Tag Archives: free music

There is Africa in this face…

After my brief and unwarrantedly self-congratulatory 50th post, I figure it’s well past time for some more shameless self promotion.

Have I ever mentioned that I sing for a band? That band is Delta Buoy…and the player below will introduce you to our sound…

Tell me what you think in the comments…

Peace!

Quote of the whenever; Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw

So what’s been up with me lately? This blog might as well be called Things That Are Really Pissing Mel Off.

Because of that, I’m making an effort today to write about two things that do not irk me in any way, shape, or form. One is the incredibly well-written book Jesus For President, by Shane Claiborne(who also wrote the highly-recommended book The Irresistible Revolution) and Chris Haw(who’s a lot harder to pin down in parentheses). The title is perhaps a bit misleading in the current culture, but that only points to how relevant and necessary this book is.

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Once again…redundancy…

You need more people

I don’t talk about politics a lot here, just because I generally don’t know what I’m talking about when it comes to that subject.  But um…sorry, Mrs. Clinton.  Maybe Idle Warship and Chester French said it best…

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Using a lyric here would just be redundant…

So mercycorps has people in China too…

My temp job is pretty intensely boring. Aside from the occasional call asking me to get up from my desk and take a phone to a pilot out of the airplane that he’s currently piloting(seriously), things are pretty dull.

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I’m sitting on deep crates of sweet beat break…

Holy schnikeys, this is an ugly blog. I really need to do something about this page layout, because I don’t think my progressively more bilious color scheme is working.

I think it’s been at least three years since I first heard She Moved Outta Cincy by Tanya Morgan(which despite the name, is a rap group, not a soul singer)…all of a sudden the tune has cropped up again on their new mixtape, the descriptively named Tanya Morgan Is A Rap Group. I bring that up just to point out the excellent website loudminoritymusic.com and all of the free mixtapes and quality albums they have up there…definitely worth checking out.

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Are you ready for me, like I’m ready for you?

This must be the most violently purple template ever created for public use. I realllllllllly need to sort out something better.

So as usual, I have tons on my mind and absolutely no time to really blog about it.  Or even really think about it. Hence the reason I’ve been wandering from place to place in a daze for the last few weeks looking like I need a helmet to travel by stair safely.

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Me and you, your mama and your cousin too…

~sigh~ I love music. But I must have missed the memo. Apparently it is no longer en vogue to make or use your own beats these days. Seems like every other new hip-hop release is a rehash of something that was previously done…Rhymefest did the whole Thriller tribute thing, Kardinal Offishall just released a whole album of other people’s songs with his voice on them, and the former Floacist Marsha whatshername re-rhymed The Chronic.  The pop world is even getting in on the trend, with Mark Ronson simultaneously pissing off the band that originally did Valerie and providing Amy Winehouse with more income with which to live up to her last name, poor thing

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In search of the elusive Now ‘N Later gator…

5 Random Thoughts For Today;

1) Next time I get the urge to publicly post a random depressed screed having nothing to do with anything in particular, I hope I have the sense to sit on my hands and just not do it. Yikes, I scare myself sometimes.

2) Television really sucks. I mean, really, really sucks. I’m living in a house with a TV for the first time in about a year, and what can I say? It really sucks! I turn it on, expecting to be entertained or at least brainwashed, and I’m alternately bored, annoyed and infuriated. It used to be that I had to watch about six hours of CNN before I started hollering obscenities and throwing shoes at the screen. Now, all it takes is one episode of Strictly Come Dancing. Just realizing how bad the title grammar is makes my blood pressure rise. I mean, really. What’s next? A new musical competition show entitled Singing Must We Do?

3) I’m sure there’s some cultural or linguistic reason for Strictly Come Dancing’s title that I just don’t get. This happens often. As a matter of fact, every time I perceived something to be weird, I usually run the thing or situation by a half-dozen people just to make sure that it was, in fact, really weird or if it’s perfectly normal for people here to do or say that sort of thing. This is especially true for social situations. Things that I think are normal are not. Things that I think are weird are completely normal. Things that I don’t think about are apparently very important and annoy the stuffing out of anyone who associates with me on a regular basis.  No longer being artistically productive enough to be considered a harmless eccentric, I’m now becoming my least favorite interpersonal animal, the social neurotic. In laymans’ terms, that just means I need a vacation. Or a holiday. Either way, I still don’t like Strictly Come Dancing.

4) Snoop Dogg has reinvented himself as a singer on his latest album. Why? WHY? WHY!? He sounds like a bootleg T-Pain. And since it’s already been established that T-Pain is the bootleg Zapp and Roger, this means that Snoop Dogg is now a bootleg of a bootleg of something that was wack to begin with. No shizzle, ma nizzle. Please go back to the days of ironing your shirt while Dr. Dre wanders through your house rhyming aimlessly and pretending he isn’t wack either. Or even better, the days when you were out-rhyming 50 Cent on his own track just by spelling your name. Come on, man. Step it up, playa!

If you must expose yourself to this musical catastrophe, it’s here. Please wash after listening.

5) I’m not even going to talk about the US presidential race. Except to say that so far, Ralph Nader, you are letting me down. Ain’t nobody about to vote for Jared Ball. Let’s get real. Hurry up, announce something, and give the o.1 percent of the American population who voted for you last time something to hope for. You only have a year to win over the other 99.9 percent–get cracking!

~sigh~ I really need a vacation. Or a holiday. Maybe both.

Through meditation I program my heart to…oh snap. Is that a hair?

Okay, so first things first. Saul Williams’ new album, The Inevitable Rise and Fall of Niggy Tardust, is available starting today for either free or very cheap, depending on how genuinely altruistic you are and/or how easily you are guilted into giving up 5 bucks. (That’s £2.50 for my English heads…) I haven’t had a chance to listen to it yet, but it’s probably going to be one of the more interesting albums of the year when all is said and done…conscious black spoken word artist produced by Trent Reznor, aka Nine Inch Nails? Wow…

Second things next; (Cue bad Broadway theme music) I feel pretty, oh so pretty…

No, seriously. I’m still in a blue funk, but although I don’t look any different than I generally do, and in fact may have the worst case of bedhead I’ve ever had in my life, I feel all extra beautiful today. Believe me, it isn’t a physical thing(see third thing for more details on that) or for that matter a mental/emotional/intellectual thing(hence the blue funk). I just feel pretty, despite how I feel and how I’m sure I look. Something within me is saying, “I am woman, hear me purr…”

Okay, this is beginning to nauseate even me. So, onward multi-faith following soldiers…

Third thing last; let’s talk about body hair. I am not the type of person who finds body hair intrinsically revolting. I am also not an anti-shave hippie. As a matter of fact, I prefer beards on men and I think all grown people should have a little hair in strange places…there is nothing nice about looking nine when you’re fifty-three. However, some things are just ridiculous.

I say this because the other morning, I was shaping my eyebrows. Notice I say shaping, not plucking. Shaping involves removing  stray and unruly hairs, namely the ones that stop my eyebrows from being plural. Plucking involves making eyebrows resemble tadpoles or worse, pencil drawings. I’m not into that, I like having eyebrows. Anyway, I’m shaping my eyebrows, and for some reason also decided to inspect the spots on my chin. Reason number one I’m going back to vegetarianism…my skin is terrible. I didn’t have bad skin as a teenager, so the arrival of pimples in my mid-twenties is something completely new, fascinating and unwelcome in my body’s universe. I inspect each new facial blemish as though it’s going to get it’s own square on the periodic chart. And the other morning, while I’m inspecting, I find…

…wait for it…

…that I’m growing a beard.

Okay, not a beard. One long, soft, downy, damn-near-invisible hair hardly qualifies as a beard. Still, one hair on the chin of someone who is otherwise not all that hairy? Catastrophic. I spent ages debating on whether or not I should pluck it, and finally decided not to…simply because I think that one random hair will fall out in it’s own time or be suffocated by my face cream(which contains all kinds of nifty fruit acids that I hope eat facial hair). Also, I’m scared that if I pluck it, it will grow back all hard and bristly and bring lots of it’s hateful little barbed cousins along with it, and then I really will be growing a beard.

Those of you who see me on a regular basis are forbidden to stare at my chin next time we meet.

To be honest, this is another reason why I want to stop eating meat again. The hormones in commercially prepared bovines and whatnot are wreaking havoc with my system. And, when you eat meat, people automatically assume you eat all meats…somebody snuck some mutton on my plate the other day, and that is just uncalled for. Pass the radishes.

And now that you all know more about my physical self than you ever really wanted to, let me leave you with some classic, classic old-school Saul Williams performing the classic, classic old-school joint “Ohm”…as the final scene from the not so classic, not-aged well movie SlamNation.

Fourth things after; I help with a girl’s cell group on Wednesday nights and I want to just shout them out real quick…because spiritually speaking, they are rocking it. Last night, we had a discussion that encompassed, among other things, predestination and the whole idea of what makes a Christian a Christian…actions or belief or is it something more intrinsic than that? Peace ladies!

…and just to make the point a second time…nobody who sees me stares at my chin…okay?…

Can you handle me the way I’m are?

~sigh~

So many things to type about, so little time. (And even fewer brain cells.) There’s your life, my life, the news, the world, the beautiful weather and all of the things that are right, wrong and otherwise with all of those things. Too much for me to handle, y’all. I think today I’m going to indulge in my favorite form of escapism and share some music.

…so…*ahem*

There may be some hope for Joss Stone–I’m kinda diggin’ Flowerchild, which actually has some semi-soulful lyrics to go with the music and the voice.

I’m also playing Sara Bareilles Love Song way too much these days. Don’t know why, but her seventies, Carole King throwback style has managed to hook itself to my eardrums and drag me to the most embarassing place possible to sing a random song snippet out loud at. (Meaning; T.K. Maxx in town. *shakes head at self*) I was a good little consumer and actually bought this one from iTunes a couple of months ago. This means that I can’t share it, because everything bought from iTunes is locked up tight and virtually unshareable. (Say it with me now; why bother, then?  Because someday when I get some poems recorded, I don’t want folks jacking my hard-earned swagger as easily as I do now. I’m trying to put good vibes out now for then. It’s not working. Oh well.)

Let’s see, what else? I’ve been getting my cry on with Robin Thicke,  my cool on withJill Scott, my dance on with Unklejam, and my even more embarrassing sing-a-long moment on with The Yeah Yeah Yeahs(yes, I know Gold Lion i old and they have a new EP out…but I still rock hard to Show Your Bones, and Is Is has had no effect on me as of yet…) And I know I’m late, but Rh Factor, Roisin Murphy  (whose music video makes me want to curl into a fetal position and suck my thumb…it’s heinously weird) and 4Hero are all also getting major play on my iPod this summer…perfect music to sit in the park with a book and the sunshine with…ESPECIALLY 4Hero.

This all brings me to what I like to think of as my number one summer jam this year…don’t nobody laugh, but I think Timbaland’s The Way I Are is hot. to. death. I mean c’mon! It uses the melody from Push It, by Salt N Pepa! How hype is that, to sample Push It? The only thing better would be if they also threw in a little bit of the bassline from RU Ready at strategic points. (Oh, I might have to try that now…wait, no, thinking about that it wouldn’t sound good.)

The video, apparently shot in nearby Salford, seems a little uninspired to me(because I don’t recognize any of the football players in it, I guess), but it does mark the first time anybody’s seen Sebastian since Indian Flute about a decade ago…

 And while we’re talking decades ago…and I’m overdosing us all on youtube videos…when I was, oh , I don’t know, fifteen or sixteen years old, I wanted to be Lil’ Kim for about two seconds. Then something else crossed my mind(mainly that she was kind of a ho and I was trying my hardest not to cuss, fuss, and talk pseudo-sexy trash at the time which made her a terrible role model) so I gave up on that. By now I’ve outgrown my chronically short attention–hey look a butterfly!–span, but I still remember seeing the following video and loving it so much I recorded it on a big ol’ VHS tape and watched it about 4 million times.

Now I’m going back outside to chill in the sun.