mourning since that fateful day. My soon-to-be-housemate/partner in NBA fandom, Ms. Connie Wohn, suggested we wear black armbands in Rasheed solidarity. Another friend, Mr. Aaron Beam, is taking a sign to the Blazers vs. Nuggets (no pun intended) game tomorrow: "Blazers - Sheed = Nuggets Fan." PDX Indie Rock Basketball has been postponed a week, to give the players a chance to digest the news. And think about Rasheed's wife and two sons! They may be uprooted--in the middle of the school year! It is so hard to start a new school in the middle of the school year.

You see? It is something we love, stripped from us, just as our fears had begun to fade. It is post-traumatic stress disorder. We must start anew, but not before travelling through all seven stages of grief as established by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.

And then: on to the playoffs with Shareef Abdur-Rahim.

February 9, 2004 (0) Comments

You are dead to me.

THEY TRADED MY BELOVED SHEED FOR THEO RATLIFF! Sheed throws tantrums, but THEO RATLIFF GAVE DETROIT THE CLAP!!

February 9, 2004 (0) Comments

The Thermals played new songs on Saturday to 250 kids in a coffee shop called The Fresh Pot. One was full and bombastic with inflated power chords and one had this Cure-like guitar solo but for the most part, they sounded like all the other songs by the Thermals: 2-minute-long spastic little pods of pop music, with Kathy and Jordan playing straight to Hutch's boyish coquette/non-threateningly cocksure frontman steez, which by the way used to be only a kernal of what it is now (pre-Thermals, in the Hutch & Kathy "we are playing twee love songs on acoustic guitar phase. Then he went through the short-lived but infamous "Hutch gets buck-ass naked" phase, before Ben got the boot and all Hutch had to do was jump around, look cute, sing and take his clothes off.)

The Thermals, they were super. They are one band in Portland that are universally loved by indiepop kids, garage-y kids, rocker kids, people who stalk Stephen Malkmus, pdx international superstars, and some creepy jerk-nut who pushed his way in front of me even though he was like 6'5". (Implicit context: there are so many bands per capita in Portland, the scene is rendered divisive, in that some people can and do get away with seeing only one kind of music, ever.) A whole room was gleaming. Someone yelled out, "Where have you been all my life?!" Hutch responded, "I don't know, are you staying for the dance party afterwards?"

Thermals sum up a sound but there's a darker faction, here, as seen at the Thurs nite Numbers/Nice Nice/The Formless show. What [sort of] used to be the {kind of} "PDX noize scene" has traversed into "lots of bands whose hands are grubby with the dinge of early Sonic Youth," i.e. The Formless, worshipping EVOL, drummer Chelsea pounding in the mimicked wind-up/rigid style of Meg White, screaming in the Pacific Northwest liberal-arts cheerleader howl of monotone. Kim Gordon in a wind tunnel. Alternately, with bands like Nice Nice, every time, something explodes in my brain; they are improvisers who don't draw on Cage or Zorn but for Davis and Coltrane; moreso Sean Paul, James Brown, Grateful Dead, fuckin Can or, like, Afrika Bambaataa, with the drums and guitar and pedals thing they do, riding on the strength of 1. funk 2. amorphous chemistry. This is different than what I thought about them at their last show, which is why, in three or so years, I haven't tired of their shit: they are all about regeneration, new ideas.

I'm still basking in/fixated on the hot light of Jonathan Lethem's "The Fortress of Solitude" so spank me if I get too precious, but at The Thermals show, I felt the stretch of gentrification. The Fresh Pot is the coffee shop in the middle of the Mississippi neighborhood--an historically black/Hispanic neighborhood in Portland since Northeast was segregated in the '30s, redlined in the '40s--made profitable/booming by an influx of white artists/small business owners, attracted by lower property taxes, displacing former residents but not entirely, because a few months ago, outside Mississippi Records, some black kids shot some other black kids in broad daylight, while a primarily white clientele bought dub plates and drank lattes---how clear a line was drawn that Saturday, between the two seperate Mississippi Streets, a racial line, a class line. Like each other didn't exist, like they were operating on two seperate planes of time converged when pierced by bullets.

You probably already know this but my best friend, J-HOVA AKA Tiny Lucky Genius, is one of the most brilliant people alive today. One reason is the MUY ROMANTICO bio. Another reason is that she called me on Saturday, breathless, to read to me from the pages of bell hooks' new book, entitled "The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love," and that she was going to fed ex it to me but that instead I should BUY IT IMMEDIATELY, and we would conference-call a book-group discussion on Monday.

I bought it, in the new-release section of the monolithic Powell's (ILWU local 5 represent), and was in fact bawling by page xvii in the preface. At the Thermals show, attempting to proseletyze to men I love or have loved that the patriarchy keeps them down, too, that it hems their freedom to love and acclimates them to violence. It is so clear: that feminism is still seen as an effort of, for, and by women is inherently wrong, dangerous, an active tool of oppression by the patriarchy itself. PATRIARCHY HARMS EVERYONE. Essentially, the book so far is about how the patriarchal construct, violent as it is, tells men at an early age that they will be emasculated if they express love or any emotion other than anger--that their only acceptible mode of being is dominance by any means necessary, up to and including violence. This is especially relevant now, when little kids are seeing (by example of the US gov't) that, if they aren't getting what they want, they may wage war (be violent) to assert their dominance, even if that war (violence) is unjustified, morally reprehensible, and unpopular with its constituents (family/friends). hooks asserts that if the patriarchy is to fail, it has to be a joint loving effort between men and women, that feminism will never work without cooperation and inclusion. That's why, right now is a perfect time to unite against the constructs of the violent patriarchal paradigm, because the Iraq invasion is a direct result of said paradigm. If we can recognize the war as a broad example of how it can distort and crumble the health of a society, perhaps we can strive for a more equal/humane mode of being.

This whole spiel went over with mixed results at the Thermals show, but I believe in it with my heart.

February 9, 2004 (0) Comments

GUEST EMO REVIEWER EZRA on the Jealous Sound show:

"You missed the drunk (and very sexist) Adidas rep who was hooked them up with $400 of free shoes the next morning. He was so wasted that he complimented me on the show, asking how long I've been playing an instrument. 'My whole life,' I answered."

Ezra has in fact held a guitar only once, when we visited the interactive soundlab at EMP. By the way, watching the Earth Wind and Fire/OutKast extravaganza on the television was a million times better than the now-eradicated "Funk Blast" ride at EMP, even with hologramic platform boot and James Brown impersonator. I mean, Big Boi had a DJ, EW&F, Sleepy Brown, a dance troupe with flames painted on their pants, a different dancer guy using a giant umbrella as a prop, a huge collection of speakers and rims piled like a mound of diamonds in a junkyard! Although less overt, it did equal the absurd chaos/performative exaggeration as Dre's (somewhat questionable) Afro-futuristic teepee/'70s-style funk w/USC marching band dorkxtravaganza.

February 9, 2004 (0) Comments

* CHRISTINA AGUILERA PERFORMED "BEAUTIFUL" WEARING A TAILORED MANSUIT. Which is slightly less compelling than Yoko Ono's acceptance speech. All I could think of was her art: the cover for "Season of Glass," with John Lennon's glasses and a glass of water, half-empty/half-full; the installation with bird sounds, a pine coffin, and a tree growing from where his head would have been. The woman is a seer.

* QUEEN LATIFAH HAS DONE A LOT MORE THAN JUST BE IN "BARBERSHOP 2," announcer!!

* Why the Grammys are kind of great: did you ever in your life believe you'd hear Missy Elliott say, "Y'all give it up for Sarah MC LACHLAAAANN!"

February 9, 2004 (0) Comments

This commercial is totally creepy. Of course Sean Tejaratchi sent it.

February 6, 2004 (1) Comments

The reason I am obsessed with the "thanks" in rap records: emcees treat the liner notes like God is reading them, and whoever comes with the most creative representation of Him is getting THEE most pimpin set-up in heaven. S.Dot still wins for the most elaborate, all-inclusive representation of the Holy One in the "Black Album" ("Whether it be Man, Woman, or Simply Energy"), but in "Kamikaze," Twista thanks "the angels." Has anybody thanked "the angels," ever? Especially SECOND after "the Creator"? His campaign strategy: earning a rep with the lower tier, working his way up.

Does anyone know what "holdin me down like a female Joe Pesci" means?

February 5, 2004 (0) Comments

Best line from Eyedea and Abilities set last night: [Eyedea]: "This next song is a cover of an Aesop Rock song... it's called 'Daylight'." [KIDS SCREAM] "Just kidding."

Most bizarre line from Atmosphere set last night: [Slug] "Vegetarians who do cocaine deserve to get punched in the face like a bitch."

Second-most: [Slug] "Throw your hands in the air if you jerked off today!"

Best part of entire concert last night: Grayskul taking it to the hoop for the goths, as their crew Oldominion is wont to do, with 2 medium sized skeleton puppets, two giant TVs playing only static, which were occassionally saluted by emcees JFK and Onry Ozzborn. During the whole set Sleep (one of the three or four best emcees in the entire Cascadia region) and some other dude (whose face was obscured from my vantage point) actually PLAYED CHESS onstage. AND! The chess pieces looked like FANTASY ROLE PLAYING FIGURES. Unfortunately, I wasn't that into their set; Oldominion production is always weighed down by its dark, orc-fighting, dudes-making-beats-in-dingy-basement tendencies, which can sometimes be awesome and perfect (as with Sleep's superfast blasts of verse) but when paired with their boggier emcees make everything sorta mono. I gotta give it up to anyone who namedrops Frodo Baggins, though.

Before that I took a class with Huy Pham,veteran b-boy of Portland's esteemed Moon Patrol Crew, and used muscles I was heretofore unaware even existed. I feel pummelled by the ghost of ReRun. (RIP)

Because I am insane, what follows is a short taped conversation between myself and Huy, about hiphop movie du jour "You Got Served."

ME: What do you think about films like oh, I don't know, "YOU GOT SERVED," that have really cheesy parts, but then have ACTUAL b-boys in them?

HUY: "Yeah, "You Got Served" has Do Knock, Crumbs, Flipz... actually a bunch of my homies are in that movie. But... my little brother actually made a good point about it, he said "Let them go see that movie; it might not in any way portray what our culture is really about, but it may spark their interest, so when they see a flyer for a b-boy event, they'll wanna come, and they'll really see what a competition is like.

"That movie is choreographed hiphop dancing. I got a lot of respect for hiphop dancers cause it's a difficult thing. But for me, to get to the essence of any dance, you have to be able to freestyle it. And not all hiphop dancers can freestyle; it takes a mastery level of that dance form to really create. But with b-boying, you're stressed to freestyle from the start. There's a foundation, but it keeps getting built. The moves you make up one day become foundation for someone else to learn, so they can move on.

"With the corporate industry, the way they look at breaking, they're trying to do the '80s thing again. A lot of b-boys see a lot of good in it, like with Crumbs, he's Style Elements, and he's in that movie. For one, I can understand why he did it; he needs to get paid and probably has a family he needs to cover. For two, people like him are real b-boys they're putting in this movie. Because he's a real b-boy, he's going to exude the essence to the viewers. Interest will be sparked all over the world, and people are going to be curious, going to events only with the idea that B2K are breakers, and they're gonna come and see the real essence of hiphop, the raw format.

"It's good exposure for our scene. Not everyone's gonna like it but if it's your cup of tea, I'm glad the movie was there to bring you to us. It's just based on whether or not they're exploiting. I think they portray it wrong in "You Got Served," but they're not exploiting. The format is mildly correct, they have real dancers in there telling them what to do--as opposed to "Breakin'" 1 and 2, where the director was just lost. "Beat Street" and "Wild Style" were the only two movies that were worth anything in the '80s. Those guys were, like, RAW. They were the grimy cats, the grimy cats for real. B-boys did not dress that goofy!! I think with the B2K movie they gave a lot of creative freedom to the dancers. Like for me, I recognized Do-Knock's signature steps, his moves that he always hits in like, battles. And I recognized Crumbs's slow-motion headspins. That's his move. B-boys out there know it's him right away. The great thing is that Crumbs is still competing. Kids can go see that movie, and then be able to see him in real life, doing a slow-motion headspin, if they come to a jam."

February 4, 2004 (0) Comments

I kicked it at the homestead last night, opting for Manifesta over SD skree punx the Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower. Then Ezra emailed this missive:

"The Plot... Oh my fucking god. One of the best live shows I have ever seen. Half the show was their singer stripping the clothes off the crowd, getting about 50% of the boys to strip down, plus a jazz/punk jam that involved the entire band leaving the stage and setting up around the crowd. Drums in back, singer faux-fellating some guy, bass player behind the stage...it was insane. Then we stayed up to 4am and drank beer. Now I feel terrible."

Reading feminist theory while an awesome saxophonal punk band gets Dionysian across town ranks above murdering sheep for theatrical effect.

February 3, 2004 (0) Comments

The headlines keep getting more like the Onion:
"US Father Names Son 'Version 2.0'" (BBC)
"David Brent Quotations better Known than Shakespeare, Wilde, and Wordsworth" (Independent)
"Saddam's Spider Hole to be Sealed" (CNN)
Artists who Demand Freedom From Record Labels Go on to Produce Rubbish" (Guardian)

Actually, the last article is a column about MUDDA, the Magnificent Union of Digitally Downloading ARtists ("magnificent" sounds grandiose until you realize without it, it's UDDA). It's a UK musician's union spearheaded by Peter Gabriel, meant to embrace the internet and eschew copyright law/paradigm in any form whatsoever. The author of said article, Alexis Petridis, believes this idea is "daft," and could possibly "hobble pop and rock music for good" (?!). Strangely, and unlike the RIAA, he thinks it's a bad idea because, if P. Gabriel and Dido and Janet Jackson all start releasing their music on the internet willy nilly, QUALITY CONTROL WILL PLUMMET. The logic is something like, "If there's no A&R guy around, who will tell you that 20-min. guitar solo makes you look fat?"