July 2006 Archives

Have you noticed that 1970s songs now play on golden oldie radio stations? Not only that, but I just caught the sci-fi bummer Soylent Green on AMC -- the American Movie Classics TV station. This makes sense since the average moviegoer was born in 1992.

Anyway, I hadn't seen the movie since I was a little kid. It turns out that I remembered Edward G Robinson eating an apple because he was mistrustful of the mass produced soylent products (don't ask). I also remembered the dad from Eight is Enough being so cheerful he was creepy. It was a good movie and once again makes me wonder why everybody is down on Charlton Heston. I like Chuck.

I also like sci-fi movies where the world is pretty much like it is now, only worse. Chuck Heston's Planet of the Apes, Soylent Green, and Omega Man form a "the future stinks" sci-fi trilogy of epic proportions. Luckily for Heston, the more ravaged the human population becomes in these movies, the more luck he has in securing a girlfriend. If there's only one woman left on the planet, chances are she'll be going out to dinner with Charlton Heston.

David Bowie seems to share Chuck Heston's belief that humanity is going down the tubes. So do Bowie fanatics Joy Division and Gary Numan.  As with those Charles Heston movies, these artists are using the future to talk about today.

Kraftwerk's music looks ahead as well, but to them the the future always looks peachy. Kraftwerk actively sound like they can't wait until the time comes when the human race completely transforms itself into man-machines.

I love Kraftwerk but when it comes to the future, I tend to side with Charlton Heston and chic, cigarette smoking primates. Like Eddy G, I'm sticking with apples and old Benny Goodman records.

Aloha, jerks! Summer's here and the time is right for dancing in the sea! Hey, here's five neptunian things I've been digging lately.

1.) The Five Summer Stories soundtrack. I didn't even know we had this! Five Summer Stories is one of the best '70s surf films ever and it has a killer '70s instrumental soundtrack (good surf movies always have a memorable accompanying soundtrack).

Of course Morning Of The Earth is hands down the best surfing film/soundtrack ever, but you'll have to check that out for yourself as I refuse to attempt to describe its awesome importance with mere words.

2.) Soundtrack For The Surf Move Sprout is incredible for many reasons. First of all it has songs by Hope Sandoval And The Warm Inventions and Mojave 3 that you can't find anywhere else on Rhapsody. Also, the compilation was sequenced by surf artist Thomas Campbell who also directed and produced the actual film (and the film is amazing--lots of tube shooting on old fish shaped boards and long pintail guns). Campbell also did the cover art for the new Mojave 3 album Puzzles Like You.

3.) Killer Surf: Best Of The Challengers This is just classic pachuco soul right here. Maybe it's the native Californian in me, but listening to this compilation reminds me of living in Torrance in the '70s as a little kid and having picnics with the family out at Redondo Beach pier.

4.) Skaterhater by the Phantom Surfers is a pretty awesome album and I don't even really like modern surf music. But these guys hoard all kinds of vintage gear like old Silvertone guitars.

The title of course is a spoof of one of the very first skateboarding movie ever made, 1965's Skater Dater (featuring members of the Hobie Skateboard Team).

5.) This video rules my world. Hell, more bands should make surf related videos.

I'd write more, but I can't just sit here blogging all day. Loads of work to be done. Have a rad weekend.

Gotta bail now!

There's something about rollercoasters that makes my blood simmer with excitement. Maybe it's the sizzzling summer weather, or maybe it's the extreme head rush after the initial 200 feet drop... In any case, I find my adrenaline racing at the idea of unexpected twists and spine-tingling turns.

While waiting in the typical one-hour line for the latest 30-second thrill ride, I couldn't stop tapping my feet to the jams that were being played over the intercom. As we stepped through the pearly white gates and on to the loading deck, I was utterly disappointed that I couldn't listen to the final riff of Paul Oakenfold's "Faster Kill Pussycat". We were strapped into the two-seater catapult, and I suddenly had an engineering epiphany. What if the rollercoaster had speakers INSIDE the car? We could be rocking out to Brittany Murphy as we ricochet down the tracks!

Of course, my cynical copilot quickly shattered my dreams, "Dude, you'll be screaming so loud that you won't be able to hear the music. The ride only lasts 30 seconds anyway."

Okay... So, she's completely right. But I decided to come up with the ULTIMATE rollercoaster soundtrack anyway. Listen to it HERE. It's retro-electro-punk-pop. And even though my idea isn't really plausible, I can still pretend. That's what Rhapsody is for, right? To create a soundtrack for all those unpredictable moments that could totally be captured through the universal language of music.

The SF Giants were in first place for a whole day this weekend. Sunday's game was over four hours long and went into extra inning, only to have the hometown team lose. Not exactly a productive way to spend the day, especially when your team loses.

Bob Dylan seems to like his baseball too. Or maybe, like me, he actually loves songs about baseball. How many good songs about football or Nascar are there?

Somewhere, Dylan has a weekly radio show where he tackles a different theme each week. He recently did one on baseball that was so good that it immediately went into the archives of the Baseball Hall of Fame's library.

Bob picked great old songs like "Did You See Jackie Robinson Hit That Ball?" and a couple of classic songs about an SF hometown hero, including Wilco/Woody Guthrie's "Joe DiMaggio Done it Again." Though Dylan seems to run from any label placed on him, he shows off some of his beatnick roots by selecting Lawrence Ferlinghetti's poem "Baseball Canto" (don't be scared, its actually really entertaining!) 

Another great old number that Dylan selects is Sister Wynona Carr's Gospel rocker "The Ball Game." He's got good taste, this Bob Dylan fellow.

I could add a few cuts to this list, but I've got some actual work to do here so I'll just pick one. The jazz piano duet of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game"" by Andre Previn & Russ Freeman. These songs make me think that watching baseball isn't such a big waste of time after all. Baseball still beats working, that's for sure.

Damn, I wanna go to CMJ so bad this year! I've been waiting for a while to get the green light from my bosses so that I can buy my registration. I can already think of five things off the top of my head that I wanna check out.

1. Emmylou Harris! No, she's not confirmed yet, but I got word from a good buddy of mine who lives in Brooklyn that she may be doing an acoustic set at the Rodeo Bar with everybody's favorite tripple-A temper-tantrum, Ryan Adams. Not only is Emmylou the owner of my favorite voice, but I recently found out that in her youth, she could really shake it.

2. Leslie Feist is the empress of modern day soft rock. One time I saw her open for Kings Of Convenience and she just melted the audience -- especially Bart Davenport who now plays with Persephone's Bees -- I think he fell in love with her that night. Either that or he stepped on a rusty nail before attending the show and contracted a mean case of tetanus that wouldn't let him keep his jaw off the floor. I'd love to be able to see her play Manhattan after filling my belly with a Katz's pastrami sandwich and a pint of ale.

3. Arcade Fire are gonna play a show with David Bowie. Together. At the same time. 'Nuff said.

4. Sonic Youth are playing and I got word that Thurston Moore may join teenage rockers Be Your Own Pet own stage, which would be godhead. I saw the latter play an amazing show at CMJ 2005 and by the time they were done there were tons of greasy A&R guys sweating them.

5. Admittedly my fifth reason for wanting to attend this year's CJM has very little to do with music. I'm sure you understand...

Everyone collects something they love: Porcelain pigs, comic books, autographs.  That thing always seems stupid to someone else.

I like the idea of people collecting things, as long as it doesn't involve an old man tunneling through decades worth of newspapers in his tenament apartment or an old lady hording 300 cats in a one bedroom cottage.

At this point in my life, I collect neither newspapers or cats. I collect records. I used to buy records and Cd's all the time. Now, I'm trying to cut down. Its not just a question of space. With Rhapsody, I have so much stuff to listen to that it makes you question whether you really need to keep that old Grand Funk Railroad or Jackie Gleason record (I've always heard parallels in their work btw).

I have more Frank Sinatra records and Cd's than anything else.  For one, those old guys had a helluva work ethic, and would cut 5 or 6 new releases a year. If they put out only 3 new LPs in a year everyone thought they were slacking off. Sinatra's best stuff was cut during the 1950s and '60s, but a bunch of his '40s recordings have held up very well, even if they don't cut as deeply as his later stuff.   

I was going to post a playlist of Sinatra's best 1940s recordings but I can't seem to find it. That's the problem with collecting things -- it all starts to get a bit confusing when you're in the middle of piles of sonic rubble. So instead, I'll post a playlist of Sinatra singing Cole Porter numbers. 

During this summer heatwave, Sinatra's reading of "When the World Was Young" came into my head. That led to thinking about another innocence lost classic, Paul Weller's "Tales From the Riverbank." Innocence lost isn't as bad as "jacket lost" -- as I dropped my favorite green jacket as I was walking to work this morning. Collecting records sure beats losing jackets.

So, time to cut out of work and head down to the beach boardwalk and roust any bums wearing casual green sportswear from the 1960s.

Music comes and music goes, but rousting bums is a timeless classic that never gets old.

by Linda Ryan

There is something so natural, so right, about enjoying a frosty margarita when the sun is shining -- and hey, if it's a strawberry one, even better!

  Rhapsody recently got the rights to some CDs from a band called Dislocation Dance, who spent most of the early '80s "almost" making it big. Although the band was from Manchester, the home of all things gloomy and grey in the early '80s, Dislocation Dance's perculating tunes were warm and sunny; perfect margarita drinking music and nary a mariachi in sight.

And that got me thinking about tequila. No wait, I'm jumping ahead of myself. It got me thinking about some of the jazz-influenced pop bands that flourished in the early '80s. Although none hung around long, they certainly added some much needed color to the musical landscape of the day. So I made this short playlist. I titled it "Feeling Horny" 'cos, you know, the songs have horns in them. Here are some musical memories to go along with your margarita; be it blended or over ice, real or imagined, enjoy.

By Tim Quirk

I love Luna, but I was disappointed by Tell Me Do You Miss Me, the DVD that recounts the dreamy, hypnotic, Velvet-Underground-worshipping-in-a-good-way band's farewell tour. Although I continue to think they were one of those rare acts worth seeing live every chance you could get, turns out the appeal of watching them in concert gets lost in the edits of a multi-camera shoot, as you're robbed of the head-nodding joys of honing in on a single instrument for minutes at a time while the deceptively simple music, lilting melodies and fey rhymes subtly alter your brain, sparking dozens of mini-epiphanies in the process (you can watch this performance of "Bewitched" from the documentary to decide for yourself if it comes anywhere close to capturing just how transcendentally beautiful the band could be).

by Garrett Kamps

As subscribers well know, you can digest a lot of music with Rhapsody -- jams you haven't listened to in years, records you've always meant to rock but never found the time for, new releases you wouldn't want to spend money on but are curious about, etc. But if pointing, clicking and even thinking about what you want to wet your brain with is too much work, allow me to direct your attention to this new Girl Talk record, Night Ripper. Girl Talk is Gregg Gillis, this laptop rocker dude from Pittsburgh, who, for his latest, has assembled no fewer than 160 pop tunes from every style, era and planet, strapped them all to an operating table, hoisted them a few stories high, and allowed lighting and the spirits of Hollertronix, Z-Trip and Kid 606 to do the rest. The album-length mash-up is nothing new, but Gillis' ambition -- 160 songs! -- is worth marveling at (plus, does listening to Ludacris rapping over Elastica ever get old?). Never has listening to this much music been so efficient.

Family members of a friend of mine are currently in Lebanon. They called my friend and said, "Well, at least they've stocked the shelter with arak."

As I pondered how I could tie in his words into a resourceful blog topic, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be stranded in a developing country on the brink of war because the airport had been bombed. Michael Franti suddenly popped into my head.

In the summer of 2004, Michael Franti traveled to the Middle East with a guitar and a video camera, and captured the daily turmoil present in Iraq, Israel, and Palestine. Entitled I Know I'm Not Alone, the documentary paints of picture of humanity, artistic resilience, and the horrific experience of what it's like to live under military occupation.

"Right now, people ask me, 'What can one person do to change what's going on with the world?' I don't know what one person can do except to connect with other people. In doing that, each of us play our roles," Franti says. "My role is as a storyteller and a songwriter. I'm somebody who is trying to keep the spirits of other people up, despite all the chaos and fear around us."

Franti certainly has the right idea. I've been a fan of his since his Everyone Deserves Music album was released in 2003. I'm bummed I can't make it to his Power to the Peaceful Benefit Concert next Friday at the Mezzanine. Even more so, as I researched commentary on the Spearhead frontman, I ran across this Mother Jones interview that definitely made me question if I should cancel next Friday's rendez-vous.

• Mother Jones: What’s the political message of your film?
• Michael Franti: The film is not a film about political policy or people openly criticizing the Bush administration. It’s just a film about what it’s like living in war and how people get by. To me, the story of the heavy metal band in Baghdad that uses telephone wire in order to make guitar strings, or the kid whose legs have been blown off drawing a picture and smiling in some ways speak to the war more than listening to politicians rant.

We can bomb the world to pieces, but we can't bomb it into peace. Power to the peaceful. Power to Michael Franti.

When a heatwave hits, Latin music can help cool you down.

Not the new Latin music. Remember, old is always better than new.

When I was a kid, a hot summer's day would conjure up dreams of living in the Bronx. The Willie Bobo classic "Spanish Grease" played in my head as I imagined having to hang out on a New York apartment stoop on a hot day, getting to cool off in the spray of an illegally opened fire hydrant. Lucky Bronxonian street urchins.

James Bond always stayed cool in the world's hottest spots. I appreciate how the recently departed Ray Barretto turned the Bond theme into a tropical vamp.

My adopted city of San Francisco even produced a Latin jazz pioneer. On "Viva Cepeda!", Cal Tjader pays tribute to one of the Giants greatest baseball players while forcing your limbs to move in the summer heat.

But when it gets really hot, I want quiet music that suits laying in a hammock and doing nothing. Brazil's Celso Fonseca suits the bill almost every time.

Music from Latin America has many powers, but it can't cool off a dog. During heat waves, Max digs a little hole in the garden and lays down in the cool earth.

Lucky dog. Sounds very nice on a day like today.

by Sam Chennault

After the post on guest verses in hip-hop songs, figured I'd switch it up with a post on French films with a Brian Eno reference in the title. Maybe it'll be more popular?

In addition to the whole soundtrack concept, this is essentially a Rhapsody-powered film review. Various links are embedded throughout the review, but the ones that are in bold are linked to tracks in Rhapsody. I talk about the concept behind this a little more in the end.

I re-watched Michael Haneke's film Cache last night and was pretty blown away by it. It’s a movie full of lies, paranoia, surveillances, false accusations, racism, betrayal and terror, both the internal and external kind, and its intended as a metaphor for the Western World's war on terror as well as France’s own problems with Algeria. Perhaps to its detriment, it’s also a movie that is more about despair than it is rage.

I'd seen it before, while it was in the theater, but picked up a lot more after a second vieiwng and thought it would be a good nominee for what I hope to be my reoccurring Imaginary Soundtracks to Real Films posts. Most will be more light-hearted and brief than this one.

The plot revolves around a French couple, Georges and Anne Laurent (played by Daniel Auteuil and Juliette Binoche), who begin receiving these mysterious tapes in the mail. At first, they’re surveillance tapes, but then they begin to point towards mystery that leads Georges to an Algerian man who Georges had betrayed as a child. The Algerian man, Majid, is not introduced until the middle of the film, and the first portion of the movie presents itself as more of a classic mystery.

Though Georges, who has started having childhood flashbacks, suspects Majid, he keeps his suspicions from his wife. Deceit seems to be George’s MO, and a theme that the movie returns to again and again. When Georges reveals his suspicions about Majid to his wife – or rather is confronted with the fact that his wife has found out – he lies. After the Majid storyline reaches its tragic denouement, Georges goes back to his house, sits in a darkened room and proceeds to mislead to his wife again. Initially, Georges lies to protect his wife (or at least that’s what he tells her), but eventually he lies to conceal his shame.

It’s important to note that Majid consistently denies involvement, and the filmmaker seems to want us to believe that the he’s telling the truth. But Georges consistently misinterprets Majid’s motives and actions in the most self-serving and cynical way possible. For him, Majid is never really human, but a monster who only wants to inflict terror upon Georges -- whether by sending him these tapes or supposedly setting him up for a murder in the end.

The initial mystery of who sent the tapes is never resolved, and many viewers and critics have gotten hung up about this aspect of the film. But the mystery is unsolvable. While it is as an act of terror, it is an essentially innocuous one except for Georges’ reaction to it. This is set up to mirror certain aspects of the war on terror. 

Like the film, very little is known publicity about our war, and even the parameters of the conflict are uncertain and constantly morphing. Is the war against dictators, terrorists or elected officials? Is it in Afghanistan, Iraq or North Korea? Is it about freedom, security or money?

Perhaps after reading this review, you’ll think that this is an anti-American film, but it’s not. It’s meant more as a critique of the French involvement in Algeria, but there are aspects of the French and Algeria dynamic that mirror our own war against Al Qaeda as well as Israel’s ordeal with the Palestine.

But Cache more than just a macro critique of politics in culture, it also takes aim at the Western liberal. Georges is a quiet, neverous and paranoid, but he's not your typical racist. He hosts a show on books where he discusses Rimbaud.  If you asked him, he would probably tell you that he sympathizes with the Algerian cause. For him, racism is not a philisophical concept but an engrained web of stereotypes and fears. Beneath his veneer of enlightment resides something very ugly and violent.

In the end, after Majid is dead, Georges is confronted by Majid’s son, who knows the set of circumstances that led up to Majid’s death. Georges is enraged – threatening the son, further disrespecting Majid, demanding that he stop “terrorizing” Georges' family and accusing the son of being responsible for the tapes all along. Throughout the conversation, he tries to deny any culpability for Majid's fate. Finally, Majid shuts up for a second and asks the son what he wants. The son, who’s seen right through Georges the entire time, tells  him that he only wants to ask what it’s like to have someone's life on his conscious, but he doesn't have to ask anymore. What he doesn't say is taht Georges' anger and guilt have swallowed him, and the violent loop of fear, regret and true terror is finally complete.

The movie's dramatic tension is compounded by the fact that Haneke keeps distorting the POV so you're not sure if you're watching things actually unfold or if you're watching the main character watch them unfold via the series of surveillance tapes.  The technique makes you so uncertain of each frame, and requires that you watch (very closely) with a degree of suspicion. Not only are the characters shadowy and full of lies, but the boundaries of the film seem up in the air.

Another aspect of this film that makes it an appropriate candidate for my first Imaginary Soundtracks for Real Films entry is that the film as no soundtrack. There is little to no audio embellishment, just a procession of silent and mysterious scenes. The film's silence works to its advantage, no doubt, but it’d be interesting to imagine a soundtrack for it. I’m not proposing a frame by frame mash-up, like the overrated Wizard of Oz and Pink Floyd thing or this comparatively brilliant mix of The Matrix and Mambo #5 .

I don’t have that much time on my hands, nor do I have the technical knowledge. But I’m trying to find songs that kind of have the same themes as the film. I’d imagine that there’d be a lot of great indie rock radiohead like songs for this, but I don’t listen to rock n’ rock, and a cursory listen to the #1 indie rock group in Rhapsody would seem to refute that theory anyway. I’ve embedded links in the text that illustrate why exactly these songs apply to this movie (the music and critique are linked both according to thematic and structural similarities). You can find these in the essay, but here's a list of them:

Ice Cube, The Nigga You Love to Hate   Nirvana, All Apologies  Ice Cube, I Wanna Kill Sam Shaggy, It Wasn’t Me  Goodie Mob, Cell Therapy  Geto Boys, Mind’s Playing Tricks on Me  David Banner, Mississippi  Beanie Segal, Feel It in The Air  David Banner, Fire Falling  Oval, Indirekt #4 Quasimoto, Goodmorning Sunshine

Sure, it's cool to show up 45 minutes late for your roommate's girlfriend's birthday party at Cha Cha Cha, but lagging behind on killer music is the kind of faux-pas I can't excuse myself from. It sincerely pains me that after living in San Francisco for five years I'm only now hearing local boy Sean Hayes for the first time. Seen dude's name on flyers from the Upper Haight to the Outer Mission and never paid attention til his new album. What a fun, funny, smack-talking, tuba-thumping, banjo-strumming randomly tight collection of awesome little folk songs. From the sound of things, I'm betting  Sean's front porch swing overlooks that scene from the cover of Strange Days:

Then there's Skull Snaps. I had 30-some years to find out about this early '70s raw-dog funk trio and somehow I just got around to it today (thank you, ILM). Holy smokes these guys are hot! Raw, uncut funk, no frills, Stax Southern soul style. Apparently they've been sampled like crazy up and down the hip-hop hierarchy, diggers have sought them out for ages, and even the Beasties give a shout out in the song "Unite" -- "If you check my pulse it beats Skull Snaps." Damn, that's from like 1998! What the heck have I been listening to?

1. Danava are my new favorite band. These Portland rulers just got signed to Kemado Records. So stoked we're playing with them tonight. Their glammy space rock kind of reminds me of Hawkwind's Space Ritual crossed with the infamously cosmic Zolar X.

2. Hearing Serena Maneesh for the first time made me more happy than when I found out that the Warlocks broke up (no shoegazer band needs seven members). Seriously, if you're going to party like it's 1992, do your homework first. Serena Maneesh sound as if the scene that celebrated itself never stopped celebrating.

3. The new Gram Parsons compilation was sequenced and remixed really well (and there's some rad stuff to geek out on like interviews, alternate versions and outtakes), but we're actually the only folks who have the correct track listing (we had to go into the system and fix it) because the good folks at Rhino Records fully blew it and released a finished product riddled with incorrect information. Way to pay respect to the Grievous Angel, dudes...did you have to hire one of Kim Fowley's new girlfriends to intern over there or what?

4. I found this awesome You Tube clip of the late, great Tim Buckley appearing on an episode of The Monkees. So weird...the episode is about the alien plant that comes to earth in a space ship and spews all this magic smoke that makes people happy (pretty obvious metaphor), but the cops want to kill the happy smoking plant alien and the Monkees have to help it get back home. Then suddenly for no reason at all, the late father of the late Jeff Buckley shows up, sits on an old jalopy and starts singing "Song To The Siren," which was his most heart wrenching song ever. Kinda crazy when you think about how Liz Frazer covered that song before having an affair with Jeff Buckley...

5. Rediscovering Bubble Puppy has made my week.

by Sam Chennault

It's been a long time, and I shouldn't have left you without a dope post to step to.

I know...I know...you're not all that interested in the kicks that I wear, the pets that I own or the liquor that I drink, so 'll cut out all the howyadoin' stuff and get straight to the point.

Here's my list of top ten guest verses in all of hip-hop.

10. Eminem on Biggie's "Dead Wrong"

Honestly, I’m kind of ambivalent about Em.

Brilliant lyricist: check.

The premier post-modern media manipulation dude of his generation: check.

Great freestyle emcee: check.

Emo/goth, disturbed misogynist, lousy producer, crit darling, self-involved egotist with bad taste in women: BIG CHECK.

I liked Em best when he was a punchline emcee on the Wake-Up Show, and this verse captures him at his multi-syllabic rhyming/ devil-worshiping/ gun-toting best.

9. Luda on Missy Elliott's "Gossip Folks"

Luda probably has more great guest verses than any other rapper (excepting possibly Redman) and it's real hard to find just one to rep, but this one is pretty good. Luda basically tells the story of his rist to fame over one of Timbo' s hottest tracks ever.  When he references The Governator's oh-so-classic role in Kindergarden Cop with the line "I got a headache and it's not a tooo-mor," it's like the icing on the cake. 

8. UGK on Jay Z's "Big Pimpin'"

Chosen by me more for what it signified than for its actual quality. This was when Jay Z was at the height of his popularity, and for him to expose UGK (a largely unknown crew from Houston) to the world was huge for the now-legendary crew. I read a piece on UGK member Bun B in The Believer were he fondly remembers the verse but laments that they couldn't have collaborated on something more substantial that this. Still, this song is a straight banger that was instrumental in the rise of UGK.

In the above-sited Bun B interview, he reveals how to out-rap someone whose song you are guest appearing on: Use more syllables per line; Attack the song in the same way as your mark, but with more intensity; and Rhyme more words, and rhyme multisyllabically. Sounds like good advice.

He also comes up with this rhyme that he wrote for Larry David: "Tell your homeboy to Curb his Enthusiasm/ before I point my motherf*ckin’ uzi at him.”

7. Lil Flip on David Banner's "Like a Pimp"

The Leprechaun may have fallen off after being embarrassed by T.I. during their beef, but he seemed pretty god-like when he introduced himself in this classic David Banner banger. He kicks it off with a line like, "By the time I hit the dowe/ I saw ho's on the flowe."

6. Jadakiss and Ludacris on Nas' "Made You Look (Remix)"

I know...I'm kinda  weak and pathetic for citing a song that we don't have in Rhapsody, but I had to include this one. Usually, when rappers guest on remixes, you get a bunch of half-arsed throw away lines. But Luda and Jada brought the heat. Jada starts off real grimy, sending a dedication to "all my nigg*z that been home but only got a jail ID," declaring that "this is methadone music that you can lean off" and taunting his rivals with lines like "I copped your sh*t, but now I break weed up on it." His verse peaks when he declares himself "out of shape, but I make sure that my gun's healthy." Convential wisdom says that Luda, who also guests on the song, comes the strongest, but I disagree. Straight fire from one of the sickest 16-Bar lyricist in hip-hop.

Here's the original version without Luda or Jada.

5. Keak Da Sneak on E-40's "Tell Me When to Go"

Some people are going to wince at seeing such a recent and popular song make this list, and others are going to say that Keak has little talent. I can see the argument that this hasn't stood the test of time, but Keak is an absolute monster. He's limited by his raspy, drug-damaged voice, but he's able to cut through big beats such as this one like he was spitting razor blades. 

4. Madlib on Quasimoto's "Come On Feet"

It isn't that Madlib delivers that great of a verse...really, he's a much much better producer than he is an emcee, and he's told me as much in interviews. But this verse makes it on the list cuz of its conceptual creativity. I remember in 1999 when The Unseen came out, it was hard trying to convince friends that Madlib and Lord Quas were one in the same because they'd always point to the instances of Quas and Madlib doing call and response bits and trading off verses and lines. This particular song might not be the best instance of this ("Loop Digga" has more direct interplay b/t the 2), but it was chosen for its deft use of Alain Goraguer's theme from the movie Fantastic Planet and "Come on Feet Move for Me" (from the blaxploitation classic Sweet Sweetback's Badass Song).

3. Common on Black Star's "Respiration"

People like to attack Common cuz he comes across as soft, but you gotta give it up to the Chi-Town rapper for out-conscioussing Black Star despite great verses from both Mos and Talib.

Just listen to his first few bars here:

Felt the spirit in the wind, knew my friend was gone for good
Threw dirt on the casket, the hurt, I couldn't mask it
Mixin down emotions, struggle I hadnt mastered
I coreograph seven steps to heaven
And hell, waiting to exhale and make the bread leavened
Veteran of a cold war its Chica-i-go for
What I know or, whats known

2. AZ on Nas' "Life's A Bitch"

AZ was the only guest on Nas' landmark Illmatic album, and he almost outshines God's Son. At this point, I'm just going to shut up and let the lyrics speak for themselves:

Visualizing the realism of life and actuality
F*ck who's the baddest - a person's status depends on salary
And my mentality is money orientated
I'm destined to live the dream for all my peeps who never made it
Cuz yeah, we were beginners in the hood as Five Percenters
But something must of got in us cuz all of us turned to sinners
Now some restin' in peace and some are sittin' in San Quentin
Others such as myself are tryin' to carry on tradition
Keepin' the sweat perseverance, street ghetto essence inside us
Cuz it provides us with the proper insight to guide us
Even though we know somehow we all gotta go
but as long as we leavin' thievin'
we'll be leavin' with some kind of dough
And to that day we expire and turn to vapors,
me and my capers - I'll be somewhere stackin' plenty papers
Keeping it real, packing steel and getting high
Cause life's a bitch and then you die

1. Ghostface on GZA's "4th Chamber"

Honestly, I'd like to put Nas' verse on the Main Source classic "Live at the BBQ" in this slot, but we don't have this in our system so it doesn't seem appropriate.

Still, it's hard to touch Ghost's verse on this classic. Over RZA's crunchy, noisy production, Ghost leads off with a verse that sets the tone for one of the best hip hop songs ever. He declares that "this ain't no white cartoon/ Cuz I be duckin crazy spades"; claims that he "ran the dark ages with Constantine" and builds with "Genghis Khan, the wreck-suede wiley Don"; and brags that he's been "sippin' rum out of Stanly Cups."  Probably the most memorable part of this verse is when Ghost breaks into the series of rhetorical questions in the middle of the verse:

"Why is the sky blue?
Why is water wet?
Why did Judas rat to the Romans while Jesus slept?"

Postscript:

Ghostface basically answered the question "Why is the Sky Blue?" three years later on the equally classic song "The Sun":

"The sky's blue cuz the sun hit the water like 'BING' ."

A lot of people will try to tell you that the sky is blue because of vapor, water droplets, ice crystals, Rayleigh scattering and sh*t like that, but don't believe them. The sky is blue cuz the sun hit the water like BING. 

OK, Boppers.

The sun is back, bringing that summer feeling with it.

The summer, of course, always comes back to the Beach Boys. We all grew up listening to their '60s hits, and even today's rock critics have changed their minds and now like to pretend that they aways liked the band.

Have you heard "Good Vibrations" lately? OK, you actually heard it six times on Slammin' Oldies while driving to work this morning? Why not make it seven? Come on -- "Good Vibrations" gets my vote for the greatest No. 1 hit single of all time.

Many of the lesser known Beach Boys numbers are fantastic too. Have you heard their 1970 tune "All I Wanna Do" ??

This song proved that Brian Wilson still had it, even after he lost it.

But the lesser known Beach Boys song that completely blows me away is neglected brother Dennis Wilson's brilliant "Feel Flows". This is basically the sound of today's indie pop. And using my basic principle that the old is always better than the new, this means that the Beach Boys are the best.

Enjoy the weekend. And if you can't get to the beach, just put on some Beach Boys and get the surf in your soul.

Back in the day (when I was young), I used to tape radio shows - it was my archaic form of pirating. I anxiously sat next to my parent’s 10lb aluminum receiver, and as soon as the commercials for Ovaltine (please!) were through, I’d hold down the big red record button on the dilapidated hi-fi cassette deck (only the "B-Side" with the "Record" button worked; I remember crying when Step-by-Step by New Kids on the Block got eaten by "A"). Of course, the recordings were never ideal because either the DJ would chime in during the last 30 seconds of the tune or the cassette would stop recording right in the middle of the song because it could only record 45 minutes worth of sound. And don’t forget the usual fluttering in the background. Furthermore, if I ever happened to obtain a perfect cassette tape, one without scratches or murmurs or interruptions from the Man Cow, my trusty 10lb aluminum toaster of a radio would faithfully falter, further lessening my hope for a peaceful human-electronics relationship. Alas, only one other piece of machinery could facilitate my crime - the hand-held cassette recorder. I’d make sure no one was home, all the windows in the living room were closed, and the cat was outside. I’d hold the audio apparatus against the speaker and again wait until the Mentos (the Freshmaker) jingle had ceased. Those bootleg cassettes sure were useful...

I memorized all the lyrics to "Ice, Ice Baby" by continually exhausting the rewind button, which eventually fell off; I learned the painfully familiar dance moves to the "Macarena," and then taught them to my mom; I sang along to every track during the Top 7 at 7 in the shower and used up all the hot water during my daily 45 minute escapade; I begged my brothers to take me to the Pearl Jam concert (Pearl Jam concert tickets advertised on the radio on permanent rotation were as nostalgic as an ice cream truck jingle, but only because my brothers had Ten on repeat in their bedroom.); And I ran up $50 phone bills by calling the radio station to win tickets to see Prince.

What happened to those days? Are we so consumed by work that we'd rather spend an hour writing a blurb to pay the bills than spend an hour on the phone with a radio station? Or has technology advanced so far that we no longer need to listen to the radio because we can just download the track on-line?  Have we become so impatient that we ignore our once faithful friend, the 10lb aluminum receiver, to utilize the convenience that the cyberworld has to offer? What happened to those days when boundless enthusiasm fueled our unquenchable thirst for familiar music?

by Mike McGuirk

My name is Mike McGuirk, I am a freelance writer for Rhapsody. I used to run the rock/pop section but last year I went part time and moved out of the US. With very little in the way of a plan I ended up in Southeast Asia. Bangkok, Thailand specifically. Initially, I intended to make Thailand the first stop before moving on to Vietnam where, with a ragtag gang of mercenaries like myself, I would free P.O.W.s, jam out to Hendrix during a firefight in the jungle, jump out of a Huey with nothing but an M-16 and a sheet of acid, wear a headband, etc. Anyway, I got hung up in Bangkok and have yet to make it out of the country. Life is kind of easy here. It's like a giant Red Light district where cigarettes cost a dollar and every girl is an awesome pool shot. Also there are amazing cover bands. And I love cover bands.

Raise your hand if you like it when a song pulls a Mola Ram? You remember Mola Ram, right? The bad guy from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom? So yeah, a Mola Ram is when a song reaches into your chest cavity, grabs your heart, rips it out, sets it on fire, then cracks up as you descend to you fiery death in terror/fascination. Now who doesn't like that? Not me. Big fan of Mola Rams am I. My latest: "Up with People" from Oneida's eighth record, the brain teaser/freezer Happy New Year. On its own, the song could kinda fit in with the punk-funk that everyone was jocking two years ago -- it's herky-jerky, with pinging synth blasts and a beat that hits like a Zidane head-butt. But taken in the context of the whole album, the tune sounds quite different, like a last-ditch party effort in the midst of a desultory gypsy jingo-jango, your last chance for fun before a really weird trip sets in. I mean, p-funksters Out Hud could never pull off Simon & Garfunkel on three sheets of Window Pane, but that's what you'll hear a little later on "Busy Little Bee." Come to think of it, this whole album is one long Mola Ram. But that's basically what we've come to expect from this Brooklyn bunch of heads.

(insert witty-er introduction here)

Well, um... Hello. My name is Sabrina Sutherland, and I am the intern for the editorial team, et al. here at Rhapsody. I'm an undergraduate at the University of the Pacific in Stockton, CA, and will be receiving a B.M. in Music Management with a minor in Pre-law in May 2007. I like long walks on the beach, sudoku, HBO's Sex and the City, sushi, Baskin Robbins ice cream, singing along to bad pop in my car with the windows down, and busting moves to classic rock. If you wonder what my job as an intern entails, keep wondering... There's not enough space here to explain the extensive details of this demanding position. ;o)

And now, I will share some of my favorites, not-so-favorites, and random facts, as all virgin-bloggers do their first time.

• Best thing I've heard in the last week: "DUDE, Matisyahu is playing at the Berkeley Community Theater in SEPTEMBER!"
• Best thing I've heard in the last month: Phish - "Mmm Bop" (Hanson Cover)
• Best thing I've heard in the last few years: Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds Bootleg - Live at the Oakdale Theater
• The album I'd take with me on a deserted island and I wouldn't be allowed to bring anything else: Sublime - (Self titled) 
• One song I think is just about perfect in every way: Diana Krall - "Let's Fall In Love"
• Song I love from a genre I don't know ANYTHING about: Big & Rich - "Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy"
• Cover song I like more than the original (but the original is still a classic): Cake - "I Will Survive"
• Best record ever when I was 11: Boyz II Men - Cooley High Harmony
• First record I bought: Paula Abdul - Forever Your Girl
• Last record I paid my own money to buy: Gilles Peterson - Back in Brazil
• Music-related movie that I can watch over-and-over again: High Fidelity
• Favorite movie soundtrack: Forrest Gump
• First concert I saw: Santana at the Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View, CA
• Last concert I saw: Common at the Fox Theater in Stockton, CA
• Artist I'm DYING to see in concert: Stevie Wonder
• Group I wish I never saw in concert: The Spice Girls
• Latest guilty pleasure: Panic! at the Disco - A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Be sure to look out for more resourceful blogs from me in the near future. And feel free to copy the above survey into a chain e-mail for everyone in your address book.

Well, I can't say this year's World Cup has ended up increasing the globe's already low reserves of peace, love, and understanding.

So, before giving a shout-out to Italy we should all raise our fists and silently listen to one-hit-wonder Timmy Thomas' searing "Why Can't We Live Together." If you only take your advice from beautiful women, you can listen to Sade's cover version. Wait a minute...wrong person... I meant this Sade.

Now, back to Italy.

As much as I wanted to throw some good Italian pop music at you, I just couldn't find any. I'm not saying that superior Italian pop doesn't exist, just that most Italian singers are going for the larger Latin market and concentrating on puffy chested Spanish language balladry.

The great Paolo Conte is from Italy. Wait a minute! That song is actually in French. Try this song instead. Boy, I can't do anything right today. Must be the fog.

There are also a number of superior jazz musicians from Italy. Enrico Pieranunzi plays the piano beautifully. On that song he tips his hat to the legendary composer Ennio Morricone. The Enricos don't stop there, because Enrico Rava is also amazing.

Since dogs and jazz go hand-in-hand, I shall also spotlight the Italian greyhound. This lovable pup comes with floppy ears, sweet eyes, an extremely long neck, and a red collar resting on the narrowest shoulders this side of Don Knotts.

Viva Italia!

DISCLAIMER: TV on the Radio's new record will be released domestically in August; this post pertains to the import release, which, sadly, is not available for stateside subscribers. There's nothing we can do about this except apologize: Oh god, we're so, so sorry. Now then...

I've been imagining this conversation in my head for the last 48 hours as I've listened (rather endlessly) to this new, amazing, perfectly befuddling TV on the Radio record, Return to Cookie Mountain:

Major Label A&R Dude: Hey-hey, swinging New York. We can totally dig. Friends with those Yeah Yeah Yeahs, David Cross, anointed by Pitchfork -- that's great, we'll take it. Sign us up. I mean, heh heh, sign you guys up. Sign you up to our label. Our MAJOR label. Here, that's the dotted line right there.

TV on the Radio: Ummm, major label dude?

MLARD: Yeah, man, yeah. Is it okay if I call you man?

TVOTR: Thing is, I mean, you can sign us and all, but, like, we're not the Strokes or Interpol. We're not even the Rapture.

MLARD: Sure, sure, totally man. Your own thing. To-tal-ly.

TVOTR: The record we have in mind, it's not gonna have a hit single on it. I mean, you're gonna have to listen to it about three or four times before it starts to get under your skin. And really even then you're not gonna hear any kind of typical rock songs. The melodies are gonna be all hidden, like wired behind the walls, ya know what I mean?

MLARD: But you're friends with David Cross, right?

TVOTR: Well, sort of, I guess you cou--

MLARD: Great. Perfect.

TVOTR: Seriously though we'll take your money. But you gotta realize, all that stuff that people wrote about how we sound like Peter Gabriel... that's a load of b.s. We sound about as much like "Solsbury Hill" as we do Phil Collins, or any ex-member of Genesis for that matter. Not that we don't make the good rock -- you listen to a song like "Wolf Like Me" enough times and you'll find the pop tune in there. But it'll take awhile, only -- and this is the cool thing -- once you put in the effort you'll have this really special thing. Like, you'll have your own pop song, 'cause it'll be this thing that you alone hear, in there, amid the crashes, the noise. You can even decide for yourself what the chorus is and what the verse is -- we mix it all up like that! And who's singing? Is it me? Is it him? Now it's this other guy -- now we're all singing! Now David Bowie's singing!

TVOTR (con't): But dude, is that your thing? I thought you guys were all about maxi-singles and -- you're from Interscope, right? You guys put out t.A.T.u. Also, Pharrell can't produce this.

MLARD: Huh? What? Hey, pass me the Cristal. Captain Pants needs a refill.

TVOTR: Who's Captain Pant-- also, this isn't Cristal, it's Pinot Grigio. And why are we in the ESPN Zone in Times Square anyway?

MLARD: Are you gonna finish your Cajun fries?

TVOTR: Look man, all I'm saying is you're not gonna be getting some easy-to-market, dance-rock hipster pin-up band. We're gonna make this record how we wanna make it, it's gonna confuse a boat-load of hipsters, half of whom are gonna say they hate it, the other half that it's the best thing since fixed-gear bikes, and ultimately we're going to remain an enigma.

MLARD: Perfect. I love Enigma.

TVOTR: Jesus. Where do we sign?

Hope everyone had a nice 4th of July and that not too many of you were victims of tragic accidents involving alcohol, barbecues and/or fireworks. If anyone lost an eye by placing fireworks into the barbecue then I hope a lesson was learned.

We are fast approaching July 14th, which is French Independence Day. Since Americans love everything to do with France, July 14th is celebrated by most Yanks. Since everyone is clamoring for French music ("More French Music!!!" the mobs cry outside the Rhapsody gates) I came up with a Rhapsody radio station called Cafe Montmartre.

The radio station features such new French pop stars as Camille, Benjamin Biolay, Helena, and Vincent Delerm. Even if you don't understand the language Cafe Momo is a very relaxing radio station.

Of course, France also made it into the World Cup, with the help of the retiring Zidane. Italy, the French opponent in the World Cup, has many things going for it, but most of them have nothing to do with football, fut, or soccer.

Word on the street is that even the dogs have caught the World Cup bug. Cats, as usual, couldn't care less.