Year End Lists: Lap Dances and Dick Rubs

Top three coming at you. Witty introductory remark.

Ben's pick:

3. Rhymefest - Mark Ronson presents Rhymefest in Man in the Mirror
Best hip-hop record of the year? You bet. And it never even came out in stores. Mark Ronson applies his pop scented hip-hop production to a concept mash up of a mixtape, employing nothing but Michael Jackson (and the Jackson 5, natch) samples spanning the King of Pop's career to craft the perfect sonic landscape for 'Fest and his cohorts to rhyme on. As an added bonus, we get remixes of classic Jackson-sampling hip-hop tracks like Ghostface's "All That I've Got is You" and De La Soul's "Breakadawn." The homage reaches a new level on "No Sunshine," which finds 'Fest riffing on Jackson riffing on Bill Withers. It's free, so if you don't have it already, there's really no excuse.

Isabelle's pick:

3. Estelle - Shine
I think Estelle is John Legend's way of making up for his shitty Liberace schtick these last few years. I believe that this is his way of saying I DO still have good taste and I AM a talented musician, see what I brought you? Pure British R&B/pop gold. Sassy, sexy, talent for days...Estelle is just amazing. She can rap, she can sing the shit out of anything, and she can write too. You already know how I feel about "American Boy." I feel just as good about the rest of this record. She and John Legend singing together is nothing short of beautiful, like Marvin and Tammi, except not in love and not as good, but you know what I mean. And this album has Cee-Lo!

Grammy Nominations announced, I continue watching Top Chef reruns

The 2009 Grammy Awards Nominations list was announced today. Not that it really matters or anything, because getting a Grammy is now the equivalent of getting the "Most Unique" award in junior high: pointless, slightly embarrassing and about as special as a gold star on your social studies essay on hunter gatherers. Say what you will about the film industry and their award shows, at least they have certain accolades that still mean something. I mean, I know there is no point in getting my panties in a twist about Lil' Wayne's eight (yes, you read that correctly) nods, but I think it's epically fucked up that the Jonas Brothers and fucking Duffy are in the Best New Artist category and Estelle (who is nominated for "American Boy") is not. And Best Album of the Year is like a slap in the face to good taste: Coldplay, Weezy and Ne-Yo all earned a spot while the Rev. Al Green, who had quite possibly one of the greatest albums ever, gets a conciliatory Best R&B Album bone thrown in his legendary and magnificent direction. And forget about ?uestlove's Producer of the Year wish. That honor will probably go to will.i.am or Nigel Godrich (interestingly enough, Godrich has one produced album he is considered for, In Rainbows, while all the other nominees in that category have at least three) and maybe the engineers who worked on Lay It Down can get the Best Engineered Album award, which is an honor; but only a handful of music nerds (Hi, nice to meet you, my name is Isabelle and my favorite guitar arpeggio this year came from the late Spanky Alford) and audio engineers actually pay attention to that category. And if I'm not mistaken, it probably gets the rolling credit style mention that the Best Tejano Album gets. Oh, and by the way, Katy Perry was nominated, because it's really funny to pretend you're a little bit gay.

Well, the good news is that my new favorite Philly jawn Jazmine Sullivan got a few kudos and veteran producer and singer Raphael Saadiq got some respect for his very good album, The Way I See It. Also, Janelle Monae's dope tune, "Many Moons" was shown some love.

But I think the real underdog story of the 51st Annual Grammy Awards is Wayne Brady. I mean, his cover of "A Change is Gonna Come" is just SO soulful. And thanks for nominating Nas' song "Nigger (The Slave and the Master)." It's always good to reward once decent artists for being boringly provocative for the sake of attention/the opportunity to argue with Bill O'Reilly.

The Roots + Gym Class Heroes + Estelle, Congress Theatre, Chicago, 10.24.08

Here's my mini-review of Friday's show at the Congress Theatre in Chicago. It can also be seen on TimeOut Chicago's blog. Black Thought, please wife me.


No matter what the context, where the venue, or who they are opening or headlining for, each and every single time that I have had the privilege of seeing Philly’s finest live (Friday night’s show at the Congress Theatre being my 18th), they have delivered. And by “delivered” I don’t just mean that they sounded as good as they do on their albums, or that they had engaging stage presence, exuded flawless musicianship or improved on their recorded catalogue. By “delivered,” I mean that every time I see them, they make me understand just why it is that people make and perform music in front of a live audience in the first place. Simply put, the Roots remind me why I love live music.
Choice cuts off of their Blade Runner-esque album Rising Down (“Get Busy,” “Criminal”) were interspersed with classics from Do You Want More?!!!??! (“Proceed,” “Mellow My Man”) and Things Fall Apart (“Next Movement,” “Step into the Realm” and of course, their second most famous song, “You Got Me,” which featured the lovely Estelle, whose set I unfortunately missed, on Erykah Badu’s chorus and then it transformed into a ten minute opus at the Hendrix-like fingers of guitarist Captain Kirk, as he took over vocal duty during his face melting solo and scatted us through “Sweet Child O’ Mine” and “Who Do You Love,” before bringing us back to worrying about what club he went to with his homies) and an especially exquisite and goose bump inducing Fela Kuti tribute was performed during Rising Down’s Afrobeat inspired “I Will Not Apologize,” adding a significant amount of funk and brass (courtesy of sousaphonist and Brass Heaven alum Damon “Tuba Gooding Jr.” Bryson). As always, the J.B. like tightness of the group (which would make ?uesto either James Brown or Fred Wesley, maybe both) kept the hour and a half set rolling at a perfect pace; each song got ample and special treatment, but there were no unnecessary pauses, shout outs or unwanted insights, and the unabashed joy that this twenty-year old group has playing together could not be contained. Cholly Atkins would be damn proud of the two-step that bassist Owen Biddle, Douglas and Bryson had going on.

And oh, some group from upstate New York that Patrick Stump shit out while he was listening to a Limp Bizkit record opened.

Top left, the best picture ever taken.