This year has been quite a year… Diesel like 90s WWF Denim – needless to say the VMA have been millions of miles away from my spectral proximity: that said, it’s in my blood… no matter how few nominees I know, no matter how irrelevant the proceedings, no matter how cruxed upon pop cultural cannibalism – a festival of juggernauted feasting upon the legends and legacy of old – I will always have an opinion, and the VMA will always have a story and a place in contemporary culture. Though I know a record low number of nominees this year – and hold an even more subterranean affinity, or regard at all, for the nominees of which I do have some cognizance – this year is epic and masterful for so many subtle reasons: the first and last, the alpha and omega of which revolve around this year’s pulse player – The Bajan Queen of Body Parts: Rihanna.
VMA are obviously critical this year though… I’d wager to guess the biggest point is the revisitation of 2007. #neverforget
Wonderful Monday on our hands. Sun is shining and a brand-spanking-new addition to the Pop family has graced us with its bouncing beautiful baby presence.
As I’m still coming to terms with my equally brand new bouncing baby quarterlife crisis (Aside: leave it to Madonna to wait four years to release an album, that upon completing the first full listen, one realizes IT’S BEEN FOUR YEARS. Leaving subsequent questions such as: “What have I done the past four years?” “What has Timbaland done in the past four years?” “We have Healthcare reform, we’re out of Iraq, bin Laden and Gaddafi are no more, and people are looking to Gingrich?!” “What is a Lady GaGa?” “Did I leave the front door open?” All coalescing to the inevitable answer: “I’m old.”) I’ve decided to put together a quick trip down Memory Lane this Monday (no, the other one, after the left at Drury Road – sorted) compliments of MDNA #biologicalpopbuildingblocks
A splash of symphonics, a dose of distilled spirits, twist of turntablism on tap, chilled swelter of the most aurally intoxicating blend… resting forever assured it will satisfy most any fiending trap… Mix me a beat fit for the most keen of tongues, and cultured of eardrums… intoxicate me: i’m a lush #inthelyricalsense
“New York has more alcohol in one establishment, than most cities have on entire blocks…” I live life like the classics… I choose three steps over twelve any day… eat, drink, be merry… I feast on socio-philosophy, I sip on life’s most delicious libations, and music makes this muse the merriest of all… in a city that is The City… in the comsopolitan metropolis that puts other microcosms to shame… Each drummer marches to their own beat, just as each bartender mixes to their own drink…
Tunes on Tap: #avotresantebushebushe
The modern music industry’s Mitochondrial Eve returns with a fervor to prove – once again – that despite all patriarchal restrictions and destruction: she who bears the womb… the forever battlefield, and said burden… is she who is best equipped to commandeer the cultural revolution. Who rev the world? Girls.
The revolution will be feminized. She who betrayed Jesus, she who betrayed Adam, she who bears the weight of said world on her naturally sinful shoulders, in her superseding of submission, will ascend to prominence; born to blossom, bloom to perish, just as man destroyed that which he cannot create, so in the wake of destruction and suspension in social smolder, here woman returns to bear life again… Strong enough to bear the children, then get back to business
Who run the world? Girls. Girls, women, females have the unparalleled capacity to create life. Despite all social constructs, religious constraints, and artificial inferiorities women are able to create something lasting, something outside of themselves, and from their sin comes the succession – well, that, or a dance nation… my persuasion can build a nation #literally
#inanutshell Self-reference and atmospheric concept #letsbeyhonest #independentringonit
I’ve hit the point where Pop music is so good right now – so perfect – that I can’t even make sense of it because it makes too much sense in and of itself #senseless To be fair, that point started swinging as soon as the beast beat beneath Perry’s Dark Teenage Twisted Fantasy dropped, and it officially hit when Rozay held Brit against me; Pop: because I’ll take you everywhere – call me MC Hammer #imaboutscene. GreatEclectic isn’t a moniker, it isn’t a motto, or even a mantra – it is a melodic manifesto: #thus
Two massive tours announcements: Rihanna’s LOUD Tour is bringing Cee Lo along for the ride, and on the other side of Planet Pop, Janelle Monae and Bruno Mars are set to launch their Hooligans in Wondaland Tour; while both shows are undoubtedly about to go a yeah, yeah, yeah so hard… it’s a Cold War, so: grenades – don’t leave home without ’em
A glimpse and what the future holds…
I got an accent – see I’m from The South – but some of the most beautiful things come out my mouth…
Said it before, I’ll say it again #whawhawhawhatdidyousay #yourebreakinuponme in case you’re worried about Pop in 2011: #dontbe
The Grammys, if nothing else, were a top notch Pop production – a beautiful stage show presenting what will be the subsequent year in industry music #whatelseisthere This year was a collaboration of the most notable in recent years – good or bad #thegrammysarenotacheesesandwich – the event brought together a realm of musicians from heavyweights to new bloods and Country crooners to West Coast crypt-walkers… all for the love of Pop #orsomethingtothateffect The performances gave a splendid snapshot of the industry’s landscape, and reflected perfectly the identity of the respective artist on stage – Justin Bieber included… so without further ado, let’s delve into GrammyView
GaGa… oh GaGa #andAGAIN A performance stripped down, stark, and raw as a newborn; explosive, soulful, and synthesized like the new human condition; and with a pure concerted energy to fuel the next era in Pop. #bornthisway: Smoke-and-mirrors stripped – abs ripped #luccarlsdrunkdietworksforshe GaGa: because Pop just got an organ donor… because the misconception is that it was an egg, because the assumption is that – like Post-Reagan urban culture, like premature emergence – crack kills… but this isn’t an egg – it’s an incubator… and in this space the artist and era remain unbreakable.
Bruno Mars, B.o.B., Janelle Monae… miseducated miscreants of the most masterful and musically marvelous kind… #followyourblisstothisfunk
So.. it’s Grammy night – again. Thus…
inanutshell: I’m excited for a surprise this year. While I haven’t been keeping as up-to-speed with all things Grammy-related this year, apparently GaGa is doing something, and if that’s not enough something, she’s doing something in a coffin (incubator… death/birth… monster/madam… #kanyeshrug) so… that’s something – and if nothing else it’s a heads up that yes: something is going to get kilt like a Scotsman. Moving forward… Eminem has many-a-nods this year, as does Katy Perry, the Wayward Baby, Bruno Mars, Mr. Sean, and Lady Antebellum. I mean… it’s the Grammys; so – you already know. No pretense this year – let’s get to predictin’!
Album of the Year
Arcade Fire – The Suburbs
Eminem – Recovery
Lady Antebellum – Need You Now
Lady Gaga – The Fame Monster
Katy Perry – Teenage Dream
BlinkkIt: Eminem released his most authentic album to date since The Marshall Mathers LP, but from a place of noted maturity. He had a massive year with two key Super Bowl spots highlighting the soul and scene of America – Brisk as the creative claymation “this is why I don’t do commercials!” commercial, and Chrysler for the theatric homage to the lost Motor City of Motown. Lady Antebellum brings the down-home mainstream twang that is not to be overlooked in Grammy-town Nashville. The Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs captures the Pitchfork-friendly sonic aesthetic; which, historically, is triumphant in its place as a nominee – not as a victor. Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream … still not settled with this nomination by technical standards, or any standards outside of radio play really… but it’s nice to have that aspirational everygirl Pop presence within the category. Inevitably: Lady GaGa for the win, for the cause – and if nothing else, for the paws. #up
Grammy Noms: the sweetest thing this side of Nana’s cookie jar #popnom. A nibble is all you need, so let’s blinkk the besties #getitgramms
Grammys 2011 Best Dance Recording: because cosmic dancers flow dolo
And then amidst the Age of Ophiuchus… just before the break of dawn… just beneath the disco ball… feet gallivanting just so above the dancefloor… voices calling out ever so viscerally, reaching over and beyond the electronic loop… five neo-disco beatknocked ballerinas found freedom in the music… dancing beyond sanity to a tune only they could hear… recreating the sense of inclusion through isolation…
A, B, Ri, Ri, S, and M… H, I, J, A, K the press P, L, E, A, S, E… I imagine Rihanna’s alphabeat plays along to a tune something like that… it doesn’t rhyme, it has some semblance of reason – but boy if it doesn’t spell out a message loud, clear, and in living color; much of the same can be said for her “S&M” video, the latest from her fifth studio album Loud. … and yes, it has Ms. Melina’s direction all up in the bank with a funny face
‘Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it; Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it… Everihbody comes to Hollywood, they want to fake it ’til the getting’s good… they love the smell of it in Hollywood, how could it hurt you when it feels this good – flash the lights out: this time it’s hot to be bad.
And you thought Usain Bolt ran hard
Call for Chris on line one: they’re saying to hold his applause and duck down, it’s the Roc Nation and Black is lookin’ to clap Brown — apparently the Dynasty runs this town
Watch this space: The Blueprint 3 — that is all