Blogging on Meds

Oh shit.  Here’s the weirdest song of the year: “Swagger Like Us” by T.I., featuring Kanye West, Jay-Z, AND Lil Wayne.  Sounds exciting with the four biggest rappers on the planet on one joint, only it’s terrible.  The hook (and basically the whole song) is a sample from M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” where she says “no one on the corner has a swagger like us.”  So yeah, it’s a UK hipster ironically jacking real rappers, sampled by real rappers.  And no, it ain’t a hoax perpetrated by some blogger-DJ, it’s legit.  It doesn’t work at all, and the verses aren’t even hot.  Kanye turns on the auto-tune but doesn’t sound awesome like he did on “Put On” and Hov and Weez sound like they just recorded over their iphone after getting the paypal confirmation.  Only Tip really goes hard, but by the time he comes in, you just want the song to be over.

I could see this being a Kanye song, or maybe Hov or Wayne trying to be daring, but I really can’t wrap my head around T.I. getting behind this.  The man has the best taste of any rapper, he never drops anything questionable, and even his joints for the ladies are perfectly respectable.  This is like getting your college friends together with your high school buddies, or eating cole slaw and pancakes — you just can’t believe it’s happening.  I hope this doesn’t end up on Paper Trail.

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Noel Gallagher is a quote machine. A few months ago he got so pissed when Jay Z headlined Glasto—a black guy on the top of the bill of a “guitar-based” proper English festival! Bollocks, Noel cried. The Guardian made a big deal of it, and now Noel responds:

“If people in the fucking Observer and the Guardian wanna get on their high horse about it, there’s not a great deal I can do. It really pisses me off,” he continues, “all these spotty herberts whose mams and dads voted for Margaret Thatcher all those years are now sitting on some moral fucking high chair.”

I may not know exactly what it means, but a “spotty herbert Thatcherite” sounds like the worst thing on Earth.

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Last night Jigga headlined the biggest greenfield music festival in the world and decided that he’d start by responding to the irrelevant and bloated Noel Gallagher for saying that brothers shouldn’t be rapping at this storied fest.

First video footage of Noel’s remarks dissing Jay lit up the greens and then Hova rolled out with a shit eating Joe Camel grin “playing a guitar” (in the same way Weezy plays a guitar) doing his rendition of the Oasis hit Wonderwall. He was off-key and smirking but it was a nice fuck you and tribute. I ended up at a party above the Spotted Pig about 2.5 years ago that was essentially an empty living room with 5 record executives, 20 white chicks, two sistahs and Jigga. I guess it was to celebrate something, we shouldn’t have been there but myself, Karaoke Ryan and Galle® ended up at this private party where Jigga was putting on a clinic, dancing with chubby white chicks, leading the Electric Slide and playing favorites from his iPod including Coldplay, Phil Collins, and Amy Winehouse , complete with waving his finger that looked like a black tree branch for the “No No No” refrain and also rapping over his own songs to the small crowd. He also dropped his own verse over Mims’ This Is Why I’m Hot, my white brain couldn’t believe that I was seeing Jigga spitting in front of me, literally spitting on white dudes as he rambled and flowed.

I did my best to hide the Michael Mann-esque light my cell phone emits mid-text messaging but I had to fire off the details of this encounter to at least have a breakdown of what I was seeing if vodka and piff clouded my recollection the next day. There was one moment of struggle that night; in my head I’m an honorary member of Dipset since I’ve chosen to side with them over 50’s Vitamin Water empire. I felt slightly guilty for being there since Cam’s diss of Jay and his open toed sandals was still buzzing in my speakers. I scanned the room and noticed that there were no body guards among the small crowd, maybe I should text message Killa, maybe I should call the Goons? Jigga was easy prey for my favorite rap conglomerate. The problem with being an honorary member is that you don’t have anyone’s actual number so I convinced myself I was a DIP-SPY keeping tabs on old head and I’d report any suspicious activities to Jim Jones’ myspace if necessary.

Wonderwall was the closer, it was Papelbon irish jigging his way to the mound that night. Jay queued up the iPod and a familiar jangle came out of the speakers, he parted the crowd and motioned towards the only “rock niggas” there which happened to be the three scruffy honks that shouldn’t be there. The nostrils were flared, lungs pushing out strained notes with a grin and a battle cry of “ROCK N ROLL NIGGAZZZZZZZ” was unleashed as I stood there, arms draped on my comrades trying to detune my vocal chords so I was out of tune in unison with Jigga as a show of unity.

We split after that because honestly unless Giselle came in and gave me a foot-rub while Tom Brady told me I had a stronger chin than him there was nothing left to do.

As I’ve said before, Jay is a performer now, his records only have a few good songs now but if it’s a vehicle for him to put on spectacles like this I will continue to pay retail for them. The guitar, the head bobbing to Coldplay with Ricky Gervais are ridiculous, semi-embarrassing but ultimately cool somehow and much more interesting that some recycled grumbling from a guy named Noel who can’t write a good song anymore, he can’t even guest on a tune and make it cool.

Roc Boys in the building. Peep it here.

Jay-Z Kills Wonderwall

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In its Friday review of Jay Z and Mary J. Blige’s “Heart of the City” tour reaching the Hollywood Bowl, the LA Times mentioned Hova’s political turn:

Things turned most serious, though, with an image of President Bush on the screen and Jay-Z offering an unaccompanied verse about the plight of Hurricane Katrina victims. He’s spoken out on the issue before, but here he followed it with a photo of Sen. Barack Obama on the screen and an unambiguous endorsement of the Democratic candidate.

“Are you ready for change?” he asked, and the crowd responded with clear if not overwhelming applause. Good news for Obama, perhaps, but the question now might be whether Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton will ask him to repudiate the endorsement because of Jay-Z’s gangsta lyrics.

Perhaps Jigga was returning the favor for Mr. Obama’s tribute to him the day before.  In response to the criticism thrown at him by Hillary Clinton and George Stephanopoulos during the Pennsylvania Democratic debate, Mr. Obama took the high road.  (The crowd’s reaction is great):

I wonder who Noel Gallagher is endorsing for London mayor?  Or is endorsing politicians not considered “guitar rock’n'roll” enough?

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Mary J Blige and Jay Z are playing three shows together at MSG in May and all the radio stations are playing them nonstop and it rules. The original slow jam master duo.

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Finally! Fucking mad fer it!!! The Verve announce NYC dates. Thank God. Now I don’t have to go to Coachella and stand around the desert with a bunch of 17 yr olds from Riverside on E.

“Yeah I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now…”—’Chard ‘Croft at Live 8.
Bowery Presents
WaMu Theater @ Madison Square Garden
Monday 4/28, Tuesday 4/29
DOORS 7PM / SHOW 8PM ALL AGES
$40 - $50 (ED NOTE: Cheap for an act such as Verve)
(PRICE BY SECTION)
ON SALE 03/01 11:00 AM

“Tell me what you see, was it a dream, was I in it?” On Your Own, A Northern Soul, 1995.

Oh, The Verve. Sweet, sweet Verve. Last time they played NY was in 98 at MSG. But they never quite caught on in the US like they did overseas. And I consider them the most underrated band of last decade and a half. They played their last shows in summer 98 at Slane Castle, Ireland, in front of 80,000. They’ve since reformed, and played Britain in December.

For many in Boston circa 98-02, The Verve were a soundtrack to living: sonic providers of transcendent albums that bridged Zep and Britpop with the Stone Roses, soul, and dream pop.

Driving Boston’s Storrow Drive’s riverside curves while listening to The Verve makes the Dropkick’s scenes in The Departed feel chump-ish and white trashy—and I love those scenes. No true man of taste would enter Boston from Chelsea listening to skinhead rock. Rather a Boston gentlemen, circa 98-02, would be cranking “A Storm in Heaven” and thinking about Mass Art girls (and grads), heading to Mod Night w/ DJ Vin in Allston (where the Verve was never played, oddly, because college kids only got into the Who but whatever, save that for another time…)

In 2001 I spotted Richard Ashcroft at an Oasis gig in London—it was a small show—wearing a fur coat and standing on his balcony chair hyping the crowd like a drunken gull. Mad Richard indeed…

When Ashcroft played a solo show in NYC in 2002, he sent a song out to “Jay Z and Biggie Smalls.” Since, every clip I’ve seen of ‘Chard has been whigger-fied. Brits can get away with being faux blacks easier than Americans (the UK never had that whole domestic slavery thing). And I hope Dick Ashcroft brings a gangster ritmo to NYC in April. Or at least wears an all white outfit like he did at Irving Plaza in 97.

(This poster, on silver paper, was up in my dorm in 1997.)

I guess it’s music day again.

“I feel accused just like you of being born without a silver spoon,” This Is Music, A Northern Soul, 1995.

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