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Name: B.C.
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Interests: Politics, Sports, and Popular Culture
Expertise: "Jack of all trades...."
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Member Since: 7/3/2006

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Tuesday, July 18, 2006

My New "Pop" Music Outlet?

During the Fall of 1991, during my carefree days at Northwestern, Defender of All Things Black made a curious observation concerning a quite fetching woman.  I remember the day as if it was just yesterday.  

Having only know Defender and Irb Gotti for a short time, we were having bruch at 1835 Hinman - the dorm known for its spacious living quarters.  While eating, Defender sees this woman and without hesitation, he looks at me and says, "I don't know her, but I already love her...". 

The words sound contradictory but make complete sense.  Can person really appreciate something that they are not even familiar with?

I saw yes.  And to prove my point, I will make another confession.  I like country music.  But I've never really given it a chance.

It's easy for the non-music lover to dismiss country music out of hand.  The cliches which follow the genre are tried and true:  sad songs about a man losing his woman and his dog then drinking himself senseless.  But in the world of contemporary popular music (and by this I'm including the major radio formats:  R&B, rock, top-40, jazz, adult contemporary, and all of its related sub-genres), one could argue that country music is the only place where a music lover can appreciate genuine songwriting.  To paraphrase the Clinton campaign slogan from 1992, "It's about the songwriting stupid!"

Senor Nawlins played a major part in creating my music tastes.  I was raised listing to soul records and that experience developed my music tastes.  I love the creation of a good pop song, hence, my love for 80s pop songs which are constructed just like their mid-60s counterparts.  Listen to any Stock Aiken Waterman production (Rick Astely, early Kylie Minouge, Bananarama, etc.)  and I guarantee that you can hear Motown's songwriting all over again.  The songs didn't change the world but for three minutes they provided sheer ear candy for the listener.  It was fun and proved that any romantic problem could be solved with hope! Yet as the fun '80s pop ended, we were lead into the oh-so-serious '90s where genuine pop laid dormant until the end with the fascination with TRL-friendly groups:  the Boy Bands, the Blonde girls, and yes, the Spice Girls.

Now, that songwriting is lost.  Or is it?

Over the past year, I have marveled to Bajan Princess about the writings of New York Times music writer/critic Keneth Saneth.  (I single her out only because she shares a love and appreciation in music where most only give it lip service.  And so on the weekly basis, I would send her his critiques and interviews.  The man is a phenomenal writer of all things music.)  And yesterday was the latest in one of his many pieces on country music.  Most of Brother Saneth's country articles focus on not on the performer but the person behind the music.  The songwriter.

In "If You're Looking At Eric Church, You're Looking At New Country", Saneth showcased why Church is taking country music by storm with his eagerly anticipated debut album. 

I will admit that I wouldn't know Eric Church from The Church of the Poison Mind but after reading that piece and hearing his comments on songwriting, I'm already rooting for him. 

In fact, the more I read about the country music, the more I begin to like it.  Even though I've never listened to it as devoutly as I listen to other genres.

I'm not going to be one to dismiss the music out of hand.  (How often have you heard the phrase, "I listen to all types of music.  But I hate country." Meanwhile the person has only one or two styles of music.)  Growing up in Iowa, I know that the old WHBF used to showcase a variety of country songs.  And in spurts "country" had gone mainstream (if you call Shania Twain and Faith Hill country).  Still, I have never given the music it's due listen.  I'm familiar with some of the heavyweights as Kenny Chesney, Big & Rich, Tim McGraw and others.  Yet my knowledge exists primarily because the announcers of the Beloved's baseball games (along with Jeff Francouer, Brian McCann, and John Thompson) love country music and will always talk about it during the broadcast.

I'm a huge fan of the Dixie Chicks' politics.  But couldn't tell you a song they song.

What I do admire about what I know about country music is that it appeals the the everyday man.  The stories are stories that can almost appeal to anyone.  And while many acts appeal to Red Staters, one thing that I do know is that the acts wear their hearts on their sleeves and aren't promoting a lifestyle only to curry favor with sponsors.

The key part of the appeal has to be the lyrics.  If the lyrics can tell a story, then the song is sold.  Why?  Because the singer must act out those lyrics on disc.  And that message has to resonate with the ear.  If it doesn't or if it doesn't make sense the splash is barely a ripple.  And at the end of the day, that makes a great song albeit rock, pop, funk or soul.

Another thing I do like is that country music is a throwback to the days of the pop music writing factory called the Brill Building or Motown.  Many of country's best know acts start out playing in bars and trying to get writing credit for others.  They then try to get a few minutes of studio time to cut a demo.  And once they've proven their wares, Nashville deems it right to unleash a new talent unto the world.  Just like when Carole King, Neil Diamond, Holland & Dosier, Smokey Robinson, and others when pop was in its infancy and gaining radio supremacy.

Now, many pop, rock, and R&B acts are picked from talent contests, showcases, formed by a producer, or have a certain look.  Songwriting be damned.  Just put a hook and throw something together and let's see if it sells.

As I grow older and inevitably long for the days of my youth, maybe I will give country music a try.  I find myself constantly scolding various radio outlets because some of today's songs just are quenching my musical thirst.  And those that do (Raul Midon comes to immediate mind) will never see the light of day on commercial radio.  Yes, there are some gift rap artists who can tell a tale but with the genre being dominated by southern act, the most gifted writers and those who can tell that tale are best found on mixtapes.

Which leaves me back to country.  For me, it could actually be the new pop music.  Give these acts three minutes and they can certainly help you pay your bills, quick drinking, get your girl back...and your dog!

(Oh yeah, as for Defender.  He actually met that girl later our freshman year.  She was actually the same major as him.  And they spent some time together, or as much as they could consider that Defender had "for all intents and purposes" developed a crush on some other woman in our dorm.  But as much as the girl was cute, she was also flaky.  Defender made a good choice.  And would make an even better one later in life.  But that's another story...)

 

 


Riding Home With The Talking Magpies

Call me crazy but I'm not one to complain about mass transit.  Sure, it's slow, unreliable, and literally stinks at times, but give me one place where people of different cultures, beliefs, and economic classes are forced to come together and share similar experiences.  At times, it can be a beautiful thing.  When I first came to New York, I had the experience of meeting Jerry Seinfeld and talking about the upcoming Beloved -Mets series.  That couldn't happen if I took my car.

But the true "beauty" in mass transit is in the overheard conversation.

I'm not talking about eavesdropping where you're consciously listening in on another's most intimate thoughts.  I'm talking about those people who are talking so loud that you can't help but be invited into their conversation.  And as the weather heats up, it appears that more and more of my fellow riders on NJ Transit are giving me more and more to listen to.  So much so that I immediately end my cell phone conversations the moment I can see the 628 train coming around the corner and into Metuchen Station.

Last night, however, was the Mother of All Annoyances.  I had to deal with the incessant yapping of these magpies who, unlike me, apparently had nothing to do but to spend their day on the Jersey Shore.

First, I spent an extra hour at work and was in no mood to do anything but sleep.  Or at the bare minimum, rest my brain and read the rest of the paper.  That couldn't be done with the direct descendents of Heckle and Jeckle cackling at nearly every thing imaginable.  If they came up for a second for air, that was a second more than I would have counted.

The topic were as varied as the snowflakes during a snowstorm.

First, they were talking about Madonna's performance in Atlantic City.  During a song which was described only as "the one about lies", they had to dissect each photograph which was shown on the JumboTron:  there were pictures of "that North Korean leader", "that famous Chinese leader", "that Cuban leader who is always smoking cigars", and "that man who used to be Pope".  Just the description of people that any reasonable person should know was enough to make me want to stifle my laughter.  Instead, I started to send text messages.

From here, these two moved into dissecting Madge's religious sincerity.  "She's about through with the Kaballah thing," quipped Heckle.  "Yeah, I think she's finally coming back to Catholicism," replied Jeckle.    Talk about your panelists on this week's Maclaughlin Group...

From there, the discussion ranged from the relationship between Brittney Spears and Kevin Federline (says Heckle, "She is the epitome of 'white trash' and I say that as a White woman....") to Oprah without make-up ("Butt ugly!" yelps Jeckle.  Every statement made by one or the other was predicated and/or punctuated with "you know".   At this point, I was about to be driven crazy.

And then the bizarre turned into the sublime...

Their conversation focused on Heckle's personal life.

Jeckle told the group of three women and one man that Heckle was a "guy magnet".  By this, she means that Heckle has a series of good dates but always runs.  "Manu heard that I was coming into town and he immediate put on a pink bow tie", Heckle stated with glee.  (I was thinking to myself, 'Who in the hell would want to spend a dollar on a Slurpee for this woman, let alone good money on a date with her.  With her nasally voice, her constant high-pitched laugh, and banal conversation.  She would drive me nuts!") 

Rest assured, Heckle was content with her lot in life.  "I'll probably be 45 and alone but that's okay, I'll always have a good friend in you..." as she lovingly looked towards Jeckle.  God help the poor man that comes between them.

And they both laughed.  With that high-pitched ring.

At that point, I could not take it any more.  I quickly sent text messages trying to distract myself to the point that I would not laugh.  But within seconds of opening up my phone, the first tear rolled down my eye.  Tears from trying my best to contain my laughter.

Eventually, the train ride ended.  And not a moment too soon.  The Talking Magpies and their Crew was set to spend a hot summer night in Midtown.  And I was in a rush to find something decent to wear for another hot day in South Plainfield.

But rest assured, as you read this, they are putting someone else out of their mind with chatter!

 


Saturday, July 15, 2006

One Minute Samba: One Andruw Rudolph Jones

The Beloved won a wild one last night.  But you can't help but marvel at this shot of one Andruw Rudolph Jones.  Great picture!

(Is it me or is there some thing that reminds me of Reggie Jackson?)

 


One MInute Samba: The Brand New Heavies

There is nothing better than looking forward to a great weekend.  And the weekend is all the better when you have something to look forward to when the new week begins.

I will go into the Best Summer Ever weekend plans at another time.  But I will say that this upcoming weekend should pale in comparison to what will take place next Wednesday.  And I'm not talking about my immgration law seminar.

After a fourteen year wait, I will have the chance to see The Brand New Heavies - one of my all time favorite groups.

Their debut, simply named "The Brand New Heavies", was the soundtrack to my summer before college.  I played that tape constantly while dirivng the streets of Davenport, Iowa in my mom's Toyota Corolla.  From the opening percussion of "BNH", to the acid jazz standard "Dream Come True" to soulful faves as "Never Stop" and "Stay This Way", the group combined retro-70s style, with their unique stamp of Soul.  The horns were tight and the group had  a nice rythmn section.  But it was the standout vocals of N'dea Davenport which helped give the group their signature sound.

The second release was "Brother Sister" and became my instant classic.  The CD was a range of music styles from reggae, soul, funk, and acid jazz.  There wasn't a cut that I didn't like and their music became the soundtrack to the Spring/Summer of 1994.  (Which coincidentally enough was the premire of my radio program "Phat and Jazzy Grooves".) 

Where my story takes a turn is that for my 21st birthday, I was to see BNH perform in Chicago.  All day, I was excited to see my favorite group.  However, Mother Nature had different plans.  A severe thunderstorm hit Chicagoland effectively shutting down O'Hare Airport.  The group never arrived and the show was cancelled.  The concert was neve rescheduled.

The group, as originally constituted, broke up a year later.

After the breakup, N'dea Davenport has performed on her own showcasing her own work and that of BNH.  I saw her two years ago with The Friend Formerly Dubbed Albert Puljos and had a great time.  It kind of made up for my 21st birthday celebration but not exactly.  (And while the show was great, the events which followed are....another story for another time.)

After bringing in different lead vocalists, the original group is back together.  And not a moment too soon.

I've had the chance to listen to selections from their new release and the group is in fine form. 

But most importantly, I will have the chance to see my favorites live, this Wednesday night.  And since the group is back together, I will be celebrating my 21st birthday twelve years late!

And rain is definitely not in the forecast!

Have a great weekend!


Thursday, July 13, 2006

One-Minute Samba: Those Message T-Shirts - The Redux

I am trying my best not to retread an already tired topic but I saw a girl wearing an "Everyone Loves An Italian Girl" t-shirt this morning.  Cute girl.  Probably in her late teens.

BUT SHE WAS BLACK!

I have no clever comments on this one. 

It speaks for itself.



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