Filed under: Bad Days, Música | Tags: Andre Nickatina, Ayo for Yayo, back in the day, John Michael Montgomery, San Quinn, the Dixie Cups
I just got off the phone (actually skype on an uncomfortable brand spanking new wrap around the neck headset) with my bff from the US. We talked about a lot, but one of the points that stood out was the idea of us evolving as time passed. During senior year of high school, we were part of a championship VICA Quiz Bowl team (thanks, of course, to me joining the team second semester of senior year… electronics robot building independent study included).
I blew the competition out of the water at districts and again at state. At nationals, we placed 4th (and I got a trophy for Automated Manufacturing… whatever the hell that is!). Apparently, the faculty, bff’s mom aside, thought we (my bffs and I) were huge-ass sluts at the time; however, based on our recent conversation, the apparent view of us (obviously we’re still legends in the small C-Town) is as serious druggie sluts. So go us. With each passing year, our legacy grows. From no names until the moment I decided to stop being such a little bitch that hid behind everyone, to completely infamous as the huge bitch that would shoot you down if you were wrong, to pulling Heather (i.e. the BFF) down with me, as my infamy continued to grow. Until now. The moment where we realize that even if we tried (as Heather so desperately did in high school) to make sure no one knew who she was, we’ve grown to levels that we didn’t then think possible. So yeah, go us.
In honor of this realization (and my family again falling apart! WOO!! GO US!!!), I thought I’d post songs from my musical evolution. From the song that defined my youth, to junior high and the moment I started to get into music to the beginning of college, i.e. when I’d abandon stereotypes and start listening to whatever I really liked.
Stage 1: When I was just a baby
John Michael Montgomery – “I Swear” (All-4-One cover)
Basically, the last song I heard before we left Oregon (where I was born ) for Missouri (where I would, like it or not, grow up).
[download]
Stage 2: Developing a Taste
The Dixie Cups – “Going to the Chapel” (or for real any Dylan song, ever)
The moment I started listening to whatever the hell I felt like. No more following what my friends said, what the radio played. No, now I’d listen to whatever I thought was nice or cool or whatever adjective the cool kids used. The start of my oldies to folk phase.
[download]
Stage 3: Getting Where I am Today
Andre Nickatina – “Ayo for Yayo” (feat. San Quinn)
Otherwise known as the moment I abandoned all the stereotypes and really started listening to whatever I wanted to, regardless of the indie cred or the critical reception. This is the stage I’m currently in. Essentially rap, mainly of the Southern persuasion, alt-country, and shitty pop music. But, it works for me.
[download]
But basically, my family’s falling apart and there ain’t nothing good (or new) about that.
Now, deep analysis behind me, I go to pack for my trip to the northwestern Argentine desert, obviously my favorite ecosystem.
Hate Argentine farmers. Just hate them. Seriously? Week 2 of hella thick smoke because they decided to do some slash-n-burn farming a bit too early in the season? Just screw”em.
To continue with posts of little interest to anyone except me:
MY SHINY SCHEDULE FOR NEXT YEAR!
Fall 2008
ENG 341: American Lit: The Borderlands (!!!) with Rebecca Gordon (!!!)
HIST 308: 16th Century Peru & Mexico with some new guy*
SPAN 385: Realism and Magic with Sharon Larisch
PE: Golf/Bowling (maybe I’ll actually finish these and maybe be able to graduate! Probably not, though, let’s be realistic…
SPAN 470: THESIS
OMG I AM GOING TO DIE
*may be canceled in order to take independent study over contemporary Spanish literature/film with Curt…
Spring 2009
SPAN 372: Echoes of Span. Romantic Poetry (ugh.) with Curt Wasson
SPAN 389: Toward a New Mexican Narrative (yay!) with Iliana Alcantar (uh, we’ll see)
SPAN 400: Church & State Early Modern Spain (ughughughugh) with Ariadna Garcia-Bryce (ugh for junior seminar during final semester of ….)
SPAN 470: THESIS
OMG I really am going to die. And it will not be pretty.
But still, I’m real excited.
Random complaint that has nothing to do with anything, except my future and education and what not. And go:
Seriously? I switched majors pretty much to get out of class with that beezy. And now next year I freaking have class with her? IN MY MAJOR. NOT HERS.
Hate small schools. Way to end my college career on a lousy twice a week note. Grr.
Better things. Pictures from my last trip when I went up to Iguazu but actually spent more time in some mountain place in northern Argentina tromping around in the reddest mud I’ve ever seen. But it didn’t work. So no pictures for now. I fixed it.
Filed under: Música, The New Deal | Tags: boliche, hermit, La Factoria, Nigga, salsa
I’ve mentioned this before; however, it is even more pertinent now. My favorite thing in the world is staying in my house, cooking, reading, writing, watching movies, sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing while watching vh1 Clásico and drinking unhealthy amounts of mate cocido. Honestly, at this point in my life (and various other periods), this is what I love. I love being in silence. Not listening to anyone talking to me, not watching anyone do things I have no interest in, et cetera. People don’t believe that I could genuinely be happy in a world where no one talks to me, and I talk to no one. I’d like today to say this: Yes. Yes, I could be. And I am.
Walking down the street a few days ago, I was thinking about how I was speaking enough Spanish, when it occurred to me, that I wasn’t not speaking Spanish, I just wasn’t speaking. It was stretching it to say I spoke more than an hour a day.
Unfortunately as much as I do really love this lifestyle, I’m far too pragmatic to embrace it. As such, I now am forcing myself to be social. I’m traveling with people instead of myself, I’m going to dinner with friends instead of cooking for myself, blah blah blah.
On to the story.
Yesterday, following a trip to Barrio China, otherwise known to the unenlightened as one of the world’s smallest Chinatowns, this one, of course, located on a stretch of three blocks alongside the Mitre train line in Buenos Aires, and dinner at a purported “ex-pat” American bar called “Shoeless Joe’s: The Alamo” just mere blocks from my old stomping grounds on Callao in Recoleta, my friend and I prepared to head out for a night of salsa lessons, dancing, and boliche. She tried to reason with me, pointing out the obvious fact – that a night of dance lessons really probably was the worst thing for me to have to do in order to meet my newly instated “you must go out at least once a week” policy (part of my independent independent study, obviously). The last time she went it was awkward for her, a social butterfly, so for me, quite notably umm the opposite (recluse is perhaps a bit too strong a word, hermit maybe, homebody definitely). But still, I ignored her. We went up to Belgrano to meet some other people and do the obligatory pre-boliche.
But, ha! I liked it. From my professional analysis, I’m getting an A- in my class. Good job, Laura.
In honor of dancing with too many salsa boys in a too hot club. Two songs that are HUGE in Buenos Aires.
The first from the very respectable (or not) man who announces every song with the same catchphrase: Romantic styling the world! Es Niiiiigggggga!
I don’t really understand La Factoria, I think they are maybe, possibly, DJs, but I don’t know. This is the only song I like off their newest album…
Nigga (!!) – “Te Quiero” <download>
La Factoria – “Si alguna vez” <download>
A break from rap. A break from what I normally do. Well, not really, but still it is sort of a change. Tonight, I’ll talk about alt-country, but not my standard OMG I LOVE RYAN BINGHAM AND DBT spiel, no, instead tonight, a bottle of Malbec, some dulce de batata, and a huge vat of chili (still cooking actually) behind me, in addition to two midterms and a week and a half of vacation ahead of me, I’ll talk instead about Townes Van Zandt.
I admit, I was late to come onto to Mr. Van Zandt. If not for the last alt-country concenrt (read: Ryan Bingham, Portland, OR, Thanksgiving), Lord knows how long it would have been before I heard of this man. But thankfully, Monsieur Bingham, that god amongst alt-country men, covered “To Live is to Fly” right before he played my favorite track of his last album – “Hard Times.” A whole shit ton of family drama things just behind me, with the two songs mixing, I started to cry. The next day when I woke up, legs sore from walking the nearly 6 mile trek home (I needed to think, so I didn’t take the bus) and slightly hung over from the previous night’s escapades (yay! for first official 21+ concert!) , but still the song (which he announced as a cover and whose lyrics I sorta remembered) stuck with me. I googled it. And thus began an addiction of sorts.
An unorthodox voice. Great, great, great lyrics. Simplicity. Early, tragic death (seriously, “daddy fought his heart”?). What more could I want. I’ve been hooked ever since.
In fact, I’m listening to that song Ryan Bingham covered (“To Live is to Fly”) on repeat (album version versus the live one I listened to before this one, which I have to say, I might still prefer) while alternating between eating/taste-testing my chili out of an espresso cup and dulce de batata y queso cremoso and, of course, vino.
Each time I get closer to actually here the lyrics beyond the: “Won’t say I need you, babe. Won’t say I want you, babe.” So, basically, in conclusion, mid-terms at San Andrés are over (for me, anyways) and I’m set on traveling again after having spent all day today napping and making chili (which, fyi, I’m still eating out of an espresso cup).
On a completely unrelated note, now listening to “Diamonds from Sierra Leone” (thanks! shuffle!) I totally remember the first time I heard it. Riding to J-Town in my sister’s car (with her) to go shopping somewhere. Yeah, good times. What before the identity theft and whatnot.
Unfortunately, I’m too lazy to try to find where my zshare link went, so no mp3 downloads from me for you today. Sorry. 
I’ve written about my love affair with southern rap. It’s not a big secret that the Dirty’s my favorite region out of the entire musical universe; it’s no secret the love I have for Weezy and Young Buck/Jeezy, for Outkast and T.I., for the upstarts and even for Ludacris back in the day when he actually rhymed tight. Nor, is it a hidden fact that I love Bubba Sparxxx, that I’ve longed touted him as my favorite rapper. More of a favorite than the aforementioned Lil Wayne, the Game, Wu-Tang or any other the off-projects. More loved than anyone out of the Chi, out of the Lou, or out of the Yay. Bubba Sparxxx, since I first heard Dark Days, Bright Nights just after the release of his Timbaland project Deliverance (notably, my favorite rap album of all time) has without a shadow of a doubt claimed this hard to earn title.
In the world of rock and in the world of alt-country, in the world of the neo-traditionalists and the shitty pop singers, no single artist or band has reached the point that Bubba got to. While DBT comes close to being my hands-down all-time favorite alt-country band ever, I hesitate and think about Gram Parsons and Whiskeytown and (obviously) Uncle Tupelo, et al. But for rap, for Bubba this hesitation never existed.
Who’s the best rapper out there?
- Duh, Bubba. Seriously, have you heard Deliverance?
But I don’t know. How long can an artist rest his credibility on two GREAT albums and one album that had it’s moments of excellence (“Ain’t Life Grand” would be one of those moments on an otherwise not excellent album: The Charm)? His latest mixtape Survive Till Ya Thrive: Mediocre at best. Not one song that propelled me to repeat listens. And now, now the singles from his new album (The Impolite Gentleman) set to drop later this year have indeed begun to leak in the rap forums.
Que triste. I haven’t been so disappointed with some pre-official leaks before. He’s still there. Hiss flow’s essentially the same, although his voice seems to have dropped about an octave. But he’s lost essentially the most important element of good rap (in my eyes, obviously) – lyricism.
On his first two, but especially Deliverance the beats (as good as they were) were secondary. Timbaland focused my boy. Encouraged him to choose something beyond a superficial “she was just too quick to slob me” and into a deeper analysis and presentation of his southern roots. Timba pointed him towards the path that highlighted his unique position as a southern white rapper from clearly working-class roots. But from the days of Deliverance to the future days of The Impolite Gentleman, Bubba’s gone from these lyrics:
A hit’s a hit though, but took I ain’t forget this shit
But when we get a hit, we only slack a little bit
But y’all gettin sick of banjos and fiddle shit
I hit a lick with it, but now I’m feelin brand new
It’s time to reinvent again and win again
And these:
Let these cats amuse you with comical depictions
But where I’m from being broke is no honorable affliction
Love some Jimmy Carter, but we never even voted
But slum is still slum, so you best believe we toted
Every fire arm from AK’s to 30-30’s
To these:
She’s bossy, she sassy, she throwing that whole thing at me
I like the pony tail, I see your booty still doing as well
And you got your boobs done
And these:
Got your bitch entered in the “Miss New Booty” contest
And she ain’t even win this shit or finish in the top 3
It’s not that she ain’t hot, she was just to quick to slob me.
[Download "Beatin Down Da Block"]
I blame it on Mr. ColliPark.
Maybe it’s too early to pass judgment, anyways, I hope that’s the case.
[[UPDATE.... I think The Impolite Gentleman is gonna blow. Case-in-point: "Big Bub"... qué triste.]]
Pocos días later and I’m back in Buenos Aires. The smoke’s literally cleared, and 45 or so hours of buses later, I’m back in Buenos Aires. While tromping through the Argentine rainforest in a pretty skirt and knee high blue rubber boots, I got distracted from the nature and other deals by the thought of growing old. I’d recently written my best friend that we’d indeed left our glory days. At 21, what more was there for us to do? From here on out, I wrote, it was all down hill. All real jobs and government debt and never-ending schedules with the only highlight in sight a week or two every year of vacation time. Even then, we’d be too tired to really do anything except for shut the blinds, lock the doors, turn off the phone, and sleep for a bit. The day when I can’t have a silly James Dean calender and she can’t have her “Mormons Gone Wild” one will be a sad day, that will, indeed, one day come. But I don’t know. In between barely catching my bus back to Buenos Aires and barely catching the train to San Andrés to take my midterm for lit, I sort of realized, that I can’t actually imagine myself settling down enough to lose these moments where I’m just barely barely barely cutting it.
That said, camping in the rainforest was (obviously) fun. I sort of realized just how separate the income levels in Argentina are. The house we were staying at literally sat on land which the family was gracious enough to host a shack for the groundskeeper and his family of 6. Next door, in between our drunken laughs you could hear (and see) the family sitting outside the house that I originally thought was a barn.
On that note, the US Dollar has risen to $3.18 pesos for $1. That’s the highest it has been in the three months I’ve been in Argentina.
Xzibit – “Alcoholic”
In honor of my fear of the glory days having past; in celebration of their continued existence. As my friend wrote, we’ll always get to have our calendars; we’ll always get to travel and do stupid shit. At least until we get knocked up. So for now, here’s to no babies, no husbands, and no real responsibilities:
Sooo…. as of tomorrow afternoon, BAFICI will officially be done this year (and probably for ever, lest I return to Buenos Aires at the same time some other year). While it may be too early to give official rulings on everything (who knows, maybe Paranoid Park is really a force to be reckoned with… or not), but I think I’ll throw caution to the wind and pass on some judgment TOMORROW (or actually, when I get back from Iguazu Waterfalls and camping and doing all sorts of non-kosher things).
For now, I’d like to reitirate how much I love and truly believe in the music of Ryan Bingham. While the Drive-By Truckers put on a better show (of course, NO ONE can top DBT), Ryan Bingham hits me in a way that they, and no one else for that matter, really can. I’ve seen him twice. Each time was amazing. He even headlined the second show (obviously spawning one of my best stories to date). But, I’ve been looking for footage of his performance on Leno (really?), which isn’t posted, but instead I’ve been reading all the media coverage about him and as such, I’ve spent the last few hours zoning in and out while playing Mescalito on repeat. In the rainforest, this will be my soundtrack. I know it.
My favorite Ryan Bingham songs:
“Hard Times” (off Mescalito seriously, buy it now)
[seriously, download, but really, you should just buy it. Soooo good.]
“The Highway” (not really on anything you can buy, so buy Mescalito!)
“Roadhouse Gypsy” (see above, but seriously SO GOOD)
But really, nothing quite beats seeing him live. So do it. And maybe one day, I’ll: marry Ryan Bingham, sleep with him, OR interview him/make a documentary about him. Take you’re pick, for I’m off to bed because I have 3 hours of class to skip tomorrow.
