While shooting the breeze with a friend in Second Life about two years ago, I was given a link to the poet Khari Toure’s mySpace page where I immediately fell in love with the tracks, “Beauty Queen” and “Thickness”, two tracks he streamed for free. This began a passionate appreciation and love of Khari’s style as a poet and a performer that outlasted the friendship of the person who actually introduced me to him.

I haunted his mySpace page for a long time, and followed him to facebook (along with his legion of fans) because his poetry is a real glimpse into the mind of a man–not one of these Step N Fetchit’s from JigabooTV, but the mind of a real man.

Read more…

Great review over at The Guardian, and I loved the questions at the end. My answer to the last he asked:

To me it looked like Gaeta was moving towards how Anakin Skywalker was at the end of Attack of the Clones, with his own cybernetic arm. I knew then he had begun to cross over, and take on Vader’s mantle.

More to the point, I now find Gaeta repugnant, and that’s how I felt about Anakin’s character by then as well (but how much that has to do with Hayden Christiansen’s abominable acting skills, or the character’s inevitable slide towards evil and wickedness I can’t say precisely.)

Battlestar Galactica: season four, episode 14

This week, space battle takes a back seat to human drama. Or Cylon drama. It gets confusing sometimes, and not just for Chief

[From Episode review: Battlestar Galactica: season four, episode 14 | Culture | guardian.co.uk ]

Last Friday as I was riding the bullet (the fast train) to work, I was flipping through a copy of the Metro, the free newspaper distributed at all the train stations in London.

In the entertainment pages was a spread on this Cuban rap group called Orishas.

Of course, I read every word of the article, absorbed by the review/preview; they were performing in London this weekend. I am now seriously disappointed that I didn’t know in advance, since I have rampaged through the iTunes Music Store, and now find myself enthralled with this unique music.

In the Metro article they’re described as:

“And so the disparate sounds of these separate cultures, in these alchemists’ hands, turn into something that sounds natural and organic, something that works in front of Latino, hip hop, pop or rock audiences and that serves as a vehicle for their pointed social commentaries.”
I have kind of backward engineered my now passionate attraction to this music. I read about their London gig in the Metro, then as I was searching the iTunes music store (and Kazaa) for Orisha music, their stuff just started coming up. So after two days of buying and downloadings, I have fallen in love with their sound, their flow, their musicality.

Read more…

Although I was invited to review a couple of tracks from ist’s  now released, Freudian Corduroy, the reviews were actually a part of a competition.

Rules were simple, submit a review and they’d pick the best handful and award them a copy of the CD, a T-Shirt and a copy of Similarly Inclined on 45″ vinyl. They’re signing the CD and the single too.

And guess what? I won!!

I am so fussy!! Maybe my luck is changing… (I’m not so silly, but you know… it’s still a nice thing to win something!)

BTW: I’m sitting here watching MTV2 Commercial Free, and I can so see this band in the rotation.

I think they’re going to make it, because they’re talents. I also like their grass roots efforts to promote their band, because you know Big Record Companies are unpleasant.

I understand their struggle, because my own brother is like them… maker of amazing music and struggling to get ‘known’, working at the ground level to put out CDs and promote them. Well my brother hasn’t gotten that far yet, but you know, I can encourage him, because guys like ist are getting their projects out there.

So here’s Big Mami, fussy over little to some, but something meaningful to me.

Big Mami is a winner today!

This Is Where We Came In

IST

(Freudian Corduroy)

This is the kind of the classic rock n’ roll you rarely hear on the radio these days. Not the nefarious formula whore type, no this is the kind of stuff that makes your insides churn, and make you wonder what else the band has in store. More radio-friendly that ‘Similarly Inclined’, ist shows it’s radio friendliess in this track.

This song’s major strength is the lyrics and the singer’s plaintive primal voice. The singer’s voice, has a kind of world weariness that anyone who has loved, lost and left the bitch behind, will identify with strongly. We’ve all been too tired to write about the bullshit.

As you listen, lyrical imagery is conjured, both frustration and empathy is evoked with it’s alternately delicate and crashing cymbals and guitar solo blazing underneath a sung-spoken declaration.

My right foot, which wishes it played drums in a rock n’ roll band, refused to be still during the ten or fifteen times I played it.

This is my kind of rock n’ roll; emotive, singable interestingly paced and delivered music.

Have a Listen

One of my JS favourites wrote me this morning and asked me to review the first single from his band’s debut album.

Wrote a story about it, wanna hear it? Here it goes:

Similarly Inclined by Ist

Freudian Corduroy

What struck me first about this single is the Caribbean sound. It may not have been intentional, but the it’s the brass, the guitar licks, and the phrasing both verbal and instrumental that makes this reviewer harken to home.

The brass, with it’s marvellous intonation, could have been taken from some classic calypso tune from the 50s or 60s, maybe even as late as the 70s or some nicely grinding Latin-flavoured business from any era. The guitar licks could be something the Wailer’s did in the early days. The combination makes for something interesting I’ve never heard before. It has both a classical and contemporary feel.

By far, the brass is one of the most interesting aspects of the song, for rarely does one hear such in this kind of music. Being a fan of big brass, I really enjoyed this element the most and particularly liked the vocal pacing and phrasing of the singer.

Speaking of ‘kind of music’: Being this review was by invite, for a band about to release its debut and from an area I’m not physically located, thus never hearing them play live, I find myself in the difficult task of ‘placing’ this music. I am happy to report that I cannot. Genre bending music is ever my favourite ‘kind of music’ and this band certainly bends the tried and true, and steps beyond the formulaic.

Lyrically, I found myself smiling. Not because the lyrics are necessarily satirical, although there is sarcasm enough, but because I indentified with the sentiments expressed. Maybe it’s just the moment in time I find myself. ‘Can’t judge a single thing you do; Given half the chance I’d do the same thing too.’

After repeated listenings, this song is creating the need to find this band’s next gig and show up with some kind of posse to lime and dance. Shucks, I want to hear the whole album now.

To read more about the band, go here. To read more about kentonist go here. To listen to the single, go here.

I reread Another Good Loving Blues, by Arthur Flowers.

It’s rare that I fine books that I can read and reread and still enjoy as if it’s the first time I am experiencing it. This book is one of them.

I first read this book back in the early 90s as part of my reading assignments when I was writing reviews for newspapers.

I fell in love with Flower’s writing style, told in a lilting Southern twang, and his characters the feisty Melvira Dupree and her charming man, Lucas Bodeen.

Melvira is a hoodoo, although everyone thinks she’s much too good looking for the job. She’s a hoodoo alright, and a powerful one at that. Lucas Bodeen is a blues playing piano man, with an eye for the ladies and devilish good looks to make the job easy.

It is love at first sight, and the beginning of journey for both Melvira and Lucas.

Flowers tells this story, as an observer but draws one in completely to the story. So much so, that at the end, I wanted to know what happened to old Hoot Owl, and if Melvira and Lucas ever made it back to Beale St.

On a personal note, this book is part of my own life’s inexorable drawing into the realm of The Seven African Powers.

Although I may have come to know Osun when I went back to live in Trinidad, this book, like many other cultural references, introduced me to the names of Osun, Sango, Oya, Yemoja, Babalu and Orunmilla; most important, it’s where I heard God being called by a West African name, Oludumare.

In retrospect, it’s not surprising that I found my way into the realm of African-based religion and traditions, this book like that amazing poem read by Larenz Tate in love jones, “A Blues For Nina”, was one of my many sign posts along the way.

Flowers also gets high marks from me, for managing to weave Zora Neale Hurston into the story in an engaging and unforced way, portraying her intelligence and curiosity in a manner that makes me wish to hunt down that book on hoodoo she did write.

This is a highly recommended read. Even if you know nothing of African-based traditions, this book is wonderful love story, funny, charming and utterly engaging.

Welcome to my newest obsession, Backwash.com.

Incidentally, backwashing was something that was one of the seven deadly sins when I was in primary school at the Ursuline Convent in Barbados. “Don’t backwash,” was one of those imperious commands given when sharing one’s Sprite or juice.

The Free Dictionary describes ‘backwash’ as:

Noun

1. backwash – the flow of air that is driven backwards by an aircraft  propeller slipstream, airstream, race, wash flow – any uninterrupted stream or discharge

2. backwashbackwash – the consequences of an event (especially a catastrophic event); “the aftermath of war”; “in the wake of the accident no one knew how many had been injured” aftermath, wake consequence, effect, result,  upshot, outcome, event, issue – a phenomenon that follows and is caused by some previous phenomenon; “the magnetic effect was greater when the rod was lengthwise”; “his decision had depressing consequences for business”; “he acted very wise after the event”

3. backwash – the wave that spreads behind a boat as it moves forward; “the motorboat’s wake capsized the canoe” wake moving ridge, wave – one of a series of ridges that moves across the surface of a liquid (especially across a large  body of water)

However, this is about a web site, so let me get into it.

Rather than search the Internet based on key words, search strings and categories, this site allows you to filter the Internet via personalities.

It’s simple, when you register, you can tool around the site and find a surfer whose tastes in content matches yours and you can use their links, columns and other contributions as a jump off point to crawl and experience the web.

Naturally, almost every personality type and content type is represented, so it allows for a wild, furry and interesting exploration of the Internet. The appeal of the site is that there are opinions to share, opinions to read and it’s easy to add your own voice to the overall community.

There are also spin-off sites, Adult, Kids, Literary and Pets that use the same format but with specialised focussed content. Each site has a social network that allows you to make connections with other users and with the same functions.

Each area allows you to maintain a journal, but between you and me, none of these is a JS-killer. There is no control over the visuals and the interface for adding entries is streamlined into the overall layout with generic ‘moods’ and such. However it does allow for commenting and interaction. You have a bulletin board members can post to (although I personally think this is way too much ‘interaction’ since there are boards for everything already.

There are communities of interests, newsletters, columns… this is a behemoth of a site, and if you’re new, it may be a little confusing. It’s fortunate that the interface is easy to understand and the site easy to navigate.

This site has ‘basic’ and ‘premium’ memberships, so there are things you don’t have access to with a free account. There is a limit on the number of private messages and restrictions on who you can private message; limits on photos, restrictions on editing posts to your bulletin board, and your journals; no access to instant messaging and numerous other restrictions. Again, this is a matter of taste. The site has more than enough to satisfy your need to interact with it’s basic account feature set.

One of my only problems is the lack of a unified log in. All of these areas require you to log in repeatedly and there is little cross-pollination between the sites. So joining Adult Backwash doesn’t mean you’re in the social network of the original Backwash, and again a great deal of logging in, logging in, logging in as you move around.

However, that aside, this place is fun. You can submit your own links, and like any community, you must build up a profile of interests. There’s a fairly simple way of becoming a contributor or columnist cum moderator, and there are clearly defined responsibilities for participation, and best of all, free premium membership for maintaining your submissions and following the ground rules.

The concepts are similar to other sites I participate in, hi5.com and tribe.net. I must say though it’s far more interesting than hi5.com and the interface less developed than tribe.net.

All in all, I highly recommend this site. It’s stickiness is undisputed, and it’s been around long enough (since 1997) to be a reliable place to gather information as well as to participate.

This is a must visit!

Go: Backwash.com

Director: Fernando Meirelles, Katia Lund

Writer: Bráulio Mantovani

Stars: Alexandre Rodrigues, Leandro Firmino da Hora, Matheus Nachtergaele, Philippe Haagensen , Seu Jorge, Johnathan Haagensen

Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues) is a young boy born into the sadness and unending poverty of City Of God, a housing project favela in Rio’s e Janeiro.

In the favela desperation overtakes hope and the only work to be acquired is illegal and couched in violence. His older brother is a part of The Tender Trio, hoodlums who rob gas trucks and motels and one by one are taken down by corrupt Third World cops and the circumstances of the favela. Rocket’s growing years sees peers he played football in the dust with, turn from petty theft to giggling psychotic murderers.

Rocket, as a teenager, harbours ambitions of being a photographer. He isn’t made of the stuff that is required to become either a full blown gangster or even a petty criminal. However he somehow seems to be in the middle of the action in the favela, yet he also manages to exist outside of it.

Lil Z (Leandro de Hora), is an atypical child of the favela. He cannot read or write, and hopeless hunger warps his thinking and deadens his soul so significantly, all innocence burns away and he quickly turns to murder and drug dealing with maniacal and power hungry aplomb. He goes to a Candoumble priest to get protection and empowerment from Baba Exu (Esu/Eshu) and then proceeds to systematically wipe out all opposition to him taking over as drug overlord in the City of God. Lil Z’s career, fueled by his ruthlesness, eventually escalates into a full scale gang war in the streets of City of God.

Rocket and Lil Z are the same age, and their lives overlap throughout the story, often with hilarious and stomach churning episodes.

Rocket manages to acquire a camera, and although he prefers to take pictures of Angelica, who he hopes to lose his virginity with, he ends up taking pictures of the gangs as they pose with heavy artillery. These pictures come to the attention of a newspaper and launches his career.

Lilting camera work, clever angles and freeze shots; a weaving but brilliant storyline, this film is packed with both horrifying violence and uproarious funny moments. City of God is a frightening yet entertaining slice of life in the favelas of Rio De Janeiro. You get the sensation of a documentary, maybe because the majority of the cast are real favela dwellers, recruited from the streets to play roles in the film.

You watch as the actors run through streets with garbage piled high on both sides; watch as children commit violence without breaking a sweat. You can see this film is a mirror of real events, because a film with this kind of authenticity is rare.

As death ridden as this film is, as violent and scary, it is not without it’s measure of hope. Rocket sees his world differently, and his alternate view opens a road for him to pass through this violent environment unscathed and with a job many of the favela children have no hope of attaining. He gets to follow his dreams into a different life.

The director, Fernando Meirelles finds a way to humanise even Lil Z, whose complete lack of conscience and his stunted emotional development are two sides of the same coin. Meirelles’ marvellous eye for composition and his unrelenting exposure of a world most of us are fortunate enough never to encounter, make him an unsung hero and well deserving of accolades.The film is brilliant from beginning to end, and keeps the blood pumping.

Laughter at the main cast’s antics is quickly followed by stomach clenching moments, but at no point does the grittiness of this story let up. One of the best made films seen in recent times.

Based on a true story written by Paul Lin.

In Portuguese with English subtitles.

Oh my Goddess, I am so bored.

I am trying to appreciate this, because all too soon, I will not have the time to stay at home and watch episodes of three Star Trek series, back to back.

For a break to the monotony, I’ve been walking around the lake, going a little further each day. It’s been nice, but would be better if I had more books to read. I miss my books. I really do.

—-

I am also having the most vivid dreams. I’ve been dreaming of YMK almost every single night the last few days. It’s always sweet, but has had some weird moments. We are clearly connected in some way, and my subconscious is telling me very real things.

I haven’t spoken to him in several days now, because of the brokenness situation. I hope he isn’t worrying, but I think if I go until next week without money, he will begin to worry.

—–

I am inlove with Borat’s Television Programe.

Sacha Baron Cohen is one funny mother-fucker. Borat is a work of genius, and it’s just a gas to watch him taking the piss out of redneck Americans. We’ve noticed he doesn’t really do big city urbanites, it’s always somewhere in the still racist south of the United States that he manages to find these idiots. The politician bits are hilarious as well.

Although I love Borat, his alter ego Bruno is wonderful as well. The interview with the ‘Gay Converter’ Christian minister, nearly had be on the floor. He asks him if it’s forbidden to eat brunch, the Gay Converter says as long as it’s Christians meeting in Christian brotherhood and there’s no one there to tempt anyone into sin, it’s allowed. Bruno asks him if it’s forbidden (nish nish) to be ‘fabulous’, the Gay Converter is confused. It’s just too fucking rich.

I also happened to watch Ali G’s In Da House, and I must say Sacha Cohen is very clever. Him and ‘Me Julie’.

For a long time, my only experience with him was the little clips in Madonna’s “Music” (music video); “Is you Madonna?” My initiation with Borat was like watching a car accident. What is it about cameras that mesmerises stupid people? The scene in Arizona where he’s in the bar, singing “Throw the Jew down the well/Save my country”, these dumbfucks were there singing along and clapping with gusto. Do they know that the Jews didn’t kill ‘Christ’? I guess not. Cohen, an observant Jew from what I have read, must have, somewhere in himself been a little taken aback. Although, I think he has a master plan. I think he’s exposing these people for what they are, it’s just so funny! They never see his ass coming.

The Unofficial Borat Homepage

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I started reading “The Sexual Life Of Catherine M.”, authored by French journalist, Catherine Millet.

Although the book claims to be one of the most powerful books written by a woman about sex, I am unimpressed. I find the book un-erotic as best. She is describing in graphic detail, her sexual misadventures from her teenaged years, however it’s the graphic detail I have issue with.

She tells her story in this clinical, dispassionate way, describing her wide open coochie, mouth and ass and their penchant to take any penis that she can have, without question or discrimination.

Although she is supposedly empowered by these experiences, I am halfway through the book and she has neither described her own orgasm, nor even mentioned one.

I question whether her sexual journey has really been one of self-discovery, and empowerment or really one of some kind of deep personal psychological schism in her brain.

I am slogging through until the end of it, but I must repeat that I am deeply unimpressed.

She describes men urinating on her in such a flippant way, I found myself quite repulsed, although her techniques for oral sex and handjobs, left me making a few mental notes.

From Amazon.com

Millet, art critic and editor of Art Press, has become a literary sensation in France with the publication of this graphic memoir of some 30 years of her sexual adventures. Millet’s “gift for observation” and her “solid superego” are as useful in her career as an art critic as they are in her erotic explorations: her ability to concentrate and observe puts her inside “other people’s skins.” Comparisons have been made to The Story Of O, but Millet is more in the tradition of Jean Genet and Violette Leduc, whose descriptions of their sexual encounters were not meant to titillate so much as to explore the meaning of the erotic. Millet’s “quest for the sexual grail” takes her to group orgies, gang bangs in French parks and other serial sex escapades. Before long, the sex begins to seem utterly routine, in spite of the elaborate staging. Millet and her readers are then free to consider more closely some questions she raises: how oral sex compares to vaginal intercourse; why sex in disgusting circumstances is not about “self-abasement,” but raising oneself “above all prejudice”; or why solitary sex is more pleasurable for her than sex with a partner. Toward the end of this curiously graceful memoir, Millet comes close to explaining her need for all this sex: only by sloughing off the “mechanical body” she’d been born with could she experience actual sexual pleasure. While women readers will find much of interest, male readers may have to overcome a certain emperor’s new clothes-type discomfort, as they realize that Millet may know more about the male body than they do.