Ok, I might be stretching just a little bit to fit this into the context of a music blog. However, though now a lost art, b-boying/break dancing is definitely a part of the hip hop culture. But I’m not sure how much Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo is.
Any way, I think the moral of this video is that when you have conflict, just dance it out y’all. And blow fake smoke into someone’s face as well.
Word to Turbo and Ozone.
In the comment section of one of Money Mike’s latest posts, I made reference to a young R&B group from the early 90s named Perfect Gentlemen. They were put together by Maurice Starr and put on tour to open up for the New Kids On The Block (thanks Wikipedia).
(By the way, I swear that when it’s all said and done, we’re going to have the most New Kids/New Edition mentions of any blog on earth.)
Mike told me that we might be the only two folks reading the blog who even remember the group. I said that I’d have to change that. I’m changing that. I apologize for the quality of the video. It’s all that is out there right now.<p>
– That dude was dunking on a 7 foot rim.
– Look at that puffy little duck tail.
– The charm to this song was the hushed singing/talking that made you feel the pain of teenage heartbreak.
– Ok, maybe the true charm to the song is the “Ooh La La, ooh la la” part. That’s definitely the part I remember.
– For the longest time, I didn’t know that they sang, “I can’t, can’t get over you.” I thought it was, “I can’t get it over you.” Where were lyric sites in 1990 when you needed them?
– “I had a dream, me, myself, and I. You were my girl and of course I was your guy.”
– I wish I could get my hair to have levels like that.
– When she kissed the window and left the lipstick mark and then he touched it with his cheek, you have to admit, that was legit cute.
Sadly, it looks like Perfect Gentlemen is no more. There will be no more “Ooh La La”, but someone needs to sample that chorus.
Last weekend I was at a family get-together. Somewhere along the way MP3 players became a popular topic, which caused my dad to pose the immortal question, “Who the hell cares what’s on my iPod?” Now chances are pretty good if you’re reading a music blog you already know the answer to that, but pretending that you don’t since I can’t think of any other way to open this up: it’s because it allows you to know a person without actually knowing them.
For example, if your iPod is loaded with songs from Type O Negative, Burzum and Scandinavian death metal sensation Vordghackf, it means you have you several pentagrams carved into your arm, like to write overlong and half-racist internet dissertations on why “rap music” sucks, and it’s only a matter of time before you shoot up the post office you’re inevitably working for. If your iPod is loaded with songs from George Jones, Daddy Yankee and Godsmack, it means you’re going through a mid-life crisis and can’t decide whether you want to want to embrace a conservative adulthood or put up the façade that you’re twenty years-old again, ‘cos god forbid that you should accept your age and move on. Finally, if your iPod is loaded with nothing but Ani DiFranco, it means you’re one of those feminist types with a butch haircut, lots of beads and a huge ass (stolen courtesy of “That’s My Bush!”).