Who are you?
I'm the enchanting wizard of rhythm.
Why did you come here?
I came here to tell you about the rhythms of the universe.
Will you please tell me about them?
When rhythms fall through cosmic farce, they explode into colorful raindrops of time. And like tiny butterflies, they flap their wings and embrace rhythms of hope. Hoping that all or even wishing that all will be made free. Free like rhythms of water bathing within rhythms of light. And eventually evolving into a rainbow of life with colors of orange, yellow and green they reflect all rhythms of dreams and start simple rhythms of truth and make babies cry. And rhythms of sound blend with rhythms of space to create rhythms of joy and rhythms of sorrow that become one in your year of tomorrow. Tomorrow is when rhythms are voices singing freedom as if borrowing from universe all the rhythms of being...
The above excerpt is taken from Mandrill's "Universal Rhythms" from Mandrill Is. I gotta be real with you. Mandrill is quickly becoming my favorite band. These dudes were just beasts of funk. I first heard them when collecting material for the Da Pocket Prophet. I happened along "Fencewalk" which I had heard a few times before, but never delved into the origin of the song. Once I did, I was hooked. Recently, while in San Francisco, I purchased two Mandrill albums to bring my collection to a humble four Mandrill records, but I'm absolutely hooked. These dudes were so amazingly sick, not only by funk standards, but as a mark of overall musicianship that they're quickly rising to the top of my musical preferences--I think they just topped the Stones and Radiohead. In fact, I'm sure they have. They're at least in the top ten at this point as far as full repertoire enjoyment. Check out the band introductions. Everyone has "percussion and vocals" in their contributions. Yeah, they bad ass.Check out this "Soul Train" insanity. I swear it's such a manic state that someone's head is going to explode at any moment. Incredible. Buy Mandrill. You'll thank me a million times over. I'll go ahead and commit to being your kid's godfather. Sure. Check this.
Dude, the Celtics are horrible right now. They got their asses absolutely handed to them gift-wrapped last night. They didn't even break 70 points. This series has been the most painful thing ever to watch in my history of Celtics fandom. Never has this team looked so flat and it's no help that the officials are calling every instance of contact on the Celtics. I saw Rondo drive last night and three dudes collapsed on him under the rim with hands extended and they all got ball. I'm thinking that it's pretty hard for six hands to all fit on a basketball, but I guess it's possible.
I have found the Lebron worship to be quite interesting. I mean, Cleveland fans treat this cat like he's the Messiah. And he certainly doesn't downplay it either. Prior to game 6, facing elimination, he says, "A Lebron James team is never desperate." He then continues to boast through a series of I's, my's and mine's. It doesn't seem to bother his teammates at all either. I'd be pissed. And the Nike campaign is probably the most exhaustive claiming that "we are all witnesses" to his greatness. Cat hasn't won shit yet except for a few playoff games. Of course, last night, I guess we were witness to something. I love my boys, but c'mon, Lebron killed us last night.
Sunday afternoon they'll meet in Boston for Game 7. It's do or die. Again. Every team sucks right now. The Sox are dragging along and impressing no one. The Roundhouse lost again to Golden Light in a muddy affair. Something's gotta give. It's gotta turn around. Maybe I'll play Baseball Simulator 1.000 to give me the satisfaction of winning because I'm a loser in real life. At least, with the Sox, it's not like the Yankees are winning either--they're in last place. Usually, when we're losing, it comes with the Yankees are winning. But the Rays are in first place and, it's weird, I'm left with a subtle feeling of satisfaction because of it.
My wife's outta town this weekend and decided to chase down a Celtics loss with Cloverfield. I won't tell you much about it because it's supposed to unravel as you watch it, but there's a huge monster that descends upon Manhattan and kills everyone and the movie ends with a huge explosion as military forces blow up New York City. You're just gonna have to watch it to see what happens. Nah, it was dope, I guess. I get it. It's like Blair Witch and Godzilla. The CG works though and doesn't really come across as corny as I thought it would.
This morning, I was watching crappy television and I happened along E! and they were doing one of those "list" programs called, "Going Postal: 15 Shocking Acts of Violence." I just kept thinking the entire program was insensitive in a number of ways. Firstly, I don't know if I would consider Virginia Tech and Columbine "postal" as much as, perhaps, psychotic. And I don't know if a countdown list of atrocities is really what we want to put out to the masses. I mean, what does that communicate? Think about the families, "I'm sorry, ma'am. While the loss of your son is indeed tragic, it didn't top our list." And I gotta think that postal employees take serious objection to the use of the term anyway and, given the context of how it's used here, it's even more offensive. I swear that network is run by teenagers. They even had witnesses on there discussing the event. Sometimes you wish people wouldn't give into such bullshit.
Maybe I'm becoming more sensitive in my age. I don't know. That or I'm just more observant. I'm observant of one thing: Don't Look Back is a lot better than the Bob Dylan biopic (badass word) I'm Not There. Why couldn't someone just do a Walk the Line about Bob Dylan? I was telling people at work that I'm okay with Dylan dying. Only because it would be good for sales. I guess I'm the insensitive prick now. You know, I like Dylan, but I hate folk. Is that alright?
I've been on a Geto Boys kick lately. Mainly because I just turned over into 1991 on Da Pocket Prophet and added We Can't Be Stopped and realized again what a monster that record is. Mandrill and the Geto Boys. That's a pairing that is usually outlawed, but still can be found on the baddest Zune this side of the Mississippi.
Cubemate David secured tickets to two Astros vs. Red Sox games in June at Minute Maid in Houston. There was an overage of prepositions in that sentence. Right behind the home dugout on Friday and Saturday night. Incredible. I heard Jim Rome say that it's wrong for adults to bring a glove when you're sitting in foul ball territory because you should be able to man up and barehand it. Jim Rome's a prick.
About to head off to the gym and hit the stairs and the boat. All this travel has put the pounds on.
1 comment:
Ah, the days when songs ran ten minutes long and didn't get tired after the first two.
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