Tell Me About Your First Time Getting Laid

            My passion has always been music. I was always the kid wearing headphones in inappropriate places. In high school I would cut into the pockets of my sweatshirts so I could weave my headphones through the holes and into my ears, throw my hood over my head then listen as the unsuspecting teacher went on with their lesson plan.

       While the other teenagers were dating and fondling each other, I was at home with my newest “AFI” or “No Use or a Name” album. I never successfully conquered a musical instrument, but I’ve always known that I want the theme of music to punctuate my life plans.

         Recently I found my self in a post-graduation funk. The thoughts and intentions were there, but motivation lagged far behind. I’ve always told myself that even if I don’t know exactly what direction I want to go, I gotta just keep putting one foot in front of the other; walking blind is going to get me further than not walking at all. So after two months I found some motivation – enough to get me to start writing again, while also granting me the right to not get so damn down on myself if I don’t write for a day or two. I’ve been opinion writing, more about concepts and commonly misunderstood knowledge, than music. And while I think this is far more productive than doing nothing at all, I do need to get on with it; move on from this creative middle ground.

So, I need to get back onboard with blog writing again. Even if I’m not going to be published in a paper or magazine, I need to write like I’m going to. My lack of ideas tends to keep me from accomplishing anything, but I was reluctant to let that happen again. So a few weeks back into writing again, I’m pretty sure I know somewhere to officially start. It will take work, maybe a little embarrassment and some brain power, but I need to accomplish my goals.

            I would like to stay local with my writing. I think if I can write about topics that people can relate to, I’ll have the most success. If I do this on a local scale, locals will be able to relate to the stories about people from this area. I’m going to interview local musicians, and possibly artists in general. My hold up on this idea has always been the angle I’m going to take in these interviews. I don’t want to ask basic questions, “Where did you come up with the band name?” “What made you get started in the music industry?... etc. Today I decided I want to ask interviewees questions about their “firsts.” What was you’re your first show like? Firstdance? First time having sex? Concert? I’m excited.

Nuthin But a G Thang Baby

Hip hop in its self isn’t just a type of music; it’s a culture, a way of life if you will. When I was a kid I would shit talk on rap music like I actually had valid opinions…I didn’t.              First off, rap music and hip-hop are not one in the same. Hip-hop stemmed from the deindustrialization of the late 70’s. No money in the projects, kids found ways to have fun and even though they didn’t know it at the time, they started a revolution. The Puerto Ricans and black inner city youth of the South Bronx and Harlem gave way to a new wave of art, creation and controversy.  My reality dictates that rap music is synonymous with uber masculine personalities and some sort of “I gotta prove myself” mentality. And when I was young, I picked up on these underlying themes, and it turned me off. It made me feel uneasy… Somehow, even when I was a kid in 6th grade with my Rage against the Machine backpack patch, I understood the difference between for profit entertainment and art. I always searched out the art within music.  I’ve been called a hipster and been asked why I can’t just stop complaining about the incessant loop of music played on the radio. I’ve always found my life lessons through music…through hip-hop.  I had this idea that rap and this abstract view of what I thought hip-hop was, was the reality. I gave it a good ol once over, thought I was an exemplary critic on the art of rap music. I was 12… and my reference point was the blinged-out thugs on MTV, rocking gold chains, surrounded by a flock of scantly-clad, tits with heads. There was no respect. None.              Women are objects that dance on the laps of rap-gods. They are property to be oogled and fondled. Even back in the early nineties, before women outwardly exposed themselves on TV, women were objectified. Remember Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre’s hit, “Nuthin’ but a G thang?” That poor girl. You know which one I’m talking about, the one who walks right into being sprayed with shaken up malt liquor. Whne i was young, rap music presonified the objectification of women and glamorized drug use... so not cool. When I realized it could encompass so much more, I was changed, like literally...as a person.

the original inventor of originality

When a musically inclined new-comer emerges onto the scene, it can be hard to find any respect for them (beyond mild amusement) when they become popular from a cover song. If the song was good enough to re-create, why would that artist ever think they could make it better? And how would they be able to establish themselves as a respectable musician if they became popularized by something that was already popular in the first place. Take Six Pence None the Richer’s version of “Kiss Me” which took them to number 607 on the Billboard charts. But were they ever heard from again? Or what about Orgy’s 1999 hit, “Blue Monday?” it’s catchy, but mostly because it was already made popular in 1984 as a dance hit. Again, after the song fell off of the charts, did we ever see them re-claim the top-notch on the charts? Nope.

Cover-songs can be good when an already-established artist, takes a good song and alters the feeling of it; doesn’t just copy the song for brownie points, but explores other possible meanings by employing a few minor changes. Take Annie Lenox’s “Sweet Dreams,” the original song comes off as a light-hearted social commentary, where Marilyn Manson seems to use the inflections in his voice to change track from a borderline pop song to a ready-made theme for a horror movie.

Veterans to the music scene don’t fall off don’t fall off the face of the planet after they cover a song because they tend towards employing their own personal creativity. They don’t rely on riding the coattails of artists that came before them.

Artist, Tim Dung, more commonly known by his Pseudonym, Girl Talk is an exception to this “new-comers can’t successfully recreate songs” rule. He, like Marilyn Manson brings his own manic, yet cohesive flare to any song he re-creates. In lieu of physically creating a new version of an entire song, he smashes up 10-20 individual songs to develop one new, epic song. He then sews 12-14 of those songs together seamlessly to create your own personal dance party themed album.

Girl Talk’s 2008 album, “Feed the Animals” goes beyond re-creation for the sake of fame and even surpasses being merely an amusing dance track. By exploring the effects of combing instrumentals of deeply personal and emotion provoking songs with the lyrics of frivolous pop-song lyrics, Girl Talk finds his own niche.

The 4^th track on “Feed the Animals” combines the angsty fast-paced guitar of Metallica’s “One” with the lyrics from Lil’ Mama’s “Lip Gloss.” This dynamic melds the adolescent appeal of makeup and physical attraction with the hard-hitting, borderline depressing feeling of Metallica’s instrumentals. These paralleling attributes shed light on the normal human condition. He creates and lives in an environment that seems to acknowledge and welcome anyone that’s willing to listen.

Throughout his discography Girl Talk uses 1000’s of clips from 100’s of different artists ranging from Ludacris to Senead O’Connor and Kelly Clarkson to Radiohead. His albums cover artists that not only span genres but also decades.

There is no other artists that can successfully combine the Beatles, “Come Together” with KRS One’s “Sound of da Police” and make it appealing to listeners who aren’t necessarily fond of one song or the other.

Girl Talk brings the art back into music, even though he isn’t the one playing the instruments. In concert Girl Talk is essentially just a man and a computer, no live band. His outright unparalleled originality more than makes up for his lack of actual instrument playing.

Girl Talk also finds a successful way to re-introduce influential artists from previous generations by mixing them with current chart toppers. In turn the younger generations gets a dose of The Pixies with their 50 cent or some Elton John laced into their Wham. He gives credibility to music that this generation merely regards as what their parents listen to. The final product seems to conclude that we can’t forget or try to force out the past. Good music is good music, regardless of what generation or genre it stems from and Girl Talk never looses sight of this.

Girl Talk is the pioneer of a much needed musical evolution. He gives a positive spin to the downfall of pop music, and  does so in a way that is rarely attempted and almost never done successfully.

           

"Climb Trees, Go out on a Limb"

Up until my early days of high school I believed that hip-hop was a motley assortment of foul language, misogyny and drug references by the less than talented misfits of our dwindling artistically inclined culture. “Personal Journals,” by Sage Francis made me realize my ignorance towards hip-hop and rap music.

To judge hip-hop by solely focusing on the likes of Lil’ Wayne and 50 cent is like judging punk music by referencing your experience with Good Charlotte or determining what constitutes good country music when your only frame of reference is Carrie Underwood. They don’t represent the origins of the music, but more exploit the popularized aspects of each genre.

Hip-hop didn’t start as a way to brag about money or to delegitimize the importance of women. It started as a way for a subverted culture to come together and share their interest and love for art and movement. Sage Francis re-introduces this aesthetic and finds his own footing in the vast garbage pile of all too common, ready-made music.

The importance of family and the idea that we have to take care of our own is present through the entirety of the album but rears its head most noticeably through the song, “Inherited Scars.” The song is a tribute to his younger sister who turns to self-mutilation as a cathartic experience. “If there’s a vacancy as far as room in your life goes, say it to me but don’t do it with a knife under your clothes.” The depth of his concern for his sister’s addiction to harming herself is paralled by the guilt he feels surrounding the idea of their deadbeat, less than available father. He wants to be the go-to male figure in her life but often times finds himself falling short of his own expectations, “My feeble attempt at being a strong big brother doing father figure 8’s,” just scratches the surface of his overwhelming concern for one of the people that means so much to him.

Hip-hop isn’t female friendly music unless you’re down to shake your ass and be an object rather than a real person, right? I had this idea about hip-hop until I was introduced to Sage Francis. His song, “Broken Wings” is devoted to highlighting the endless talent of a particular woman who is constantly regarded as an object, not an actual capable and gifted woman. “I’d like to see her take flight into the stars, instead of letting her fly free they keep her in jars.” It’s a pretty daring task for a hip-hop artist to shed his uber masculinity in order to humanize a woman. He doesn’t see her as a less than capablefemale, but a talented  person who has been beaten down by the men around her. He comments on why this particular woman isn’t treated as an equal, “It isn’t hard to see why they keep her captive, she’s naturally attractive, speaks with adlibs, she’s uncommonly talented.” This comes off as more of a personal commentary towards the roles of women in general, not just the woman he wrote the song about.

Another aspect of typical hip-hop music missing from “Personal Journals” and the entirety of the Sage Francis’ discography is the emphasis on drugs and alcohol. Sage puts himself out on the line when admitting that he doesn’t drink any alcohol, ever, nor does he use drugs which are staples of popularized culture. “I had no dead homes to honor while pouring out the liquor I don’t drink, you can flash your shiny objects in front of my eyes and I won’t blink.” This comes off as a satirical response to the frivolities of popularized hip-hop music. He states pretty boldly that he won’t conform to the standards set out for him; he’s going to pave his own path and avoid distractions. He also poses the idea to his audience that you can only get as far in life as you expect from yourself, “If you’re a poor man’s version of anything it’s your self-perception.”

Not everyone cares all that much about what is infiltrating the air waves and burrowing its way into the skulls of the masses.  It’s really not a widely accepted idea that the media surrounding us does have actual direct implications on our culture and how we assimilate into the world surrounding us. Until women are regarded as more than objects by our pop-icon idols they’ll continue to be treated accordingly. When hip-hop artists on TV start focusing on the importance of self-worth and not their cars and excessive amount of “bling” our culture is infinitely more likely to follow suit.

Media shapes our ideas of reality. To think that art imitates life is way off. Life tends towards following the trends of our successful entertainers in attempt to emulate them. Artists like Sage Francis infuse their music with life lessons and personality in the hopes that maybe it will rub off on a few people and in turn maybe even slightly change the perspective of our culture.

Our Culture is Missing Something

Never has an album continuously made my spine tingle like Arcade Fire’s, “Funeral.” Maybe it’s the nostalgia derived from the individual songs that gets me. Maybe it’s lead singer/songwriter, Win Butler’s subtle, yet perfectly arranged lyrics that give way to encompassing feelings I didn’t even know there were words for.

There are too many aspects of this album that give it permission to be labeled one of the all time greats of the 2000s to quantify. Arcade Fire somehow successfully combines electronic, disco and folk influences within one album to arrive at one beautifully composed record that continuously touches on the theme of an unspecified neighborhood and the value of personal reflection.

The album acts as social commentary, poking at our culture’s inability to take advantage of what lies right in front of us. What the icons of our day are missing is the ability to sell an idea without having to be so blatant about it. Popular music has become an art (or lack thereof) for entertainers who don’t aim to explore their own emotions beyond what’s right on the surface. Where pop-music acts a way for artists to put their feelings, however shallow they may be, out there, Arcade Fire turns the tables and puts the listeners own personal insight on the front burner.

The depth of the album’s impact is measured by how much the audience is able to take away from what they’ve heard. The most widely known Arcade Fire song, “Rebellion (Lies),” featured in the television show “Six Feet Under” and Bono’s “Project Red” campaign, poses the idea that ignorance, especially on a personal-insight level is unconsciously saying that you’re done trying to grow into a better person.

“Sleeping in is giving in, no matter what the time is, sleeping in is giving in, so lift those heavy eyelids.” The song engages the idea that people attempt to relocate their obstacles to an out-of-mind place, and in turn inadvertently asks the audience to determine what the potential future holds when living so independently from personal responsibilities.

“People try and hide the night underneath the covers, people try and hide the light underneath the covers.” The goal through the song “Rebellion (Lies) doesn’t seem to be to push the audience towards any particular action or goal, but rather towards their own personal realizations and recognition of who they really are.

Even when Arcade Fire turns their focus towards personal realizations and discovery, the album doesn’t switch gears towards melancholy. Butler lives inside of his emotions. Through the lyrics the audience becomes mindful that his own desperation isn’t fleeting. The prevalent theme of the song, “Crown of Love” is knowledge of self, even in the most desperate times. The honesty that’s derived from his personal insights gives tangibility to heartache without having to be expressed in Layman’s terms.

“They say it fades if you let it. Love was made to forget it. I carved your name across my eyelids, you prayed for rain, I prayed for blindness.” Beyond being perfectly phrased to give insight into love-induced desperation, it’s also simply eloquent.

Honest emotion isn’t something most people are seeking when they flip on the radio. As a culture, the prevalence of emotion in music may be accepted with a bit of cynicism amongst newcomers to this cathartic type of music. Where the term, “emo” used to derive meaning from emotionally charged content, it turned towards encompassing whiny, adolescent, ready-made music. The idea of sitting through an entire album that subtly begs it’s audience to look inward without coming off as borderline manic depressive is a mere pipe-dream for the pop-icon martyrs of our day. Arcade Fire almost effortlessly entangles their music with emotion, but avoids coming off overly dramatic.

 

Mind Control

There’s a huge gap between what constitutes art vs. entertainment. They really don’t even go hand-in-hand anymore.  Artistry is derived from creativity and a thorough understanding surrounding the usage of a particular medium. Art has the capabilities of transcending generations by inciting change or introducing a new style or idea created through personal revelations and experience.

Many aspects of pop culture seem to parallel the parameters of art. So well actually, that our culture, for the most part, thinks they encompass the same things. Pop music closely resembles legitimate art, but only by carefully picking apart the aspects of influential art, then utilizing the parts that seem to garner the highest monetary response in the consumers. What comes is music that incorporates some artistic qualities, but in turn completely loses its own creativity.

Producers of popular music follow trends. They find out what incites consumers to buy, and then they apply their findings to creating an album that will potentially sell millions. They find borderline (at best) talented potential pop icons then alter their personas to create an ideal image. Uglies and fatties need not apply. They then are paired with repetitious music that takes some of the qualities of actual artistically inclined music, but they alter those qualities beyond recognition to serve the purpose of selling more albums.

So now, that catchy, fast paced drum beat that say, Radiohead concocted, is now used throughout the entirety of a whole pop-album. It was proven that particular beat stuck in the minds of those who listened to it. So now they’ve not only taken a major original contribution to music and basterdized it by straining and hoarding the catchiest parts, but in turn have also completely lost any residual clout by voiding their own music of any originality.

On the surface this garbage is entertaining. When it gets stuck in the collective heads of an entire audience, it becomes familiar. When something is familiar, the audience is more likely to gravitate towards it. The multi-billion dollar industries that make and promote pop-music are not ignorant to this, they pioneered it. And they’re selling it and making billions. And we’re buying it.

Our culture participates in passive listening. Often times we can’t admit that this music does make a significant impact on us because we aren’t consciously aware of it. These songs sung by “the beautiful people” make the audience question their own physical appearances because they don’t match up with what they see on TV. These songs also tend towards sub-human levels of intelligence. How many songs can possibly be produced revolving around hittin’ the clubs or teenage quazi-love songs? These prevalent themes reiterate to their audience that these things hold actual importance, which they absolutely do not.

How many pop songs are devoted to say, expressing the satisfaction of hard work or pushing listeners towards personal mental expansion? Not many.

God loves you, even if you're ugly

As a teen I was in a continuous routine of break-up then get back together with my then boyfriend of almost four years. The childish mess of a relationship that I recognize today totally seemed worth the habitual screaming fights and long bouts of sobbing with my head against the bathroom floor. Ridiculous? Yes.

However this introduction into the world of relationships was an absolutely integral building block for the rest of my relationships to follow. The hardest part of this time in my life was how isolated I felt in my grief, especially when the relationship finally ended. I really didn’t have words to describe the heartbreak I thought I was going through.

Then, in comes my introduction to the ingenious, yet heartfelt hip-hop duo, “Atmosphere,” consisting of lyricist, Slug (Sean Dailey) and beat-smith/producer, Ant (Anthony Davis.) With a little help from a well-versed underground hip-hop fan, I got my hands on their album “God Loves Ugly” released in 2002. The album as a whole disregarded most of the expectations I had for hip-hop music at the time. But the one song that stood out, almost begged me to listen and relate to it was their ever-popular and equally loathed, “Fuck You Lucy.” Standing as the fourth song on the album it doesn’t appear to be the intentional highlight.

 Now, this was content that I wouldn’t have ever found somewhere on the radio back in 2005. The lyrics didn’t hone in on the extremities of the actual content, but dove right into the heart of it. Even six years after I first purchased this album and with the residual longings of relationships past, long gone, it still channels that original organic emotion it first delivered. But don’t get me wrong, the exactness and depth of the content is unexpectedly refreshing.

“Fuck you Lucy for leaving me, Fuck you Lucy for not needin’ me. I wanna say fuck you , because I still love you.  No, I'm not OK, and I don't know what to do.” Slug puts himself out on the line as completely vulnerable and as having no control over the situation; not exactly what the average listener would expect to find on a hip-hop album. And if you’re a listener of Atmosphere’s discography, you’ll find Lucy Ford and her emotional path of destruction all over Slug’s lyrics.

Slug is a story-teller; he captures the fact-based personal struggle aspects of life, similarly to old-school fables. In doing this, he tends towards representing a more accessible type of artistic figure. His rhymes are about every day, relatable life situations and personal struggles. When the frivolities of modern, popular hip-hop are stripped away and the talentless drones clad in parachute sized pants and “tall-tees” are replaced with a group having 22 years of experience under their belts, the idea of hip-hop takes on an entirely original meaning.

Now, I’m completely aware that, for the most part most subject matter is not completely imaginative. It’s the mark of a true artist when they can suddenly give new meaning and put precisely the appropriate words to a specific emotion. Like fellow independent hip-hop artist Aesop Rocks says in his song, “Face Melter,”  “I find that interesting style can often out-weigh the subject.” This rings extremely true throughout the entirety of “God Loves Ugly.”

Track 15, “Modern Man’s Hustle” is a beautiful, true-to-life love song. Really, it’s not optimistic, it doesn’t border on dreary; it’s just kind of a ballad exploring the parameters of a modern relationship. It captures the honesty and loyalty one could hopefully expect.

“I said Ill make you smile for the simple fact I’m good at it I’ll make you smile just so I can sit and look at it.” It’s not a man’s play-by-play of his history of hook-ups. He really brings life to the minor details that are so often over-looked.

Ant is the mastermind behind the beats and production. Without his blatantly recognizable 80s infused, often funky and always original production, Atmosphere would not have the following that they do. The two mesh their own understandings of hip-hop and infuse it with their combined mid-west Minneapolis mind-frame. The emotion of Ant’s work continuously melds with the progression of Slug’s lyrics. The entirety of their music captures a complete mood not just one specific element.

Atmosphere represents a style of music that carries the potential of influencing culture towards a more practical mentality. They advocate for loving life, no matter what path you’re on, and staying out of business that’s not your own. Slug and Ant, 22 years after they started this project still have a ridiculously large following in every city and continue to preach positive ideals. “God Loves Ugly” made me realize relationships do not make or break us as people.

Check out "Fuck You Lucy" here