We're back from a long break and possibly better than ever. Topics include movie magic, my quest for a gun, soccer coach restuarants and possibly more.
I've found the many of the best Motown records are like Mack trucks, with so much momentum they can barrel through anyone's dumpy sensibilities, with dense basslines, orchestras, and vocalists that fill in every possible hole. Sometimes more is actually better.
People seem to have trouble with the lyrics of this song, as if it exemplifies, as its name suggests, the most morally and intellectually vacuous kinds of music. But as with everything, you really have to appreciate it for what it is: a perfectly unending stream of wobbly gravitas. Always a man of contradictions, Biggie smothers quite a large pill of uncertainty in a thick and potent honey of violence, drugs, and lechery. Yet one can only marvel at his insistence: the perfectly unbroken line that lays across the first verse, or the perfectly placed spondee in the second ("ain't no stopping Big Poppa, I'm a BAD BOY"), one of my favorite moments in hip-hop. Its the production that most completely reveals the complexity of his lyrics, backing his nervous confidence with a beat that wavers like a swing set in a thunderstorm. Party may be in the title, but I've never been to one where it was played, and I don't think I'd have enjoyed it if I had.
I don't care who you are, there's no denying the quality, or the incredible weirdness, of this song. The first, and probably best, appearance of the signature JT/TL beatboxing.
Here we are once again. This is a much more contemplative, infj style, There's a Riot Goin' On, episode. Topics discussed include, Gabe's butt, Hispanic Mom's, degenerates, how to write a clear and concise essay and much more.
We're back and better than ever. And with a high profile guest. Topics addressed include but are not limited to compliments, bird teeth, crying, and tome etymology. There's about twenty minutes of nothing at the end of the mp3. Just ignore it.