Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Post-Conference Private Karaoke

One of the best things about going to academic conferences is...doing things that have little or nothing to do with the actual conference. Such was the case this past weekend in Chicago, where I attended and presented at the meeting of the Society for Research on Adolescence. I spent my first evening there with research team members and various other folks dining at a Korean barbecue restaurant followed by karaoke.

There I belted out "Karma Kameleon," complete with Boy George-type dance moves. I participated in the singing of several other songs, including "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and I was an enthusiastic shaker of a light-up tambourine.

Now. I would not mention this at all except that photographs, unfortunately, were taken. So because I cannot at some future time claim plausible deniability, I felt I may as well come clean as a prophylactic measure, proving that I have nothing to hide. I further prove my utter lack of embarrassment by posting here what would be my ideal karaoke playlist, full of some of my favorite sing-along songs by female artists.

"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" is playing right now as I type. Earlier I was singing along with Liza and Aretha and Barbra; jamming with Janet Jackson, Judy Garland, Jill Scott; alternately singing lead and back-up vocals with the ladies of TLC, Destiny's Child, The Supremes and EnVogue. Most of these songs were not on the extensive list of available tunes at the karaoke place and that is too bad. How can you have any kind of sing-along experience without "I Feel the Earth Move," "Bootylicious," or "Poetry Man"? I am sure any woman--or man, for that matter--would love to release her or his inner Lil Kim by rapping the female part to "Crush on You," or channel their inner pop diva by crooning "You can stand under my umbrella ella, ella" or "I don't think you're ready for this jelly" or "How come every time you come around, my London, London bridge wanna go down."

Ah well. With this playlist I can now have the very best kind of karaoke experience.

One without witnesses.

Get Up Offa That Thang!

A day late (and a dollar short)... But here finally is my last Music Friday (Saturday edition) 32Days music playlist. I was all set to do something high-brow. Perhaps some classic jazz, early female blues singers, an exploration into the borders of Black sacred and secular music...something along those lines.

But then I got to thinking about two things. The first was how my girl Deesha dissed my girl Janet (here--see comments). "Welllll, now, Yvette.....Janet is not really a singer, now, is she...but she is a mighty fine entertainer..." That got me thinking. Maybe I should be using my limited Black history space to dispel the myth that the only thing Black folks do is break out into dance at a moment's notice. But on the other hand, of course I am not ashamed of Black artists' contribution to the world culture in the form of music that gets your body moving, right?

The second thing: The other day I went to pick up my kids from extended day care at their school. Over in the corner were a group of kids (all White, all suburban) dancing the "soulja boy." I said excitedly to my daughter, "Oooo, look, they're doing the soulja boy! I'm gonna go over and join them!" To which my daughter replied--in a theatrical, loud whisper with a look of utter horror on her face, "No Mommy, please--Please do not go over and do the soulja boy!" Now, hopefully the fear my kid expressed was at the thought of her 40-something Mom busting a move in front of her friends and not the act of dancing itself.

But. Just in case. I hereby reclaim music to move by. With this playlist I proudly and loudly showcase several decades of Black Dance music!

La-Di-Da-Di
We likes to party
We don't cause trouble
We don't bother nobody...

Sometimes it is really no deeper than that. It's not about protest and social commentary, or chilling to the quiet storm, or breaking musical barriers. Sometimes it is merely about shaking that groove thang.

With this playlist I tried to imagine myself as a DJ at a family wedding, where I'd have to please several generations of folks. So there's music to Hustle and Bus Stop to; some tunes for the Steppers couples to step to; some old school hip-hop anthems and funk jams to break dance and Bump to... And of course the Electric Slide song so that everyone can line up and dance.

Oh yes--there is even "Pop, Lock and Drop It" and "Crank Dat Soul Ja Boy" for the young folks to dance to and the old folks to either watch and shake their heads or participate in and make fools of themselves. (And yes, I know what "soldier boy" and "superman" are slang for...) And of course there is Janet! (:-P~~ @ D, LOL!)

It's all in good fun. No one's watching. Come on. Get on the floor and move something.

Thank you for visiting our 32Days blogathon project, with Deesha at Mamalicious! and me here at SITBB. We are joined by Tami; Inkognegro; Christina; and Chris.

Solid As a Rock: BHM and Black Rock

I am happy to welcome to our 32 Days of Black History blogathon guest blogger Laina Dawes. Laina is a writer and music critic from Toronto, Canada. I first "cyber met" Laina when I began reading her columns in the Race, Ethnicity & Culture section (which she heads) for Blogher.com. Her writings appear in various print and online publications in both Canada and the US. She also has on her own blog, Writing is Fighting.

I’m listening to the jukebox I created for this post, and I’m feeling pretty damned pleased with myself. The program I used isn’t even all that hot as I couldn’t find a lot of music that I was really looking for, but this mix will suffice. See, it really doesn’t matter what is posted on here because the crux of it is, you either dig aggressive music – the heavy, punishing beats, screeching guitar riffs and howling, sometimes not-so melodic vocals – or you don’t. And that’s okay, really it is.

As I previously wrote about Black History Month on my blog, in previous years I have a written a scathing diatribe about why I dislike this month. It’s has always seemed to me as though ‘we’ have one month to learn how to like each other, get along and then for the rest of the year, it is business as usual. In hindsight, I think that the real reason for my dissatisfaction is that even though it is a time where I can socialize with Black writing and creative colleagues that I only seem to see during this month, I realize that while we have our professional ambitions in common, on a personal level, I really do not have anything in common with them. Therefore, the month has meant a time that reinforces my social isolation.

I do not have a rich Black cultural heritage; a rich family legacy to fall back on. I do not have Black parents nor siblings that I have learned how to be ‘Black’ from. Who I am is what I have learned to be – partly because of the natural instinct for humans to survive in this screwed-up world and partly because of my own personal preferences that have developed from my (somewhat turbulent) childhood. A large part of my preferences are surrounded around my passion for metal music and its rich and challenging culture.

I thrive off its aggression, its power and its pain. Honestly, it is the metal scene that has gotten me through my most difficult times and even at 30+ it still challenges me and drives me to succeed. For several years, I have written about how I firmly believe that metal music (okay, perhaps not some of its cultural aspects) is a safe and healthy (I can hear you laughing at me now) way for Black folks, specifically Black women, to vent their frustrations out. But as I have two passions – one being the music and the other is writing about race and social justice issues – sometimes the two clash. It is my mission to make them mesh. In order to have the two habituate in a functional way, for the past few years I have been looking at the general reluctance of the black community to embrace the genre of music that they created: Rock n’ Roll.

It’s not just about liking or disliking rock and its bastardized brothers – punk, metal, etc. – it’s about recognizing them as genres of music that while they might burn your throat and ruin your palate, some folks like them…yes, even folks who look like you. While a number of people have chided the black community for figuratively abandoning and totally ignoring our place in rock and roll history, even questioning the racial allegiance of Jimi (but was he even considered a brotha?) and while some of us got down with Living Color for a hot minute, if it wasn’t for young white guys, the incredibly hot quartet, along with punk legends…..yeah I said punk – Bad Brains, would have faded into obscurity.

The term Black Rock is a funny, schizophrenic thing. What is it? Does it just mean Negroes playing guitars loudly and shrieking with wild abandon? According to Boldaslove’s Rob Fields, it is more than noting the representation of black men and women musicians and it certainly does not mean that just because they are black that we are obligated to all run out and buy their albums, or that they are even good, for that matter – it is about reclaiming and celebrating a genre that has largely been ignored by us in the African Diaspora:

…..Black rock is a term I’ll continue to employ not only in this dialogue that attempts to re-connect African Americans to music they created, but also as a means of mounting an ongoing and worthwhile effort to overcome ridiculous limitations imposed from within and without. In my estimation, the former must come first.

What I like about Rob’s assertion was that he articulated the mild annoyance I feel when people automatically assume that as a music journalist that I must only write about Hip-Hop, or that as a Jamaican (by blood, not by birth) I have an affinity for reggae (which for the most part, I loathe). There are limitations that are imposed not just by those who automatically think that because of your ethnicity you must be interested in only specific genres of music, but what is more troubling to me is when one bases their black ‘authenticity’ by the music – and by extension, culture – they favor. Our younger (or at least, mine) has eschewed the writings of Franz Fanon, James Baldwin, Toni Morrison and embraced the music of Soulja Boy, TI and other artists who extol consumerism over black empowerment. While admittedly I occasionally shake my expansive rear-end to their tunes, they do not exactly spend a lot of time extolling the virtues of modern black life and culture. And that’s okay….really. We all need to get our freak-on after a stressful day at work or school. Let’s just not get it twisted that these artists are a true representative of contemporary black culture and that we should refer to their artistic contributions as genuine reflections of us.

So back to the matter at hand. The reason why I am so psyched about seeing my brothers and sisters play the music that I have been passionate about since I was a kid, mesmerized by the makeup and over-the-top glam of KISS, is what it represents. The energy is not only addictive, momentarily sending me into an alternative universe where I can be free for a hot second, but also, because these are artists who are doing what they want to do, despite the social, political and monetary implications. There are artists who are either around my age and perhaps a bit older, whose musical influences were spawned by music that didn’t just flow from their neighbor’s front stoop but from what was playing on Top 40 radio. There are also those, who, perhaps looking for an alternative to what they are ‘told’ is ‘black music’ which not only they should adhere to out of allegiance to their race, but because it somehow marks their cultural authenticity. You can be proud to be black and still be of independent mind and being, can you can love all types of music and still be down with the cause.

The music that I selected for the jukebox is a great representation of black rock music. Some of the bands consist of entirely black musicians while other bands have one or more black members. Some bands, like Bad Brains, Soul Brains (an offshoot of BB), Living Colour, Fishbone and 24-7 Spyz infuse reggae, jazz and soul music with hard rock.

I’ve also added in my personal Shero, Skin, who fronted one of my favourite bands, Skunk Anansie. Another female musician in the mix is Sandra St. Victor – but please note, the tracks on this mix are from her solo album, which is actually more R&B-ish. Not being able to find any tracks from her band The Family Stand which is a legendary rock/funk/soul collective, I wanted to have her represented as one of the most important black female rock singers.

On the heavier side, there is Killswitch Engage’s frontman Howard Jones, whose soulful voice could probably be perfectly accompanied with any genre of music, but Killswitch (he is the only Black member) can be classified as hardcore metal. There is also the awesome God Forbid whom I am currently obsessed with, and of course Living Colour, whom no explanation is required. Also, Lajon from Sevendust has been ‘bringing it’ for a number of years, as well as Doug Pinnick from King’s X – which if you have a chance, should see them live. Awesome.

I recently interviewed Eugene S. Robinson from Oxbow and asked him how he describes his music. He said that as all of the members are artists he views the band ( which was conceived over 20 years ago) he refers to them as more as ‘performance art’ versus falling under any musical categorizations. I would suggest you check out their website! In the same vein, I suppose you could also look at Indie-hipster wunderkinds, TV on the Radio the same way, as their music ranges from 80’s pop to indie rock. There is also hardcore / experimental metal legends Candira which recently broke up but their music made a huge impact. Singer Carley Coma is probably one of the most underrated frontmen in history. Just my opinion, of course.

Obviously, there are a ton of other Black artists that are doing their own thing and doing it well. Most of them are not getting the exposure or support that they deserve, but the same could be said for thousands of artists, regardless of color or gender. If interested, the best way to search for these bands is Myspace – seriously. Start with a band that you know, and check out their “Friends” and I guarantee that you will be on an interesting journey.

We black folks are strong, resilient and throughout our history in North America, we have been forced to forgive the many sins that have fallen on us by people who do not share our ethnicity. Maybe it is because of that I have always had a hard time understanding why we are so quick to judge each other on our individual artistic preferences. I’m not saying that rock music will change the world, but perhaps embracing the art that our people conceived might give us a mechanism for not only social change, but as a way to vent our internal thoughts an emotions in a healthy way.

Enjoy your Black History Month.

You're about halfway through a 32 Days of Black History blogathon! Deesha at Mamalicious! and I are joined by Tami; Inkognegro; Christina; and Chris. Visit, comment, bookmark!

The House That Clinton Built

No, not either of those Clintons (i.e., neither the former US president nor the current presidential hopeful).

George Clinton.

It's Funky Friday here at SITBB during Deesha's and my 32 Day of Black History observance. Today I give you funk, the whole funk, and nothing but the funk. At the core of this playlist is legendary funk man, George Clinton, and his various bands, band members, and proteges. But also here are the many many artists whose work has been influenced by and/or were contemporaneous with George Clinton.

Please forgive me for starting the funk timeline with Clinton. I know that by all rights it should probably start with the Godfather of Soul (and Funk). But George Clinton was my entry point to funk, so begin there I will.

Enjoy--and Happy Friday!

...Ain't we funkin now? Uh-huh!

Thanks for tuning into the 32 Days of Black History blogathon with Deesha (Mamalicious!) and me. Today Deesha is offering a Reggaeton beat for our Music Friday. So one way or another you should be able to get and keep your body moving. (Especially necessary for me here in the Twin Cities where it is currently -6 degrees. Brrrrrr!)

The Calm Before (...During...and After...) the Quiet Storm

I need this playlist today. I really, really, really need it. These past two weeks of moving--of packing and cleaning and phone calling and coordinating and cursing and hauling and stressing--have taken a toll on my mind, body and soul and frayed my last nerve. I need to be back in Indianapolis--"Naptown"--circa 1979...radio knob on WTLC-fm, listening to the overnight DJ intone in his calm, deep voice that I am now tuned to the Quiet Storm.

Similar to my first 32 Days of Black History playlist, I tried to include in this one songs from a range of eras. But the 90s and later tunes I considered for inclusion? In the end most just didn't fit to me. Now. I have nothing against Alicia Keys, nothing against Erykah Badu. I love me some Maxwell and D'Angelo and Jill Scott. Angie Stone almost made the cut.

But in the end there is just a little something missing--for me, at least--in the songs from these artists. Yes, they have wonderful mid-tempo and slow songs. But the Quiet Storm is more than just "slow jams" or "love ballads." There is a certain mood that a Quiet Storm set is characterized by--a certain groove, I guess you could say. I tried to think of one or two words to aptly describe this groove, but was unable to. (Maybe someone out there can help me out...) But, similar to knowing "art," I just know it when I hear it.

So. You'll have to settle with this playlist for a Quiet Storm somewhat frozen in time. So there's Stevie and the Ohio Players and Marvin and Ms. Hyman and Luther and Stevie and The Stylistics and the brothers Isley. Press play and you'll eventually get Quiet Storm staples "Stairway to Heaven" and "Reasons" (both played in every Quiet Storm set on TLC back in the day) and of course Smokey's song that gave the radio program and music genre its name.

Well, I hafta go. I'm previewing the list now, and it's hard to type when I'm raising and waving my arms every 6 minutes or so exclaiming, "Oooo, that was my song!"

I really needed this.

Really, really, really...

BTW, you are tuned to the 32 Days of Black History blogathon, hosted by your DJs Deesha, at Mamalicious!, and me--Yvette, here at SITBB. We're joined by InkogNegro, Christina, Chris, and Tami. And check out Deesha's playlist for today--All of the O'Jays' classics, including Quiet Storm staple "Stairway to Heaven"!

Power to the People

32 Days of Black History is a blogathon celebrating Black History Month hosted by Mamalicious! and Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast. We are joined by WhatTamiSaid; Inkognegro; and Chris repping SCSU in The Dawg House. Check them out.

Welcome to my first 32 Days of Black History post. (See here for information about this joint effort with Mamalicious!) What a wonderful way to begin our blogathon--with some music. Deesha and I plan to devote each Friday of this effort to music. Deesha has come strong out of the gate in her first post with insisive commentary on and an awesome playlist of Michael Jackson, B.C. (Before Changes...) I'll definitely plan in future weeks to bring you some funk, perhaps some old school hip-hop, and definitely some of my favorite jazz. But today I'll kick things off with a theme of Protest and Social Commentary.

Let me first note that I am experimenting with a new streaming web player for this so please excuse any bugs. For example, when I was previewing the playlist, the software played Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" when it was supposed to be streaming "Mercy, Mercy Me." Now, in a different context, let's get it on might be a political battle cry. But I am pretty sure that when Marvin sang There's nothing wrong with me loving you he was not directing his sentiments toward, for example, the President of the United States.

Anyway, where was I?

Protest and social commentary. Compiling this playlist took me through several decades of Black people putting voice to tune in order to comment on social ills of the day, claim self- and community-love, and protest injustice. In this playlist the Chi-Lites are exasperated and demand that "for God's sake, give more power to the people." Meanwhile The O'Jays decry our obsession and love of the mean, mean green almighty dollar. Lady Day gives a haunting description of "strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees" while Harry Belafonte repeatedly shouts "before I'll be a slave, I'll be buried in my grave..." Because of the random aspect of the order that these songs are streamed, you may find yourself in jarring musical and temporal transitions. For example, after Billie in circa 1950s jazz club you may suddenly time warp to hear Public Enemy urge you to "Fight the Power" or Angie Stone sing an ode to her often misunderstood Black brothers, or you may jump over into hard rock to hear Living Colour note that "the mirror speaks, the reflection lies." But no matter the era or musical stylings, Angie and Chuck D and Vernon and Billie are all part of the same tradition.

In short, no observance or discussion of Black History would be complete without acknowledging the role that music has played in expressions of Black empowerment, Black rage, Black pride, Black hope, Black humanity, Black love. Now, many Black History Month observations will focus only on the "happy" or the "firsts" in music such as Berry Gordy's feel-good Motown sounds, or Marian Anderson breaking the color barrier by performing with the Metropolitan Opera. But this focus does not tell the full story. Hopefully this playlist (as of my final tally, over 50 songs strong) will help fill in some gaps.

Some of the "usual suspects" of protest and social observation are here from as many musical genres as I could cobble together, including:

*Curtis Mayfield "If There's a Hell Below..."
*Stevie Wonder "You Haven't Done Nothing"
*The Staple Singers "Respect Yourself"
*Bob Marley "Get Up, Stand Up"
*Aretha Franklin "Young, Gifted and Black"
*Gil Scott-Heron "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised"
*War "The World is a Ghetto"
*Tracy Chapman "Talkin About a Revolution"
*Isley Brothers "Harvest for the World"
*James Brown "(Say It Loud) I'm Black and I'm Proud"

But I've also thrown in a few surprises. Louis Armstrong asserts in his signature rasp that "We Shall Overcome." Jimi Hendrix provides his famous interpretation of the land of the free and home of the brave. And I include two examples of jazz giants using their art forms to make important public statements: a piece from Wynton Marsalis's "From the Plantation to the Penitentiary" and another from Terence Blanchard's incredibly moving ode to New Orleans post-Katrina.

But enough yapping. This is supposed to be about the music, not about my comments. I will make one more disclosure: the only "rules" for inclusion in this playlist were that the songs be some of my favorites and they were available from the finetune.com site for playlist inclusion. As such, this is by no means an exhaustive sample. Please feel free to share your own favorites.

Happy Listening!

SITBB Vault: iMix, reMix, we allMix for Mix "Tapes"

This was one of my most popular posts of all time. (Meaning, I got more hallway comments than usual about it and several posted comments instead of my usual 0-3 comments. See them in the original posting here.) As such--and as I so frequently do these "vault" repostings--I am surprised that I never dusted this one off to live another day. Also this oversight is surprising given how often my posts here are about music, or have titles that are take-offs of song titles, or (lately) feature music players with actual songs on them for my (oh, and of course, your) enjoyment). But finally I will rectify this travesty and offer again this essay on mix tapes. Actually I was reminded of this lately as I recently compiled an ultimate Prince playlist on iTunes. I was in the process of packing up all our CDs for long-term storage when it occurred to me that I should burn my Prince collection to my computer hard drive. Then it occurred to me that I had so many favorites that are not often on any official "best of" compilation. Thus was born my 4.5-hour, 55-song "Private Prince" collection featuring among other cuts my early favorite "Just As Long As We're Together," his version of Sheryl Crow's "Everyday is a Winding Road," the naughty "Darling Nikki," the acoustic version of "7," Just Another Sucker" from his 94 East days, live versions of both "Girls & Boys" and "Anna Stesia," and three different remixes of "Gett Off." Guess I still have a little mixtape mania inside of me (she says proudly as she brushes her shoulder off). Now if I only had the time to listen to the damn thing!

(Or, "I Was a Mix Tape Maniac")

In between lit searches today I read this Salon story reviewing and commenting on a new book about the "demise" of the mixtape and "mixtape culture."

I read this piece and my plush blue office chair immediately transformed into a way-back machine. Man-o-man...once was a time, I was a mix-tape maniac! I made mixtapes for all sorts of occassions: a three-month "going together" anniversary, my mother's birthday, my sister's high school graduation, a sampler for a high school buddy who had moved out to the west coast (to show her what music was jumping on the east coast).

And of course, for parties. And road trips. And for "archiving" my collection of LPs to the "new" cassette format.

...Maybe the golden age of mixtapes is over...

One of my all-time favorite recent albums (or, should I say "quote-unquote-albums" since I, of course, don't own it on vinyl...) is Meshell Ndegeocello's Cookie: The Anthropological Mixtape. I remember the first time I listened to it, getting that same blast of nostalgia: the album (er, CD) cover design, the splices of spoken word, and of course the title. So excited was I about this CD that I mixed some selections of it to accompany a final seminar paper in a graduate course on qualitative methodology: a mixtape of a mixtape for a mixed-product project that included this mix, a poem adapted from my email correspondence with the course prof, an "autoethnography" of my own thinking/planning process (this was before my blog days), the final paper, and a micro-cassette tape of my original interviews for the study the paper was based on.

...So. Maybe, for me at least, the days of the mixtape never ended...

(Did I mention?) I was a mixtape maniac. There truly was no joy like what I experienced following a tense couple of minutes of watching the last few inches of spooling strand of shiny brown wind through my player's works, hoping I would still see brown for the whole of the last cut's fade-out--then: YAY! The last lingering whisper (heard over earphones with the volume pumped way up to make sure I truly have the ABSOLUTE LAST FEW SECONDS CAPTURED) of the song, followed a split second later by the clear non-recording segment of end-tape....then...CLICK! The tape would suddenly stop winding and the "PLAY" and "RECORD" buttons on the player would snap back in line with the other buttons.

By contrast, there was nothing so depressing as seeing that clear tape and hearing that loud, final CLICK! just a moment shy of the fade-out. (There are a couple songs that even as I hear them now I can remember the precise point where an old mixtape cut out on them because they were the too-long last cut.)

I don't know if it was an urban legend or not, but my friends and I actually used to share info about brands of cassette tape that routinely (we asserted) packaged their tape reels with slightly more tape than the 45 minutes, or 60 minutes, or 90 minutes that they were labelled as containing. At the most geeky mixtape point in my life, it wasn't uncommon for me to spend more for a specific brand of high-end audiophile quality, imported blank tape than for the commercially pre-recorded cassettes that I would eventually raid for content...

By contrast, the last blank CDs I purchased came in a package of 100 for less than I previously spent for a two-pack of those high end blank tapes back in the day!

...Maybe CD mixes are not the same, afterall...

Anyway. By adulthood--well, who had time for mixtapes and such things. I did not.

Well, except for when my husband was stationed in Bosnia.

I would routinely make him mixtapes of my favorite selections from the latest CDs (for they were CDs now, not prerecorded cassette tapes) that I had purchased from the Army base's PX or from one of the German record stores in downtown Bamberg. (I always used to get a kick out of one store's section labelled, in English but all together, German style "Blackmusic.")

I remember one particular masterpiece I made for him: It was an ecclectic and rare mix of Prince slow jams--And with these carefully-chosen selections I even included extensive liner notes which I composed myself.

But, as I said, what adult has time for such things? On a regular basis? And once that adult has parenthood duties to take up her time?

Well, since the birth of my perryPod a while back I have--joyfully--rediscovered the art of the mixtape. I have made custom playlists for my daughters: One includes such diverse selections as The Wiggles' "Hot Potato," Julie Andrews' "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," The Friends of Distinction's "Grazing in the Grass," and Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." I have made mixtapes for my husband that include songs he requested, as well as my own favorites of the moment. I recently made a mixtape for my (newly) teenaged nephew's birthday (and, in doing so, discovered the challenge of finding truly "clean" versions of the latest songs).

And of course I have made mixtapes for myself.

Note that I am calling these playlists "mixtapes." Unlike the more snob-ish author of the Salon piece, I see my iPod playlists as functionally equivalent to my mixtapes of old. For that matter, I see my cassette mixtapes of old as functionally equivalent to my father's reel-to-reel party tapes from the early 70s--large, movie film-looking spools of tape on which he had recorded everything from Bill Withers to James Taylor to J. S. Bach.

Were my 80's-era mixtapes any less labors of love because I never had to physically thread the tape over, under, and through a maze of drums and levers on my machine? Or use a razor to splice two ends of tape to make a longer piece? No.

Are my current iPod playlists any less labors of love because each cut was "recorded" with just a mouseclick or two? Anyone who thinks so obviously has not experienced the joy of wading through bytes and bytes of digital music to find that one elusive selection by that one band you might have heard on NPR or maybe on a BMW commercial or maybe from an album (a real one) you used to own 20 years ago...

...Or outsmarted the algorithmic random "shuffle" program to manually create the absolute most sublime order of songs on a playlist...

...Or played music producer and re-arranged the selections on a classic CD to the order it should have been all along...

No, mixtape culture is not "dead." It's alive, and well. Different--but alive and well. And perfectly suited to the lives of grown-up adults with jobs and kids and lives.

And with not nearly enough time to sit for hours and watch the spooling motion of inches and inches of tan magnetic tape.

CLICK!!

So So Funkdafied

The Music Monday game for today is all about the funk.

I have participated in several conversations recently with folks of my generation about funk as a music genre and its relevance to today's kids. In my own house, my kids are all about the funk: They have taken The Pledge, for example:

Do you promise to funk the whole funk, and nothing but the funk, so help you George [the One True] Clinton?*

But unfortunately they are also all about Kidz Bop. In case you are not familiar, the Kidz Bop phenomenon is, IMO, perhaps the most disturbing thing to happen to children's music since that big purple dino started rounding up neighborhood kids to sing songs of friendship. With alarming frequency, a new Kidz Bop compilation album is released, consisting of recent popular "Top 40" songs sung by a chorus of children. I am not against choruses of kids, nor am I against kids singing songs originally intended for grown folks. But the two together--a bunch of nondescript kids (they do not even harmonize) singing adult songs (yes, they are "clean" versions but only in terms of language, not in terms of themes/content)--well, that just rubs me the wrong way.

No, I'd rather my own children hear original versions of music, even if it means I have to explain certain topics or even fast forward through some inappropriate words. I even like how music like that contained in the playlist below can spark deep philosophical and linguistic discussions. Like the time one of my daughters observed, "You know, Mommy, sometimes words mean different things depending on different things. Like 'funky'--If you're talking about music and dancing and stuff funky is good. But not if you're talking about you smell bad."

Exactly! So this Monday get funky (in the good way) with some James Brown, Zapp, Parliament, Slave, Gap Band, Rufus and the rest. And if you happen see a middle aged woman rolling down the road in a station wagon with two little kids in the back, all of them bopping their heads and raising the roof with their arms and hands, toot your horn and say hi to us.

Happy Monday!

*P.S. Alas, "One Nation Under a Groove" is not here, as it is not available for playlist inclusion on lastfm. I trust you to cue up your own copy and take The Pledge yourself before playing this player if you haven't previously done so.

A Four Tops Kinda Day

Another early morning here on the East Bank of campus. No matter how long I I have done this arriving-early-to-work-to-get- in-some-quality-time thing, I still can't manage to walk the quiet and empty halls to open my office in the dark of 6 o'clock winter morn without feeling a bit resentful, tired and ticked off. In an attempt to mellow myself out, I decided to go old school this A.M. and listen to some Four Tops. It did the trick, happily. Who can stay in a salty mood for long listening to this? So now I am sharing with you the Four Tops--along with some Al Green, Jackie Wilson, Supremes, Shirelles, Otis Redding, and Aretha Franklin thrown in for good measure.

Now if you feel that you can't go on
Because all your hope is gone
And your life is filled with confusion
And happiness is just an illusion
And your world around is tumblin' down
Darling, reach out
Reach out for me...