Archive for the ‘Jig Lit Review’ Category

Nah’Right = DEFinitely Right…

Wednesday, November 5th, 2008

nah right

Make no mistake I consider eskay and n8tion from Nah’Right my close friends. In internetspeak that means we e-mail each other and G-chat occasionally. Nah’Right is also the site that this website along with the other associated online projects I have worked on owes a debt to their popularity and interweb prestige (read: No money yet, but tons of impressions). When my homey at UnKut threw me the link to Brandon Soderberg’s blog No Trivia where he threw Nah’Right under the bus I almost laughed out loud. To keep from crying of course.

Brandon Soderberg is definitely one of the writers that will be the Ira Gitler, Ralph Featherman and Nat Hentoff (I would add the Stanley Crouch but we all know that is just ridiculous) of the cRap music genre. I won’t say Hip-Hop genre since there isn’t a strong connection to the comprehensive Hip-Hop movement in relation to fashion, dance, art, religion, commerce and society on the No Trivia blog, but that fact isn’t here nor there in twenty years when no one else knows the difference and I am surely deceased. So this makes me wonder why a future professor like Brandon has the need to take shots at the throne. Any boom bap dinosaur aficionado could tell you, “kings lose crowns, but teachers stay intelligent.”

Brandon lost points in my book with his later comments to Abe Beame in the subsequent thread. That was unnecessary and damaging to several people, including Brandon himself, who should get a timeout penalty from G-chatting with people until the appropriate time is served. I should further include that I feel a little ways towards Brandon since I sent him some shit in the mail and he hasn’t acknowledged receipt. Don’t get my words or emotions twisted though I do not like the animosity shown towards Nah’Right because if there is any blog site that has made Hip-Hop vis e vis cRap music still enjoyable to me it is to their credit first. ByronCrawford and Crunktastical stand up as well.

I pride myself on the fact that the comment threads here have always had a level of respect and discourse for the content and commenters that you won’t find on all forums. At the end of the day the online community is a relatively small portion of all the people on this planet. We would like to think that we are the majority of thinkers and actors in the population but this just isn’t the case. If we can’t be mindful and respectful of one another who will we bring with us on the spaceship? I salute Nah’Right for being able to be one of the respected voices of the Hip-Hop movement when it matters most. Brandon will have the rest of his life to cash in off rap music when he and the other haters write their encyclopedia.


“Talking silly words on the mic is still irrelevant.
Especially when you’re not college material,
Wake up every morning to your Lucky Charms cereal.”

HEART & SOUL Exhibition And Book Launch…

Thursday, October 16th, 2008

younity

Younity presents

HEART & SOUL Exhibition and Book Launch
featuring 60 avant garde female artisits

Friday 10.17.08
ALPHABETA
70 Greenpoint Ave
(Gtrain to Greenpoint Ave)
8-10pm

RSVP to rsvp@theyounity.com

younity

More Swagger Than Mick Jagger, But Regretfully Less Than Jimmy Swaggart…

Saturday, October 11th, 2008

swaggart

But y’all don’t hear BILLY X SUNDAY tho’.

Sometimes I have to talk retard to y’all so that you can understand what the fuck I am talking about. I told y’all that it was way harder to release a studio album than it is a mixtape. This is why Jadakiss is the king of mixtapes along with Wang and Fisty. I’m glad that some of y’all realize this shit now.

Today’s drop however is about swagger. It’s overused, but not proportionately overstood. What the fuck is swagger? Let’s see if we can clearly define it so that generations to come will appreciate just how valuable it is to have swagger. It shouldn’t be a situation where swaggers value can be altered like the stock market. Swagger must have a constant value. But to get the value you first have to know the formula (shout to Buckshot back on his feet)

Sw = 3+x(y)

If a rapper has swagger then he/she should be releasing slang into the culture that is adopted as the paradigm for expressing that idea. Wu-Tang brought the phrase ‘iced out’ into the lexicon. B.G. gave the world ‘Bling’. That is swagger when motherfuckers put your shit in a dictionary. I don’t consider a rapper’s fashion to be swagger because all these niggas have a fucking t-shirt company. Rappers never dressed me. I dress myself.

The only thing that matters for swagger is whether or not you got rhymes. I’m not talking about being lyrical either. I’m just talking about walking down the street and hearing people do your song or talk your talk. A nigga like E-40 gots hell’a swagger. Some niggas got swagger for the wrong reason though. Jay-Z got everyone thinking that a blueprint is the most official shit ever. Ha! A blueprint is like a Xerox copy you dumb motherfuckers. Yes, a blueprint holds information, but why not fuck with the original? I always miss some lines or measurements on a blueprint.

I wish niggas would stop crediting T-Pain for jacking Stevie Wonder’s robot voice swagger. That is my problem with swagger. Fools don’t know who to give the proper swag credit to. People might say that Lil’ Wang swagjacked the phrase ‘Ya Deeeg?’ from DipSet, but Cam and them copped that from Jimmy Walker. I will send five PayPal dollars to the person that pulls down the first rap song with the word swagger in a verse.

Fuck it, ten, ten PayPal dollars. Hahahaaaaa.
*uses The Count voice from Sesame Street*

Or you could go the route that has the word swagger buried for all eternity. I would comfortably return to using F.R.E.S.H. if I had to. Just don’t fuck with hardbody. That’s my shit.

ATLANTA BLOGGER OBAMA…

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

atl

ATL get in where you fit in.

FREE DRINKS (obama) + FREE FOOD.

Contact: moses.davis@wmg.com / yancey.richardson@atlanticrecords.com

What Is It? A Doodoo Blizzard!

Friday, September 19th, 2008

questo

First off, let me give a shout to MARC SMOOTH, STONE and HERBERT HOLLER from the Freedom Fridays camp. These brothers hold me down all the time. Yesterday was MARC’s birthday party at this new little spot on Spring Street between Crosby and Lafayette. I figured I could kill two birthdays with one drink by inviting GabeRockka to hang with me. Too bad I gave him the wrong address.

Anyhoo.

MARC SMOOTH did it up in style with a bellydancer, a magician and a trumpeter walking around through the party. And of course some of NYC’s best talent in the highest of heels. The passed hors d’ovaries were top shelf too. Crab cakes, grilled beef, sushi. Gotdamn if your boy never encountered some free food that he didn’t eat. Too bad for me that the free food fell on top of the garbage that I had bought a few hours earlier.

I fell off the wagon party people. I went to McDonald’s for the first time in prA’li 6 weeks. To tell you the truth I have been feeling quite good also. My out of home meals have been at Au Bon Pain lately. There’s a construction project in Manhattan that I am working on now that the Brooklyn Children’s Museum is open to the public and the Au Bon Pain is across the street. Shit is mad expensive up in that piece but I mitigate that by stealing their pastries and their delicious peach iced tea.

I didn’t have lunch yesterday because I had to run back to my base office to pick up my paycheck. Daddy has some bills to pay like it was yesterday. After leaving my office and depositing my check in the bank I decided to stop into McD’s real quick. Looking at the cash in my hand I opted for an Angus Deluxe sandwich and the sweet tea crack. Note to all Angus Deluxe fans… I have them replace the Angus bun with a smaller Quarter Pounder bun. The sandwich just tastes better with less bread. Since I got the last lemon for my sweet tea crack I asked the lady to pour the lemon juice from the container in my cup. Guess who stays winning?

And guess sho stays losing? I was at the second party of the evening when the passed hors d’ouerves encountered the Angus burger in my stomach. This was on some street gang shit where the kobi beef and the sushi ganged up on the McD’s like fucking ninjas. The crab cakes kept it hardbody by kicking the Angus burger in the head when it was down. I looked around the room and realized that I couldn’t smurder the bathroom at this party. It was inside the office of this ad agency and the mens and womens bathrooms were both single fixture closets in the middle of the space. The beatdown that was taking place inside of my stomach was going to leave the foulest of stenchs which would definitely 86 my name from any future invites.

I ran out of the party onto Grand Street in SoHo. It was a typical night in SoHo where all the rich asshats were crowding various pubs and bars standing around holding their beer bottles happy in the fact that they live in Manhattan yet still cognizant in the back reaches of their minds that they were douches. I know this when I look into their eyes and they look away. Maybe it was because I had the crazy eyes “I need to take a shit” look on my face. Whatever. I needed to take a shit.

Option numero 1 bitches and the SoHo Grand hotel was only around the corner. That was when things got dicey. I wasn’t going to make it that far. The dead Angus burger carcass was being expelled from my bowels like some chump forced to walk the plank. There would be no dignity in this dump. I walked into the classic downtown bar Lucky Strike that I had frequented so often back in the early 90’s to peddle grams of that Dwight Gooden white pudding. How ironic is it that I come to this bathroom now for my sphincter’s salvation? GOD is still the greatest comedian. The toilet stall is so tight that you might as well deuce while standing. I squeezed myself in just in the nick of time before the explosion.

I thought I was going to be given a reprieve after that emergency deuce, but to play things safe I headed back home to Freeport. I’m staying out on Long Island again because it made no sense to pay a mortgage and maintenance charges for a place I used as a sneaker warehouse. On the train ride home it happened again. It seems that the passed food was now beefing (literally and figuratively) with each other. The grilled beef must have stepped on the sushi’s tennis shoes. It was on once again. I barely had time to get to my apartment. All this shit had me dehydrated as fuck. I laid my head to bed hopeful that the morning would bring relief.

Here I am on my way to work and what awoke me was the burning sensation in my intestines that there was still something left to be dealt with. The sushi ended up being the final victor because that wasabi that I liberally spread on the California roll was burning a hole in my backside. I was bested by the hors d’oerves yet again. Today I will do the sensible thing and have a soup at Au Bon Pain along with a free lemon pastry and peach iced tea.