So I saw the Erykah Badu “Window Seat” video and me likey!

I am not ashamed to admit it. And I know I’m a little late blogging about it, but I’m the type of cat who likes to wait until the smoke clears before I put in my 2 cents. I gotta hear all arguments, from both sides, before I make up my mind.

One the one side you have her defenders. “It’s art!” they say. “She’s just expressing herself. Americans are so prude.”

On the other side you have her detractors. “She’s resorted to showin’ her ass to sell records. It’s not art; it’s a blatant publicity student and pathetic play to revive a floundering career.”

I have discovered, after reading countless blogs, and participating in a few heated staff lounge debates, that I am officially a fence straggler on this topic.

There are a few facts that must be considered:

1. The message is cryptic at best.
2. It may be artsy but it is definitely (trust me) erotic!
3. This has been Erykah’s best chart showing since her debut.
4. It’s something to talk about.

So maybe those are more opinions than facts, but this is a blog, not a Wikipedia article. There are no standards of journalism here!

On one hand, I can imagine being quite pissed if I was taking a gingerly walk with my nine-year-old on Dealey Plaza that day.

Well…maybe only half-pissed.

On the other hand, I get the whole thing about us uptight Americans being ironically more liberal with violent images. Then we get all haughty when we see a flash of ass. Janet pops a titty out at the halftime show of one of the most violent and barbaric contact sports ever conceived and she’s the one that’s unwholesome. “I was sitting here enjoying an American pastime, watching 300-pound men clobber the living hell out of one another, and then this black whore dirties the whole thing up with her areola.”

Blood and guts cool. Twat stay covered.

I also get that there are some racial things at play here. She got the whole idea from the Matt & Kim “Lessons Learned” video. They disrobed in Times Square!

But there are, of course, some obvious differences. Mainly, no one wants to see them naked.

Still, they weren’t banned from YouTube or MTV. In fact, they were on the countdown for quite some time. And that’s the infamous double standard at play regarding the hyper erotic sexuality of black women.

That shit is potent!

As fellow blogger Dee Bomb put it, “Man I just saw the video and……….DAMN SHE GOT A FAT ASS!!!“

I am not sure what Badu was trying to convey here. I keep getting distracted by that donkey. And at the end when she does the spoken word piece, I find myself trying to squint and tilt my head to possibly make out a stretch mark or dimple underneath the blur.

So much for making a statement! It’s being obscured by all that booty she’s been hiding for 15 years.

Badu seems like an intelligent woman. It can’t have missed her that she’d be giving her career a serious, and perhaps much-needed, shot in the arm with this stunt. And then there’s the whole slow motion thing.

It’s hypnotic, man. I can, like, here the African drums beating. Makes me wanna go sacrifice a goat and pray for rain.

It’s a far cry from Nicki Minaj though.

I’m not a fan, nor do I dislike her. She seems like she’s a fairly talented emcee. She’s typically the highlight of the song when she features. Aesthetically, there’s not a whole lot to dislike. Personally, I prefer a more natural woman with not quite so much silicone inside of her but to each his own.

From what I understand, her claim to fame is not so much that she’s nasty, cuz that’s been done before. And done better! The shock value is all gone now. The first time I heard a woman brag about her copulatory skills on a record, I was a teenager. It’s old hat! And it’s hard to top the Queen Bee. Many have tried.

ALL HAIL!

Nicki, however, has the co-sign of the most popular rapper in the game right now, like Kim. If she has to, she can write her own rhyme, like Kim. She’s sexually uninhibited, like Kim. And she’s pretty cute, like Kim. However, she flirts with the idea of being bisexual, which sets her apart. For all Kim’s raunchiness, she never went “there”.

If you have stepped foot inside of an urban high school within the past 20 years then you know it’s a major selling point. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, let’s just say the most dangerous place in the school building these days could very well be the lady’s room.

They’re young, they’re black, they’ve got mean jumpers and they love them some Nicki!

Comparing Badu’s Earth Booty video to Nicki’s Porn Rap helps to clarify the distinction between selling ass and attempting to make a statement. But I’m not so prude that I can’t appreciate what Miss Minaj brings to the table. I’m also not so naïve that I’d believe Badu didn’t know the brothers would be glizzued to the tizzube and that her record would fly off the shelves amid a hailstorm of controversy.

So in this sense, she’s more shrewd business woman/consummate artist than glorified singing whore, More Madonna than Minaj.

But, as my homegirl Moon so eloquently put it, “I think it is crazy how it is expected that artists who wish to provoke thought also wish to be broke“.

Amen.

On that note, I’d like to announce my plans to film myself taking a deuce at the National Zoo. It’s for my new music video, “Nigger Shitting at the National Zoo”. It’s about being free!

But then, if you’re old school like me and ultimately prefer the hint of things to come, as opposed to the bootleg pre-screening, download (FOR FREE) my girl Yahzarah’s new EP, “The Ballad of Purple Saint James”. It’s my Album of the Month selection for May.

Click the pic to download the free sampler.

She’s a close friend and musical dynamo who has been spending her time most recently providing sultry vocals for The Foreign Exchange.

It’s a stone cold jam. She doesn’t get butt nekkid, but you might want to!

And for the record, she don’t look half bad in a pair of hot pants!!!! Lawd!

Enjoy.

Also, get a load of my rendition of “Always Strapped” by Baby and Lil Wayne, which I’ve affectionately dubbed “ALL WAYS TRAPPED”.

Listen

Thanks for Reading and Stay Tuned.

First I’d like to talk to you about the District of Columbia Department of Motor Vehicles. Like most cities in the country, and a large section of the planet for that matter, we have had to cut back on some government services in response to the Recession. I get it. They have been RIF’ing everywhere from the public schools to parking enforcement. The DMV is no exception. They have closed at least 2 locations, including the Brentwood office, which is closest to my home in Brookland.

However, in a city with half a million residents, I am having a hard time finding the justification for there being only one location where you can go to reinstate a suspended license. [For the record, I merely took too much time paying a simple moving violation. I did not get caught on 295 doing 80 with a hooker, a bag of Cialis and a fifth of Cutty Sark as is being widely reported in the tabloids!] And this office is…you guessed it! At the lovely Penn-Branch Center in Southeast Washington!

Not that there’s anything wrong with Southeast. Frederick Douglass was from Southeast. And I have dated many a charming young independent hairstylist and medical billing assistant from our beloved city’s most rapidly-evolving quadrant. However, I don’t venture much into those parts these days. There are several reasons. I’m 30, I don’t really listen to Go-Go anymore, DDTP is out of business and I have yet to install an alarm on my new Nissan.

At any rate, I pulled into the Penn-Branch Center at 7:30am, hoping to beat the line. I was, however, shocked to see that the line stretched well down the sidewalk. Had it been later in the day, and had anyone been smiling, I might have thought I had stumbled upon a carefully hidden discothèque or midnight kitchen.

While I moved through the line I made some disturbing observations. My first observation was that there were only 2 white people in the crowd of several dozen residents. There is a Georgetown DMV that still offers basic services, but it does not reinstate licenses. I imagine most of our Caucasian neighbors opt to visit that smaller, cleaner, friendlier office unless through some set  unfortunate  circumstances they find themselves with a suspended license and no choice but to come down to the intersection of Pennsylvania and Branch Avenue, Southeast, where the DMV shares a strip mall with a CVS, a Subway, a bank, a Chinese Carry-Out and a Beauty and Hair Supply Store. Here the lively parking lot was filled with poor people hopping out of expensive cars, shouting out expletives at the length of the line. Cigarette smoke was thick in the air, and someone behind, in front of, or next to me smelled like a spilled bottle of Seagram’s.

The restless crowd was curt with the security officers and the seemingly arbitrary process of letting 20 patrons in at a time while the rest baked in the April sun. Was there a roller-coaster ride inside? Or were they resolving all license/registration issues en masse, like the Wizard of Oz?

Once inside, I was handed a number by the heavy-set woman at the counter and asked to have a seat in the waiting area. My number was K18 and as I took my seat the talking ticker said, “Now serving K02″. The matronly sister sitting next to me said, “You gone be here for a while, baby.”

In all honesty, I found that they resolved issues rather quickly at Penn Branch. Within 20 minutes I was called to a window where I met a woman who could be most aptly described as the Quintessential DMV Employee. If I were to direct a film and was looking to cast Surly Black Woman at DMV, I would go back to Penn Branch and find her. I sat across from here and smiled, “Good morning.”

She returned a flat, disinterested, “Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?” She didn’t even look up from her computer screen. I could have been Billie Dee Williams with a cold forty ounce of Colt 45 and she wouldn’t have noticed or cared.

“I need to have my license reinstated,” I said.

“I need your license, proof of insurance and $98,” she said. It was like running lines with a non-actor. She gave me nothing. I was beginning to suspect that she did not take very much pride in her work.

“If it’s that simple, how come I can’t do it online?” I asked.

“Sir, I don’t know. They haven’t figured out how to do that yet.” When she said Sir, she meant it only as a buffer. Apparently, she was taught in Job Corps that if she begins a sentence with Sir, it doesn’t matter what she says afterwards. As in, “Sir, that ain’t my damn problem.” Or “Sir, how the hell should I know?”

I wrote the check and thought about my new friend. She seemed so unhappy and stressed. Here I was, annoyed because I had to take a few hours out of my day, on my vacation no less, to handle a problem that was my fault to begin with. But she was at work on that beautiful spring morning, and she wouldn’t be leaving for another 4 or 5 hours.

“Seems like they’re really overworking you guys,” I said.

She took a deep breath and looked at me for the first time. “You have no idea. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful to have a job. I know it’s a Recession. But that doesn’t give them a reason to treat people any old kind of way. We have rights. They’re shutting offices down left and right. They’re sending everyone down here for everything. We’re not staffed for it. They’re cutting hours. Nothing works. The fax machine is broken. The printer’s broken. They got me doing 2 and 3 people’s jobs. It’s ridiculous!”

“I was thinking the same thing when I was standing on line outside.”

“And you should be able to do this for yourself at home on the computer. It’s a waste of time for to come up here. If you could see my computer screen and the 2 buttons I just pushed to reinstate your license, you’d be pissed.”

“Probably.”

“I just need to find myself something new and quit complaining.”

“It’ll be all right, sister. There are better opportunities out there.”

“I know. I just need to get serious about looking. Here’s your receipt, sir. You’re all set. Have a nice day.”

It always pays to make the attempt to connect with people on another level. You never know where people are coming from unless you put forth the effort to understand. We are all suffering the effects of the Recession on some level. Even my sister, the stock broker, was complaining about getting shorted on her bonus. I, myself, am considering cutting off my cable and house phone and switching to Cricket cell phone service, especially since I spent so much money Easter shopping.

In music news, there is none. I am still working on “30″. Kehinde and I have been shooting emails back and forth like crazy, and I have a few unfinished songs that I’m still working on. We should be done before summer though. In the meantime, make sure you download my latest single “All Killer“, produced by good friend and confidant, Joe.D.

Thanks for Reading and Stay Tuned.  

LISTEN

CLICK PIC TO DOWNLOAD

The other day, however, I ran across a post on popular local music blog www.forthedmvonly.com. Someone had sent the good folks over there an MP3 of my song “STATIC” (produced by BRIDGE). And amongst the comments I found this (LINK):

 Potential Consumer said…

Track is different but jive acceptable. “A body in the trunk and a gun in the dash and the punk ass police is on my ass.” You are a bamma slim! lol. Who cares about the police in 2010. If your bringing that kind of attention to you then you are HOT! Basically a vagrant. The hook sucks. But you got writing potential if you just keep it real with yourself and your raps.

Hmm.

I am not quite sure what to say about this. I typically don’t get into the whole e-beefing thing. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

When you’re trying to promote yourself on the World Wide Web, you are likely to discover that there is a whole ‘nother world operating in cyber space. It is a world where nerds are gods and can exert their “muscle” on the weak. They’re called E-Thugs. And if you think they’re harmless, try visiting any popular message board where free downloads of music, adult films and software are aplenty and start something with one of the regular contributors. You’d be better off starting a fight at a nightclub. At least there you’d have security and a reasonable expectation of safety. Even the froggiest of assailants would be satisfied with causing you significant physical pain. These e-thugs, however, know no boundaries. They will hack into your system and distribute your personal information indiscriminately throughout the Internet. Next thing you know your checking account is empty and your boss is receiving emails from you requesting a raise in exchange for sexual favors.

I know of one unfortunate incident where a retired adult film star had moved on with her life, found religion, gone back to school and gotten engaged. Fearful of intrusive fans, she was keeping her social networking very limited and making use of some strict privacy protections. Her fiancée, however, was not. Perhaps he was ignorant to her past, perhaps he did not share her paranoia. At any rate, he proudly posted pictures of them together with details of their pending nuptials. It did not take long for the wolves to arrive. They emailed him her old video clips along with some nasty messages. This particular starlet, and do not ask me how I know, was popular for her unbridled, wildly energetic performances and penchant for the extreme. If he saw any of those clips, I’m sure he was beyond mortified. And, as I understand it, someone eventually showed up at their house. Like I said, e-thugs are not to be played with.

For the record, anyone planning on showing up at my house uninvited is likely to regret it.

Moving on.

When I read this, I was hurt. Not because of the negative criticism or being called a “bamma” of all things, but because Mr. Potential Consumer gave the song a casual listen and then made public his uninformed opinion. The song is actually about the policing of hip hop music, as I wrote in my polite reply, and the campaign towards censorship. Hip Hop is often a scapegoat in the debate over the education and socioeconomic gap. The “police” symbolize the politicians and preachers, prone to offer easy answers and platitudes to complicated questions. The lyrics go as follows:

I got blood on my knife and I left red footprints

On the cement. I’m a suspect, hence.

Since the police ain’t got no sense.

Still building a case, still collecting evidence.

Can’t file no charge. This is all a mirage.

The D.A. wanna put the young boy behind bars

Just for rocking a rhyme, and for speaking his mind.

And the politician got the people thinking it’s a crime,

Like a slit your throat with a rhyme I wrote,

Like I sold you coke with a word I spoke.

More like what I evoke striking a note,

And when the people heard the sound then the spirit awoke.

Got the lumpen proletariat banging on the government.

Powers that be don’t know who they fucking with.

If you want static, come on, bring it on.

But if you understand what I’m saying, sing along.

I thought it was pretty clear when I wrote it, but I’m biased. Maybe Mr. Potential Consumer has a point. Maybe any references to violence are too easily misconstrued and should be avoided by the responsible artist. Maybe I overestimate the intelligence of my listeners and I assume too much when I imagine they’d be capable of understanding simple satire, irony and symbolism. Or maybe he’s one of those lazy Nintendo Generation types with a 20-second attention span and limited abstract reasoning. Either way, I thought it my duty to clear all this up.

And by the way, a big THANK YOU to the good people at FOR THE DMV ONLY for posting the track in the first place!

Mr. Potential Consumer has yet to post a reply.

Curious?

LISTEN

Download “STATIC” for Free HERE

Let me know what you think.

Thanks for reading and Stay Tuned.

New Single “ALL KILLER” produced by JOE.D

LISTEN

FREE DOWNLOAD

30 is coming….

First of all, hats off to Ace, Truth and Powerful for pulling off a great night. Back when Joe and I were plugging away at the enigmatic DC Hip Hop “scene”, some 5 or 6 years ago, we’d be lucky to pull in a dozen or so folks to a show. A good portion of them would be blood relatives.

I can recall one poorly planned album release party where it rained and the parking was so bad, after circling the block for 15 minutes or so, some folks just went on back home. We ended up not even performing. We just knocked back some beers and laughed it off. Those were the days!

But these guys are organized and thorough. The place was packed and jumping. And Da Beatminerz were the guest deejays. I had a blast. Mind you, I haven’t been out of the house without my fiancée in months. But still, it was a hell of a party.

Of course, I ended up overdoing it a little. I laid up for most of Saturday, recovering with some General Tso’s Chicken and a half-gallon of ice-cold light apple juice. But, dammit, I had a good time!

Me & DJ Roddy Rod

Famous Photog & Friend, The Ubiquitous Jati Lindsay

Me in the wings with the homies while the Gods rip it!!!

Joe.D & Judah

Kev Brown & Ace

Powerful…nuff said!

Me & YU, fresh off his European tour with Diamond District

This was sometime later in the evening.

Joe.D & Black Broadway Legend, KOKAYI!!!!!!!!

As you can see, a good time was had by all. Much success to the Gods! Thanks for allowing me to come out and share this moment with you.

Thanks for reading and Stay Tuned.

This is the cover of my new single “All Killer”

I designed it myself, thank you very much. My good friend and longtime collaborator, Joe.D produced it for me. We both think it came out nice. There’s a lot of good old fashioned, raunchy lyricism on here. If that’s what you’re in to, then you should enjoy it.

You can listen to it here:

You can download it here: “ALL KILLER” DOWNLOAD

“All Killer” is the lead single from my new album “30″. The album itself is still under construction so there’s not a lot to say, other than it’s shaping up to be the greatest thing to happen to Hip Hop since Hammer pants.

There will be thrills and chills and midgets and what have you. People will be rioting in the streets. The earth will crack and Obama will use it for theme music in his 2012 re-election campaign.

I am planning to release it sometime this Spring. Unless, of course, I get distracted. Then I will release it when I get my shit back together.

Since 2008′s Magnificent Bastard, I have been on a hiatus. Many things have changed. I met a nice lady and got engaged. I’ll be finished with my master’s in December and I recently purchased some term life insurance.

*yawn*

With permisssion from my lovely fiancee, I am re-inserting myself into my music. So let the debauchery commence!

I’ve got more beats from Joe.D. And some tracks from my friends, Bridge and Du. Dam Good Soul, a European production house, has been sending me music via the Internet. My contact is a London bloke named Kehinde. I have never met him, but he did call me once to tell me I’m brilliant. Unfortunately, the term is used loosely on the other side of pond so I can’t get too excited about it.

At any rate, he’s a cool cat with oodles of talent and he has agreed to be executive producer for “30″. So, I am officially international. Now all I need is a passport.

I am calling it “30″ because I am 30 now and it doesn’t suck nearly as much as I thought it would. In fact, I feel better than I’ve ever felt before. I went to the doctor for my annual check up and he told me I’m fit as a fucking fiddle. I just need to lose 40 pounds and lower my cholesterol. Otherwise he’s going to put me on medication that I’ll have to take for the rest of my life. But I don’t have, like, AIDS or anything. So I feel great!

Hip Hop is also 30. That’s if you believe it is was “born” in 1979 in the South Bronx. I prefer to think of it as an evolutionary thing with no beginning or end. Like a peach ring. But to each his own. Who am I to question Afrika Bambatta and the rest of those guys?

But Hip Hop does feel 30, doesn’t it? It’s a successful, watered-down version of its former self. It’s aging bittersweetly in the overly critical public eye and no one wants to take responsibility for the horrible things that were done to it when it was a child. Everyone just expects it to grow up and get a government job.

Hip Hop, I FEEL YOU!

All of my friends are also 30. We don’t talk much. Some are engaged. Some are married. Most have moved away. I remain behind in DC, a place once voted least likely to produce a nationally recognized and respected Hip Hop artist. Now, as I’m coming dangerously close to middle age, a whole crew of young upstarts are taking the industry by storm. It’s a different world, and I don’t have enough form-fitting jeans to fit into the new crowd.

Nevertheless, I am offering to the world a new collection of songs recorded in my Brookland apartment with a ProTools MBox, and an $80 microphone. I don’t have a lot of money or time on my hands, but I am hoping for the best.

Maybe Jermaine Dupri will see me walking through Target one day and sign me to So So Def because he thinks my hair is cool. God, I miss the good old days of demo tapes and random good fortune!

Tonight, Joe.D and I are attending the Gods’ Illa album release party at Liv on U Street in Northwest, DC. They are among my favorites of the new crew and they’re making a lot of noise nationally. I’m a fan, so I’m going to support and see if I can give away some copies of my single to anyone who looks important!

I will let you know how it all turns out.

Thanks for reading and Stay tuned!