This is the Halloween post: Stanley Kubrick circa 1980 vs. J Dilla circa unfinished released in 2006-The Shining
The genius of this work speaks for itself, I vividly remember hearing Body Movin' for the first time and shitting a brick, I hadn't heard anything like it before. J Dilla's album is like the merging of my favorite things, 1980's day-glow colored blood-gory horror films, hip hop, and a good DJ
"You’re sober now, but you’ve had a history with alcohol. What’s the craziest thing that happened to you when you were drinking heavily? Tracy Morgan: When I was wilding? I got kicked out of Prince’s house. The last time he won a Grammy, we went to the pre-Grammy party. Free booze all night. Prince had his band in the living room. Everybody left the house except for me and my boy. It was 6 o’clock, 7 o’clock in the morning, the sun was coming up, and we were still drinking. And Prince and his wife were at the door in their pajamas and said, “Come on, Tracy, you’ve got to go.” And I was gay for about five seconds because he’s a pretty motherfucker. If Prince was a woman, I would go down on him. All the way down. Swell his vagina lips up."
On a completely related note, while walking downtown Santa Cruz I passed a man on the corner in a dated brown suit and boulder hat playing the trumpet across from new leaf for money, as I passed he stated aloud in the most cheerful lively voice ever to pedestrians passing on the street, and I quote:
"You know I love butterflies and I love stew. I put the two together and it was delicious! My favorite is monarch..."
needless to say while everyone who heard it remained stone faced a burst out in roaring laughter, whether he was trying to get a rouse or just a little off his rocker I think those walking with me should have apprecited the fine art of butterfly stew comedy. gotta love santa cruz!
listening notes: My labor of love Justin study mix is meant to be played in a low key soft volume to provide a soothing background noise as you sequester yourself in your cave studying for hours on end.
Justin, I tired to compile a number of different songs you knew well, knew of, and didn't know at all. I'm skeptical about a few of my selections and tried to pick things for you, not me, but the bottom line is the mix is intended to study to, not to slap along side your all time favorite songs, hence why I left out Billy Joel-Piano Man, and a lot of Etta James, that shit's way tooo hype. Additionally, the version of natural resource-bum deal supposedly mixed by dj premier is all I could find after my computer crashed, annoying mixing at some points but on the whole goodish, and one of the songs on the playlist features a sample from one of my all time favorite songs can you find it?
I'll upload a zip file for those who want the play list and have a computer that actually works right now.
I ask you this question as prosed by my professor:
"What is true to human nature?"
This is madonna's answer circa 1995, I don't know if my answer is as, well black and white and masochistic to say the least:
On a completely unrelated note, Madonna samples Main Source-what you need, and I'm not one to pass up a chance to plug main source, word to Large Professor, or spew what song something is sampled from a la mode, er a la offdahoof, yet more often, rather than juxtaposing samples on a blog, I store all my sophomoric music knowledge in the slightly snobish part of my temporal lobe.
Main Source is not was renowned as other hip-hop acts of the early 90s, but I personally know these east coast MCs posses the power to break atoms with the likes Nas and Akinyele on the track, and also the ability to render me afixxed to my couch with my pajamas still on listening to their album on repeat at 1:18pm on a monday.
Being at MOSAIC last week was one of the rare times in my life where I have felt completely at peace with myself. Clumsily hugging the dusty trails of Napa's curvaceous terrain with two ten year old arms latched across my stomach clinging onto the warm body of unconditional love and care mixed with heaviness that permeates from my own tethered heart slowed my movement as I traveled from location to loaction-A familiar feeling pilgrimage as if I were walking back home from bus stop in 7th grade, to a place that I now find myself forever searching to go back to. Right now I can't possibly fathom the words to articulate my experience the way I want to yet feel compelled to write something as an emblem to pay homage to what I have experienced.
One by one seven of us piled into the back of the car like circus clowns on their way to the big top, each clown heavy in make-up and ready to perform that nights disarrayed dance of walking a back their perspective dorm rooms, arms heavy with clenched purses and keys in hand. The distinguishably familiar stench of sweat and a long night lingered in the air surrounding each of us. I don’t remember physically getting into the car but there were at least three girls strode across my lap. My perception impaired; the deep purple lace trimming on the camisole of the occupant on my lap blended seamlessly into her brown back which in turn bled seamlessly into my surroundings. I felt an uneasy sort of lucid dream impairment in which I repeatedly try to awake from my nightmare but nothing changes as I close my consciousness and open it again. Laughter, incoherent conversation, slurred speech, and drunken noise. A mixture of orange juice, vodka, vodka, orange juice, and more vodka was bursting at the seams of my pursed mouth with the great force of a ferocious river meeting the cracks of the dam of my lips. Every time the car jerked and we came to an abrupt stop a little bit more of my raging river leaked from my seems, followed by a “hey are you cool, are you alight?” a divine power willed me to continually reassure “yeah I’m cool” for the sake of the ornate stitching on my more than moderately priced Nikes, the deep blue of my almost pristine unwashed denim, reputation, the leather seats I sat upon, and gag reflexes of everyone in the car. Finally reverse in the order we all got in, we all got out. As soon as there were no clammy, loquacious, inebriated body’s fixing me upright into my middle backseat I toppled over, scrambling for the door handle, my stomach’s bellowing voice spoke out, spilling its contents in protest to my actions, the contents of my night drenching my shoes, my jeans, my hair, and the poor unexpecting trunk of the pine tree I propped myself against.
