B-Rock vs. McPain

Ever wonder what a breakdance showdown with G.W. Bush, John McCain, and Condoleeza Rice versus Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton would look like? Wonder no more.

For My Birthday Girl

(As a sidenote unrelated to FoxyJ's birthday, this song featuring FOB singer Patrick Stump was supposed to be on the Roots' latest album but when it leaked a couple months ago longtime Roots fans cried "Sell out!" and the band pulled it off the album, except for the iTunes version where it appears as a bonus track. I bought the iTunes version just so I could get the song. Sell out or no, it's a cool song.)

The Miseducation of Estelle?

My musical exploration is generally guided by one principle: the quest to find another Lauryn Hill. Except one who still makes music and isn't, you know, crazy. Apparently, I'm not the only one looking for a new Lauryn.

I came across Estelle a few months ago in my Google News update that sends me news articles that include the words lauryn hill. It's not uncommon for female singers or rappers to be compared to Ms. Hill, as the comparison has become just another way of saying "She's good." What caught my attention in this case was that the person making the connection was Ms. Hill's fellow former Fugee, Wyclef Jean. "I have never worked with a young artist that reminded me so much of Lauryn Hill," he said. And there's good reason for the comparison--the relatively new British artist sings and raps over old school hip-hop, jazz, reggae, and r&b beats similar to the ones that made The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill one of the most commercially and critically successful albums ever.

On Estelle's new album, Shine, technically released tomorrow but available as of about 7:30 PDT tonight on iTunes, Wyclef has produced two tracks. On one of them, "So Much Out the Way," the music varies between a doo-wop beat that easily could have been on Miseducation and a riff of a Bob Marley song that Ms. Hill covered on her MTV Unplugged album, while Estelle smoothly transitions between singing, rapping, and chanting reggae-style. Wyclef seems to be beating us over the head with the comparison, as if to say, "Hey! Look! She can do everything Lauryn can do!"

Does it work? I don't know. It's been rumored that Wyclef is trying to put together a new Fugees-like group with Estelle and singer/rapper Akon, and I have to say that if he did, I'd buy the album, and maybe I'd enjoy it as much as I'm enjoying Shine right now. It wouldn't be the Fugees and Estelle is not Lauryn, but I guess there's room in the world for good musicians who aren't.

Hurray for Impulse Buying!

I just spent $100 on an impulse buy. You would have too, if you were me and you found out that Erykah Badu and the Roots will be performing in Redmond on June 5th and you had the excuse of a pending graduation to buy yourself a present for and you had a wife who enables you in your impulsiveness. I'm excited--this is only my second concert, as far as I can recall. I think this time we'll get a babysitter.

More Important Than Politics

Erykah Badu's new album comes out a week from today. I would like to take this opportunity to remind the people in charge of sending my Amazon.com reward certificates when I earn them with my credit card that I should be getting one any day now and that they should think of the emotional trauma I'd suffer if I weren't to receive it in time to pre-order New Amerykah before Tuesday.

Just think of it!

Barack Obama Endorses the Fobcave

Here's how it happened:

Barack read my post about McCain almost winning me over by being a Lauryn Hill fan and he was all like, "Whoa, I need to do something to win Mr. Fob back, and fast." And he heard that will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas was making this little music video thing for him, so he called up will and he was like, "Dude, you totally need to get Lauryn Hill in that video" but will was like, "Dude, Lauryn Hill is a few tracks short of an album lately, if you know what I mean. Are you sure you want to be connected to her?" and Barack was like, "Ooh, good point. Maybe we could find out who Mr. Fob's second-favorite rapper is?" So will did some asking around, then called up Common and explained the situation and Common was like, "Well, I do like Obama, but I was kind of thinking of swinging over to the Huckabee side... Okay, I guess I'll do it for Mr. Fob."

And you know what? It worked. Who cares about the issues? I'm voting for the guy my favorite performing artists support.

(In case you are Common-illiterate, he's the bald guy with a goatee that shows up about 25 seconds in, then again closer to the end.)

Common Justice

The Hollywood Reporter reports that casting has begun for the new Justice League of America movie. Director George Miller is looking for young actors who can grow into the (super)heroic roles over the course of several movies, so the list of auditioners includes actors from shows like The O.C., Sky High, and Running With Scissors. Oh, and also Common, the rapper. You'd think that the prospect of combining one of my favorite rappers with one of my favorite superhero teams would excite me, but mostly I'm just wondering what role he's auditioning for.

(NOTE: Not an actual photo.)

Forever Found

Barnes and Noble had only one copy of Finding Forever--apparently alternative hip hop isn't a big seller in the University District in Seattle--and it was not the edited version. (I'm generally not a fan of any kind of censorship, but I do have two small children, the elder of whom has been known to sing along to my music. In my defense, this is not a Clean Flix guerrilla censorship thing here; clean versions of most albums with the explicit lyrics label are produced by record companies and if artists have a problem with being edited then they should take a closer look at the fine print of their contracts. [But then I have been known, in cases where there is no officially-produced clean version, to do my own guerrilla censorship, but at least I'm not selling or renting my censored copies.])

So anyway (starting a new paragraph because that was a really long parenthetical), I came home and bought the album on Napster. With Paypal money, which is like real money but not quite the same because it doesn't show up on my bank statement. Regardless, I'm unrepentant.

And Harry Potter is now "In Transit." The Amazon.com reward certificate has yet to show its face.

Just Received

But unfortunately I'm not the implied subject of that verb (or the implied object of the implied preposition "by" following the past participle, if you prefer to read it that way).

A week and a half later, the status of the book-on-CD version of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at Seattle Public Library has finally been changed to "Just Received." Until now it's been "On Order." At least now it should just be a couple days (assuming they rush through processing, as they darn well should, with 480 people waiting) before I get my copy--I'm number 23 on the list and there are 23 copies.

I would have finished the book a week and a half ago, along with the rest of the English-speaking world, if I weren't so cheap--refusing to fork out twenty bucks to buy the book myself--and for that matter, picky. At one point I was number 12 on the SPL waiting list for the print version, but I listened to the first six books and I was determined to listen to the seventh book, so I switched over to the audio version as soon as it was available for placing holds. Little did I know that while the library is quick to process the books and get them on hold shelves the day of release, the same doesn't apply to the book on CD.

Sigh. One of these days I'll be cool.

In related cheapness, I've been holding off on ordering the latest album from my second-favorite* rapper, Common, until I get the Amazon.com reward certificate I'm supposed to be getting from my Amazon.com Visa credit card. The album came out today, though, and I still haven't gotten the reward certificate in the mail, so I think I'm going to commit a Fob family transgression: I'm going to stop at Barnes and Noble on the way home from work, and if they have the CD in stock, I'm going to PAY MONEY(!!!) for it.

Forgive me, Foxy, for I'm about to sin.



*After Lauryn Hill, of course.

Fobclectic

Because it's just like me to be proud of odd things, I am proud of the eclectic nature of my music collection. And because I think you should care, I am now going to prove said eclecticism by telling you about the last eight CDs I've acquired:

Soul: Back to Black by Amy Winehouse has quickly found a spot on my list of ten best albums ever. Winehouse is a British soul singer often compared to Lauryn Hill, but I think a better comparison that is also often made is that she is basically the Billie Holiday of the 21st century. If you have little people who listen to your music with you, as I do, I recommend you buy the clean version of the album.



Reggae: Mind Control by Stephen Marley is Marley's first solo album, but he has been making music for years, most notably last year's Welcome to Jamrock by his half-brother Damian, which Stephen produced. Just like Jamrock, Mind Control is the perfect blend of the classic Marley family reggae sound and modern hip-hop.

Vocal Jazz: Unlike some friends of mine, I am not in love with Michael Buble. I did enjoy his last album, though, so I was curious about his new album when it came out a couple months ago. What convinced me to buy the album was a positive review I read on Okayplayer.com (a progressive hip-hop site, so reviews of white jazz vocalists are not all that common) combined with my curiosity to hear the song in which Buble collaborates with, of all people, Boyz II Men (who knew they were still alive?).

Pop: I've been wanting for a while to get a good Elton John collection. A good one came out this year. I bought it. I like it. The only song I wished were on the collection but isn't is "Levon," which I know only because a mission companion used to belt it in the subways of Madrid. I found the song on a download site and bought it there.

Hip-hop: Another artist I've come across in my never-ending crusade to satisfy a craving for more Lauryn Hill music that Ms. Hill is not likely to fill herself anytime soon is Ms. Dynamite, a British rapper/singer. I got her album off Amazon.com Marketplace for $0.01 (plus shipping) last month, and she's not Lauryn Hill, but she's good. I like her lyrics and her voice--she does this interesting thing where you never know whether she's singing or rapping--but the music itself seems kind of unoriginal to me.

Hawaiian: Another good deal I found on the Marketplace is The Best of the Ka'au Crater Boys. I bought the album because I really wanted their version of Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" and couldn't find it anywhere else--legally or illegally--but I'm glad I bought the whole collection. I was surprised to find so many songs I recognize, not only because these are mostly all Hawaiian-style covers of rock and country classics, but because these are the versions of those songs I grew up listening to. A nice little piece of nostalgia for me, and I imagine you might enjoy it even if you didn't grow up in Hawaii.

Gospel: During the intermission of the Seattle Men's Chorus concert I went to a couple weeks ago I made an impulse purchase. I absolutely love gospel music, see, and there was an album of gospel music called Soul Full featuring the Men's Chorus along with the Northwest Girlchoir, Urban Rhythms, and the Total Experience Gospel Choir. I was disappointed when I got home to realize the album is a live concert recording, as I much prefer studio recordings, but it's grown on me since then. I particularly like the combined choirs' rendition of "We Shall Not Be Moved," as the Civil Rights anthem gains new significance when sung by a gay men's choir.

Christian Rock: The most recent addition to my music library came this evening when a very kind friend gave me Jason Morant's Open, which is my first contemporary Christian rock album. I'm listening to it for the second time now, and really digging it.

Moral of the story: Gifts are always welcome, and I'm enamored of the idea of Mr. Fob the Eclectic enough that you probably can't go wrong with music.

Anticipation

After five years of announcements and rumors like these, I know better than to get excited. Still, though, if her own record label is saying that she's in the studio recording for the new album, it has to come out sooner or later, right?

Scared Faithless

Tonight the Ugly Swan and I caught the bus down to the Seattle Center for a Seattle Men's Chorus concert called "Scared Faithless." It was a beautiful show centered around the theme of (can you guess?) religion and homosexuality. About half the music was psalms, hymns, and gospel music like Randall Thompson's "Alleluia," "God Help the Outcasts" from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Y.M. Barnwell's "Would You Harbor Me?"; while the other half was more political, often satirical songs like "The Fundamental" (in which listeners are encouraged to get up, grab their Bibles, and "do the Fundamental"), "A Hymn to Fred Phelps: God Hates Fags" (in which Mrs. Phelps and a barbershop-style octet ponder whom among fags, dykes, Jews, and Mormons God wants them to hate most), and even a tribute to closeted LDS missionaries called "Sweet Mormon Boy." Woven into the songs were brief narratives from members of the chorus telling of their personal experiences with faith--or lack thereof, as represented by a man who prefers the terms "reasonable" or "rational" to "atheist" or "agnostic" as labels to describe himself. Despite the fun poked at fundamentalism and religion in general, the concert really was not an attack on faith but rather a celebration of faith in all its forms; one of my favorite songs was one in which the lead singer proudly proclaims that he cannot remain in the closet, that God has made him this way and he can no longer deny that he is unchangeably... Catholic.

India

India.Arie makes me happy. She's sort of like Lauryn Hill without the rap thing and without the nine-years-since-her-last-studio-album thing. The former is unfortunate, but the latter is good. I like her voice and the Stevie Wonder-influenced, acoustic guitar-accompanied soul flavor of her music, but most of all I like her lyrics. Which is why now, for your skimming pleasure, I'm going to throw copyright laws out the window and share a few of my favorite pieces of her latest album with you:

from "Private Party"

All my life (all my life)
I've been looking for (I've been looking for)
Somebody else (else)
To make me whole (ooo)
But I had to learn the hard way (ooo)
True love began with me (ooo)
This is not ego or vanity (ooo)
I'm just celebrating me

I'm having a private party
Ain't no body here but me, my angels, and my guitar singin' baby look how far we've come here
I'm havin' a private party
Learning how to love me
Celebrating the woman I've become, yeah


from "There's Hope"

There's hope
It doesn't cost a thing to smile
You don't have to pay to laugh
You better thank God for that


from "I Am Not My Hair"

I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations, no
I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am the soul that lives within


from "I Choose"

I done been through some painful things
I thought that I would never make it through
Filled up with shame from the top of my head to the soles of my shoes
I put myself in so many chaotic circumstances,
but by the grace of God I've been given so many second chances
But today I decided to let it all go
I'm dropping these bags, I'm making room for my joy.

(And I choose) to be the best that I can be
(I choose) to be authentic in everything I do
My past don't dictate who I am
I choose.

Seeing these words without the music to accompany them makes me realize just how cheesy and rose-tinted they are. That's probably why I like them. If you haven't noticed yet that I have a tendency to be rose-tinted and cheesy myself, then you haven't been paying attention.

And that, my friends, is why I don't suck and you don't suck and nobody sucks. Let's all hug.

Genre Identity Confusion

I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid I might be--man, it's painful to even say this out loud, but I have to face the truth. Okay, here goes. I... [deep breath and a paragraph break to gather my courage]

I am...

No.

I think I might have homomusical tendencies.

I've only admitted this recently, though now that I look back I see that it's been going on for a while. See, I've always assumed that I'm normal, that I'm a heteromusical. I am white and I like black music--hip hop, soul, reggae, gospel, even a little jazz here and there. Really, I do. I promise, Lauryn Hill is not just a beard. I was telling the truth when I told you how much I love Michael Franti and Erykah Badu and Damian Marley. I've never even understood how people could be inclined toward music of their own color. It just didn't make sense to me. To be honest, it still kind of grosses me out.

But then there's Alanis. I've had a secret crush on Alanis Morissette for several years now. It doesn't make sense, really. Sure, I've always tolerated white music and I even kind of like a few white artists, like Madonna and U2 and Michael Jackson. But I love Alanis. I put Alanis on even when Foxy J isn't home and I feel no obligation to play non-rap music. I listen to her on my MP3 player and at work. I think of her lyrics when I'm shelf-reading.

It all started innocently enough. I was in high school when "You Oughta Know" came out and they played it everywhere, even on the R&B stations in Hawaii. It was raw and angry and vindictive and passionate in a way that I generally am not but sometimes secretly want to be. Especially when I was in high school. I heard the next few singles as they came out and enjoyed them, but what hooked me was "Uninvited," which hit the radios sometime during my freshman year of college. The pianoline (as opposed to bassline?) in the background is entrancing, as is Alanis's voice. Then about halfway through, the violins and drums and guitars and I-don't-know-what join in and everything gets loud, then quiet again, then louder, and through it all her voice is filled with this raw emotion that I can't get enough of. She sings with this same passion, whether she's singing about falling in love despite herself, bemoaning her failings, or intentionally (or so she claims) misusing the word ironic (isn't it ironic?).

So now I don't know what to do with myself. I still love my Lauryn and my Michael and my Erykah, so obviously I'm heteromusical, but try as I might, I just can't shake myself of this Alanis thing. I know it's wrong, but I can't help it. Am I homomusical? Bimusical?

Please help me--I'm not sure I can survive without an adequate label to define myself.

Validation

My father-in-law says he's going to get Michael Franti & Spearhead's new album. This almost makes up for the fact that editorgirl turned the album off right in the middle of my favorite song when she was here with FOB last week.

Why My Baby Smells Like Pot

Thursday night Foxy and I took S-Boogie and Little Dude to the first of this year's Twilight Concert Series at the Gallivan Center in Salt Lake City. I had learned that Michael Franti and Spearhead would be performing at a free concert in SLC a few months ago and spent the intervening time in drooling anticipation. I discovered Michael Franti a couple years ago when I figured Lauryn Hill was likely not going to release a new album any time soon, so if I wanted to listen to something besides her two albums, I'd have to diversify my interests a bit to include other artists. Spearhead is listed on AllMusic.com as a soundalike for the Fugees because they're both hip-hop groups heavily influenced by reggae, soul, and various other non-rap genres, and also because they both have a reputation for being socially and politically conscious. In the case of Michael Franti and Spearhead, this is a ridiculous understatement. Sporting dreadlocks down to his butt and hemp t-shirts, Michael Franti is the epitome of the 21st-century freel0ving, bleeding heart, anti-war, anti-Bush, pro-choice, anti-death-penalty, pro-gay, all-politicians-are-corrupt, down-with-the-establishment, let's-all-get-high-and-love-everyone hippie musician. Basically, he's a perfect match for me.

The funny thing is that I was first interested in MF&S because they were a hip-hop group, but that's not really true anymore. Over the last twelve years they've progressed from reggae-influenced rap music to reggae-influenced rock with just a touch of rap. Their last album and their current one (coming out on July 25th) hardly have any rap at all. Their music is amazing enough, though, that I forgive them for that mishap. The nice thing about their new rock sound is that it makes them much more palatable for Foxy J, as well as pretty much everyone else I know and subject to my music.

At any rate, the concert: Foxy and I were picturing a pleasant little affair sitting on the grass, listening to music. I suspect the Twilight Concert Series is more often along these lines, but we didn't take into account the demographic of SaltLakians who listen to freeloving hippie rock. The Gallivan Center was packed--meaning that finding a place to put our blanket on the grass, even out of sight of the stage, was tricky. Moving at all, for that matter, was tricky. It was refreshing to be reminded that the whole world does not have the clean-cut cookie-cutter look of the entire population of Utah Valley, but we quickly realized that no matter the group, everyone within it looks the same--it's just that the uniform appearance of the hippie subculture of Salt Lake is different from the uniform appearance of the BYU culture of Provo. The other thing that unified this group and distinguished it from our usual surroundings was the required cup of beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. Of course, a large number of little white sticks emitting some form of smoke had nothing to do with tobacco. Hence the unique smell we all came home with. Probably not the sort of atmosphere I want to expose my children to on a regular basis, but for one fun night it was not bad.

The nice similarity between Mormons and hippies is that neither group has any qualms with bringing small children wherever they go, including outdoor concerts. S-Boogie had a blast, whether playing with other kids, trying to escape from her parents in the crowd, or rocking out on my shoulders, waving her hands in the air and singing along with Michael Franti, "Yell fire! Yo, yo yo yo!" Between the convenient distraction of the ultra-cute toddler on my shoulders and the fact that everyone around me was drunk out of their minds, I didn't feel self-conscious at all about dancing and singing along myself. In short, I had a lot of fun.

The music, of course, was great. Michael Franti is a talented performer--I could tell, even from fifty yards away, that he was enjoying himself, and that energy spread to the crowd. He introduced his bandmates as his friends, and I believe it. Doing concerts and making music is not a way for him to make money--in fact he left a major label several years ago in order to make the music he wanted to--but a chance for him to get together with friends and share. This is why the political messages of his songs, which otherwise might seem trite or contrived, come across so poignantly: he believes every word he says, and he cares about everything he talks about. When he decries war in a song, it's because he's been to Iraq and Israel and seen its effects, and it makes him sick. When he sings that "every single soul is a poem / written on the back of God's hand," it's because that's how he sees people, and how he treats them.

Love of My Life (An Ode to Intellectualism)

Without you baby,
Feels like I sampled true love
But the shit didn't clear.

--Erykah Badu, "Love of My Life (An Ode to Hip-hop)"

I've started reading a book called Why White Kids Love Hip Hop: Wangstas, Wiggers, Wannabes, and the New Reality of Race in America. The author has an interesting premise, which is that white kids who love hip-hop are neither a sign of whites appropriating yet another black artform, nor a sign--as ultra-conservative moron Bill O'Reilly suggests--of the downfall of civilization as we know it, but rather this trend is a sign that the boundaries between race are slowly fading away. Basically he seems to be saying that white kids in Nebraska blasting 50 Cent in their pickups point toward an idyllic future in which we can all hold hands and sing (or rap) "Kumbaya" together across America. Okay, I admit I've only read the Preface, the Introduction, and the first chapter, but that is my impression thus far.

I agree that it's a good thing that race is not necessarily a determinant of what music one can or cannot listen to, particularly being that I am one of those white boys who listens to rap, but I don't see how white people listening to rap is any different from white people listening to rock or jazz or blues. Pretty much any kind of music that has ever been popular in America descended from Africa in some form or another.

This is all sort of beside the point, the point being (as usual) me. I started listening to rap in high school because that's what was cool in Hawaii and particularly among my group of friends and particularlier to my best friend, who determined what I thought was cool, from clothing to sunglasses to music. At the time I listened to mostly what was on the radio: Puff Daddy, Notorious B.I.G., Coolio, Snoop Dogg, and their ilk.

When I came to college I started buying CDs, and naturally I bought CDs from the artists I'd been used to hearing on the radio at home. My roommate, who was big into groups like the Police, U2, They Might Be Giants, and the Aquabats (read: white music) teased me incessantly for my taste in music--or, as he saw it, the lack thereof. This frustrated me to no end. Here I was doing what I'd been taught was cool, and suddenly I was in Utah and it wasn't cool anymore. It was, in fact, not cool. I was torn between shame for being uncool and pride in knowing that I was the only guy on my floor in Deseret Towers who knew what cool really was. I also found it interesting that my roommate and his friends loved the Beastie Boys and even had a sense of nostalgia for Vanilla Ice, but Puff Daddy was an insult to musicianship and MC Hammer was corny (I'd have to agree on that last one). My roommate always found it amusing when I accused him of being racist in his musical taste.

After my mission, when I decided to become an Intellectual--largely because I began to court an Intellectual--I began to feel embarrassed by P. Diddy's unclever rhymes about bling and homeboys and bitches and hoes. I even started to find his formulaic sampling of hits from the eighties, well, formulaic. I still liked the beat of hip-hop and the flow of rap, though, so I decided that rather than abandoning the genre, I'd find some artists within the genre that I could listen to and still feel intellectually and morally superior to the masses (because feeling superior, of course, is the ultimate goal of all Intellectuals). I started with the Fugees, who creatively blend genres in their music and make intelligent and meaningful references to religion and politics in their lyrics. From there I branched out to artists like them--Common, the Roots, Erykah Badu, and their ilk. Having done so, I am now part of a community of like-minded individuals who value the aesthetic and literary properties of alternative hip-hop. There are twenty-three of us in the United States.

Morals of the story:

1. I don't know why I like black music more than white music. I just do. I'm not a wigga or a wangsta or a wannabe and I'm not trying to appropriate black culture or take anything away from them.

2. I'm observing an odd trend in me: I tend to put myself in positions of being a minority within a minority. I'm not satisfied with being gay, for example; I choose to identify myself as a gay man married to a woman. I read young adult literature, but not that popular crap like Harry Potter (which must be crap because it's popular, right?); I only read literary young adult fiction. I listen to hip-hop, but not the hip-hop generally considered cool by kids who listen to hip-hop. No, I'm better than that. In my subconscious mind there are three tiers: normal, cool, and superior. And obviously the smallest sub-minority must be the superior elite, so obviously that is where I need to be. Yes, I realize how silly this makes me.

3. My desire to be superior and my desire to be liked are often at odds with each other. With my roommate and his friends, for example, I really wanted them to like me, to think I was cool, but at the same time I was proud of my difference, my secret knowledge that made me superior. Guess what? Nobody likes people who think they're superior. Especially when their reasons for believing themselves superior are stupid.

4. I have gone to great lengths to be not cool, but superior. This is why I feel the need to explain to people the difference between Talib Kweli and 50 Cent, that the hip-hop I listen to has nothing to do with that gangsta crap. This is also why I get irrationally defensive and pout for two days when you tell me while I have Lauryn Hill playing in my car that all rap seems to have transparent lyrics, nothing deep.

5. Going back to #3, I'd rather be liked. So I'm going to shut up now. I like my music not because it's better than yours or even because it's better than 50 Cent. I like it just because I do. The end.

Block (not blog) Party

Stop whatever you're doing and go see Dave Chappelle's Block Party right now. Seriously, it's a cool movie. Even Foxy J says so, and she's not particularly into (read: obsessed with) the Roots, Common, Erykah Badu, and the Fugees in the way I am. A big chunk of the movie is a hip-hop concert, and a big part of the appeal for me was seeing my favorite artists perform my favorite songs, but the movie is a lot of other things too: it's a comedy show put on by a funny, funny man; it's a story about a bunch of random people from Ohio who got randomly invited to a big party in Brooklyn and had the time of their lives; and it's a taste of a part of Black American culture that is not represented by gangsta rap (read: this film and the music in it have nothing to do with last night's Best Original Song).

I should probably mention that Block Party is rated R for strong language (read: even though Foxy J was pleased that there were not as many F bombs as she feared there would be, there were more than a couple; neither Dave Chappelle nor hip-hop are known for squeaky clean language).

My favorite moments:

• Seeing the faces of Central State University's marching band when they found out they would be going to New York with Dave Chappelle.
• Seeing the marching band perform "Jesus Walks" with Kanye West.
• Seeing Common lead a prayer with the other artists before the show.
• Seeing Dave talk to the scary old hippies who live in the abandoned cathedral next to the block party site. I was impressed throughout the film by what a charismatic people person he is.
• Seeing the Fugees' first performance together in 7 years. This was, of course, the main reason I saw the film. Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, and Pras rapped "Nappy Heads," then Ms. Hill sang a beautiful rendition of "Killing Me Softly" despite the fact that her voice is not quite what it was ten years ago. It makes me a little sad to confirm that the raspiness and the narrower vocal range are not a one-time thing from her 2001 MTV Unplugged performance, but the fact is that when she started with the Fugees she was 18, and now she's a 31-year-old mother of four, so it's natural that her voice will have changed. She's still one of the most powerful singers and most gifted emcees out there (and certainly the only artist who excels to her level at both). She's still Lauryn Hill and to see her performing with the up-close-and-personal feel of a close-up shot on a giant movie screen is Master Fob's dream come true.

Dates I'm Looking Forward To

Feb. 14: Timeless by Sergio Mendes comes out. It's not that I'm a huge fan of Sergio Mendes; in fact, I can't say I ever heard of him before a few weeks ago. But his album is crazy packed with wicked cool guest artists like Erykah Badu, Jill Scott, John Legend, the Black Eyed Peas, Chali 2na of Jurassic 5, and Black Thought of the Roots. And I really like the idea of mixing samba with hip-hop and soul. And I'm in love with "Yes, Yes, Y'all."

Mar. 3: Dave Chappelle's Block Party hits theaters. This is a documentary of Chappelle's secret party held in November of 2004, made by Michel Gondry and featuring the Roots, Erykah, Jill, Kanye, Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Common, and the Fugees. This was the first time in eight years the Fugees had been together. If you know me then you know that's reason enough for me to be in line at the ticket booth, even if the film didn't feature seven other favorite artists of mine, plus Dave Chappelle, who's a funny guy.

Mar. 14: Soundtrack to above hits stores.

Sometime this year: The Fugees, who have just finished their European reunion tour and have been performing together for Verizon- and Grammys- and Superbowl-related shows, will put out a new album, a decade after The Score. Hopefully sooner than later.


Oh, and I guess I'm also excited about starting school again in September (assuming I get accepted somewhere) and the birth of my second child in June or something.

Pointless

On Wednesday my students are going to be learning about meeting reader expectations--structuring their papers so that one thing logically leads to the next, so as to not confuse readers. Editorgirl, who, as per Lunkwill's advice, I love unconditionally and not because of her wonderfulness, and whose name I simply cannot uncapitalize at the beginning of a sentence, passed on a wonderful idea that she used when teaching a similar concept to her English 115 students. The idea is that you do something completely random--she played a movie clip, I believe--and then go on with your lesson without explaining. You finish your lesson, say goodbye, and let your students wonder for two days if you are insane or if you were just trying to kill time. Then, the next class period, you ask them why they think you did that random thing. They talk about it, express confusion, and that's when you reveal that you were making a point: if you throw something in your paper without explaining it or tying it into something, you're confusing your reader.

So today I stopped in the middle of my lesson, played "The Last Trumpet" by Lyrics Born and Lateef the Truthspeaker, then continued with the lesson. While the song played I stapled some papers to hand back. I couldn't look at the students' faces. I fought the urge to giggle, could hardly hold the stapler still. Here's the problem: I am a being of order. Logic holds my world together. Random acts of insanity simply are not me. And now I suspect my students think I'm weird. Weirder even than they usually think I am. And it drives me crazy to let them go on thinking that until Wednesday. And what about the students who don't come on Wednesday? They will go to their graves thinking that I'm some disordered guy who randomly plays new age political rap songs in the middle of class for no good reason. They will point at me on Judgment Day and hold me responsible for their lives spiraling into chaos.

And I will point to editorgirl.