It's so hard to stop

Fire on the bayou

Despite this German audience's apparent inability to um, groove in the time, The Brothers Neville come wit it and they come to play. They may be the all time best festival band ever. I saw them once in an outdoor setting as the hot sun was setting and the breeze was blowing the sweltering heat into the collective memory of the assembled masses. It was not a concert, it was an experience that you never wanted to end. About three songs in you decide that you want to spend the rest of your life right there in that spot, sitting in that lawn chair, drinking ice chilled beer, eating greasy festival food while the brothers transported you out to the bayou. I couldn't decide which clip to go with so you get a twofer today.

I don't think they intended for you to take them literally but uh, do like you wanna, light your fire now.

Secret O' Life

Hit me

What to do when the lunatics start making sense

Invitation

Thin Line Between Love and Hate

No place to go

Do it any way you wanna

Melissa Morgan is getting pimped

This girl's career is getting abused. Where is the Telarc marketing department? She is not even on the front page of label website and you have to be really persistent to find her music on YouTube.

This is pure straight ahead jazz but it would be right at home on any top 40 or "urban contempt" radio format. Jazz could once again be the popular music of a nation for a brief moment. It has been a minute since we had a Norah Jones all over the airwaves. Why is this CD not being played on every radio station in America? I'll tell you why, the recording industry is once again demonstrating its total incompetence and ineptitude that's why.

Come on guys, get your heads out of your asses

What time is it?

This can only mean one thing

Birds singing, flowers blooming, grass turning green. This can only mean one thing.

Total uninhibited scorched earth war! Oh yeah, get out the donkey kong cause it is so on.

They started it. They brought this upon themselves. And unless a proper response is forthcoming everyone might think that the aggrieved have been totally punked.

I don't think so. You urban dwellers might think gang wars can get ugly, but that will be a day at the circus compared to the hell that's about to be unleashed in this war.

To be prepared for this conflict one must be properly armed with sufficient hardware. I had one of those little hand held jobs but clearly it was not going to be up to the battle that is certain to ensue. Every decent sized town in America has at least one dealer and usually two in close proximity in competition with each other. This is America dammit. I plan to let that competition work to my benefit.

To survive this war we need to acquire a full rig, one of those thermonuclear powered deals. And everyone who is unarmed or insufficiently armed is just going to be so much collateral damage. This sort of thing used to be civilized. But in this day and age there are no such things as noncombatants.

This started when the neighbors did their initial spring yard maintenance and concluded by leaf blowing their clippings and miscellaneous crap over onto my side. Oh yeah, I'll be your bitch, have yourself a ball.

At least until the crack of dawn this weekend when me and my newly acquired plutonium powered leaf blower and I will be positioned right outside your window cranked up to full blast to return all the crap that you blew over last weekend plus everything else that ain't nailed down. That will show them who's king around here.

Oh yeah, he'll want to borrow it. But just like they say at the conclusion to Hey Love

"No my brother, you've got to buy your own."

Sunday moanin

Me and God got a deal worked out, I don't get in his business and he don't get in mine.

Every once in a while I send up a tune for God, a joyful noise as it were, and in return God will send down a beautiful day or a beautiful human specimen for me to appreciate the wonders of God's work.

This arrangement has been working quite well and I expected that this would continue indefinitely. Until THEY showed up on my doorstep. This time it was the Mormons. But it could have just as well been the Jehovah's Witnesses or any of the missionary churches bringing light to the godless heathens who contaminate the planet.

There was the one time the Jehovah's showed on Christmas morning cause they don't believe in Christmas or something. Well in this house we do, so git!


They don't send the old heads out on the route any more. Now they send the green wet behind the ears fresh faced types so maybe you will be less inclined to slam the door in their faces. Or worse, try to cower in your own home and act like you are not home when you see them coming. Oh shit, the front door is open.

We would like to share a message from God with you. I just talked to God and she didn't mention nothing about sending nobody by the house with no messages. You sure you got the right address?

I don't begrudge missionaries spreading out across the world visiting the huts, hovels and lean tos of the world saying my God sent me here with this sandwich for you, have you had lunch yet. But there is something inherently arrogant and self obsessed about showing up on somebody's doorstep with a basic message of "we realize you may already have one of those heathen religions but its all misguided and stuff and we think ours is better for you. Mind if we come in and explain it to your dumb ass".

"Well I was just about to fire up my crack pipe, but I guess I could turn the sound down on my porn and give you a few minutes. Come on in".

How come they don't never have no Rastafarian missionaries.

Flying high in the friendly skies

Although Korean singer Kim Jo Han does not, by any means, embarrass himself in this video, he does get a little flying lesson from the velvet one.

My first encounter with Bryan McKnight was back in the day at some hole in the wall night club that is long gone but in its day was the place to be. Nobody had ever heard of Bryan McKnight. He was just some dude that knew somebody in Take 6 or something.

They set up a little radio shack keyboard on the dance floor and let him do a couple three tunes. Everybody was cool wit it as long as he didn't interfere with the free crab legs line that had encircled the dance floor.

He somehow came up in conversation not too long ago when an old friend reminded me that I had called it right when I suggested that perhaps she should put the crab legs down and pay attention.

Yeah, I felt the brotha, but I had no idea he would one day Brian McKnight. I guess it just goes to show you.

One never knows, do one?

Where to now

Freedom day

Driva man

Throw it away

You can never lose a thing if it belongs to you

Bird alone

There once was a bird alone
who lived behind and well below
the limits of its range
and flew to the edge but
could not see a reason
to continue but did
anyway

Abbey Lincoln can squeeze more soul into a single note than anyone I know.
She was a vixen in her day and never stopped being the diva.

I prefer the older smokey voice of mature Abbey as opposed to the younger brighter toned singer back in the day. Like a piquant bleu cheese, age has only mellowed the character of her voice. It seems that the more compromised her voice becomes the more I enjoy listening to it.

As time took its toll she simply molded jazz around her new deeper more resonant voice. And she's not afraid to use her gift. She will push a note out beyond the boundaries of reason and discretion where a lesser force might fear to tread, to the point of screeching. And then with no more effort than a raptor gliding on the breeze resolve back into form so beautifully that you are convinced that was the plan all along.

And she carries what few other musicians, much less vocalists, can lay claim to, the Thelonious Monk seal of approval. How many vocalist do you know that can say that.

Shed your chains and dance

But keep your dignity

It all goes back to one source

Didn't cha know

There will be a brighter day

Other side of the game

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Maybe next lifetime

till the break of dawn

The man who knows something knows that he knows nothing at all

Better pack light

We don't need no mo trouble

Don't get it twisted. I was not bashing Badu to bring her down. My only intent was to bring Badu up.

Just sos you know I still love my girl and support her artistry. If I lacked discipline this blog would include nothing but Badu videos. Her art be all trees and birds and rocks and things but still coming much hard with the funk, and that is hard to do.

From the very first time I heard the strains of that Billie Holiday like sound I have been a fan. I have never been one of those fools to stand in line at midnight to buy anything but I did make it down first thing the next morning to buy the second CD Mama's Gun with the original artwork, not that wussy second pressing art. When folks were pointing to Condolezza Rice as a role model for young black girls I was pointing to Badu.

In short, I have been with Badu from the beginning and I am still with Badu now.

Although Badu is driving the bus, Badu ain't alone on the bus. Maybe I wasn't ready but I am still feeling Badu but this don't feel right.

So if it is publicity you need, I got your back. This week will be dedicated to Badu videos. Other folk might even join in to show the world what you worth. So count it off again and start over.

But sista please, we don't need no mo trouble.

You too and stuff

So I was having a fairly routine conversation with a Jewish acquaintance and as we were concluding our discussion I prepared to issue forth with the typical pointless gibberish expected of persons of good will. I think I said something like have a nice weekend or some such meaningless. To which my very Jewish friend caught me totally unprepared by saying something so completely profound that I was rendered into a complete and total babbling idiot.

My Jewish friend simply said

"Have a Happy Easter".

Badu

I don't mean to get into your business or nothing and I certainly don't want to be labeled a square. So let me choose my words here very carefully. Sista, whenever you feel the need to get butt nekkid, call a brotha, he'll get butt nekkid witchoo. But we gonna have to keep it in the house.

I know you got a lot of mouths to feed (good players don't come cheap) and as they say there is no such thing as bad publicity. But ahhh, although this seemed cool at the time this ain't helping the brand girl.

This guerrilla style video thang is something that should have just shown up on the internet as an orphan. You know, worldwide underground style.

So das bout it.

Peace Love and Blessings

A lot of us left walking

The south will wise again

The world is coming to an end

The gullible fart generation has discovered Petey Greene.

My kid sent this link to me and asked me if I knew about Petey Greene.

Of course Petey acted a fool, but he wasn't a fool (which is more than I can say about more than a few of our esteemed broadcast personalities today).

Watching Petey is kind of like having sex, all the detailed analysis and explanation in the world can never truly prepare you for the event.

So in honor of April Fool's Day I bring you...