Tag Archives: technics

Life, Love and Faith. And Cocoa.

photo

No color-saturation trickery or anything, guys – look how pretty this came out! I fiiiiinally got Toussaint’s Life, Love and Faith, which made me think about other epic/stark/lovely black or white or black & white album covers, which sucked me down a rabbit hole all Sunday afternoon, which come to think of it is always where you can catch me on Sunday afternoon, every Sunday afternoon, with sporadic breaks only to stretch and refuel and check Deadspin. (Special appearances by my favorite red dress, my mug of hot chocolate, & because I’m fucking sick to DEATH of the Cowboys, Days of Our Harbaugh, and As the Manziel Turns, the Aldridge-less Blazers being unkind to the Knicks on my TV.)

 

 

The Brides of Funkenstein, Never Buy Texas From a Cowboy. Atlantic, 1979.

 

I believe the expression is “The bigger the headache, the bigger the pill.” Less popular but no less true is the expression “The bigger my love for Dr. Funkenstein, licensed administer of ear-canal narcotics including but not limited to rubbery bassline antidepressants, the greater the likelihood that I’m willing to forego monogamy and share my groom with my other sister-wives so we can blow the cobwebs out your mind.”

I wish George would give women a little wiggle room when it comes to roles – we are backup singers and side-project wives, and that’s it – but if I complain I’ll get kicked out of the family and he’ll easily find another fake wife to hit in the protons and make sure her hips keep moving. Having to share Dr. Funkenstein with some other ladies is better than no Funkenstein at all.

 

 

E-40, The Element of Surprise. Jive, 1998 (JDAB-41645-1).

20131222-164826.jpg

No disrespect, Ramsey, but in my house, “Sun Goddess” is referred to as the “The ‘Hope I Don’t Go Back’ Beat.” ALAS, FINALLY, YOU GUYS, a tribute to my English & Economics professor, the mighty 40 Water! Sorry it took me so long.

(Special appearance by Xavier, Nick, & Shawne behind me, relaxing on the the bench after ballin outta control, oh wait no being mediocre as fuck.)

Donald Fagen, The Nightfly. Warners Bros., 1982.

Fagen
Here’s to being pretentious, annoying, Yeats-reading jazz snob high school kids and then realizing what a pain in the ass we are and finally deciding to lighten up, Donald Fagen! You and I are cut from the same cloth, baby.

 

 

 

The Main Ingredient, Afrodisiac. RCA Victor, 1973.

Main Ingredient

Me asking Cuba if he agrees with me that the casting of his son as Nicky Barnes was just insulting to the intelligence of the movie-going public. (He does agree, btw)

Jaime Meline and Michael Render, Run the Jewels. Fool’s Gold, 2013 (FGRLP006-DLX).

RTJ 1

“Producer gave me a beat/Said it’s the beat of the year/I said El-P didn’t do it/So get the fuck outta here.” I disagree with Michael Render’s criticism of Planned Parenthood in verse, and I’m still upset that he has yet to use “render” as a pun (“The name’s Mike and I RENDER you blahblah” or something similar), but other than that, he is perfect and gives me everything I need in a rapper. El-P, you’re pretty alright too, buddy.

Von Freeman, Doin’ It Right Now. Atlantic, 1968 (SD 1628).

Von Freeman Doin It

Dedicated Chicago bear and all-around stand-up guy based on a bunch of jazz cat interviews I’ve read, Von Freeman made a ton of lovely, progressive music, plus he just loved his city to DEATH. Fuckin jazz game Brian Urlacher.

Outside linebackers on this one are Sam Jones and Jimmy COBBS, which must be more than 1 Jimmy Cobb, so I’ll allow it. Rahsaan Roland Kirk for defensive coordinator. And yes, guys, I looked for a sax, but all that came up in my niece’s toybox was a trumpet. Relax, Instrument Police.