Pop Culture Locket 9.25.02: Mailing It In
Posted by Iago Ali on 09.25.2002
Reader mail on everything that’s every happened in the illustrious 411 history of this column. Plus…why has this year sucked so hard?
What I Got In Yo Locket
1. The Jump-Off: Slacking Off With Your Mail
2. In Related News: Where the Hell Are My Songs of the Year?
3. And In Closing: Name a Pop Star!
I had a busy week in my non-411 life. I could tell you all about it, but that seems to be a tactic reserved for the fellas on the wrestling side of this site. Here in the Locket, we’ll stick to music. For now.
Let’s begin.
The Jump-Off: Slacking Off With Your Mail
I said slacking, you perverts.
Us important Internet columnists have a couple of go-to gimmicks we can rely on when we’re stretching for inspiration. One is the Top Ten List. Another is the Gratuitous Female Celebrity Mention. I will be using neither of those tactics here in the Locket this week, mainly because I tapped both of those wells clear dry last week.
Instead, we’ll rock the reader mail. Yeah I know: Only my second column and I’m already resorting to the reader mail thing. Get used to it.
My first e-mail comes from a long-time reader who we’ll just call Christen, because that’s her name. And she’s sort of one of my best friends—but a long time reader is a long-time reader. Anyway, she says this:
“Kylie!!! Are you kidding me?”
If you don’t know what she’s talking about, you didn’t read last week’s column, and are therefore a sucka. In response to her query, I’d like to respond like this: “No, Christen. I am not kidding. Kylie’s hot.” I did realize that I somehow left both Chili of TLC and the girl who dances on the bar in the first third of the Pass The Courvoisier, Part Two video completely off the list. Gross oversights.
Christen also keeps trying to sell me on the “Holy Quadumverate” of today’s rock: The Strokes, The White Stripes, The Vines, and The Hives. Lots of folks here at 411 are big fans of those groups too. I’m not buying it. In a couple of weeks, this very Locket will break from its hip-hop/pop roots and delve into this Quadumverate phenomenon, just like every other music column in the world. I’m sure you’ll want to be here for that.
And in one final bit of Christen news, she has cooked up her own list of the Ten Sexiest Men in Music, which will also soon be gracing these virtual pages. I’m imagining Beck and nine pasty Englishmen.
Also exchanged a couple of e-mails with the great Matt Biscuiti, who writes the great Till My Head Falls Off, right here at the great 411. While a good part of our discussion was actually about the serious changes that we both agree the world of American pop music seems to be headed for, the important part of our e-mails can be best summed up like this:
“I agree about Shakira, no doubt. Especially during that little punk-ass performance on the VMAs. Watch out!”
Yeah, Shakira is nice. (Make sure you read Matt’s columns, and send him lots of e-mails with pictures of Shakira. Wait a second—make sure you read my columns, and send meShakira pictures.)
The mysteriously-monikered RSP chimed in on the topic of Bigg Snoop Dogg’s sobriety, with a take I hadn’t really considered:
”Shit, if Snoop is levelling about his reasons, all we're seeing is rockstar ego flash: If Snoop thinks marijuana killed Jimi, he hasn't read a single thing about Jimi's death, ever; if he thinks he's ever smoked half of what Marley smoked, or endured half the stress Marley felt, he hasn't really learned much about Marley, either...but he's perfectly satisfied going on national TV and comparing himself to both. Gee, I've always enjoyed the music, Snoop, but I didn't realize JUST HOW GREAT you are 'til now!”
As a guy who once touted Snoop as the greatest MC of all-time (a decision that I’ve since rethought and now completely disagree with), I have to admit that I wasn’t even looking at the sheer ego of Snoop’s statements. RSP does bring up good points—I can’t think of any musician or any person, for that matter, who has been killed by smoking weed, and drawing parallels between himself, Hendrix and Marley might be a bit of a stretch. Still, my point remains: the man is a marijuana icon. What does he become without the weed?
And finally, we come to my favorite e-mail of the week, from my new boy, Big Scott (and I have to break this one up into chunks of goodness):
“Yo good lookin out on the list Big Dawg. Truly I can't disagree with any of the women's (yes I said women's) on the list. Smelly Dorito.....now that is classic. I'd been calling her Chilly Eggroll but yours....much more clever
my friend.”
Scott, I hate to disappoint you, but the Smelly Dorito nickname is not a Iago Ali original. I stole it from The Roots (particularly Black Thought, if I remember correctly), who shouted Nelly out as such on the Area: One tour a few summers back. Chilly Eggroll is pretty quality too. In fact…this whole discussion has inspired this week’s And In Closing. You’ll see what I mean when you get there. But back to Scott:
“Now the whole Flex/Clue thing. Maybe its just me but I'm thinking the fella's have some sort of
DJ/Black Panther/Public Service Announcement thing going on. I live in Philly and the minute the 1st DJ gets ta hollerin the tapes usually go off. I think its a NYC kinda thing. When was the last time you heard Jazzy Jeff
or Cash Money with the YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA BIG DAWGS MAKIN MOVES BUSTIN GROOVES THE SILENT ASSASIN ON THE TURNTABLES HURTIN YA> it'd kinda be like “OK there family you really need a Prozac and some Chianti.”
Just the thought of Funk Flex taking Prozac with Chianti chasers is enough to get me over the horror of the whole yelling thing. And the last little bit from Scott:
“Snoop stopped smokin weed. Damn it -- I hate when that happens. With the amount of weed that dude smoked he'll be 57 by time it finally leaves his system. Lawd Jesus he must have been touched by those your drug money supports terrorism commercials.”
The whole Snoop story just feels like a headline from The Onion. Great e-mail, Scott.
And to the rest of y’all: if you want to make my life easier, drop me a line.
In Related News: Where Are My Songs of the Year?
We're almost three-quarters through 2002 and I can't think of five songs in the running for song of the year.
We’ve got three obvious front-runners: Pass the Courvoisier Part Two (by P. Diddy and Busta Rhymes, featuring that infectious Neptunes beat); Nas’ One Mic (this year’s anthem, hands down—the kind of song that infects your headphones and makes you want to whup the world upside its inferior-to-you head); and Nothing from N.O.R.E. (a latecomer that just grows on your eardrums). After that…there’s nothing else I can think of.
This isn’t a hip-hop only party, but what rock songs am I missing? I kind of dig Papa Roach’s She Loves Me Not, but ain’t no way in hell I’m putting that in a Song of the Year list. What else has been out there this year? Where were the great cheesy pop songs? Why has this year sucked so far musically? Or has it? Am I just crazy?
And I’m telling you now—if you mention Avril Lavigne to my Puerto Rican ass, I’m forcing you to wear a wifebeater and a tie everyday for a week.
And In Conclusion: Name A Pop Star!
So the Nelly Furtado/Smelly Dorito/Chilly Eggroll thing got me thinking: if one pop star can yield so many names, there’s got to be a gold mine of a column out there built around naming all kinds of pop stars!
(Okay, so I’m stretching here. It’s late and like I said, it’s been a long week.)
So let’s see what we can get, folks. Send me the best nicknames you have for any pop star or musician. The best will be printed here—hell, I’ll use them all the time. That’s how I work: always glomming off the good ideas of others.
And I’m mailing it in. (Man, that works on so many levels.) Next week, you get a hard freaking core Locket, filled with serious discussions of the state of modern music. And new nicknames for Nelly.
Until then , I’m Iago Ali…and yeah, I got your locket, sucka.
