I spent a whole morning examining my iTunes catalog and mixtape playlists, trying to figure out just what my favorite song was at this time of last year. When no clear-cut champion emerged, I had the bright idea to search my Gmail to see if I did any excessive ranting and raving that could help determine the right choice, and found this in a chat log: Read the rest of this entry »

As a kid at the age of single digit years, I was a fan of anything and everything that was Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. To scratch the surface of my obsession, my room was painted bright red, I had several posters hung every which way and my little iron-on #23 jersey was so beat up it looked like something right out of a dumpster. It found its way to my back too much, but every time I put it on, I wore that b*tch proudly.

When Space Jam came out, it was like a dream come true. The greatest basketball player (Scottie Pippen be damned) and the Bugs Bunny, the greatest Saturday morning cartoon character, in same flick just seemed unreal to me. Needless to say, the movie was one my of my most watched VHS tapes and the soundtrack was one of my most played cassettes.

In particular, I listened to the posse cut, “Hit ‘Em High (The Monstars’ Anthem)” so many times, the tape started tweaking out and much to my parents’ thrill, it completely stopped working shortly after. It was hit verse after hit verse from Method Man, B-Real, Busta Rhymes, LL Cool J, and Coolio, and at the time, it was probably the most intense and unique thing I had listened to. I literally couldn’t get enough of it. True story.

My mom and dad were always very prudent to make sure everything I listened to was age appropriate, and naturally, Hip-Hop in all its explicitness, was a no go in the house. But this was the lone exception. There was no profanity, no sexual references, and much to my parents’ dismay, absolutely no reason for them to not allow me to listen to it.

Neither they nor I had any idea that Method Man was from a group called Wu-Tang Clan, who happened to be one of the pioneers of the Mafioso sub-genre of rap. Or that B-Real and Cypress Hill were one of the loudest marijuana advocates of the decade. Or that Coolio was probably on every drug imaginable. They still don’t.

I wouldn’t learn any of this until I really dove headfirst into the music during my teens and even then, when I realized “Hit ‘Em High” wasn’t relatively the greatest of tracks, in my eyes it remains the gateway that let me to discover Hip-Hop.

Previously: Day 28 – A Song That Makes You Feel Guilty

Let me tell you a story about Kristin and Tina. Kristin and Tina hated each other. They were freshman roommates and best friends until Kristin started believing that Tina slept with her man and Tina subsequently believed that Kristin was the girl that keyed her car and carved “slut” on the hood. Read the rest of this entry »

Near 10:30 p.m. on May 2, 2010, Jim James slowly tightened his guitar strap one last time. Jones and his band, My Morning Jacket, were coming to the close of their almost three-hour long set in Columbus, Ohio. The crowd listened anxiously as James put pick to string and the first few notes of My Morning Jacket’s popular hit, “Dancefloors,” shrieked away. Read the rest of this entry »

Allow me to start by saying I personally can’t play the song at hand. Figuring you’d rather not read about Chris Brown’s “Forever” or “Chopsticks,” I opted instead to share a quick story about an old friend of mine and the way he picked up girls with 2Pac. Read the rest of this entry »

Devin The Dude may never be seen as a lyrical wizard such as Andre 3000 or as poetical as Scarface, but his name rings bells in every circle of Hip-Hop. And when it comes time for him to hang up his Kangol cap, he most likely will be remembered for a few key things: his affinity for cannabis and keen, comedic sensibilities. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s an undeniably morbid thought to consider the exact song I want played at my funeral. I’m 21 and a college junior, so I don’t think I’ll be kicking the bucket any time soon (knocks hard on wood desk). However, with the inevitable occasion in mind, there’s only one track that I want blaring right before the priest reads my last rights: Read the rest of this entry »

New Orleans may be the only city in the continental United States that I love more than Detroit, and if I lived any closer than a country-length away I would get married there. I’ve spent a grand total of three nights and four days within its watered borders, but its vibrant food, people, art and music have breathed lasting life into me and my relationship. And it’s where my significant other and I began to imagine and discuss what we wanted from and for our marriage. Read the rest of this entry »

As far as my musical leanings go, I’m pretty one dimensional and rarely venture off into reggae. However, all rules have exceptions. Every so often, I wake up on the wrong side of the bed and find myself popping Damian Marley and Nas’ 2005 masterpiece, “Road to Zion” in the deck. Read the rest of this entry »

First off: If you’re not making Kissing Suzy Kolber a daily go-to site, then your RSS feed means nothing to me. As part of the site’s auxiliary football coverage they post mock drafts where commenters pick their favorites out of a bevy of weekly categories: celebrity to have dinner with, food to survive on, etc. Last week, they had a draft for celebrities you’d want to have follow you around while singing. Read the rest of this entry »

Being angry is such an underrated emotion. Typically frowned upon by most sane individuals, it’s an extreme sensation that should rank alongside serotonin binges and orgasms as desirable human states. As such, music should help fuel, mirror and appease these outbursts. Wavves’ 2010 LP, King of the Beach, recently helped me fill that void. Its maniacal take on Dookie-era punk rock reeks of stale Pabst Blue Ribbon and 18-year-old temper tantrums–and it’s all wrapped in one addictive, thrash-tastic package. However, it’s the album’s second track, “Super Soaker,” that perfectly lights my powder keg, as it hits like a Japanese kamikaze of pissiness.

While neo-punk bands have a history of discontent, Wavves embodies the figurative middle finger flip. It could be argued that a lot of lead singer Nathan Williams’ musical (and real life) outbursts could be attributed to bad molly, but it’s salient all the same. The drumming on “Super Soaker” is crazed and cacophonic. It builds and builds, boiling the blood with each and every snare thrash. Williams obscurely screeches over chaotic, anarchic guitar chords. He indignantly asks for “waves to crush my skull.” And the track’s final enunciation — “I’m stupid… stupid!” — sees Williams transitioning into ultimate I-don’t-give-a-shit mode. Dude’s not just shooting anger-infused ICBMs at others, but at himself as well.

“Super Soaker” commands the listener to check his Freudian ego at the door. It recommends, instead, that the id have a field day. Punch a hole through your brick wall, kick the neighbor’s cat that’s been shitting on your front step all week, spit at the cute young couple in the grocery store. Just get angry, stay angry. F*ck it all.

Previously: Day 19 – A Song From Your Favorite Album

“When I first met my SpottieOttieDopaliscious Angel, I can remember that damn thing like yesterday…”

Pages, dare I say volumes, of TSS have been devoted not just to Outkast, but to Aquemini as a stand-alone work. And no matter how many people claim it as their favorite album, it still feels personal to me. Read the rest of this entry »

After spending years on the West Coast underground circuit, Strong Arm Steady broke through in 2007 with their debut studio album Deep Hearted. It was also during this time that my musical taste, that once bumped nothing but Top 40, had begun its transformation towards the present. Our two colliding paths met in the form of “One Step,” the signature song from the collection and one of the essential Steady Gang records. Read the rest of this entry »

The year was 2007 and every L.A. scene-ster girl with a scarf around her neck and sangria in her hand had a crush on Miguel. He was about a foot shorter than the lot of us, and just by eyeballing his weight versus any one of ours, we knew we could take him in a fight. Never you mind that he had a super hot girlfriend and couldn’t be bothered to care less about any other woman in the room. Miguel was still the sexiest woopdie-doo that side of the Mississip. Read the rest of this entry »

“Uh-huh. You know what it is.”

Back when Wiz had black hair and an actual album on store shelves seemed somewhat far removed for the PA native, TC posted Young Khalifa’s life-changing “Black & Yellow.” From the moment it dropped, the heavy-hitting Steelers anthem seemed primed to crank out my speakers for the next month. Read the rest of this entry »