Welcome back to “Audio Files,” where I try to write about fun and the good times, but the pen yanks away and explodes and destroys the rhyme. (Wounded deep in battle, I stand stuffed like some soldier undaunted.)

This week I’m suggesting a mix CD for maximum autumnal pleasure – Fall Into Action! So crawl into my ambulance, your pulse is getting weak.

There’s no specific rhyme or reason to this collection, other than the songs remind me of autumns past.

1. Benny Goodman, “Sing Sing Sing” — the legendary Gene Krupa drummed on this gem. These days, Gene’s life force syncopates the cosmos.
2. Bongzilla, “Amerijuanican” – fun tidbit: I used to share a practice space with these gentlemen, and I don’t even smoke “the pot.” Their drummer, who also plays in a band at Jello Biafra’s group home for cop killers and deceased polemicists, is awesome.
3. Chuck Mangione, “Feels So Good” — this song delivers wisps of “happy-sad” into my ear hole. Other songs that generate this effect include “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody),” by the Talking Heads; “I Love You Goodbye,” by Thomas Dolby, “Severed Lips,” by Dinosaur Jr, and “My Bird Performs,” by XTC. Insider’s tip: Old, crackly vinyl is the best medium for a Chuck M experience.
4. Derek and the Dominos, “Layla” — the main chunk of this hit bores me, quite frankly. It’s standard Clapton fare. But the second movement/piano coda, courtesy of Jim Gordon, is timeless.
5. Devo, “Mechanical Man” — fun fact: Devo was established in 1972, as were Oingo Boingo, ABBA, Petra, Twisted Sister, Van Halen, Styx, and the Jam.
6. Donald Byrd, “Estavanico” — this song’s album of origin, Electric Bird, came out in 1970, the same year that (i) Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix died; (ii) Johnny Cash played at the White House for Richard Nixon; (iii) the Beatles officially broke up; and most importantly, (iv) Fiji adopted “God Bless Fiji” as its national anthem.
7. fIREHOSE, “Witness” — this song reminds me of late October nights — liquid-black nocturnica!
8. Frank Zappa, “Catholic Girls” — four-minutes-26-seconds of stupendous virtuosity.
9. Fuzzy, “Flashlight” — This song is something of a guilty pleasure, but guilt is bullshit, isn’t it? (In lifeguarding school, they taught us that “guilt is the least beneficial of human emotions.”)
10. Heart, “Dog and Butterfly” — a comely bummer of a single whose B-side was “Mistral Wind.”
11. Volebeats, “Tequila y Bunuelos” — “tequila and doughnuts.”
12. Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, “Uranium” — some alien sound manifestations.

News

• A Catholic school “Get Acquainted” session is infiltrated by pornographic slurps and moans
• DJ Spooky blogs about Arctic “compositions based loosely on Stephen Wolfram’s algorithms, but spread into several factors looking at evoking landscape.”
• Ice-T comments on a young man’s tattoos: “Somebody needs to smack the shit outta this kid! The youth have lost their motherfuckin minds!”
• Migraines leave English woman speaking with French accent
• Pop stars in prison
• Pravda weighs in on Lady Gaga’s meat dress: “In a statement PETA said: ‘Wearing a dress made out cuts of dead cows is offensive enough to bring comment, but someone should whisper in her ear that there are more people who are upset by butchery than who are impressed by it.’”
• Super-sexy Annie gives her top 15 songs for September

Music Critics and Hip-Hop

Personally speaking, I find it entertaining when Caucasian music nerds write about hip-hop. There’s no lyrical content that these gushing doofuses won’t rationalize or defend (e.g. anti-Semitism, homicide, rape, spousal abuse) in their clumsy rush to embrace a culture that hates them. (BTW, Rob’s recent, excellent tribute to Eazy-E here at WFTC doesn’t fall into this trap. But Rob’s not your everyday-type prankster — he’s an “O.G.” — Original Gangsta.)

Anyway, it’s too bad that few writers can describe hip-hop without resorting to spineless apologias and awkward cries for acceptance. Therefore, I’ve taken it upon myself to emulate these scribes, who seem to package a discernible contempt for the inner city with (i) faux-compassion, (ii) faux-understanding, and (iii) faux-empathy. These honkeys offer a solemn fist-bump to the noble and sagacious inner-city savage. They exhibit a sober and condescending appreciation for all that plight and shit. In short, these thought leaders of music writing are more racist than any backwoods-Idaho-Aryan-thong-nugget could ever be.

So are you ready for a treat? Prepare your salad forks. I’ll don the pseudonym “Stephen White.”

“Hip-Hop Sends Smiles Rippling Thru My 100% Recycled Polyester Bike Shorts”

by Stephen White

• In their seminal work Nigga Killz the Whole DamnTown, the Stiff Chimpz reveal a profound social conscience. Songs draped in the sorrow of inner city pain ricochet off the gleaming production of Master Fuck; there’s never a dull moment. Educational and ass-moving.
• “Running Away (Shackin’ Up w/a White Bitch)” is Def Clappa‘s bittersweet portrayal of a misspent youth. It’s a harrowing listen — not for the timid — but the song’s life-affirming vigor, delicately sculpted by DJ Scat, results in one heck of a booty-shakin’ commotion. HIGHLY recommended.
• In the bleak ghettoscape of “Big Black Thang,” MC Serpentine wields his microphone like a big, phallic war club. “Splooge My Shit All Ova U” is the best of a strong, strong bunch — it soars furtively over a backdrop of Animotion and Tom Tom Club samples.
• “30 Niggaz 4 the Road” details the gentrification of DJ FuckYoShitUp‘s old stomping grounds. It’s a tour de force delivered with searing ferocity. The ‘hood has never felt this life affirming. One of the most important releases of the last five years.
• Ice 4 Evva breaks new ground on “Bitch Stranglaz,” as he dives into such unexplored lyrical terrain as necrophilia and wushu.
• “Bitch Delivery” is a challenging but rewarding listen. Ice Fucka‘s paean to Black women on death row is oft times poignant, oft times devastating. In sum, it’s a watershed moment in the young rapper’s career.
• Although the frenzied homophobia of Dick Sandwich is difficult to stomach, EZ Fucka makes it all worthwhile by the close of business. The album’s final three tracks supply a brilliant coda to the disjointed viciousness of the first 12 songs. It’s a momentous work.
• Frosty Kunt is not your typical Caucasian rapper; she comes armed with a B.A. in bling and a master’s degree in ASS-KICKING. In sum, don’t be turned off by the pigmentation. The girl earned her doctorate in the ‘hood. Guest appearances by such hip-hop luminaries as Gold Face and Ice Shit affirm this.
• On Gas ‘Em Up, Ass Tickla may call for the extermination of (what he calls) “the Jewish subspecies,” but that’s a minor blight on this otherwise brilliant landscape of indelicate, inner city ebullience.

TWEET OF THE WEEK

“This is the first time I’ve worn shoes in two days” — Har Mar Superstar

CLOSING THOUGHTS

They’re waiting for you in Bellevue with their oxygen masks.

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