I am maturing and it is a frightening thought. For the first time since MTV has been on the air, I missed the VMAs. OK, I boycotted it after Britneys performance and Sarah Silvermans (yawnnnnnnnn) monologue. I knew that if I continued to watch-I would get mad. I don't like being bored.
Britney, Britney, Britney. Sighhhhhhhh. Let me find something nice to say. Hmmmm. Heyyyyyy, I almost liked your song. (smile) The beat is FIYAHHHHHHHHH. Go find some lyrics-STAT!
Somewhere on this planet, Paula Abdul is screaming YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS because someone ELSE had the worse costume (???) ever on television.
I love Britney. I have defended her music and singing abilities for YEARS but they just laugh. Didn't Britney learn from the Onyx Hotel Slutfest tour that the stripper look is out?
The saucy sassy Britney is gone. What I witnessed was a performer who should have been seasoned in the Razzle Dazzle performing like a Pussycat Doll cast off. I feel like crying.
Why? Because she is soooo YOUNG.
Rhianna had NERVE to laugh at Britney. I would rather listen to a Britney marathon than one note of Rhianna. I will never forgive Jay Z for introducing her to my ears. I forgave him for stealing Biggies lyrics, but I have had enough.
I couldn't and wouldn't watch another second of that show. I know that MTV is youth oriented and gay ran, but they need an old head or five up there to bring life back into that station.
Truth be told, after Tupac and Biggie were murdered-I stopped watching MTV and slid over to VH1. I have seperated from VH1 as well. I haven't signed the final divorce decree on that as yet.
BET used to be my pride and joy, but UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. The rented house, rented women, and rented music is OLD.
Britney, put some clothes on and bring back the Razzle Dazzle. Please prove to me that there isn't a Justin Timberlake curse on the women he has performed with.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Video killed the Radio Star, but The Internet Killed the Superstar
Anonymity is a good thing. It really is. Everyone has a reality show. Who cares? Do I really want to waste an hour of my time watching you whine and moan or spend obscene amounts of money on panties? I mean really. It's only an ass. Who needs $900 worth of drawers?
I have no desire to watch the VMA's because I have read everything there is about it. It will be on Youtube on Monday anyway and Mtv will run it ad nauseum. Mtv is already ruining it for me by showing the rehearsals-even the so called surprises online.
If you are online you pretty much knows who have purchased their awards before hand. The surprises are just not THERE. I am a purist, if I wanted to listen to pre-recorded tracks, I might as well listen to the damned record. Yes, I know first hand how hard it is to sing and dance, but guess what-I don't care. Push through that diaphragm and do that ish LIVE.
Plug in some amps, tune a guitar, a bass, and bring out a slamming kick assed drummer. We will forgive you if you have a keyboardist. Just PERFORM!
I don't want to go online while paying $1200 a year for cable. I want three hours of screaming like I was there and yelling at my tv-"DO THAT ISH GIRL/GUY!" I want the pleasure of scaring my cat while prancing around in my drawers and t-shirt emulating my inner insert artist here. When I get up to pee at the commercial, tease me to hurry up as if I were to tarry too long, I would miss something SPECIAL.
Don't cut backstage, I don't want to see my favorite artist high or drunk for ratings. I really don't want to hear many of them speak until they get speech lessons and diction lessons.
Too keep things exciting, bring in a loose cannon or two. A rebel. Someone who will have the producers and censors on edge. Reunite two formerly feuding performers. We the audience love that tear factor.
There really hasn't been a SUPERSTAR since the 90's. They are constantly in your face over and over. They aren't wearing panties (there goes the drawlz reference again)they are blatantly flaunting their status as assholes knocking real news off to reveal that a certain mother had her ass cheeks out once again.
Newsflash-stripping is now mainstream. It doesn't shock us nor titillate us anymore. Note to a few ladies, Tina Turner, Lola Falana, and Cher wants their acts back. For Pete's sake please, please, please find a new act!
Put the PERFORMANCE factor back into award shows. The razzle dazzle. The glamour, the fashion OMG fired your stylist!
Stop coddling these artists until they have EARNED the right for special treatment.
Most of all-keep it offline!
P.S.-find a real Comedian who is FUNNY. Plenty of them out there, find one-STAT-they keep the show moving!
I have no desire to watch the VMA's because I have read everything there is about it. It will be on Youtube on Monday anyway and Mtv will run it ad nauseum. Mtv is already ruining it for me by showing the rehearsals-even the so called surprises online.
If you are online you pretty much knows who have purchased their awards before hand. The surprises are just not THERE. I am a purist, if I wanted to listen to pre-recorded tracks, I might as well listen to the damned record. Yes, I know first hand how hard it is to sing and dance, but guess what-I don't care. Push through that diaphragm and do that ish LIVE.
Plug in some amps, tune a guitar, a bass, and bring out a slamming kick assed drummer. We will forgive you if you have a keyboardist. Just PERFORM!
I don't want to go online while paying $1200 a year for cable. I want three hours of screaming like I was there and yelling at my tv-"DO THAT ISH GIRL/GUY!" I want the pleasure of scaring my cat while prancing around in my drawers and t-shirt emulating my inner insert artist here. When I get up to pee at the commercial, tease me to hurry up as if I were to tarry too long, I would miss something SPECIAL.
Don't cut backstage, I don't want to see my favorite artist high or drunk for ratings. I really don't want to hear many of them speak until they get speech lessons and diction lessons.
Too keep things exciting, bring in a loose cannon or two. A rebel. Someone who will have the producers and censors on edge. Reunite two formerly feuding performers. We the audience love that tear factor.
There really hasn't been a SUPERSTAR since the 90's. They are constantly in your face over and over. They aren't wearing panties (there goes the drawlz reference again)they are blatantly flaunting their status as assholes knocking real news off to reveal that a certain mother had her ass cheeks out once again.
Newsflash-stripping is now mainstream. It doesn't shock us nor titillate us anymore. Note to a few ladies, Tina Turner, Lola Falana, and Cher wants their acts back. For Pete's sake please, please, please find a new act!
Put the PERFORMANCE factor back into award shows. The razzle dazzle. The glamour, the fashion OMG fired your stylist!
Stop coddling these artists until they have EARNED the right for special treatment.
Most of all-keep it offline!
P.S.-find a real Comedian who is FUNNY. Plenty of them out there, find one-STAT-they keep the show moving!
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Treading the Rap World vs The Rock World-A black teens angst
Forget Kelis or Macy Gray. Before them there was Ravie Rave.
I can remember the Manhattanville parties back in the day. My window faced the center. Puerto Rican weddings and Rap Parties filled the centers walls in the summertime.
I swore if I heard Heartbeat ONE MO GAIN-I would throw myself right out of my window. Of course that was the jammy jam at the time so I heard that damned song ad nauseum.
That's how they did it back in the day, a song you barely could tolerate-you would find yourself humming in class.
But when my parents gave me my own radio, I discovered two things that I held dearly to me: Lite Fm and Howard Stern on AM radio. 66 WNBC. In the afternoons I learned about lezbums and rock and roll. Back then Howard played music in between his tirades. I soaked it up like a sponge. After Howard, John Lennon, Elton John, Bread and countless others filled my ears with timeless classics. To this day I absolutely love Paul Anka and Neil Diamond. How was I to know that their angst ridden tunes would fill my lifes pattern so deeply that I could FEEL how they were singing?
I learn learned how to explore my dials. I would jam with Jim Kerr in the mornings, Paco in the evenings. I recieved my very first kiss to Come live with me Angel, by Marvin Gaye during Frankie Crockers Quiet Storm. Frankie was also playing when I lost my virginity-Luther Vandross' Make me a believer. I wasn't impressed with my lover-but I loved Luffas sawng.
Then in 1983 MTV came into my world. I instantly feel in love with Rick Springfield. Fuck Jessies Girl Rick-I would dream to myself. I even changed the title to Ravies Gal. It wouldn't be the first time I inserted my name into a song. I would sing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers You Just Got Lucky until I made my own damned self sick.
But for a long while through elementary and junior high school I hid my passion for non black groups. After all, I had Kurtis Blows poster on my closet door and The DeBarges on my wall. Foster Sylver had my little heart in his hands. I was a card carrying Right On! subscriber.
But I hid my Bop and Tiger Beat magazines in the radiator. I would carry my Rick Springfield mini Bop magazine between the pages of my history book.
I learned how to break dance and pop and lock with the rest of my peers. I had all of the Jacksons albums-I blamed it on the boogie dammit! Mike and me were cool on the listening tip-but my heart pined for Marlon.
I can remember the Manhattanville parties back in the day. My window faced the center. Puerto Rican weddings and Rap Parties filled the centers walls in the summertime.
I swore if I heard Heartbeat ONE MO GAIN-I would throw myself right out of my window. Of course that was the jammy jam at the time so I heard that damned song ad nauseum.
That's how they did it back in the day, a song you barely could tolerate-you would find yourself humming in class.
But when my parents gave me my own radio, I discovered two things that I held dearly to me: Lite Fm and Howard Stern on AM radio. 66 WNBC. In the afternoons I learned about lezbums and rock and roll. Back then Howard played music in between his tirades. I soaked it up like a sponge. After Howard, John Lennon, Elton John, Bread and countless others filled my ears with timeless classics. To this day I absolutely love Paul Anka and Neil Diamond. How was I to know that their angst ridden tunes would fill my lifes pattern so deeply that I could FEEL how they were singing?
I learn learned how to explore my dials. I would jam with Jim Kerr in the mornings, Paco in the evenings. I recieved my very first kiss to Come live with me Angel, by Marvin Gaye during Frankie Crockers Quiet Storm. Frankie was also playing when I lost my virginity-Luther Vandross' Make me a believer. I wasn't impressed with my lover-but I loved Luffas sawng.
Then in 1983 MTV came into my world. I instantly feel in love with Rick Springfield. Fuck Jessies Girl Rick-I would dream to myself. I even changed the title to Ravies Gal. It wouldn't be the first time I inserted my name into a song. I would sing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers You Just Got Lucky until I made my own damned self sick.
But for a long while through elementary and junior high school I hid my passion for non black groups. After all, I had Kurtis Blows poster on my closet door and The DeBarges on my wall. Foster Sylver had my little heart in his hands. I was a card carrying Right On! subscriber.
But I hid my Bop and Tiger Beat magazines in the radiator. I would carry my Rick Springfield mini Bop magazine between the pages of my history book.
I learned how to break dance and pop and lock with the rest of my peers. I had all of the Jacksons albums-I blamed it on the boogie dammit! Mike and me were cool on the listening tip-but my heart pined for Marlon.
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