Mini Mixtape: Radiohead/Bilal

One of my more recent music adventures has been checking out neo-soul singer Bilal's small, but intriguing catalog of music.  His sound is similar to D'Angelo, but oddly much less commercially successful, and less well known except to those of us who cannot get enough of that Philly soul sound.


The beauty of the web from a music lover's standpoint is that once you start digging into your faves, you "can" be instantly connected to a world of musical genius that you would probably hear on the radio next week may have otherwise never known about. 


(I say "can" because I think a majority of people simply go to iTunes or Amazon or whatever, and download the stuff they heard on the radio or in some iPod commercial. A little bit of effort + Google/Myspace = really cool finds)


Today's Example:  Many of my music buddies are really REALLY into Radiohead. While I've never really put the time into listening to their music, I've always liked the songs that I hear in passing.  One of these enjoyable tunes is "High and Dry" which I feel like most people would know.





I know I'm not breaking any news here, this is a solid tune.


Ha, but THEN, I ran across a Bilal cut by producer and keyboardist Pete Kuzma who has had his fingers in a TON of cool stuff, including being Jill Scott's tour MD.  (Pete pretty much blasted to the top of my research & listen list so be looking for more content on him).  Check out Bilal's interpretation of the same Radiohead hit.





I shouldn't need to tell you that well done covers are cool, and this is one of them. (Do I hear a little Thom Yorke in the way Bilal sings this? Yes, yes I do.)


* - I also feel like I shouldn't need to tell you that a good cover song speaks VOLUMES to the quality of the original song and songwriter.  I felt as though I didn't give Radiohead enough props - 

Dis An' Dat

 - During my web-scavenging today, I ran across this opinion piece by Geoff Nunberg at NPR.org, discussing the inclusion of the phrase "under God" contained in the pledge of allegiance. Now, before everyone draws up battle lines, just wait. Geoff actually does a great job of asking the right question regarding why the words are there in the first place. He files the phrases "under God", and "pledge allegiance" as "...hapax legomenon, or hapax for short — an expression that only occurs in a single place in the language..." Point being, the phrase "under God" doesn't represent American values because it doesn't appear anywhere else in our language or culture outside of it's calculated placement in the pledge itself years after it was originally written. I'm sure Nunberg has plenty of bias in his ideas (I do not buy his arguments wholesale), but I enjoy his addressing the singular matter at hand. If you'd like to argue the merits of the United States as a Christian nation founded by bible-believing men, let's do that. It's just a different discussion is all.

 - In other "I-wish-had-more-stuff-to-be-afraid-of" news, this post from the Freakonomics Blog speaks of possible new terrorist-favorite chili grenades supposedly packed with massive doses of the most potent chili pepper in the world.  Apparently the most recent extremist weapons chatter is all abuzz on breast implants packed with explosives. (Insert adolescent anatomy joke here, if you must)

• Conspiracy theory alert! - Is it possible this "chatter" is coming from bored TSA agents who are tryin to get their grope on?  After all, weren't they just claiming they needed to see folks nekkid to ensure "security"?  I'm just sayin...

Wreckage

Maybe this isn't "breaking news" to the rest of the world, but I ran across this story at CNN.com tonight.  It wrecked me. Totally. 


The short story: 9 students (and potentially a 10th) have been indicted for allegedly participating in months of bullying and harassment which ended January 14, 2010, when Phoebe Prince (pictured above) hung herself in her apartment lobby.  She was 15.


Wrecked.


Look, the statistics on teen suicide have been well-documented, and I doubt many people would bother to argue that this kind of story is really all that surprising based on similar stories and even personal experience, but this is tragic.


Tragic because a group of adolescents for some reason targeted the new girl from Ireland because they could.  They decided amongst themselves that she was of inferior worth, and it seems took advantage of every opportunity to make her aware of their twisted perceptions.


Tragic because Phoebe believed the lie that her life held no value to anyone including herself.  The absolute conclusiveness of her action exhibits a soul-deep conviction that the uncertainty of afterlife must be a far better perdition than yet another day at school. Nobody managed to convince her otherwise over the course of her 15 short years.


Tragic because "The bullying of Prince was common knowledge to most of the student body and to certain faculty, staff and administrators" according to Massachusetts Northwestern District Attorney Elizabeth D. Scheibel.  Most of the student body?  Well, kids will be kids won't they?  Oh wait, faculty, staff and administrators?  Adults?  Yep, kids will be kids, but it's beyond obvious that adults in authority be able to at minimum, intervene and investigate details behind what MOST everyone knows is going on.


Tragic because 9 sets of parents had no idea what their kids were up to during the day.  As much as I want to be angry about this, it surfaces a grim realization of how little I know of my own children's behavior and activity for at least 1/3rd of most days.  My assumption is, like myself, these parents wanted to believe their children would never treat a human being this way.  They still may not believe their children did.


Tragic because Phoebe Prince is dead.


Heartbreaking situations like this happen every single day, I know.  When I randomly browse my various media outlets of the day, I don't gravitate toward this type of story because I love tragedy, or because I identify with being harassed and bullied, though I do. I gravitate toward stories of tragedy based on the depravity of the human condition because I feel compelled to never, ever forget what I am capable of, and more importantly, what I feel is my duty to seek out such people and offer up even a little of my being to show compassion and love.


I fail at this daily, yet my faith obliges me, second only to my worship of God, to attempt anew each morning my commitment to follow in the footsteps of Jesus.  No turning back, no turning back.

Lows & Highs

Ooo-wee! The last 24 hours have made for some interesting interweb-ery. What with all of the talk of sweeping healthcare reform, you'd think everyone forgot they had literally billions tens of dollars riding on NCAA gambling.  Its not so much the foolish hysterics (anywhere from "The day America died", to "Finally, equality and justice for all Americans (wait, what??).  Honestly, I'm rubbed a little raw with all the verbal sparring, and the topic is a blog post for another day.  I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing yet, but I suspect I fall somewheres about in the middle.  Sadly, today I am equal parts mildly embarrassed to call myself an American and a Christian.  That's the low.


Anyhow, I am somewhat more than mildly embarrassed to call myself big-bonededed obese.  Really, I'd love to quibble about the technical definition of obesity, as I've managed to find a wide range of descriptions which I assume are intended to fit a wide range of audiences.


I'm "thick", so you MUST be talking about somebody else.


My motto for the moment is "What's true?", which is an attempt to only deal with the heart of matters, and no longer respond based on emotions or illusions presented by myself or others.


Truth is, you fat bruh...


Yeah, so I'm chubby.  But, I'm on a mission as of a couple months ago.  I've been exercising like mad on a regular basis.  The intent is not so much to lose weight, but to feel better, seeing as I was getting tired or being.... well, tired.


You?  Exercise?  Please, you won't even "run" water .


The phenomenon of having a tired body but actually feeling good, is a brand-new experience for me, and I'm thinking it might be a pretty cool thing.  Time to  work into a sound body to match this oh-so-beautiful mind.  True high indeed.


Nice job "figuring out" exercise is good for you before anyone else stumbles upon that high-level wisdom.  Way to be cutting edge.  Hi-five...

Dis An' Dat

Now that I've finally realized I don't have to always be saying super smart stuff all the time, I want to start sharing some of the tasty web-nuggets I run across everyday. Two reasons:

1: Obviously, there's tons of stuff out here in cyber-land. Some of it is legitimate garbage, and some is just plain legit. By trying to maintain a regular post of cool bits, I kinda force myself to purposefully find the goods.

2: You get to see all the cool stuff I find. Duh.

It's gonna be a mix of stuff I like: music, theology, (very little) politics, stuff my friends are up to, and humor. Enjoy.

- For those of you who, like me, grew up head-bobbin to A Tribe Called Quest, and were heartbroken when they broke up, check out a pretty cool interview with Phife Dawg from OkayPlayer.com. He really cuts open a vein. Also, keep an eye out for "The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest" - a documentary by Michael Rapaport, and Phife's new album set to drop some time in late summer.

Grinding (How I'm Screwing Up My Kids)

So, I was thinking to myself this afternoon how much I really love my kids. There it is. Profound statement of the day. Alright seriously, of course I love my kids. They are amazing little beings who somehow manage to teach me more each day than I'd like to learn. Anyone with children can testify of this incredible added dimension of love that all but defies description.

And of course, anyone with children can testify to the vexation of the parenting meat-grinder. Those seemingly endless days of incessant battling with no end in sight. Days when patience is exhausted, creative ideas are worthless, and ruination of said offspring seems certain. Days that end with you collapsing in a heap trying to recall the fading memories of quiet evenings spent reading or with some other blissful nonsense.

These days are all too familiar to me in the past few weeks, as my wife and I strive to survive the parenting meat-grinder. The current puzzle being our oldest son and his quest to achieve a life filled with nothing but pleasurable activities. We've spent what seems like hours talking, lecturing, bribing, cajoling, threatening, and trying to encourage him to stop fighting and biting the hand that nurtures him. And at this point, what must have been obvious to him all along, is becoming clear to us: he ain't gonna change any time soon. No matter. Luckily for the boy, he comes by his obstinacy honestly courtesy of dear old dad.

Which is why I keep giving lectures. Real lectures. No quick one-liner crap with me. I sling only the best speeches complete with famous quotations, parables, and... dramatic pauses. And, I'm just foolish enough to continually believe the fruit of my loins is actually listening to my pontificating. Once upon a time, I had a similar delusion until in the middle of my moral monologue, ny then 5-year-old son, eyes locked on mine, slowly raised his fingers and plugged his ears.

A wiser man may have changed tactics at that point. Not me. Listen people, these lectures are GOOD.

Sunday, while delivering another priceless gem, my pride and joy resorted to fondling himself more intensely than I care to describe.

This, my friends, is the meat-grinder.