Trying to Forget the Crushing Defeats since 2009

TEST TEST TEST

Hey, guys: welcome to week two of my “Desert Island Discs,” the ten albums that changed my life enough that I’d keep them on a LOST-esque desert island. This week is albums 6-10.

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6) “Silent Alarm” by Bloc Party — I’ve always wondered why I got into Bloc Party. I’m pretty sure it’s because I thought I needed to, because it was indie and from Britain and it sounded kind of cool when I sampled it. But somewhere between trying to be cool at 14 and seeing them live, screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs at 17, something clicked. “Silent Alarm” became my anthem CD for when things were out of order, when I needed a pick-me-up, when I needed to be rebellious, or emotional. My take-away is obvious to those who know me: “Like Eating Glass,” my favorite opening track of all time.

7) “Discovery” by Daft Punk — There’s raucus fun, and there’s Daft Punk’s “Discovery” album, which grabs you by the (fist-pumping) arm and dances with you through track after track of electronica/dance excellence. It’s ridiculous fun, and an album that even hardcore indie fans will respect. My takeaway is “One More Time,” the only track I’ve ever played at full volume on my stereo at home. The effect, needless to say, was epic.

“B-Day” by Beyoncé — If “Crazy in Love” was the song that got me interested in the post-Destiny’s Child Beyoncé, “B-Day”, her second album, was more than enough to cement her as my favorite diva ever. Track after track hit the radio after this debuted a few years ago, and for good reason: they’re pretty much all good, killing her R&B vibe (which was only okay) from her first album and moving to where her fans need her: on the dance floor. My takeaway is “Freakum Dress,” partially because the beat is ridiculous and partially because the intro ape’s Shakespeare’s “Hamlet.”

9) “College Dropout” by Kanye West — I’m saying it right now: it’s okay to like Kanye again. And just in time: While my favorite CD by Kanye West would most definitely be a mixtape of all of his best songs (and he’s got quite a few), “College Dropout” reminded me when I first heard it in 2004 that rap didn’t have to be overly serious. Kanye made money (and lots of it) because he wasn’t afraid to be political, but also because he wasn’t afraid to have lots of fun doing it. A takeaway is really hard here, but I’m going to have to go with his hilarious “Workout Plan” skit and song.

10) “The Black Album” by Jay-Z — I saved this album for last because I can honestly say it’s the most life-changing album I own. I had long known who Jay-Z was before I heard “The Black Album,” and the odd thing is that I actually heard “The Grey Album,” the mash-up of “The Black Album” with the Beatles’ “White Album” before I heard this album all the way through.

Years later, I still listen to “The Black Album” knowing that it was what turned me on to rap music, what leads me to defend the genre when some people say it “isn’t music.” The album, which was originally supposed to be Jay-Z’s last, was created with the kind of attention to detail (and sense of humor) you’d expect of a man leaving the business at the top. In the years following, Jigga returned to the scene, releasing more albums, but even the mighty Blueprint III can’t best “The Black Album” (it comes really close, though).

My takeaway is a tie: “99 Problems” (one of the greatest pieces of rap storytelling of our time) and “What More Can I Say,” my second favorite sample-driven rap song. Behind “Crazy In Love.”

LOST: I hate it.

I’m not really sure when I started hating the ABC television epic LOST, but I’m pretty sure it started around season two or three. As someone who watched neither LOST nor Prison Break, my skepticism grew the further these shows dragged on. I mean, how hard is it to get off the island or get out of prison? Or die trying?

But none of that matters, really, because LOST is back for its epic last season and it’s got me thinking about…polar bears.

Not really.

I’ve actually been thinking lately about the concept of “Desert Island Discs,” the answer to that age-old question of “which albums would you keep with you if you were stranded on a desert island?” So I sat down, hoping to come up with a list of ten albums, and ended up with 15 instead. I’ve split them into one group of ten, and one group of five (the “honorable mentions”).

A word about my “desert island discs:” I fully admit that they’re not perfect. But what all ten winners (and the honorable five, to some extent) have in common is that they changed my life, both musically and literally. Each album is significant because they’ve shaped my style, a lot.

Ed. Note: this post went on so long, we’re going to split it up into two parts. Albums 1-5 are up this week, and 6-10 next week. In addition, all links will take you to the iTunes Store where these albums are available for sampling and purchase. If you buy them, I get money.

Ok, then–let’s get it on:

1) “Crash” by Dave Matthews Band — It’s happened more times than I’d like to remember: I’m sitting with friends and someone goes “ugh…I HATE Dave Matthews.” Without thinking, I always come to Dave’s defense. “It’s love it or hate it,” I say, and I love it, thanks to this album, my first DMB CD. It’s soft at times, hard at times, and with a couple of good songs from the radio. My take-away song: “Drive In Drive Out,” which tops my list of the greatest driving songs of all time.

2) (What’s The Story) Morning Glory? By Oasis — I’ll fully admit that I don’t like every song on this album, but that hasn’t stopped me from adoring this album. Sure, “Wonderwall” is the song of choice for douchebags with acoustic guitars playing songs on College Quads, but Oasis makes my list for it’s crunchy, raw sound and the fact that it was my first foray into the great world of BritRock. My take-away song: “Champagne Supernova,” which taught me what “getting high” meant and still carries one of my favorite melodies.

3) “Drops of Jupiter” by Train — Ah, Train. I discovered Train some time around middle school, as I was trying to exit what I nicknamed my “awkward phase.” Still, I’ll remember Train as my first obsession, the first band I saw live, the first band I would crank from my little boombox in my tweenage bedroom. I still remember Drops of Jupiter as “Four Minutes and Twenty Seconds of Perfection” for its great use of orchestra and expansive melody. It’s my take-away song, despite the fact that it was used in “All About Steve” with Sandra Bullock.

4) “Only By the Night” by Kings of Leon — Look, we’ve already had the fight about “selling out” and I know that Only By the Night is Kings of Leon’s fourth album. But this album does more than “sink indie music to the mainstream”: it brought rock music up to a new level, and my appreciation of KoL is immense. For someone who had all but left Pop/Rock for its unoriginality (and the fact that Nickelback is still around), Kings of Leon re-opened my eyes to one of my historically favorite genres. Take-aways: Either “Notion” or “Crawl”, depending on my mood.

5) “Viva la Vida” by Coldplay — By the Summer of 2008, I had heard (nearly) everything there was to say about Coldplay. It’s too pop, people said, and I hate Chris Martin. This band sucks and all of its music is utter shit. Being eager to fit into the music snob circles, I took delivery of “Viva la Vida” hoping to hate it. I wanted Coldplay, a band I had long loved, to be “long in the tooth” and become irrelevant so I didn’t have to explain why I liked them anymore. Naturally, however, Viva la Vida was a masterpiece. Unlike albums past which had some good songs (Yellow and Rush of Blood), or concept albums that were half great and half not-so-much (X&Y), Viva la Vida was storybook good from start to finish. My take-away? There isn’t one. Just listen to the entire album, in a row. The whole thing.

We’ll see you next week for part two.

Tonight I feel…like a dick.

Now that I’ve given you a vague, easily-taken-out-of-context statement, let’s march it back: I feel like a sext.

Scenario: you’re in High School, and in the beginnings of a relationship with someone (let’s assume, for the scenario, that you’re a straight guy.). Your girlfriend, simply put, is hot: she’s the envy of your “bros.” But you also know this: in order to keep the relationship going (and to prevent your girl from dating someone in the “line” that has formed behind you), you need to make things a little bit…spicier. So you do what seems like a great idea: you run to the bathroom with your cell phone, pull down your pants, and stage a photo shoot. Punch a few buttons, wait a minute, and bam- you’ve just sexted.

There’s only one problem (forgetting the fact that possession of nude photos of underage children is against federal law): that picture isn’t private at all: two weeks later you break up over something stupid and three weeks later, you’re your high school’s newest porn star as your ex forwards your junkpics (thanks for the term, Brad Pitt) are forwarded to everyone you know.

Sexting, then, is stupid for many reasons (the law part is a BIG one), but the stupidest part of it is that it violates the cardinal rule of digital communication: nothing is private.

The truth is, much of the time I spend facebooking and tweeting, linkedin-ing and blogging is spent sitting in front of a blank screen with a blinking cursor, not thinking about the people actually reading it. And when I do become aware that my online social life is, well, public, it get’s kind of weird. Just like the 14-year-old Ron Jeremys of the world running around our nation’s high schools, I forget from time to time that the work I do occasionally gets read.

I had a rude awakening about that just today.

It’s about 12.15pm and I’m in the middle of discussing an assigned reading passage in my JO308: NewsWriting and Reporting II class, and the subject turns to “undercover work and deceiving sources.” Pulling a clip from the news, I mention James O’Keefe, the twenty-something most famous for dressing up like a pimp and videotaping the community-organization firm ACORN giving him advice on how to make your prostitution firm pay fewer taxes. He’s just as famous, however, for allegedly dressing up like an electric company employee this month and (allegedly) trying to wiretap Senator Mary Landrieu of Louisiana. O’Keefe, when asked about the arrest on FOX News, insisted that it was all within the bounds of journalism.

I, however, am not so sure about that assertion, so I brought it up in front of the class. And just as I finished asking the question (and explaining O’Keefe’s situation), I happened to slip into conversation that I thought Andrew Breitbart, prince of the right-wing online media and O’Keefe’s mentor/boss, was a “gigantic ass.” And then, for good measure, I tweeted it.

This, kids, is where it gets a little weird. I shall now make good use of the list:

1. Breitbart either searches Twitter manually for his name or has an application like TweetDeck automatically do it for him. He finds my tweet calling him “a gigantic ass”
2. Breitbart clicks to my twitter page and begins to read my tweets.
3. Breitbart retaliates by “re-tweeting” two of my former tweets: the first one is one expressing my frustration at how slow the bus was getting me to my Tuesday-Thursday cardio hip-hop dance class, the second one was about how journalism and stalking aren’t that different. (Because when you’re looking for sources on the internet, the line between the two is really, really thin)
4. Breitbart tells his 15,000 followers that it’s odd I’d pay $40,000 (52, actually) to take a hip-hop class (I do take four others…), thinks my parents have a yacht (nobody told me), and calls me a “dope”. He also implies I get a better taste in music.
5. Several of Breitbart’s 15,000 followers reply directly to me. Selected responses: “pitiful,” “slacker,” “dumb-ass kiss ass,” and “gigantic ass” (touché, twitter people…)

The total duration of the “twitter fight?” about an hour. Breitbart (who, judging by his distaste for anything hip-hop related, clearly has never heard anything by the Roots) gets my name sent to 15,000 people, and Touré (part of the twitterati) gives me a “gold star.” Am I angry? I was for a minute, then I laughed for a while. It wasn’t until a couple of hours later, though, that I realized something very important: it’s kind of my fault.

Looking back on what I said about (and eventually to) the right-wing media maven, I do realize that what I said was incorrect. Politicians at this point would say “my statements were taken out of context,” but I’ll say it: I said it wrong.

What made my statements really wrong was that I did the one thing that I hate the most in the media today, and one of the (opinionated) reasons I don’t like Breitbart: I villified someone I disagree with, and then was surprised when he did it right back to me. So please allow me to clarify (Andrew, if you’re reading, please read carefully): I don’t think you’re an awful person, I just think you do awful stuff.

But in the interest of not digging myself into a deeper hole, please allow me to tell you–as factually as possible–why I don’t like your work.

• You told the Tea Partiers this past month that the “Mainstream media cannot control the narrative anymore” and addressed the MSM directly saying, “it’s not your business model that sucks, it’s you that suck.” However, you got your start on E!, worked for the Drudge Report (which aggregates news items from mainstream sources), comment for FOX News (the highest-rated cable news show), write for the Washington Times, and at press time, roughly 2/3 of your breitbart.com page is devoted to links to mainstream newswires and videos from cable news.
• After the death of Ted Kennedy (who was flawed, I admit), you tweeted this (truncated and censorship removed): “he was a fucker. a big ass motherfucker. this aint a 24-hour zone, baby. he was a bad, bad dude.”
• You told another Tea Party that you disagreed with MSNBC’s Contessa Brewer, but during that speech you said that she was “such a pretty pretty face” (editorial: not much factual arguing–that one’s just odd.)
• You yell a lot. And I get headaches when people go on cable news and yell a lot.

Somewhere in between nursing my hoarse, sore throat and cleaning last night’s sweat off of my tired body it hits me.

“Man, hip-hop is just…it’s just art.”

It’s about three weeks ago and I’m recovering from BU Central’s concert the night before, a three-hour DJ set by ?uestlove, the drummer from The Roots. But unlike wedding DJ’s (who just play KC and the Sunshine Band) or dance club DJ’s (which just play hits, or maybe just techno), ?uestlove started his set differently. “I’m going to teach you all about hip-hop tonight,” he said, before launching into a mind-blowing mix of samples, hits, and all-around great music.

It’s at some point during a concert like this that you begin to realize what all of your favorite hip-hop has in common–most of it is sample-driven. Songs like Jay-Z’s “What More Can I Say” or Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love” have carefully layered beats, but much of the music is pulled from Motown. And for them it works: it repurposes good music for good purposes. Much like you can’t slow dance to hip-hop, you can’t booty pop to Motown. It’s a match well made.

But today’s hip-hop isn’t well matched anymore. Knowing that many of their artists are 15-minute fads and paying royalties to Michael Jackson or James Brown is too expensive, artists like Ke$ha and the New Boyz are turning to making their own beats.

The problem is, their beats suck. I don’t like the New Boyz because their genre of music sounds just a bit too much like the music I made on my Casio Keyboard back in ‘96. And Ke$ha? Um, let’s just not talk about it.

I’ve been a little worried about hip-hop lately: Beyoncé and Lady GaGa losing to Taylor Swift, Lil’ Wayne’s jail sentence, the “Death of AutoTune.” But an artist from my own past has come back, and she’s bringing the art with her. Say hello, again, to Amerie.

I should say first that Amerie’s newest album dropped last November, but I have a habit of finding stuff like this late. But it’s all okay, because I’m still an Amerie fan: her early-2000’s song “1 Thing” is still one of my favorites for it’s great, repurposed old-funk-song beat.

Wondering what all the fuss was about, I pressed play. And some magic happened.

The first thing that hits you about “In Love and War” are the drums, and it’s something that doesn’t go away for the rest of the album: funky, strong percussion that rocks the latin-funk “Tell Me You Love Me” through to the go-go soul of “Dangerous” and “Higher.” The drums (and the beats in general) are so good you’d think for a minute that this album was produced by Questlove himself.

But where “In Love and War” really hits its stride is right in the middle: Amerie’s three singles are tracks five, six and seven. The first, Why R U is emotional but layered over what I think is an Eric B beat–regardless, its old-school feel is different and showcases Amerie’s voice, which is…well, have a listen.

My favorite song on the album, though, is “Pretty Brown,” an old-school funk masterpiece that manages to ape the 1990s without feeling old. It’s songs like these on Amerie’s album that just ask for a second play, and then a third, fourth, and fifth. I’m convinced you could put “In Love and War” on repeat and not get sick of it…for a long time.

The rest of the album takes a down-tempo, introspective turn, but it’s track 10, “Red Eye,” and track 12, “Different People,” where Amerie finally makes her point. “Red Eye” is pulled almost straight from the pages of Ciara, with it’s slow tempo, quick beat, and synthesizers. “Different People” sounds like Jennifer Lopez.

But these two songs, stuck late on the album and out of sight of the Billboard charts, make complete sense. “Red Eye” is better than Ciara much as “Different People” manages to match the mighty J.Lo. And that’s exactly the point: in a crowd of people who sound the same and are losing their unique sounds, Amerie–whose album “In Love and War” sold a fraction of Ke$ha, J.Lo or Ciara, unique is back in.

And so are the drums.