they call alabama the crimson tide

First off, big up to Warren St. John, author of "Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer." Not only did he send us BlogPoll types a copy of his book, but he also answered found the time to return my e-mails twice in one day, despite being a "diaspora UVA fan." Still, the question remains how someone who gets to dress like this at his "job" made it through Columbia.



Anyways, I haven't seen a whole lot of blogging about Live 8, likely because any sort of angle to take with it was so obvious that even the Best Week Ever people had the jump on us. But nothing quite sums up what a crock of rich creamery butter (oh, how the Africans wish that were a literal statement) it is quite like this nugget of "editorializing" from some VH-1 talking head:

"Stevie Wonder is killin' it out there!"

Now, that may or not have been true; the performances sounded tight, Stevie is looking ultra-Buddhaesque these days, plus a blind music legend sharing the stage with Tom Cruise's reacharound pal and honorary Ying Yang Triplet Adam Levine gives even the most out-of-touch pop critic a Vincente Padilla hanging curve to knock out of Obvious Joke Park. But the bigger problem is that it reeked of being a false "coronation," particularly since VH1 is running that "What The Funk" video that looks like a Coke commercial non-stop. You know what I mean when I say "coronation"; like how Prince's guitar solo at the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame induction was made out to be "Eruption" meets "Flight Of The Bumblebee," which a lot of critics took as a cue to tell us that Prince's latest Minneapolis steamer was a "return to form" rather than something that couldn't fuck with even "Parade" on any day of the week that happens to end with "y." And they actually get paid for it! Another example was when Ricky Martin killed that World Cup song at the Grammys; that didn't lead to a spicy LATIN! revolucion on the pop charts, but did result me having to listen to seven straight hours of "Livin' La Vida Loca" during one particularly memorable night of Hell Week.

The best part was hearing said talking head trying to describe Stevie Wonder's legacy..."he's so influential, like James Brown, and..." Now, at this point, you could see the steam coming out of his ears as he tried to think of some other iconic black musician not named "Jimi." So he throws out Miles Davis, best known for making albums that white people have never failed to congratulate themselves for pretending to like. Well played...at least he didn't pull the Living Colour card.


Where's the Body Glove, dun?

Speaking of which, workpals done saw themselves a little Digable Planets, all live and stuff...nothing beats a situation where you can say, "yo, holla at Doodlebug" in all serious.