"Special" - Dabrye feat. Guilty Simpson, Paradime

December 17, 2007- Venice Grind Coffee
I went to meet a close friend. In between an article on gangs I was reading in LA Weekly, this brief conversation took place...

Me: Dude, guess what happened? I went to go pick up and I found out that someone broke in to my friend's stash and took it. Almost all of it is gone.
Person: No way....
Me: Yeah and what sucks is that it's probably one of his close friends, and I would probably know him also since we're all from the same neighborhood. Doesn't that suck? He slangs to support his family and shit. How could anyone do that to their own friend?
Person: Well, I don't know about that man. After all...
Me: After all, what? He got betrayed by one of his close friends. It's fucking weed, man. It's not crack or speed or anything. It's a peace drug.
Person: But you know, what he does is...you can't say he didn't deserve...
Me: Whoa, wait. You mean to tell me what he does is morally wrong? Selling marijuana to support his family and survive?
Person: Well, he is....
Me: So you mean to tell me that just because it's against the law, it's wrong? And so you must think that any act is fine, so long as it's legal?
Person: .................
Me: Wow. What an easy way to live life.

Finished the article in six minutes and left six seconds later. So, what does he think of me, then? After all, I am the seller, I am the thief. These are my people. This is where I am from.

This just stresses my dependence on hip hop culture; I don't just listen to it or throw out words like, "yo" or "shut the fuck up, stanky ass bitch". I need the folklore to empower me, for my placement in society. And as I tread through life, subtle exchanges like this only help me further develop my sense of self and who I am and who I never want to be.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/pvtr8994d8

"Cat Claw" - The Kills

Hello All,

What a beautiful weekend, eh? I've decided to tote around a notebook so that I can doodle and write and have people I meet write in it also, like a yearbook. Well, en route to a someone's house yesterday I went to watch the surfers and thought you guys might be interested in a little thought process. This is what I wrote in my notebook:

12/16/07 – El Porto at 2:19 PM

• Parking lot at El Porto
• Watching surfers in the water
• Saw a guy walking back – frustrated, but a willful smile
• At least he can say he went surfing

THOUGHT: I cannot say that I went surfing today.

12/16/07 – Someone's Apartment
Going through Polaroid pictures of Christmas party. She offered me one choice of 5 photos.

1. Her, Me
2. Her, Me
3. Her, Me, Paul, Paul's Date
4. Her, Me, Paul, Paul's Date
5. Her, Mike
   

CHOICE: 5.
THOUGHT: Fuck that.

http://www.box.net/shared/f0naklog4p

-- Sonnyred!

"Say You Do" - TV on the Radio

So I was just thinking about this, just now, a few minutes shy of a friend’s visit, a few more on top of that for some fresh pizza (extra sauce, extra cheese, extra fuck yeah), and a few hours more from my going away party at Barcopa in Santa Monica.

And I was sitting there, existing, being high, listening to Sea Wolf on my couch and I thought about how people like to give me a hard time for the way I choose to adorn myself. As most of you know, at night I go out and wear these gay ass looking, flamboyant yellow-tinted, plastic framed glasses. I swear, people love busting my balls about them and of course I can’t blame them. It comes with the territory; it’s like a flare gun saying “douchebag alert.” And my reasons to justify them are definitely legit: they help with depth perception, it helps me compose my photographs, etc. All legitimate reasons. But truth is, you know and I know that I enjoy wearing them because I like to, it’s my moniker. It’s an altered reality, it’s a new way of perceiving my environment, it’s a constant sunset.

Well as I said earlier, I was sitting there, on my couch, thinking about whether or not I’m going to rock the golden glasses tonight. What the hell was I thinking; of fucking course I’m going to wear them tonight. Shortly after that, I began to think, “Ok Roe. Well, what are you going to say when someone asks you, ‘why do you like to wear those glasses so much?’ What are you going to answer?”

I’ll tell you why, my darling.

It’s because it makes me feel like a fucking celebrity.

Sonnyred is back.

http://www.box.net/shared/6cai27tdir
Here I am with one of my favorites.

---------------------------------------------

What is love can you tell me baby be,
Is it the hole you put inside me.
Yon cavernous crater young windswept cave,
If love is my salvation I don't want to be saved.

But I never met a girl like you.
Someone who made that dumb shit true
So oo oo.

(Love me love me love me, say you do)

when you do,
wont you say you do.

(Love me love me love me, say you do)

say you do.


Full capacity mind wake suck sainity I fake,
Not much more that I can take before I start to bend a break.
Burn the indian sky the sea, I blot out every memory,
And then I solemn vow I swear, I'll never ever ever fall again.

But I never met a girl like you,
Someone to keep my black heart blue.
And I'll always stay a little bit me,
The portrait of complicity.


Well its a lovely picture of me,
Hanging on the stars above me, Screaming girl why don't you love me.

Well its a lovely picture of me,
Hanging on the stars above me, Screaming girl why don't you love me.

Well its a lovely picture of me,
Hanging on the stars above me, Screaming girl why don't you love me.

Well its a lovely picture of me,
Hanging on the stars above me, Screaming girl why don't you love me.
(Lovely picture of me)
Say you do

(Love me love me love me, say you do)
(Love me love me love me, say you do)

Full capacity hard wake suck sainity I fake,
Not much more that I can take before I start to bend a break.
Burn the indian sky the sea, I blot out every memory,
And then I solemn vow I swear, I'll never ever ever fall again.


Full capacity hard wake suck sainity I fake,
Not much more that I can take before I start to bend a break.
Burn the indian sky the sea, I blot out every memory,
And then I solemn vow I swear, I'll never ever ever fall again.


Full capacity hard wake suck sainity I fake,
Not much more that I can take before I start to bend a break.
Burn the indian sky the sea, I blot out every memory,
And then I solemn vow I swear, I'll never ever ever fall again.

Snorty MacDougal - Art

So I tried to do something creative here with the gauzes from my surf incident. It didn't turn out as "elegant" as I had expected but I'm still pretty stoked with the concept of using it as the media.

Yes, I was going to sign it by affixing my hospital bracelet to it but the band was yellow and it just took away from the subtleness of the mosaic.

I just wanted to immortalize this because it made me experience blood in new ways. With my face all fucked the fuck up I lost all sensation (due to local anesthesia). It was weird because usually when people experience blood, they see it, they feel it. On the operating table, I wasn't aware of the blood dripping down my mouth and lips; I was only made privy of it when I tasted it on my tongue. And the only way I knew that essences of my life were cascading down my cheek was when my eye would become flushed with a blanket of red liquid.

Sensory deprivation in ways I never imagined.

Here's Sonny with the Surf Report

Just thought you guys would be interested in knowing what happened during my first week of being unemployed....

Date: 12/10/07 (yesterday)
Place: El Porto
Incident: On a wave, wave closed out, smacked me right in the face, fin hits my nose

I was on the wave, it smacked me on the face. Instantly, about half a pint of blood was lost. Saw another surfer and was like, "Shit, I broke my nose." However broken, I noticed that it felt all flappy (like a stingray) so I was a little concerned. Waved down the lifeguard and coincidentally he was the same
lifeguard that helped me when I got stung by a stingray (unlike a nose)!

Him: I remember your name. Didn't I help you with the stingray?
Me: Yes
Him: Let's hope this doesn't become a pattern
Me: I hope I never see you again. Tell you what though, if I do, next time I'm bringing you a fruitcake.

With no cashflow, I decided to drive myself to the ER rather than taking an ambulance, or a cab, or a rickshaw. There I am, in my truck and there's construction going on in the parking lot -- cement mixers and everything. Went out of my car, yelled at the foreman and ten minutes later I was on the road towards the hospital; clutching onto Noseagra Falls with my left hand and clutching onto the clutch with my left foot.

At the hospital, I waited three hours, in my wetsuit, full of sand and blood and water and bad hair and then the ER doc finally cleans up my nose (requiring 10 shots of local anesthesia). It was then that he deemed the injury to be a partial amputation and concludes that he can't handle the procedure. Therefore, I have to drive, in traffic, to Brentwood to go see a specialist.

The doctor sewed on over 25 stitches to my nose and now it's in a cast. Believe me when I tell you, SHIT HURT. They also took pictures of it (attached). I had about 16 more injections at this office (mouth, eye socket, about 10 more on the nose alone).

Cast is coming off tomorrow and I'll be able to go back into the water after a month. However, I'm done with surfing until I get full insurance again. What
else...uhhhh...oh yeah, ok, what's the bright side? (I'm praying for some pity lays).

Sexy scar? Nope, hideous. I was kind of hoping that the injury would mess up my tastebuds so that bacon would start to taste like vomit and brusselsprouts would begin to taste like Jessica Alba. Not that either. I'm still trying to unmask the blessing, but for now I will say that the best treatment for any ailment is the company and support of good friends.


That, my friends, comes with no copay

AIM Status Message

"The Trapeze Swinger" - Iron and Wine

Hello All,

Hope all is well. Last night, I witnessed one of the best concert performances, ever. Whoever is a fan of Iron and Wine needs to see him perform at least once. He remixes the songs and breathes new life into them. Sodom, South Georgia, my favorite song, was sung in an entirely different way that was equally as brilliant as the original. Well, I’m glad that I’m into music and not into cars. The best cars will cost you a fortune and a bullshit career and other false, material pursuits. Highly unlikely. In contrast, the best musicians aren’t found performing at the Staples Center, they’re found in small, niche places where you can shake their hand after the show. How I love the qualitative life.

Well, Sam Beam, this guy is my hero. I’m so sappy that leaves grow out of my ears squirrels run up my legs. But you know, I’d like to think of myself as a champion of hearts; a lifetime member of the Dead Poets Society. But either way, Sam Beam is the modern day Pablo Neruda. I was lucky to have been sitting, not even fifty feet, from someone whom I truly admire.

There are a few reasons why I enjoy sad, love songs. One, I’m more in touch with who I am and how I feel than most men. My talons have firmly held onto the whole notion of true love; the kind that after school specials are made of. I believe in love exclusive of compatibility. Second, I’m a guy! I can’t talk to the boyz (I even spelled it with a “z” to make it manlier) about how I truly feel. And as welcoming as my female friends are, those conversations often times result in me hearing about them. So, considering that there’s always a yin to any cheerful yang, I constantly find myself in deep dialogue with Sam. And it amazes me that in this life he will never know me. But in a parallel universe, through his music, I become him -- belching out tales of triumph and defeat...with the audio wavelengths between speaker and listener serving as the forum and passageway of my heart’s dissent.

The ability to love someone forever is meaningless without the capacity to hate them endlessly.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/jubcivazf9

He ended the show with today’s song. To me, this song is about him talking to an ex-lover before as he dies and loses her forever.


THE TRAPEZE SWINGER
Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention
But

Please, remember me
Fondly
I heard from someone you're still pretty
And then
They went on to say
That the pearly gates
Had some eloquent graffiti
Like "We'll meet again"
And "Fuck the man"
And "Tell my mother not to worry"
And angels with their great
Handshakes
Were always done in such a hurry
And

Please, remember me
At Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white
By midnight
We'd forgotten one another
And when the morning came
I was ashamed
Only now it seems so silly
That season left the world
And then returned
And now you're lit up by the city
So

Please, remember me
Mistakenly
In the window of the tallest tower
Calling passers-by
But much too high
To see the empty road at happy hour
Gleam and resonate
Just like the gates
Around the holy kingdom
With words like "Lost and found"
And "Don't look down"
And "Someone save Temptation"
And

Please, remember me
As in the dream
We had as rug-burn babies
Among the fallen trees
And fast asleep
Aside the lions and the ladies
That called you what you like
And even might
Give a gift for your behavior
A fleeting chance to see
A trapeze
Swing as high as any savior
But

Please, remember me
My misery
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain
And chasing trains
The colored birds above their running
In circles around the well
And where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter
So bright with cinder gray
And spray paint
"Who the hell can see forever?"
And

Please, remember me
Seldomly
In the car behind the carnival
My hand between your knees
You turned from me
And said, "The trapeze act was wonderful
But never meant to last"
The clown that passed
Saw me just come up with anger
When it filled with circus dogs
The parking lot
Had an element of danger
So

Please, remember me
Finally
And all my uphill clawing
My dear
But if I make
The pearly gates
Do my best to make a drawing
Of God and Lucifer
A boy and girl
An angel kissing on a sinner
A monkey and a man
A marching band
All around the frightened trapeze swingers

Na-na
Na-na-na
Na-na
Na-na . . .

"Bucktown" - Smif N Wessun

So I was talking to the homie (won’t mention his name without his permission) and he’s in New York right now and it’s like damn. Fuck, even I get excited for my friends to go to New York for work or whatever. But he mentioned that he was at a bar with a bunch of suits and he heard nothing but classic joints (Itsowezeee) and stuff.

And that’s what I’m talking about. I think the strongest indication of any city or venue is their music. It’s a magnet man. You have a dope club and play some wack ass shit and it’ll either go for broke or it’ll level out with divorced lawyers and lame ass frat guys. Or you can have a shitty ass bar with good music and all of a sudden it’s the coolest place in town. The shittier the better, right? Well, eventually it gets recognition and then the yuppies come in and fuck it all up all over again. But they stand there, in the shitty environment, and they have no idea why they’re there other than they’re there because they’re supposed to be there. And you know, as the speakers praise the hip hop gospel, they’re erratically tapping their feet, itching and yearning for something familiar...

Usher maybe.
(Justin Timberlake hopefully)
But wait, I saw Hustle and Flow, where is that “Stomp that Bitch” song?
Let’s pray for some Jimmy Buffet
Anticipating, waiting for Sweet Caroline...

New York is full of said bars. The homie even told me so. First time I went there I walked into a random bar full of suits, and Tribe’s “Oh My God” was playing. The closest thing I’ve experienced here in LA was at The Dime (Fairfax Village). Walked in there randomly to celebrate a softball victory. Saw a bunch of Hollywood glam people, all attractive with sunglasses and cowboy hats and fancy, leather pants and they were all grooving. Paid attention to the snare in the beat and all of a sudden I was taken aback. If I was wearing Heelys I would’ve slipped and broken my tailbone. Today’s song was on and I was like, “Holy shit, that’s dope. These l people have no idea what they’re dancing too! They like to dance to this shit!”

I paused, then thought to myself, “Wow, that’s dope. I choose to live by this shit.”

Celebrate good times, c’mon!

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/bg6hq7c3p8

I apologize for all the swear words. I’m just very intense right now. Every time someone mentions New York I go ape shit. The city was meant for me.

"Eucalyptus" - The Deadly Syndrome

Hello All,

Wow, where the hell did she come from? Taryn must have been smoking hash in the caves of Afghanistan with Osama for a hot minute now. Alas, she’s back with a vengeance. Remember, she’s the one that brought uhhhh....Material Issue to us. Didn’t you also bring Kill Hannah? Whatever. What sucks about Taryn is that no matter how cool and obscure I think my music taste is, she comes out of nowhere with some bands that would have never landed in my net. So, not only am I thankful I’m also inferior. Fuck guys, have you seen her hair? Sassier than a motherfucker...











Either way, thanks Taryn. Here’s what she had to say......

Hey. I want to amend what I wrote earlier...use this below. (It's late, and I decided that they're not as uplifting and feel-good as I imagined.)

So...The Deadly Syndrome...they've got this weird, quirky sound that can be many things - quiet, somber, eerie, and they can rock. They're local, and playing with a few other bands at the Christmas Sweater Festival on Dec 14th...which is kind of brilliant - I love a festive sweater party.

Enjoy,

Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/74bcqaovou

First Time Listening to M. Ward

Hello All,

So people send me stuff and I give them their fair amount of attention. I put on my headphones, look up the lyrics, ignore all things work-related and just analyze away. Someone sent me a few songs from M. Ward. Here’s what he had to say:

"it's very simple, if you don't like this guy, i'm never sharing any
music with you ever again because i obviously have no idea what you
like."

I don’t mind sharing my feedback because this person isn’t on the list......but if you think I might be a little brash, here’s what I told him:
---------------------------------------------------------

Dude, I always enjoy people's recommendations. Here's what I think:

Big Boat - sounds like I'm in Dixieland. Like on a paddleboat in the Mississippi with a parasol twirling above my head and people dressed in TGIFridays uniforms running about.

Deep Dark Well - sounds like Norm MacDonald sitting at the end of the bar, drinking scotch to cope with his professional shortcomings, as Andy Samberg's Hot Rod trailer blares on the TV above him, out of the corner of his eye.

Radio Campaign - remember those little Fisher Price push toys that you had when you were a kid? The ones where you would push it like a lawnmower, and these little colorful balls would pop and burst in this clear, plastic dome? I would imagine this is what this song is about his childhood. I like how at the 2:16 mark where he escalates his voice, Mariah Carey style, just to drill it home.

You Still Believe In Me – what kind of title is this? It’s only instrumental; and still I don’t feel this really depicts that feeling of “still believe in me.” it might seem to be more like “welcome to Rainforest Café, how many people are on your safari?” This is the kind of music you hear when you see those nature programs of a snake sidewinding its way down a sand dune in the middle of the Sahara. Either that or like, it’s the score of some low budget, South American porn where you can barely hear faint whispers of “aye papi.”

Hi-Fi – I appreciate that little Colin Hay in this, but that part where says “hi fi” and “my mind” it reminds of Mariah Carey hitting the high note in “emotions.” I’ve mentioned her twice already and even Mariah Carey reminding me of Mariah Carey is too much for me to handle. I enjoy this melody, I’ll give it a 3-star rating and see where it lands next time I hear it.

One Life Away – I like this one a lot! You know I like the dark, chamberlike, hollow sound. I really like this song. I can’t wait to hear it while I’m high on a rainy afternoon; it’ll take on a whole different form. I really like this one. I’ll send it out on my music email today.

Thanks man, keep sending away and I’ll keep jabbing (or jibbing) away.

"The Ghost of Genova Heights" - The Stars

(Written at 1:06 PM, on November 11, 2007)

Crimson eyes
Cloudy recall
Perfectly clear evening
It’s noon thirty
Enough alcohol in my body to sterilize the surgical tools of a hospital
What the fuck am I to do?
Throw up?
Done that
In the bathtub
While I was taking a bath

Room service?
Mozzarella and tomato panini on its way
What else?
I took those silly looking herbal pills in the convenience store downstairs.
I hope they aren’t penis enlargement pills
(or do I)

I should eat some bread to soak up all this liquor.
Screw that
I’m eating a towel.

I’m so refined and cultured.
I think Vegas is a very tacky city.
A false reality, no doubt.

Know what’s lame about advertising?
Phrases like, “putting out a fire” (thanks for that one Andrew)
Seriously, is that what I’m doing?
Running up flights of stairs
And like carrying a hose and stuff?
Or like, looking like the BONE Thugs and Harmony music video for, “Tha Crossroads?"

There’s a fire alright.
The title of my blog is
INTERNAL MIND INFERNO

I was going to name it Soul On Ice

But culture doesn’t stand a chance against the 800 lb gorilla of this city.
I love the campaign for Las Vegas. One of the best campaigns ever.
It piles on the pressure for people to leave the city with outrageous stories
Even I succumbed to it.
I’m so unrefined and oblivious.

As of late, wisdom has come to me in the form of coffee shop conversations
Surfboard conversations
Go is one deep motherfucker and one of the best commanders of English dialogue
Ladies, pay attention to him
(Go, that doesn’t mean you can cock block me)
Good thing you have much higher standards than me
I won’t just fuck anything that walks

I’d do a paraplegic
Watch Murderball, satisfaction guaranteed

However, today
Wisdom paid a visit to me.

In the form of a panini sandwich
Served by the name of Jorge
...an 800 lb gorilla

(was that a good ending? Should I have cut it off sooner?)

Since I’m hungover and lacking in tact right now, I’m just going to out on a limb and say this,

I am so grateful that you guys enjoy my writing.

I’m going to take it one step further and drop another gem on you.

Keeping a journal is not for the sake of expressing your innermost thoughts.

It’s for the possibility of someone discovering them.

Now, to my panini.

-- Sonnyred

“Wow, he’s really lost it.”
“At least he just made up for that penis enlargement pill comment”
“He just really took me on that mental journey.”
“Dude, this piece of shit is programming my thoughts”

http://www.box.net/shared/iilrifiemv

"The Last Trick" - Anja Garbarek

Hello Everyone,

So it seems to be a trend that while I’m out of town that I won’t come out with a song until the end of a night or at least until after all the hooplas are done with. Tonight’s hoopla happened just a few minutes ago. I was hanging out with a friend who happened to have 3 hotel keys. After a few minutes I realized that she left her keys in my room so I called her to pick them up. I thought I was being nice because ordinarily I would just leave them straggling underneath my door while I’m whatevering. However, I decided to go meet her with all 3 keys at the elevator. I forgot my own hotel key. So I just ended up taking a 15 minute nap on the bench, in the lobby of the MGM Grand, waiting for security while I’m in a wifebeater, barefoot. I’m such a dumb fuck.

But alas, now I’m in my room and I have some free time to douse on some Clear Eyes and have a glass of some premium bottled water (CVS Natural spring water....maybe straight from the sewage treatment plants of El Porto). I sent out a track from this album before and yes, it’s the tried and true covers of Nouvelle Vague. This time they brought guests and I think this is their best album, yet. This will be the last song I send out from their album because I strongly encourage everyone to buy it (if you liked the other track). I label this as “chill” because I really enjoy them more for the mood than the genre. I would pair this album with a nice Vodka Martini (I call this genre “martini music”).

But this song really stood out for me. Just the melody and delivery is guaranteed, 30 minutes or less. Listen to this song when you feel like you’re stuck in a rut, or getting yourself into the same ol’ cyclic mess with your ex lover, or if you foresee yourself to be doomed to repeat the mistakes from your past. Or you can listen to this song when you allow him/her back into your life and then are like, “fuck it. What am I doing? Why?”

Geographically relevant. Nothing more. So, like I say to other people (and I need to heed my own advice sometimes). Like, let’s say there are 5 billion women out there in the world. Out of the 5 billion people, let’s say you have 2.5 billion that are actually possible mates (take out the children and old women and women that can’t stand listening to hip hop). Out of the 2.5 billion in the world, let’s say you have about a few thousand that you will meet in the course of your lifetime. So let’s say that right now, you’ve met a few hundred women that you would have loved to court. And out of the few hundred women, there were only a few dozen that you actually pursued and established something with. So let’s say out of them, you really only fall in love with a handful (or two handfuls, or if you’re tree sap, two handfuls and a foot) of them, you think they’re “the one.” So now, take a step back and see that out of the 2.5 billion potential mates, you really are stuck on that “soulmate.” Isn’t it convenient to think that out of 2.5 billion potential partners, you happened to live within a few miles/in the same job/in the same bar/happens to be friends with your friend/or whatever? Isn’t that nuts? It baffles me sometimes. To think that people exhaust their heart and efforts into a few women that are “the one.” Yes, plenty o’ fish get away but whoopty woo.

So, you mean to tell me, you met him, in college/work/Nebraska and that’s it for you? Cool, senorita.

But for those that are stuck in dead ends, hopefully this song will help you commit to your own rationale. And, if you can truly convince yourself of it, you’ll be fishing with dynamite.

Kaplooey.

-- Sonnyred


THE LAST TRICK

From standing to crouching
Silently falling
Falling from nowhere to nowhere
Nothing between
Nothing beyond
Nothing behind the stars

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

Remain for some time
Down here below
Allowing the doubt
to feed upon me
And even the ones
Who've never been
Are climbing the wail up ahead

I get up start crawling
Into the same
Over and over and over again
Smelling the plastic
Smelling the spit
And smelling my own breath

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

The presence convincing
The most of what I've
written is false
I mention this
[ Lyrics provided by www.mp3lyrics.org ]
'Cause I'm talking in
the light of what's
known
I get out of the sun

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

This is the last trick I'll do
Sound can be seen
This is the main title
Briefly shaking

All together now
Everybody

"So Sorry" - Feist

Hello All,

I just have to call this out. First, I don’t seek out new music on my own, I find people whose taste in music I respect, then I sniff their butts and follow them down melody trails. Sometimes they’re just moldy passageways and they’re filled with poop. Other times they’re faulty rope bridges, only suspended by my taking someone’s word for it. But of course, there are times where their suggestions pave golden brick roads and I just want to carry a basket full of apples and skip to their loo.

Today is an example of it. I think Roy gives me 95% of my music, of which I’m very thankful for. But it’s really the “hey yo Roe....dude, I’ve been really feeling that new Avril Lavigne” or “hey yo Roe, that new Gwen is off the chain! I want to go buy a Le Sportsac purse, throw punches in the air and wear 80s hooker red lipstick.” It’s the recommendations that I really enjoy the most. Don’t just give me a donkey and a tail for me to pin it on; spin me around and push me in a certain direction.

But when you do, be prepared for the onslaught. Eventually the blindfold will come off and we’ll see if I hit it. I love being recommended stuff but I really only like 5-10% of the music that gets sent to me. And though Roy currently has the homerun record, he also probably has the worst batting average, but it shouldn’t deter him or anyone from swinging. Why do I ask people to do write ups for me if I choose their songs? Because it’s their baby, it’s their initial contact with the music. I want to know, and I want everyone else to know, why you like it. See...I can’t take credit for it. Also, I think it’s a good exercise for people to tap into their cerebral and actually try to access their thoughts.

It’s not easy, I know. But, is it really that FUCKING hard? All I’m asking is, “why do you like it?”

“I just do.”

It baffles me to think that people have become that disconnected from their feelings or emotions and stuff. I think there’s a much bigger tragedy that's taking place but what I’m really trying to say is, if you’re going to stand for something, be ready to defend it; whether it be with rationale, logic or that good ol’ feeling in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe that’s what alienates me. My opinions are seldom accurate, but they’re mine, tried and true. And so that’s why I suggest suggestions.

Feist came to my existence after Roy hooked me up. I thought they were a little too soft; like Sia (I sent her before, but now I realize I can’t stand the whore). Then I thought to myself, “I like Dido, why should a hothead like me grant more real estate to another “chill kind of musician?” Feist is not that special. One year later, and she’s invited to my head space BBQs and holding my brain babies and all of that jazz.

What I’m saying is, examine your mind, exercise your heart and tell me why the fuck I should listen to something. Do it with enough conviction, and you’ll have the attention of everyone on this list.

Now, gimme some donkey ass.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/0qyzrk1sp7\

"Empty" - 3582

How can I say this without sounding like a gay license plate frame?

“Always late, but worth the wait.”

You know what? Everytime I see that shit on a car it just pisses me the fuck off. For real, you know what I do? I tailgate them and make them go like 10-15 mph faster than they were normally traveling. Be careful what you ask for, bitches. My parents told me that I was an accident and that they were going to get an abortion. Well...my mom’s period came 9 months late. And when I have enough money to buy her a car, I’m also going to get her a license plate frame. It’s going to say, “Fuck the police.” Uh, wha whaaa whaaat?

Well, it took me a while to get to this group and really start to pay attention to them. Roy Van Winkle must have been sleeping because he just recently gave me this album. I was about to text him, “Roy, you’re the homie for hooking me up with this new 3582 shit! It’s smart, soulful, artful hip hop.” For real, today’s song reminds me of how forgiving and somber hip hop can be. Not in that woe is me sense either. It takes me back to a time when you can be vulnerable and still be a man. That’

I was also like, “Who is J. Rawls?” I know “The Essence” album but he never really got much acclaim. I Wikipedia’d this shit and turns out this album is 6 years old! 3582 is a collaboration of J Rawls and Fat Jon. (next time you see me, ask me what the biggest lesson is that rock can learn from hip hop and how hip hop is eons more evolved and refined than rock). Basically, J Rawls and J Sands are a team and they make Caucasian-friendly hip hop without alienating Black folks.

That’s what I love about being Asian. I can listen to Caucasian hip hop, like Sage Francis or Atmosphere or Murs or Pigeon John (though LA Symphony is Mexican Hip Hop) and I’d be seen as artful and abstract. And at the same time, I can listen to Boot Camp Click, Big L or The Beatnuts and be seen as street or urban. You know what I hate about that term, “urban?” It’s a polite way to say “inner city Blacks.” Just say it, fucking marketers.

Mother. Fucking. Marketers.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/hbgd94iseh

Oh yeah, and if you’re like, “Well, Roe, you’re neither White nor Black; and all you got on hip hop is that Gin guy or Key Kool or the Mountain Brothers” all I’ll have to do is point towards the booth and be like, “Who the fuck do you think is spinning this shit?”

TOFU ON THE ONES AND TWOS! Chicky chicky.

"Tiger In My Tank" - The Eels

“The devil believes in you.” So that’s my AIM status this evening and I think I’m going to leave it up there for a while to see what kind of reactions I’ll get. Ok, just so we’re on the same page:








Ok, get it? Great! Well, I think the status is very stark in comparison to my self-portrait, aim icon. And so, let me look, wow….as edgy as I think I already am, I think maybe, perhaps I’m “taking it to another level” or I’m being “just plain tasteless” or “damn, that motherfucker needs attention” but I really don’t think much of it. I know it will certainly offend people. I know there are a bunch of bible thumpers on my buddy list alone (and I know who the closet ones are…don’t be ashamed….you don’t need to blast P.O.D. in the privacy of your own headphones). But I think I’m going to do it just to make people feel uncomfortable and disrupt their day a little. But, wait, you mean to tell me that "Believe in me or you're going to hell" isn't razor sharp?

You know what I wished? I wished I could call my writing, art. That way I can get away with doing a lot of weird, random shit that I currently have to suppress. Like, it’d be fine if I were to go days without showering...or like when I did it’d always have to be in a bubble bath with a frozen Cornish game hen. Or maybe I could like, walk around the city with an upside down jar of mayonnaise on my head. See, like that’s pretty weird. But you see, if I was an artist, it’d at least be interesting or compelling. You know, I once read an article about an artist who had put out a coffee table book of his photography. Well, in the book was just pictures of him, in bed, with naked women that he met after putting out an ad in the newspaper. I wish I would’ve thought of that sweet deal. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about hurrying up and finding women before my condoms expire.

(Maybe self-deprecating humor will help me, also)

You know what’s kinda weird, but kinda goofy also? (predictable for me to say “besides…me”….however…unpredictable for me to still call it out)…people that collect matchbooks. Like, I think it’s cool, and fuck, I always think to myself, “it’d be cool if I collected matchbooks from cool clubs, luscious hotels, and nice restaurants. Yeah, maybe I should..” and you go through the motions……“but yeah, like it’s also cool because it’s free and you can’t just buy them...” and you further convince yourself that your knowledge of which bars have the coolest matches (wooden, strike on the back, funny quote, interesting packaging) will somehow put a significant dent on the world…you still don’t do it. And so one day, you go over to your friend’s house and then you see that, near the keys, there’s a little glass jar of different matches from exotic restaurants in exotic locales. How cool suddenly becomes how goofy. You think to yourself, “fuck…good thing I didn’t waste my time holding onto those matches…because that shit is CRAAAAZY!”

And somewhere between then and a few paces forward you soon think, “at least he/she had the balls to do it.”

That’s what I’m talking about.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/m90i4xu91v

"Magic Beans and Truth Machines" - Say Hi (to Your Mom)

This morning I was awakened by my alarm clock at 6:30 AM. And this morning started with a cold splash of water on my face; just enough to erode the eye boogers and with enough conviction to keep me from going back to my lucid dreams of puppies, lollipops and the Swedish Bikini team. Pumped some gas this morning (damn, I need a hybrid) and took a little drive along the coast shortly after. The slumbering ocean kissed me with all of its slobbery might and after a few frustrated attempts for more, it led me to believe that was all I was going to get. I sat on the couch and watched all the action that everyone was getting, except me. But I wasn’t hating, I was out there and I was glad to at least hold her hand, and once in a while she let me tuck underneath her. An hour in and my hand got slapped away about 4 times, but damn me for being so persistent. The opportunities were passing and my mind summoned all of its defense mechanisms: at least I’m getting exercise, at least I get to see the sun rise, at least I’m out here and learning and pushing and philosophizing again, etc.......

Another friend joined us in the water, and within two minutes, he caught a great ride. I was looking at him as he boomeranged back; like, “are you fucking shitting me? Five minutes and you already got one? I fucking hate you.” Yes I exaggerated; I said five minutes though it was only two. If I have to bring him down to close the gap of happiness between us, I’ll do it. I’ll force him down into the ocean basins where stingrays and treasure chests dwell. Like I said, I’m a hater. I swore I was done for. As I was calling it a day, she came by, slapped my butt and gave me the green light to traverse down her right shoulder (that’s right, her RIGHT shoulder). I kissed her clavicle. And though she went off to go fuck the rest of the guys in the lineup, at least I kissed her. My lips haven’t stopped trembling since.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/cnzxo05b2b

"Resurrection Fern" - Iron and Wine

Hello All,

Great things happened to me over the weekend. On Friday night, I almost bunny hopped a trail of blood while riding my bike on the Venice Boardwalk due to a stabbing. Don’t worry, it wasn’t too bad; the guy got stabbed on the arm and it just further perpetuated Venice into being one of the coolest, most interesting cities in the country. I think that’s what they say about the city, “Where art meets crime.” And if it takes a minor laceration to slow down the gentrification and yuppification of the city for at least a little longer; then so fucking be it.

That wasn’t the great thing about it, though. Towards the end of the night, the rain started coming down hard and persistent; and Go and I were left with no other choice than to ride our bikes back under the guise of night as Mother Nature’s tears went trickling down our temples. And so we rode, through the puddles of black ink on the boardwalk, the humming of slippery tires on Venice Blvd and our safety at stake as the headlights of imported cars offered us nothing more that the moon already did. However, when it rained we weren’t in a hurry to take cover, (after all, our journey back would surely end with heavy denim and wet carpet) so we took our time and conversed....

Me: Never have I thought, that at the age of 28, that I would be riding my bike back home in the pouring rain. To think that all of my life’s struggles and accomplishments...and the millions of events that have taken place and all the forces of the universe interacting for the past 28 years....to bring me here, riding my bicycle back home, in the pouring rain, inebriated, and not giving a shit. How crazy is that? To think that I denied myself this soulful experience my entire life and now I’m in a moment of clarity and it’s here and that’s that. You know, Heidi got two tickets when we met for coffee last week and though it was a careless mistake she wrapped the context of our earlier conversation around the situation and told me, “fuck it, you can’t let stupid stuff like that ruin you.” I always thought to myself, in the best and absolute worst of times, “No matter how bad or good or great life gets, I’m always like, ‘shit, I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.’” True indeed, life is always one wild ride.

And though unbalanced pedals across a midnight canvas would suggest another careless mistake was in progress, I wasn’t fazed. The rainwater left no remnants of the infant night’s tussles and through the distorted spheres of Mother Nature’s cries, I did manage to get my bunny hop.

And what a wild ride it was.

-- Sonnyred


http://www.box.net/shared/pdh9j6ajkf

"Don't Beat This Dog" - Alamo Race Track

Hello All,

So this is the band that I’ve been listening to, A LOT, lately. I really don’t know much about them other than my assumption that they’re from Texas. You see, I rarely seek out new music. I depend on people, like (few) of you, to come and shower me with precious melodies. Most of the time they’re golden, but (thankfully) not golden showers. This is one of those songs that will make your car ride automatically that much cooler. And I’ll be honest, I think people with a refined taste for non-commercial music are way more interesting and appealing than the sheeple that depend on mainstream music. God, ok, fuck, I want to be tactful and non-judgmental and all loving and encompassing, but like I’m no Noah. I admit it; I do make assumptions on someone when I hear what they’re playing. I never take “innocent looks” through people’s iPods. I do psychoanalytic anal-listic analyses on their psyche based on their Kelly Clarkson playcounts. Just kidding. I don’t judge people based off of their iPod libraries; I write them off:

“Cool man. No brah, I like Foo Fighters, too. Dave is a talented musician. They rawk!”
“Oh no, I’ve never heard of that band. Are they good? Oh, cool man. They sound like The Killers? Kewl.”

And that’s where I imagine myself cutting off their ears and donating them to science. But I never lie about my feelings (hear that ladies??? never).

“Oh that’s cool. I used to like Foo Fighters but I’m not 17 anymore and my teenage angst has maturated into a big life failure. And as talented a musician as he is, he’s no Kurt Cobain.”
“Oh no, I’ve never heard of that band. Are they good? Oh, cool man. Do they sound like Interpol or The Killers? What do you mean? Of course there’s a difference.”

But what I was getting at is that Alamo Race Track is one of those bands that makes you so much cooler when you drive around with them blaring out your speakers. I’d rather be seen in my old, beat-up truck playing this song than be in a new, never-been-in-a-fight truck playing Fallout Boy. I mean, If I were to see someone in a brand new Lamborghini pull up next to me playing The Killers, I swear I’d laugh so hard I’d oatmeal my pantaloons.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/n8q4k6g29v

Keep these walls from moving
We should get on just fine
Turn off the lights
I’ve got to get myself together

Don’t be my savior
Keep this girl away from me
There’s something changing
I should get out of here

Love me, leave me, stop
Cut off your hoola dance
Don’t beat this dog
I’ve got to get ahead of time

I’ll take you on, this act is wearing me out
I’ll take you on, your spell is fading out
I’ll take you on, this act is wearing me out
I’ll take you on, your spell is fading out

I’m climbing fences
Try to break this blind man’s wall
The sky is trembling
I’ve got to change my ways for now
Got to get myself together

I’ll take you on, this act is wearing me out
I’ll take you on, your spell is fading out
I’ll take you on, this act is wearing me out
I’ll take you on, your spell is fading out


"Fool" - Cat Power

Hello All,

I’m sending out probably one of the deepest Cat Power songs in my opinion. I think it’s just about the citizens of our country and how we are so disconnected with the rest of the world. Or maybe it’s about how we’ve abandoned everything that truly matters in life in hopes of material pursuits.

This whole “bigger picture” idea really just disturbs me as a person and my outlook on mankind (or modern mankind, at least). Like, we all question ourselves at one point or another and say, “Fuck..is all this really worth it? What is this doing, really, for mankind?” And we see older folks and when they look back at their lives they remember only their friends and their passions. When they look towards their death, they would rather be in the company of those things.

You know what? I don’t care if I’m not speaking all prose-worthy right now; I’m working on all these crazy production calendars and it’s making me go crazy. Raleigh stopped by to see if I wanted to paddle out during lunch and he saw 5 calendars on my desk. He saw my NASCAR calendar on my wall and he saw my calendar on my computer screen. Now he must think I’m a calendar fiend. Like it’s a cracklendar more than anything else. Like I’ll go upstairs and rob Bon Appetit so I can by some mo’ calendars. Fuck it, Raleigh, you caught me, I can’t get enough. Kinda reminds me of this girl I know that has a sweet ass Rolex. I told her, “Why the hell do you have a Rolex when you’re always late? Motherfucker, if you rebuilt Stonehenge on your front lawn you’d still be late.” Maybe I can jack her for her watch and buy some calendars.

Well, crap (I’m retracing my steps). Yeah, well, what I’m saying is we all know that when we die, none of this matters. Can you really be passionate about a Prada bag? Like, I’m sure you can lust for it. But can you be passionate about it? Ok, another train of thought. Ok, uhh...lust is like fine but it’s so primal, so animalistic, “I like it. I want it.” But passion, passion is the intellectualization of lust. Human thought and all these emotionally, internalizing factors are what perpetuates lust to passion...like music. What I’m saying is that we are all trying to keep up with the Jones’s, but who are the Jones’s trying to keep up with? I can look at my life right now and tell you I want all this stuff (a cotton candy machine, a frog named Bertha, Tito’s Tacos) but even right now I can fast forward into my life and know that none of my wants and desires from childhood through adulthood will matter when I’m old. When the baby becomes the person, and in the later stages in life when the person becomes the baby again (and all the wisdom obtained in between); I won’t want anything different from what I wanted as a baby: people to love me, feed me, and change my diaper. Oh yeah, a succulent breast would be nice, too. It’s just this...damn...human intelligence..thing. It’s making us. So. Fucking. Stupid.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/9r5dt4zhc5

FOOL

Apartment in New York, London and Paris
Where will we rest, we're all living on top of it
It's all that we have the USA is our daily bread
And no one is willing to share it

Why can't we see our fortunancy
Living as legends have lived.
Bane and dismannered
We coax all the time
Knowing that nothing is left when we die

Come along Fool
A direct hit of the senses you are disconnected
It's not that it's bad. it's not that it's death
It's just on the tip of your tongue, and you're so silent

Wanting to live and laugh all the time
Sitting alone with your tea and your crime
Children with kids, and people with parents
Any which way there’s no past and no presence
When the day comes and all of them bums
Will reveal enchanting persons
Come along...

When it's a rut and baby's no luck
Half of it's misunderstanding love
The war we have won we're winning again
Within ourselves and within our friends
Come along...

"Introduction" - Voxtrot

This was kinda weird, I listen to a lot of hip hop...like a lot of hip hop. Like if I was a killer whale from Brooklyn I’d eat like 200 CDs a day as if they were sardines. I’d jump through a ring of fire for a Wu Tang CD. Did you know that “dork” means whale penis? So next time you call someone a big ol’ dork, you might be exaggerating at least a little bit. Whale penises are already quite beefy, so calling someone a big dork makes it even more grandiose. I would imagine that it’d be so big that even a laser pointer wouldn’t be able to reach the end of it. Ok, I might be exaggerating (at least a little bit).

I would think that it would be like those 200 pipe organs in those dusty cathedrals of Eastern Europe. Only that the pipes would be all put together; the way children put plastic straws together when they drink their sodas at McDonald's. You know, cup on the table, feet on the seat, tippy toe if you must. Only difference being that the yellow and red stripes would have to line up and that children probably don’t think about how their straws resemble disassembled pipes that would accurately measure the length of whale penises.

I wish I had influence on the scientific community. I would urge them to change the plural form of penis to peni (like stimuli) and stimulus to stimuluses (like penises). Stimuluses kind of sounds like the name of an circus elephant, doesn’t it? Now now, I’m not going to go into talking about elephant penusulufaguses. But, I may talk about peanuts. PEANUTS! Ok, Richard Simmons style now.

Well, as I was saying with hip hop CDs is that like 85% (ok Russell Simmons style) of hip hop CDs have an intro track. So when I heard this I was about to just delete it. And then I heard this guy’s voice come on and I started to witness the build up. Terry, tell me the guitar in the beginning doesn’t remind you of “Like Eating Glass” by Bloc Party. Well, ok...so it doesn’t. But you’ll be damned if you don’t think it’s reminiscent.

There’s this lady here at work, a facility lady, that sorta reminds me of my mom. Which is super funny because she doesn’t look anything like her but does kind of look like her. So you know, I always treat her nice and smile at her every morning...she must think I’m into her. Ok, she doesn’t really look like my mom. But dude, if there was a lightning storm and the power went out, first person I’d run to hug would be her. That’s all I’m saying.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/y3x0fif56b

INTRODUCTION

Open your eyes and stretch your hands
This house is clean but it is not my home
Did I make this bed
The two hands touch on two

Sometimes I think of some place colder
The sound of traffic and the way it's worn
When you feel yourself grow up inside of here

And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me just like I am

Remember we ran through lovely streets
We made our rules and then we broke them first
It felt like we were running all the time
When I wouldn't give one ugly moment
I'd wrap it up, I'd keep it in my sock
I can keep it, yeah, I know what's yours is mine

And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me when

I stand to the sea, lets me love some other day
We get bored of weakness all the time
Now I won't know how much I lost until I've gone away
Your sun sets when my sun starts to shine

"This Is the End" - Straylight Run

Hello All,

I’ve been all MAL’d out lately...still at work right now. For all you non advertising folks, MAL is Media Arts Lab and they handle all the Apple stuff and they work harder than the Jamaican family in In Living Color. (that’s right Spellcheck, you fucking bitch always calling me out for messing up and misspelling and typoing). I hate it, I just said “in” twice and didn’t get shit.

Crap, I’m starting to lose you guys. Ok, well, first of all, I’m real thankful for having Roy as a friend, he hooked me up with a free ticket to see Straylight Run perform at Hotel Café last Thursday. I had to pay for parking and that wasn’t worth my hourly rate..so the show was still whatever. I’m still whatever with the band. But I did manage to smile when I heard today’s song.

I’ll tell you about Straylight Run. The guy....has to go. The girl, she’s insanely pretty so she gets to stay here and rock my world (yes, I’ve been referring to Rock of Love a lot lately, I just really want to wear leather pants (in public) and drink some Bret Brew (sometimes, in public)). Something about girls baring their shoulders just..just makes me want to bear their shoulders. I’m emery boarding my claws right now. For real, no joke.

Well, I’ll tell you what’s missing with them. They looked BORED on stage. Ok, so here’s the deal, just because it’s acoustic and gut wrenching, it really just is frosting on the cake. I mean, you can get a pile of dog poop and make it look like a wedding cake, but I’ll tell you....something’s stinky about it. Wow, two puns in two paragraphs. I think I want to change my name to Ostrich. And if you think they’re that dope because they’re that emotional and what not, but compare them to Iron and Wine. Cake anyone?

Oh yeah, here’s a pic of the Cat Power concert. Angela called me out, saying that I didn’t enjoy the show as much and that I was let down. I was, she’s my favorite artist, after all. I was just hoping to hear some classics. If anyone’s interested in a Cat Power compilation, let me know and I’ll post it onto my blog (I can resend the link if no one has it) and you guys can download it and fall in love with her madness and be an emotional wreck like me.

I was telling Zac earlier this evening, that my list is very self exploitive. I can’t help it. I feel these feelings when I hear music. I think these thoughts when I hear something powerful and often times it leaves me feeling empty and I get scared that all these thoughts will just go to waste if I don’t convey them. So therefore, I put myself out there all the time, my soul walks on that emotional limb and my heart exploits itself. It wears pasties on its valves and 6 inch heels on its ventricles and shakes its booty for you all to marvel at.

But I’m telling you. It’s got big plans, this heart of mine. It’s just trying to pay tuition, that’s all.


-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/dojy135n26

THIS IS THE END

I'm gonna hide out all night,
Close my curtain, and dim my light.
I'm gonna lay here alone,
Close my eyes, and wish for home.

The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end.

Your face is surrounding me,
It's the only face I wanna see.
For now, we're safe on the ground,
We've got these words, these songs, these sounds.

The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of.
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end.

Ooh, ooh...

Last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of.
Last time that I saw you (I'm gonna hide out all night)
This is the end of, this is the end of (Close my curtains, dim my lights.)
Last time that I saw you, (I'm gonna lay here alone)
This is the end of, this is the end (Close my eyes, and wish for home)

Ooh, ooh...

"Jam On It" - Whodini

Hello All,

Hope you all had a good weekend. Please join me in welcoming Zac to our group (is that how you spell it). You guys have no idea how my eyes light up when I find out someone’s into hip hop.

Well, I haven’t really heard anything worth sending in a while. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of good shit coming out, but really, it’s just me wanting to think it’s funkdonkalous when it’s really just funkdoobiest.

It seems, to me, that all this underground shit is mad oversaturated. When I dig deep, I want to uncover an amazing vernal pool of sorts. That’s underground. But I’m digging and all I find is really just raging waters, high in volume but also high in dookie. It seems like underground either tries too hard to dial up: (anti)war, consciousness, or just that live band sound.

I really don’t think there’s a formula to it but people think that if they were to mimic other people, they’ll falter. Or they’ll do fine and then eventually people will call their bluff and they’ll lose credibility. For real, we know the war in Iraq sucks. We know it’s Bush’s fault. But if you can’t fucking flip it to the point where it’s something fresh and new then I’m really not trying to hear you. It’s like someone coming up with the law of gravity and then Newton’s homie saying, “For real, dough.” Same applies to those acts that try to emulate the Roots too much.

You know what I say? I say come up with your own, organically grown sound and let the rest decide. Don’t just be like, “Yo. That Wu Tang shit is dope, I’m going to buy a fucking encyclopedia set and like learn about phylums and classes and chemistry and just rhyme them like a 7 layer burrito rhyme.” Just do your thing and let yourself get influenced; but do your own thing.

Last night, I was thinking of listening to some classical/baroque music (just thinking, not doing, because I want to hear that shit on vinyl..soft crackling sound and all) and I thought to myself what I am now starting to think about hip hop music. Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin and all them cats are the best and will always be heralded as the greatest. There WILL be another Michael Jordan, but there will never be another Beethoven. But that’s is NOT to say that good classical music hasn’t been done since then. It has.

And fuck me, I really thought that good hip hop music transcended culture and eras and phases. Like, shit’s crazy insane now, the tools and resources are infinite. White folks from Minnesota and Rhode Island are tearing it up, DJs have Serrato, producers have all these technological advancements, but the music is WELL DONE. I am starting to think that HIP HOP isn’t timeless. I really want to organize my thoughts and commit them by writing them out, but I’m still trying to deny the death of a culture that is still very much alive to me. It’s like being with a girlfriend that you love, but then she just lets herself go, doesn’t do her make up and then takes shits with the door open. I just want to talk to Kweli, Mos Def, Common, the entire WEST COAST, Outkast, them Saukrates/Choclair/K-OS cats from up north and be like,

“For real, I know you’re just going to the grocery store, but change out of your fucking pajamas. Make yourself presentable.” (For added effect, you can end that last sentence with “stank ass bitch.”)

I want that shit RAW, seared at most. This is an example of what HIP HOP should be. You hear it and you get a visceral, emotional response, you know what I’m saying? I heard this song when I was like 7-8 years old so all I can remember is trying to breakdance with the cholos in my neighborhood when I was a kid.

How about you guys? This is a monumental song. Let us know if anything comes to mind.

Peace,

Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/mx2yt84lrs

"For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti" - Sufjan Stevens

Hello All,

I swear, I’m not religious. I’m religious in the way most Californians are; we’re not religious, we’re spiritual. Ok, I’m not going to offend anyone but I’ll just go on record to say that I’m struggling between being agnostic and being atheist. It’s just, God, I hate a lot of the things religion does to people. I’m not quite sure if my use of God was a figure of speech or if it was me addressing him. But I do know one thing, I love a lot of the songs that are inspired by religion. Not P.O.D. bullshit but stuff like Sufjan, Iron and Wine, Cat Power, etc.

With this song I just feel it might have been a little too overt; it seems like he’s talking as if he was God. But I’m going to make this leap and apply the whole, 5% notion of Islamic thought that you are the ruler and controller of your own destiny and interpret it that way. So when I do hear this song, it kind of makes me feel like the soul is talking to the cavity because they are not in sync with each other. Maybe it’s an empty chair at your birthday party, maybe it’s being passed up on for a job. It can be one of those beach-magnetism moments I always talk about. The tumultuous instability that comes after the end of a relationship, perhaps? I don’t know.

I see this song scoring those moments in life. Moments where you’ve done what you were supposed to do — get the job, succeed, get the girl, multiply, get the house,mow the lawn, etc. but the feeling of defeat overshadows the accomplishments. Those times, where, where the last viable option to validate yourself is to leave behind a legacy.

You know what I’m saying, just when you’re just at odds with yourself, and you’ve followed the recipe to a fucking T and you’re left eating nothing but “what the fucks.”

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/8kq6u92p36

FOR THE WIDOWS IN PARADISE, FOR THE FATHERLESS IN YPSILANTI

I've have called you children
I have called you son
What is there to answer
If I'm the only one
Morning comes in Paradise
Morning comes in light
Still I must obey
Still I must invite

If there's anything say
If there's anything to do
If there's any other way
I'd do anything for you

I was dressed in embarrassment
I was dressed in white
If you had a part of me
Will you take your time
Even if I come back
Even if I die
Is there some idea
To replace my life

Like a father to impress
Like a mother's morning dress
If we ever make a mess
I'll do anything for you

I have called you preacher
I have called you son
If you have a father
Or if you haven't one
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you

I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you

"Harbor Lights" - The Platters

Hello All,

So although I have a young heart, I’ve always felt like I’ve had an old soul. I guess I can be the same person that can talk about spraying lemon juice in the eye of a baby grasshopper while wearing a red handkerchief. But I can just flip it all of a sudden and really get down to the meat and potatoes of philosophy, ethics and life. I really can! Ask Go or Andrew; we have the craziest conversations in the water. We talk about all kinds of shit! It can be about anything. Usually though, I notice a few reoccurring questions I pose to Go and company when I’m out in the water:

What beats this, Go? Seriously, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Central Park? Central Park???? I’m talking about Pacific Muthafucking Ocean.
Does it get better than this?
The water feels great, huh?
Did you see that dolphin/seal/giant butt of that girl in the wetsuit lying down on her stomach?
Are you going to go for this?
Which way are you going?
Did you see that ride?
Are you hungry?
So, how’s work?
I’m fine with my lingerie supermodel that only has one name, how are you doing with the ladies?
Would you ever go back to New York/Florida/Brazil/Virginia?
For real, what gets better than this?

Answering just one of those questions usually leads to a few hours of conversation of real deep, philosophical talk; only to be interrupted by breaking waves.

Only to be silenced by the paddling out of a girl surfer.

http://www.box.net/shared/ll15u0geyo

"Tripoli" - Pinback

Dude, don’t scold me. It’s just an innocent conversation. It really took place, between friends and between moments of brilliance and flashes of frustrations...

--------

Someone: You know what I want in a girl?
Me: What?
Someone: I’ll tell you what I want.
Me: What is it that you want (all these unnecessary confirmations are there because we’re drunk and conversations get sluggish)?
Someone: This is how I measure a girl. If I could spend Sunday morning with her. You know, white sheets all fluffy and all. Well, I’d be doing my work on my computer in bed or whatever and she’s doing the crossword puzzle or reading a book or something.
Me: ...........
Someone: And in between, we’d just pause what we’re doing and make out.
Me: ...........
Someone: That’s how I measure girls. I think of whether or not I’d be able to be in bed with them, that Sunday morning.
Me: ............

--------

And you thought it was all about ass and tits.

-- Sonnyred


http://www.box.net/shared/i2lbag4o2y

Compilation - R&B, Neo Soul, and Music to Straight Up Fuck To

Hey All,

So a few people have asked me to put together a little slow jam, neo soul, R&B compilation and so here it is. And of course I’m going to throw down some background info for each track and all that jazz. Well, growing up I was always down with gangsta rap and what not. Then I made some friends and they started getting into girls. Me, being all fat and shy and dorky and different, made it a lot more challenging for me to go around “knocking the keds” with girlies in the playground. Well, that frustrated the hell out of me....like, “hey man, why are you listening to this now? What? What is Boyz II Men? Why do they spell it like that.” Well, I was soon privy to the fact that they weren’t just developing crushes, they were actually doing stuff about it...like holding hands and crap. I remember wishing that we could just go back to playing football on the streets or riding our bikes around and not have me get left behind.

Well, I did. And for years I had to experience it vicariously, stuck as the platonic “brotherly” type while my friends were like rubbing girls’ crotches and feeling boobies and stuff. I had no choice but to listen to the slow jams but then I started to really enjoy the music. Soon enough, I swore to everyone within earshot, “I swear. When I get a girl I’m going to treat her like a queen, because women are royalty. I’ll open doors for them and I’ll talk to them on the phone for hours because I’m so fascinated with them.” So as you would imagine, I was super stoked when I finally landed my first kiss at the old, stale age of 15 (that’s crazy long, huh?). Well the girl ended up using me to get back at her boyfriend (she was 18) and she ate my heart up, El Nino style. With expectations and preconceived notions of what love was supposed to be, I built a monolith.

Then fast forward to 19, driving back from Vegas with Roy and he throws in this CD of an artist called Jazzyfatnastees. Exiting the 605, finding out that our good friend passed away the Friday of, winning the heart of a girl that I would date for a number of years on the Saturday, and getting introduced to what they would later call “Neo Soul” on that Sunday.

Looking back I think I actuall had it best, involuntarily delaying this emotional gratification for the sake of clarity. Now, they both have kids, are fat, lost their edge that made them so desirable in junior high and live in the suburbs. In comparison, I am now very grateful that my weekends are spent with amazing friends and attainable women. And sometimes, when the craigslist “erotic services” price is right, I actually get to feel boobies and stuff, too.

Well, here it is....a collector’s plate of failures and accomplishments, accompanied by an SUV of frustrations.

“Promise” - Jagged Edge
I chose this song because I feel that Jagged Edge were the last of the bonafide, R&B groups. At the time of their arrival, the industry was saturated with songs talking bout “Playa, you done cheated on me, now I’m going to max out your credit card on some Donna Karen.” This was the light at the end of the tunnel, to offer a glimmer of hope until Neo Soul came into my life...

“Breakthrough” - Jazzyfatnastees
....and just fuck it all up! Wow, I discover a genre of music that is reminded me of the glory days. I remember it clearly. Roy said, “This song kinda reminds me of En Vogue.” I rarely like something the first time I hear it; and when I do it’s not too long before it grows tired. I heard this song and I knew my schema of music was going to change forever. I swear if I were to ever get married I’d have them sing at my wedding. (check your inboxes if I ever do...evites, yo)

“I’m Still In Love with You” - New Edition
This is the Wu-Tang Clan of R&B. When they came back, I had no doubt that they would pull off a stunner like this. This song is great. Why can’t we talk about love anymore? When we do, it’s like in an aggressive way; fuck, can we still get our hearts pumping and exploding and still be men? God, you listen to this song and like it or not, someone will definitely come to mind. Listen to it now. Who is it? It’s weird, the heart. Because it really just pumps blood and wasn’t really anything until the Incans made it what it is. Well, you hear this song, and though you feel it in your head, but you also feel that shit in your heart. My friend Trung would always change the first few lines to go, “Your friends got you DRINKING and it’s affecting you.”

“Charlene” - Anthony Hamilton
Saddest song on the list. God, Anthony Hamilton just blew my mind when he first came on the scene. See how many times I’ve used “God?” Maybe that’s why it’s called Neo Soul. Because these songs are so laden with memories and stuff. God might not have been Black, but he must have had some killer sideburns.

“I Want to Be Your Man” - Zapp & Roger
This is the song you play when you’re getting ready for your second date. I mean date like hiking, not date like going to a bar and getting drunk in hopes that she’ll bone you. This is the song you play after a great first date and you’re trying to pump yourself up but at the same time not screw it all up because you actually really like this girl. By the way, a first date that ends in hope is a lot better than a first date that ends in intimacy.

“Even Closer” - Goapele
Baby making music. That’s it.

“Purple” - Crustation
Again. No comment here. Just another song to play for those instances where you are just trying to fornicate.

“Till You Do Me Right” - After 7
I really had to throw this in there. I think I dedicated this to the countless women that have cheated on me. And in turn, it’s been dedicated to me a few times also. Funny how you console a friend that just got out of a relationship; it’s always what the other person did wrong, huh?

“Slow Dance” - John Legend
John Legend is great. Can’t you just picture yourself dancing to this song? Socks sliding across the linoleum. Hips rocking in perfect unison; the way ducks’ butts sway with the moving tide.

“Just Friends” - Musiq Soulchild
This is just a great, smooth, playful song. I like this song because it’s just like, “whatever baby...let’s just have fun with each other.” He could put me in the seat of a used Chrysler LeBaron with bullet holes in the door and I’ll be like, “SOLD!”

“So Good” - Davina
Another baby making song. Including this one because Roy and I promoted her album..I think it was in conjunction with Chico DeBarge and Erykah Badu’s album release party at the Key Club? Es verdad? Either way, she never got big, at all; but she still remains relevant. Little Brother even refers to this song (big props to anyone that can figure it out).

“You’re Gonna Leave” - Stephen Marley
I picked this song because it shows the dark side of women also. Ever watch Casino? No matter how successful or smart or wise you are, a man’s greatest weakness is a confident women. Fucking nuts. A way to his man’s heart is through his stomach? Nah, it’s through his Achilles' heel. Trip me all you want, with your luscious bad self.

Women, I love you all. Sleep with me. Ok, print this out and spray some Eternity cologne on it.

Now will you?

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/kxjv7k81sb
Please let me know what you think