Must-See: Beats, Rhymes & Life

I've never been to the movies by myself before. This weekend I came damn close, when no one seemed that interested in seeing Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of a Tribe Called Quest with me. Yes, that's how much I wanted to see it that my compulsively social self was ready to buy a ticket and walk straight in - alone (gasp!). Eventually my kind sister took me, secured with a promise that I would return the favor and see Harry Pottah with her. The things I am willing to do for the love of a good movie.

I was late on the BR&L train; I only learned about it right around when there was some drama bubbling up over the relationship between A Tribe Called Quest, specifically Q-Tip and director Michael Rapaport. Without seeing the movie, I was quick to side against Rapaport because something about him bugs (yes, I dismiss people out of hand like that). It's probably the fact that he makes faces like this:

Going into the movie, you'd think it's going to be a light trip down memory lane. A reminder of the days when it was ok, in fact advisable, to wear baggy jean overalls in public (one strap undone, obviously). And you do get to relive a few memories- the rush of pushing RECORD-PLAY together to grab a song off the radio, or the feel of your first ghettoblaster. But the movie isn't just about the beats or the rhymes, the accent is on "life".

What's so fascinating about the film is that, yes, as has been publicized ad nauseum, Rapaport focuses in on the issues between Phife and Q-Tip. But his chosen emphasis couldn't be more timely. We live in a time when our popular music is manufactured (literally, in Sweden). We take our insight into the musical process from soundbites carefully fed to Rolling Stone or US Weekly. BR&L is much looser (Phife's attention is on the french toast he and his wife are baking, not saying the perfect thing, for example). So it ends up shedding light on the process but also the stresses of creating music when it is a collaboration and a group effort.

After we watched, my sister pointed out "What happened to hip-hop groups? Now everyone is solo." Sure, there are a few (I'm listening to Beastie Boys as I type this), but not many. ATCQ is a relic - how many major *new* hip-hop groups can you think of that have multiple emcee's? Exactly. The idea of getting three-plus groups to form a mega-group a la Native Tongues would never happen today.

It's something you don't think about- I mean, novels are written by one author. Or paintings are painted by one artist. There's no "Hold on- give me your brush. Wait, let me dip it in red. Ok, now try that." If there was, the homocide rate in the world would rise instantly. This sort of collaboration is rather unique to music, and it's something that has become more rare in the hip hop genre.

Put simply, it seems like hip hop artists just don't play as well with others as they used to. They're more likely to bag on each other than to talk them up. It's done for promotion (example: Kanye and JayZ getting ready to release an album together) but they don't melt into one group. The amazing thing about Tribe is that, growing up, most people didn't focus on (or probably even know) the individual members. It's true- you might have known Q-Tip but 99% chance that was after he made his name when he appeared on the Beastie Boys' track Get it Together.

BR&L attacks another nagging question, one that I think about a lot: What happens when you turn what you love into what you do? It's dangerous business. We forget, when we're listening to a record, happily drowning in its beats and sounds, that it took a process to get there, that someone probably stayed up at night, sleepless, trying to figure out a transition or a track list, or how to produce that particular beat just right. We're swamped with so much music now that we can barely keep up, much less on the dynamics or process of one group. We just consume and move on, music bingers. As a result, seeing a famous artist (here: Q-Tip) take his time sorting through records at a store, or sitting in his room to personally pick out a hook is incredible and pretty rare footage.

But this talent comes with risks and challenges (I didn't say I felt bad for them, I'm just observing!). At one point Q-Tip points out that for an artist, "there is no retirement". And he looks depleted when he says this. This isn't a money-making endeavor for him, it's a compulsion, and one that seems to inspire him but also weigh him down. For Jarobi there are other decisions to make; what happens when you are multi-talented?

It's a movie we debated through our lunch afterwards (and in that you have the makings of a great film, because if you can distract me from my food, that says a lot about your work.) And it's easy to talk about for a long time because the story of ATCQ serves as the backdrop to something even bigger. The movie is as much about the rise of the hip-hop scene as about friendship, about the dangers of mixing business and pleasure, the dynamics of making your own art in a commercial space, and the stressors of figuring out who you want to be when you grow up and who you're gonna take with you on that journey. Ultimately, being a Tribe fan is bonus on the journey, but if you're not already, the movie will probably make a fan out of you.

In case anyone is going to do a biopic, I've already thought about this and I'm casting Bill Cosby as Q-Tip and Cedric the Entertainer as Phife Dawg. My casting consultation services are available upon request.

The Right Stuff

There's something to be said for consistency. The other night I went to see New Kids on the Block perform for the first time in 17 years or something like that. The last time I went to see them I was in an oversized knit sweater and braces, let's put it that way. When you go to something after so long, you run a risk. Will it be ridiculous? Will it finally justify everyone making fun of you for ever having been a fan, even when it was borderline socially acceptable?

As we pulled up to the concert I got my first text message from a friend asking whether the fans were 16 or 33. I ignored the direct slight to my own thirtysomethingness, but naturally had to confirm that the only children or youth of any sort in the confines of the Cox Arena had been brought there by their mothers. We all hurriedly peed, because by the time you're 30 you know that all the coffee you drank to get through your day has a price to pay. And you barely glance at the memorabilia because it's a recession and while you are not old enough to keep yourself from Jordan Donnie Joey Jon and Danny, you are old enough to keep yourself from bright pink tee shirts you can't wear even on casual Friday.

You sit down and see that, all techy-like, they've set it up so you can text message to a screen above the stage. These texts are increasingly profane, but funny, because most of the people sending them are married and write things like "I'm married now... but he's not here!" You might send a text that says something to the effect of "Jordan, I'm legal now!" Your mom wouldn't be proud but she's also not your chaperone this time around. Unlike the concert back in 1990 or whatever it was, she doesn't need to take her pack of cigarettes and go lock herself into the elevator and pull the emergency stop just to give herself a break from the screaming (yours included).

The concert begins, but for your friends who aren't really interested, you'll fast forward through performances by Lady Gaga (whose song you can't get out of your head) and Natasha Bedingfield, who ends up being an incredibly talented performer and frankly blows your mind with how overproduced her albums are compared to her ability to carry a mic and make it happen. But this post isn't about her, so you move on.

When a band decides to go on a reunion tour, there are a few different ways they can play it. They can try to pretend that they never left the spotlight. Maybe it's even true- maybe they played the wedding and country fair circuit. Or they can pretend that they wanted or needed the time off. But what New Kids did was something I didn't expect- they were incredibly humble about it and they absolutely reveled in the attention. I mean, they acted like they were 18 years old again, hamming it up for the audience and soaking up every blood-curdling scream that flowed forth from the sea of estrogen.

I've never been to a concert where there were no men. When I say there were no men, I mean I spotted 4 husbands/boyfriends and a couple of security guys. That was IT. And you would have to be a very secure man to go to a New Kids concert, because women were ready to chuck their husbands for a go at the boys from Beantown. I've never seen anything like it. At one point they performed out in the audience and someone threw huge granny panties and I'm still not sure to this day if they were a joke.

Another question when a band hits the road again is- do you pretend that you never had your old hits? Do you try to pimp your new album which is good enough, or do you do a crowd-pleaser? Always knowing their audience, they threw in only a few songs from their (actually quite fantastic) album The Block and instead performed every song I could think of from their Greatest Hits album. Now, if it wasn't enough to HEAR Hanging Tough, let me assure you that they performed the exact same (yes, I know them by heart) dance moves as they did in the tour of yesteryear. So here we have these guys, now in their 30s, doing their 1990s cutting-edge dance moves. Can I get a running man? They were absolutely comedic in the way they performed, stopping the show to make fun of each other and just not take themselves seriously. Their moves weren't quite as smooth as back in the day, but try lining up some thirtysomething guys and making them dance in unison. It's an ugly process and they made it as pretty as they could. For those of you wondering, they did the leg-swingy-Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Right Stuff move. Worth the price of admission, naturally.

This, my friends, is something that is missing from the younger generation of performers. The folks like Justin who are on their first go-around, they still take themselves so seriously, it's their art. I'm not saying they're not talented, but sometimes I go see these shows and you can see the ego oozing from their pores. These guys were freeze-dancing and making fun of sticking a shoe up each other's asses. We didn't have to take them too seriously because, well, they didn't.

Lest you be concerned, there were ample costume changes, giving it a Vegas spectacle feel (oooh, idea!) They each had a chance to perform alone for the audience, so all the girls could have their Joey time, or their Jordan time. Jordan performed one of my favorite (because it's frankly ridiculous) quasi-Michael-Jackson thingies. (see photos, above) He stands all windblown and does MJ moves while singing a ballad called "Baby I Believe In You". Oh, you laugh, but his belief in me got me through junior high, people! They didn't try to jazz it up. Maybe he learned because Jordan had tried to re-record NKOTB songs as a solo album and it flopped. So he knows his place, and he knows his place was before 1992. They just rewinded and, for a night, we could all be 13 again.

There's a lot I wouldn't want to have back about being 13, but that rush of being completely starstruck is something I haven't felt in years. Dancing to good music, belting out the lyrics, swooning with your girlfriends, that's stuff money can't buy (ok, it can, I have the $100 ticket stub to prove it). Sure, this time there were differences; the girl behind me did her banshee cry again and again, and I was going to hit her. Back in the day, *I* was the banshee (and probably the reason mom ended up in the elevator). So yeah, maybe I"m a bit older, but it's fun to grow up with your music. I've been to so many shows and yet I don't think I've enjoyed one that transported me like this.

After a few of the aforementioned costume changes, I noticed that Donnie was always wearing a baseball cap. As those of you who have seen his film appearances know, he is balding. So the guy throws a cap on no matter what. He tried to play it like it was just his hoodlum street style, but thirty year old women know better. You know, because none of the guys we know are thinning up top, right? ;) He kept referring to his sexy speaking voice in a noble effort to distract us.

For all the fun and games there were some sobering moments in the show too. They did a slide show of people who have passed away, including some of their parents. It's something we couldn't have dreamt of at that age. And as we watched the show I analyzed them as an older woman. I used to think Jordan was the hottest. Susie thought Jon was (and these days I might agree with her, despite the fact that he isn't of the liking-girls persuasion from what I understand). Every girl had a New Kid she associated with- just ask them. And who we liked tells you a bit about us. Donnie was for the edgy girls. Jordan was for the girls who like a hyper guy. Joey was for the girls who like a cutie. Jon was for the girls who like the strong silent type. And everyone knows that no one liked Danny. He was the fifth round draft pick, and since in junior high it's absolutely impossible to maintain a group of more than four friends, it just wasn't an issue.

I have to be honest here and confess that I spent much of the ride to the arena making fun of Danny and how no one knows what his part in the band really is, etc. So of course then I lost it when the first song started and they forgot to turn his spotlight on-- punchline for all my jokes! But then early into the show he started breakdancing and he was *really* good, headstands and all. Hm! This guy can dance and is a breast cancer fundraiser? Cute! And there you have it- my evolving maturity as illustrated through NKOTB attractions. Who wants the guy who everyone wants? Not me! For Susie's benefit I'll add that Jon was super hot but is also (says the rumor mill) gay.

The most telling part of the show was when they did 1010249024 encores. We were the end of their American tour, and, as much as *we* didn't want to go home, you could tell they didn't want us to leave. I've seen some great shows lately, but the common theme has been that the performers make you feel grateful that they bothered to perform for you. It's like they're doing you a favor. But these guys knew they had been touched by the magic comeback dust, and they weren't fronting about it. It was refreshing to see stars realize there's an element of luck. I can only hope they're reinventing stardom.

I don't have to tell you that I"m already excited about their next tour. For two hours I got the gift of being 13 again, minus the sea green stirup pants and the perm. Perfection.

Only When I'm Dancing Can I Feel This Free

You are what you listen to. Or something like that. I grew up apparently with a lack of hobbies, because every time I bought a tape, I’d rush home, lock my door and pull out some paper. I would then sit and read the liner notes over and over (who did they thank? Who produced it?) This sometimes took a weekend (rewind. stop. what was that line again? fast forward. stop.)

Stop snickering - this is one small part of how I amassed my Stash of Useless Trivia. Like the fact that Patrick Leonard who helped Madonna’s early stuff was the same guy who helped Jody Watley (listen to "most of all" right after you hear Madonna's get up there, and you can hear his keyboards and how he used some of the same stuff. It’s how you know that the Bangles sang the chorus on Cyndi lauper’s “change of heart” or how you know Prince wrote “Manic Monday”. And how you know that he also wrote sinead’s “nothing compares 2 u” and he will only sing it with one person, Rosie Gaines. (And that he does, it’s a live track on his best of discs.)

But I digress. I always digress. Is butidigress.blogspot.com taken yet?

For a long time I've wanted to compile a list of my favorite song lines. I know a woman who keeps a list of first lines from books. Maybe I'll try that next. For now, here are some lines that, for all different reasons, I have love or been affected by in the past 28 years. I'll get the Madonna ones out of the way first, so skip down if you're a hater.

“all I know from experience is that if you have to ask for something more than once or twice, it wasn’t yours in the first place…” -Madonna/Waiting

“I’m not religious- but I feel so moved. Makes me want to pray.” – Madonna/Nothing Fails

“without your love, I’m nothing but a beggar” - Aerosmith/Angel

“try me on… I’m very you” - deee-lite/Try Me On...I'm Very You

“you turned to me as you were threading daisies on a chain. You said ‘it’s decision time again’..." –Everything But the Girl/Wrong

“Kiss me. Please kiss me. But kiss me out of desire, baby, not consolation. Oh you know it makes me so angry cause I know that in time I’ll only make you cry. This is our last goodbye” - Jeff Buckley/Last Goodbye

“I want to end this letter with three words- we tired y’all” Prince/Dear Mr. Man

“Everytime I comb my hair, thoughts of you get in my eyes.” Prince/ Erotic City

“Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten.” – Natasha Bedingfield/Unwritten (yes, I had a very hard time admitting I wanted to include this)

“There’s a time for every star.” – Nikka Costa/Everybody Got Their Something

“brick for brick I know this city like my handprint” – G love n special sauce f. jasper/This Ain't Living

“The rich declare themselves poor and most of us are not sure if we have too much but we’ll take our chances cause God stopped keeping score…you hold on to what you can and charity is a coat you wear twice a year…” –George Michael/ Praying for Time

“She got the beamiest face. Car turns left. I’m into you” Howie Day/Secret

“You make me love you… with a little L” -- Jamiroquoi/Little L

“Yeah yeah have you heard the news today? Money’s on the menu in my favorite restaurant.” - Jamiroquoi/When You Gonna Learn?

"Snap her up in a butterfly net... Pin her down in a photograph album" - Counting Crows/Anna Begins

And that's just for starters.

I'm Bad, I'm Bad, You Know It: A Meditation on the State of All Things Michael Jackson

Today I saw a breach in our justice system that I just can't get over.

I know that at approximately 2:15 Pacific time this afternoon, bloggers must have been going nuts. The Jackson child molestation verdict was in: NOT GUILTY. Slam goes the gavel. Well, not really, but we've all watched enough of The Practice to know how it goes. And the nation parted in two -- the believers (who might be seen outside the courtroom with white arm bands) and the disbelievers, who rolled their eyes and changed the channel.

And then there was me. Mouth agape. Criminal behavior had gone unpunished. He wasn't even CHARGED for his biggest offense? And what is that, you might ask?

I want to talk about his last album.

You see, part of me believes that maybe Michael started up this whole stink himself. I mean, no one could *voluntarily* want to spend time with the snide Martin Bashir, could they? Even weirdo Michael? I mean, he could hang out with Liz Taylor or his monkey or just chill and be one with himself in the oxygen tent. No one deserves Martin Bashir, and Michael knows this. Secondly, while he acts like a child, Michael is 46 years old. He knows better- or the people around him do -than to tell a schmoozy journalist that he climbs in bed with children. There is NO WAY that happened accidentally.

So I put my law degree to work. I sat down and I thought long and hard about it. And when the commercial break was over, I know what had happened.

The molestation trial was a stinkbomb. It had to be big. It had to be bad. It had to be newsworthy. Because it had to outstink the Invincible album.

Now I know you're sitting there wondering what I'm talking about. That's exactly the point. The man who put out zillions of Jackson 5 singles, not to mention Thriller, then Bad, then Dangerous made a boo-boo. It came in the form of the Invincible album, the most redeeming quality of said album being a Print Shop-meets-Andy Warhol cover -- collect all five colors. Did you really expect me to be distracted by that, Michael? Mikey had released "Blood on the Dancefloor", a remix album you blinked and missed -- but it was remixes so it doesn't "count" against him.

The "gem" on Invincible, aka. the semi-decent track, was "Rock My World". The fun of that one came more from the beat and the Chris Tucker appearance making fun of Michael ("shamon! SHAMON!") than anything else. In the video, Michael clearly plays second fiddle to Tucker, who I love, but let's be real - his career high point was Rush Hour. Tucker's partner in crime was Jackie Chan, now it's Michael. Not good, MJ, not good. Jackson videos used to feature Naomi Campbell and Michael Jordan. His songs used to co-star Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder. Now his own sister couldn't even touch the mic.

Rumor has it that MJ asked producer Rodney Jerkins to write him a ton of songs, then only picked a few for the album. Rumor also has it that the leftovers went to Justin Timberlake's debut album. And we all know how that fairy tale went, don't we? I believe I was quoted as saying that "Justin Timberlake has out-Michael Jacksoned Michael Jackson", a statement I stand by.

I've been listening to the album over and over, and I'm distressed. INVINCIBLE sounds like a Jackson impersonator's demo on a Casio keyboard. A decent impersonator, but one who's learned all the tricks - the Michael "ah" and the Michael falsetto, with none of the personal style that had us all glued to our tvs for every award show over the span of 10 years. If it wasn't Michael, I would have arm-wrestled the Tower Records cashier for my money back.

(Side note: I know a girl whose mom's friend sewed MJ's glove. Take a minute with that fun fact.)

"Rock My World", the only salvageable track, was soon remixed with the Justin Timberlake song "Rock Your Body", never to be heard au naturel again. The first three tracks are blameless, but there isn't much to distinguish them from one another. I like them because I wanted so badly to like them. "Butterflies" was covered by someone (Floetry?) and turned out better. 2000 Watts was covered by Tyrese. Not sure how much better he could make it, but hell, he looks good, so who cares? We're left with Michael trying to convince us that he's "Invincible" "Unbreakable" a "Heartbreaker" and "Threatened". He "needs his privacy -- yeah yeah". I liked that one better when it was called "Scream". He even makes a last-ditch effort to offer his perennial children's anthem ("The Lost Children"), which is a rehash of "Heal the World", complete with children's chorus. Who knew when the news said he has a studio at home that they just meant he mics his bed? :)

I'm the last person to hope Michael calls it quits. I've got nothing but love for what he used to be. And I think he should take his time to make the right steps in the right direction. Basically, I just hope he'll stop rushing into things -- including but not limited to the recording studio. Being a Michael Jackson fan is a pain in the arse these days. I don't want to have to defend the allegedly detachable nose. I don't want to have to defend the sleepovers. And I sure as hell shouldn't be defending a Grammy winner's musical abilities. Sheesh, Mike, where can I get *my* cut of your defense fund?!

So there, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is the real crime. Unpunished, but not forgotten.

Smooth criminal? I don't think so.