April 26, 2006 (2) Comments

AHHHHH! thank you to tara henley at XXL mag for taking the time to iterate the women-as-music (hip-hop)-nerd lifestyle dilemma with: " the top 5 reasons that female hip-hop heads are a rare breed. (Alternately, this list can be read as tips on how to step your game up. Cause, really, it must be hard to ever hook up with hip-hop being the perpetual sausage fest that it is. Yes hetero. Or not, whatever.)"

also: Jennifer Pozner on the Duke rape case, the Wall Street Journal's revolting women just need more common sense" op-ed, and the culture of "blaming it on the woman."

April 25, 2006 (2) Comments

an edifying and enlightening musical cartoon about american politics--FUN FOR ALL AGES!

April 25, 2006 (5) Comments

April 24, 2006 (0) Comments

Also, Nelly Furtado's "No Hay Igual (club mix)" is the bangingest of holy effitude. Timbo and polyrhythms are my boyfriends

April 24, 2006 (6) Comments

Most importantly: "Save the Internet"

Editor's NotE: Cosmo Baker, GLORIOUS RUB DJ and the don of our neighborhood, wears sunglasses in the daytime while grocery shopping at the supermarket. I am unsurprised, yet impressed nevertheless.

Ghostface.You probably already know it, but if Papoose, mixtape rapper, is the greatest hope for the New New York, my apologies on behalf of the boroughs. GFK did virtually no songs from Fishscale. But yes, Jodeci joint "freekn," "cherchez la ghost" (cherchez la julianne's swoon), "Ironman," "CREAM" (aside: I've seen the Wu more times in the past year than I did for all of the '90s). On "Holla," Ghostface prosyletized on old R&B sounds, again requesting the lights be ternt down, this time attributing his soul love to being "a 70-yr-old dude in a little body." In regards to hip-hop's final sleep, K put the conventional wisdom most eloquently, and on Saturday NYC's middle age was all laid out onstage: yng Papoose trying too hard and not enough at the same time, substituting tricks for metaphor and wit and borrowing beats to underscore his mixtape roots, I guess. Premier, old friend (jonesing for that Xtina Aguilera collabo though), mixing to invoke yesteryear and conjure his future, benchmarked, of course, with "Ante Up," the alpha and the omega of: Brooklyn, my life, your life, songs about fucking, songs about fucking punching someone in the face. "Ante Up" came out in 2001. Slick Rick does "La Di Da Di," a song I think my mom used to listen to when she was a wee denizen of depression-era Guadalajara. Before Ghost comes on, I spot Bob Christgau, lover of vital music, from the wings, and he looks kind of bored.

Ghost, though. I think Sean and I have discussed it before, but Ghost is the critical holy grail: you can never write even CLOSE to the piece you'd like to write about him because he's a notoriously petulant interview, a cowing, mesmerizing presence--the man has a bathrobe collection for chrissakes--and a better writer himself than probably all music critics, everywhere. If the latter weren't dead, I'd like to see Ghost go a little one-on-one with Italo Calvino, perhaps, or, shit, if I had a buncha money I would employ Gore Vidal to explore all his work and write a 25-page critical essay as supplement to the next issue of Hit it Or Quit it. Or maybe this is the ticket? I do not know.

Anyway, I was hanging out with Sean Fenn afterwards--he is being too generous re: my mind-speaking, but I'm proud to be Hillary Clinton's phone-stalking constituent, at least---and besides, half the time i think ppl think I'm diatribing, insane or perhaps not militant enough, depending on who you talk to. Jon introduced me to his lady friend this weekend as a "female rap critic," a misnomer I think except by strict definition, but what does it even mean to be a "female rap critic" in 2006? I know this: I cannot extricate thug narratives, metaphor, misogyny or the mothafucking bounce, nor can i extricate my race, gender, class, upbringing and political alignments. After the initial high, I ultimately liked "Thug Motivation" better than "Be." I only "got" the foghorn sound Ghost blew in between songs at his fishscale show cuz "the wire" taught me about the drugs and the docks. Well, "the wire" and that one Freeway video. The only thing I really know about 'caine involves one unfortunate night in a portland hair salon with a visiting actor, a few months before he was hospitalized for exhaustion. So if I "get" it, it makes me a better critic, yes. If I didn't live it, it gives me a different take. I think there is the fear that behind every white kid's apolitical "BANGIN'!" and "HOLY EFFITUDE" assessment of a Three 6 Mafia track, the storied racial history of fantasy in America lives on. What are the implications if really smart people such as myself throw out "a holy fucking shit, that track bangs" every once in awhile, or all the time, and alternately how possible is it to discuss the political context of an art form without discussing, and understanding, the social conditions that created it? What's the function of the writer, anyway--has the writer been obsolete as true "instrument of change" since Upton Sinclair bit it, as the aforementioned Vidal once observed? These are questions i am asking myself.

And don't forget about the CNN of the streets. Chris Ryan loaned me his "first season of the wire box set" and in our dorm (because that's where we live, basically--you should see our living room table right now--mo's old nyu i.d., some rolling papers, three or four bottles of wine, eighteen dirty plates, some chopsticks, an ashtray, etc.--michelle was really pleased recently because someone was rolling blunts on a copy of david brooks' "bobos in paradise") We rewatched the harrowing second-to-last episode last night.

When I woke up to gunshots underneath my windowsill, four right in a row like pow pow pow pow, I thought it was a dream predicated on a television show predicated on a true story--because there were no screams, no sirens, just pops that wrested me from slumber--but Michelle heard them, too, and my neighbor Luis, too, and so it was real. Three hours later, the cops. They came faster last time, but it was daylight.

OK so crack rap and "shallow criticism" are concurrent with each other, and also with this country's overall, well, malaise (to put it FUCKING MILDLY), and some ppl are in cahoots--how many of you, or your cousins, or friends, were tempted by The Source and/or Lowrider magazines' Army hummer--yo soy el army--and of course apathy/nihilism might be the corpo media's false c.w., and is not all pervasive--David Banner, Jeff Chang, and this lady, for instance, can tell you as much.

But also, is this presupposing that in their youths rap critics now over 35 were busting out to activate--(am I reading into it?) and if so, can we thank chuck d and PE for that (and for ushering in black nationalist awakenings across campuses america-wide? And is the real issue with change--in blogging, attention spans, influence, the music industry, the consolidation of media (see internet-saving link above)--writer-kids and pubescent burgeoning rap-crits now who, growing up, heard jay-z before they heard run-dmc, say... I don't know, I too would like more and deeper discourse to occur, particularly among people who in fact like ppl like Jeezy, TI, Clipse etc but also, then there are ppl like me and Sean Fenn, who currently make our living doing seven-minute interviews with global pop stars for major corporations, and spend our weekends talking lyrics in dank bars til 4 am after Ghostface shows. American life now, more than ever, is about conflict.

April 20, 2006 (1) Comments

Today I got to hang out w/ Nathan and Beth, pals from back in the portland, the former of whom used to dj crazy danceparties circa 2003 "too crunk to fuck" so sez N--the latter of whom used to get loco on the drink, then get busy on the dancefloor like you know she can. Anyway, they were like :YOU HAVE TO HEAR THIS SONG RIGHT NOW, and THEY WERE RIGHT

the song is "DON'T FUCK WIT MA JUVIE"

As pure artistic enjoyment it is fucking bananas and as far as I can tell, it is a live track by one or two 14-year-old girls from the 13th ward. Its wild-out gangbusting jubilance is concurrant with its, well, precocious lyrics from a lady on the early end of "teen." Will someone who knows explain to me the deal in sthrn lyrics equating sex with abuse, please tell me it is metaphor i just don't get.

ALSO: I have been doing tons of interviews with TRL style artists, and I would like to say to all the ladies young and old who aspire to look like, say, a Pussycat Doll: anyone can look gorgeous, or at least TV gorgeous, beneath a full city block of foundation and mascara. The beauty standard is fake, we all know this front and back and side to side, but it really hits you when you're in a studio with a multi-gatrillion dollar pop star and realize they would look completely normal and normal real-girl pretty if it weren't for all the prosthetics. Incidentally, the most beautiful lady I've interviewed in this corpo megalith to date is Beth Ditto of the Gossip. She was wearing a ripped green t-shirt.

RE: the major depressive episode. Wish I coulda just NetFlixed the whole season and saved myself the trouble.

April 20, 2006 (0) Comments

Back when we were roommates in Portland (NE Fargo stand up), John Blasioli was teaching art at Blazers Boys & Girls Club and grinding on a sewing machine in the basement. Now, he is full on fashion designing the snapple out of menswear. He's the dude who made the Decemberists look like constructivist poster art. Still a Blazers fan, tho. Hey John, how about some Blazers-related office wear? Come on!

Portland, go to his fashion show.

April 19, 2006 (0) Comments

The Honorable Ms. Cristina Veran on tonight's FREESTYLE CONCERT!?! at MSG...: "the Latino music boom that pre- dated America livin' la vida loca to da riddims of reggaetón," word to Lisa Lisa y Gerardo alike. If what they're saying is true, and Robert Christgau is gone, goodbye to features such as this one. Also, did anyone catch the James Ridgeway forced exuent? He was one of the best political writers around, in my opinion, generally on point and covering Washington in a way no one else in print has dared since '70s-style newsjournalism perished from the birth of Turnerian boudoirs of spin and diversion. I will miss pieces like this one.

April 18, 2006 (0) Comments

"The titles on [Neil Young's new] album include "Let's Impeach the President," which features Mr. Bush's voice overlaid above a 100-voice choir singing, "Flip flop." ITALICS MINE!

Related: SWEET, SWEET MUSIC

April 11, 2006 (5) Comments

Pooooortlaaaandia! I am wearing my Bonzi Wells "6" Blazers t-shirt today and thinking of you!

(for old time's sake, here's a link to my "RHYMING POEM" when Le Bonz got Le Trade, generously guestposted by Chauncey Billups. Those were the days. I miss the regular Billups sports hour. And I'm still wondering "WHO THE FUCK IS WESLEY 'chalupas' PERSON?"

April 7, 2006 (2) Comments

back in portland i always thought about taking a boxing class with katie, even though her boxing teacher sexually harrassed her and totally like, put his hand down the back of her tank top while spotting her w/crunches or something equally creepy. boxing is, of course, the least subtextual means to release aggression, hostility, anger and / or whatever-whatever, and back then i had a lot to emit. ACTUALLY, I still do, but I try to soften my release with an amiable combo of exercise and music-- like when I'm jogging and people on bikes are taking up the run lane, I will rap "Move Bitch" in my mind, and then me and Luda are there, jogging together, our personalities on spotlight mode, exerting our right to take up space. I love music qua music as much as i love it for its connection, that it can create the illusion that you're not alone even when you are terrifically alone. I am not talking some existentialist aloneness, exactly, though what i mean does not preclude it. I think it's just about the weight of voices when you are terribly used to silence, or the metronomic clicking in your own mind, like tearing your hair out, and i do mean tearing out your hair. Someday I shall tell you about it, in detail, but it is too special for here. These things I have to tell you, they deserve the gravity and the permanence of paper and ink.

What I initially meant to say is that I love Sqad Up's song "Parking Lot," particularly the intro and the way its chorus straight shoots: "bring it on! what the fuck!"

in a similar vein i am getting malice's lyric "when u want a bentley, a porsche aint' shit" tattooed across the inside of my eyelids, i think. it is, of course, a metaphor, and it is, of course, the saddest lyric ever.

cynthia mckinney issue---i wrote about it today for the mtv blog, viewable...?.. also what the eff is up with tom delay talking about bringing "ethics charges" against anyone. way to distract the public from yr pending disappearance.

and, we are having a party.

April 4, 2006 (1) Comments

wam photos courtesy anh dao kolbe

feminism in mainstream media: what gives?
Oh! Ha ha! [PITHY COMMENT]
l-r salon.com's rebecca traister, yrs truly, marisa meltzer, kara jesella

farai chideya gives melting pot vs. gumbo multi-pronged strategy keynote speech

caryl rivers gives opt-out revolution is a myth keynote speech

hey, flip thru!

here is today's list of how googling people found this blog:
Keyword Analysis (Cowboyz 'n' Poodles) 4th April 2006
Perc/ Search Term
30.77% julianne escobedo shepherd
15.38% funny cowboy photos
15.38% what are the immigrants lifes like when the come over the border of the us
15.38% poodles
7.69% urbanhonking
7.69% i would like to now more about poodles
7.69% louis knapsack lyrics

This is better than 1 1/2 years ago, when 99.8% of my search-term hits were people googling "is cam'ron gay?" as i told chris this morning, after receiving a "new dip set mixtape" alert email: who are dipset again? do they have something to do with tastee freeze? to which chris replied "I stopped caring about cam'ron after 'suck it or not'" to which i replied "cam'ron: SOFT SERVE"** to which chris replied "hahahaha"

hahahah o life! gaiety

**ADDENDUM: It has come to my attention that some people may imagine i was being dirty-minded in saying this, when in face i meant "soft serve" as in "weak pitch," as in "step up yr jay-z comeatcha game." to all gutterminds, it's not lenny bruce up in here! i am not bob saget

April 3, 2006 (0) Comments

The Center for New Words' Women, Action and Media conference, where I panelized this weekend with author Marisa Meltzer and Salon's Rebecca Traister, was inspiring beyond my expectations. I'll post my full notes/thoughts later tonight--still kinda janked from the Dramamine, word to feng wah bus--but until then, read Robin Herman on Caryl Rivers' presentation about the fallacy of the "opt-out revolution" and the problem of Caitlin Flanagan--advocating stay-at-home motherhood from a cushy terrace and two nannies in attendance--as the "One" writing about women's issues at the New Yorker