SONG OF THE DAY: Rock the Beat (kudzu'd)

The tip top of the cap on the gold spray paint can I had left in the shed broke off, so I had to push it down with a railroad spike to get it to spray halfway right, thus I got gold speckle splatters on my glasses. It’s improved my outlook immensely. Also got a bunch of it on my charcoal Dickie’s pants, which is good, because I ain’t had a real job in decades. Gonna take a nap on the back porch now, but I sleep with an agogo bells and stick like they're my teddy bear, so I can wake up (which I do often times due to sleep apnea) and bang out a couple measures worth of metronome bells, then doze back off. I truly believe this helps my dreams have better rhythm.

SONG OF THE DAY: Let The Music Play (kudzu'd)

If you wanted to know what 45 I own the most duplicates if, it’s this one. I love this beat slowed down so damn much, that I tend to purchase every cheap copy I can find that lacks scuffs. I know I got at least 7 copies, but probably have more lost in the stacks (since my sorting method is chaos).

SONG OF THE DAY: Super Freak (Part 1) (kudzu'd)

We seemed to have lost our cultural pride in freakiness. This bums me out, mostly because I’m freaky as hell. And also there’s a sort of collective performative quirkiness that’s don’t feel like authentic freakiness. Like, really weird appearing people who are basic and, to be honest, somewhat bland. The truly freaky have often looked normal enough, which is helpful, because you can’t be freaky in the weirdest places possible if somebody identifies you as “freaky looking” before you get there. Gotta have a little freak camouflage, to not call attention to yourself. Anyways, please feel free to be freakier, and take militant pride in your freakiness. Don’t let nobody tell you what you shouldn’t be doing. They don’t know you.

SONG OF THE DAY: Computer Love (kudzu'd)

I probably should've posted yesterday's post with today's song, but today's song wasn't the next one to post yesterday. So I didn't. Most everything I do is the intersection of multiple constant practices, and it leads to intersections, which occasionally end up one block over from what would've been perfect to see. But that wasn't my path to take, so its perfection was just an after-the-fact footnote. And ultimately, nobody reads the footnotes, except those who are forced to by academic delusions.

SONG OF THE DAY: Ring My Bell (screwed & chopped)

Love too hear Screw just get dialed in and work a classic groove all the way down to the bone gristle. All the old grey tapes are at the Internet Archive, and you ought to put them on an external hard drive. Don’t count on the internet to have shit forever. Forever ain’t ever happening with anything manmade, so get it while you can.

SONG OF THE DAY: Country Rap Tune (screwed and chopped)

Tow Down is a wild anomaly in the world of white rappers. “Country Rap Tune” is a certified all-time banger, featuring Big Hawk and Big Pokey, and getting the screwed and chopped treatment with a voiceover from DJ Screw himself that probably done got more plays than the original album version, by a lot. The video is hilariously of the era, with Tow Down driving a little ass car painted up like the General Lee from the Dukes of Hazzard, and set in all the normal “I’m mixing country and rap together” locales you’d expect from that time – a farm and barn and farmer’s daughter getting tow down in the hay loft, and an overall poor dental hygience redneck chasing him with a shotgun. The whole video is basically an episode of Dukes of Hazzard, with Hawk rapping in the barn and Pokey sitting on a Boss Hogg Cadillac outside a drinking hole. Tow Down’s verse is hot, and up to snuff with the two Screwed Up Click heavyweights on this one. I still think that “I’m not Garth Brooks, but I got friends in low places,” line weekly in my head.
The wild shit is you never really heard nothing else come from Tow Down. But that first CD he had featured a slew of Houston legends. Looks like he did a little stint with his brother for a marijuana bust a decade back, but he’s still chasing those hip hop dreams, with his own record label, promoting shows, and flipping houses maybe (according to a linkedin account). But the phrase “country rap tune” ended up describing a whole genre, which after that initial wave of guys like Bubba Sparxxx and Haystak, has steadily declined into some weird ass reverse psychology rural minstrel show. And a lot of those old southern white rappers are making money off paid features, to stay semi-relevant in this country rap genre.
I find it weird, because a lot of Prolo’s releases over the years would fit this genre, before it was a genre, but I’d be embarrassed if a lot of these newer dudes ever asked me to spit on a track. I’d take that shit is a sign of my own inherent wackness. But to Tow Down’s credit, he’s not in that realm, and he’s putting out music by new Houston rappers, and keeping it multicultural (as it should be) instead of disappearing into the weird “whites only” hip hop lane some of these guys shifted into.
But the most amazing thing, to me, is back then, when this song dropped, Tow Down had his own signature hairstyle. And I’m not really even sure how to describe it. When he’s wearing a ballcap, it looks kinda like he’s got Willie Nelson braids, but in four instead of just two. But what he actually was rocking was these four super curls styled to come off his head in quadrants. It’s a wild style, even for back then. But get this… HE’S STILL GOT THAT SHIT. Except now he’s 25 years older, got a grey fox beard going on, and those four super curls are super long. It’s like a whiteboy was all of a sudden hanging out with DJ Quik and Suga Free in that imitating Michael McDonald clip.
Anyways, this song is still an all-time banger. Don’t get it twisted (like Tow Down’s hair).

SONG OF THE DAY: Enough Rope

I am one of those contrary ass types that thinks neither country music or Americana has a solid claim on actual rural country art. The country music industry has been so hyperpop for decades now, not to mention heavily politically reactionary. And Americana is simultaneously an opposite type of reactionary while also that weird classist “gentrified bakery in a formerly abandoned industrial part of town where brown people used to live” that I can’t stand with that all that confidently either. However, even while not feeling like either of those binaries represents a good country story, I can say without doubt, that this fuckin’ song gets it, and get to it.

SONG OF THE DAY: Take Me To The River

Sometimes you just want a slightly blander version of a great song… not necessarily bad, but Levon Helm ain’t Al Green. You can’t always go sit by the river on a Friday afternoon. Sometimes you gotta do it on Tuesday, too.

SONG OF THE DAY: A Raving Night (Flemming Dalum and Steen Gjerulff Remix)

“Italo-disco” is the ironic cop mustache of $16 omelets with artisanal bacon and avocado, usually wearing a $75 Nascar t-shirt where they can’t even name 3 of the races. As always, fuck Sturgill Simpson.

SONG OF THE DAY: My Key Don't Fit

Is this a euphemism? (Everything is. Always.)

SONG OF THE DAY: Nature's Way

This is nature’s music blog.

SONG OF THE DAY: Rap-O Clap-O

As I get older, I hate the cold weather more and more, so these last couple weeks before winter solstice when it’s dark early and cold, they feel like hell (ironically) to me. The only thing that really cuts the cold is electro funk. I’ve been tinkering with an old ham radio, a Numark CDJ I got at the thrift store, a couple old turntables, Casio synth, and a few assorted oscillator barometric pressure type doohickeys that were in the basement when I bought this place, trying to figure out a way to somehow condense electro funk into heat. I’m getting closer, but I’m afraid to leave it all hooked together while I’m not watching it, because this shit might catch on fire. I thought about running a drop cord out into the most spacious part of the yard to leave it plugged all together to see what happens, but sometimes I worry about electrical cords actually be Yakubian trick fuse lines to eventually blow myself up. You always gotta worry about shit like that, especially after having spent the whole morning reading Malachi Z. York’s Dr. York vs. The Computer earlier this week. The news has stories of all these giant data centers being built to support AI technology, and then there’s old ass he of ill repute Dr. Malachi Z. York foretelling of computers replacing sacred texts, and “Mechanized Makkah” people make pilgrimages to. Of course a lot of that particular tract is the old school “mark of the beast” computer tech type shit from the ‘90s era pre-computer conspiracy realm. It’s ironic that conspiracies actually gained traction once online become the foundation. People go to the beast to learn to be wary of the beast. But I have gotten sidetracked, because I pulled the freestyle rapping prompt “rap-o clap-o Joe Sataan style” from my gallon pickle jar full of folded up neon index cards with prompts written on them. No idea what I was thinking when past me wrote that as a writing prompt, but today me appreciated it and ran with it. But “rap-o clap-o Joe Sataan style” plus Dr. Malachi Z. York treatises in pdf form, well it’s a tough combo that the average person can’t navigate. I really need to get this electro funk heater finished though.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Heard My Mother Call My Name In Prayer

The thing I love about music, and really all art, is this is essentially just “Mama Tried” but in the most moanful lonesome dramatic ass way possible. What a jam.

SONG OF THE DAY: New Improved Elephants

Hard to imagine improving upon the elephant. I don't think my brain can even get that futuristic. I should microdose harder.

SONG OF THE DAY: Boulevards Theme: Way of Life

I totally thought Boulevards was some old ass Carolina funk band when I first heard it. I guess it was wishful thinking on my part. This is a great fuckin’ album though, and like all sensible artists, you can get it on Bandcamp, which is where sensible supporters of artists also go.

SONG OF THE DAY: Abele Dance

Had an old roommate/friend who, whenever Manu Dibango would come on, he’d say, “Man… you da bango!” in a funny voice. He ended up getting all fucked up with me because I did a photography project with an ex of his, who he automatically assumed I was fucking because we took pictures of each other, along with another person, all of it entirely clothed lol. He had been doing this thing where he told me he was going through therapy, but there is a realm of people who find therapists that just end up sort of cosigning poor behavior, or the person just tricks the therapist to go along with things. I don’t know. I told ol’ boy to fuck off for even trying to have me have to explain some shit that didn’t even happen, and he blocked me on everything, everywhere. He still plays guitar in Richmond, and is in that Cool Older Musician era of his life where he does semi-predatory shit on the regular with women 20 years younger than himself. But it’s cool, man. Dudes don’t have to actually be better people so long as they make dramatic ass social media posts about how they’re so much better.

Also, now that I think about it, he still owes Boogie Brown money for a bike he bought back in the day. So fuck that dude twice. I hope you accidentally see this, too, you weak bitch. With your jump roping ass.

SONG OF THE DAY: Stop Taking Me For Granted

Puppet souldies jams are the best. Keep ‘em coming, Universe.

SONG OF THE DAY: Can't Hold Back

There’s a lot of amazing 45 labels out there nowadays, putting out new stuff, not just reissues or souldies. But when it comes to vibes, nobody is creating quite their own lane as Star Creature Universal Vibrations. Probably my favorite active 45 label. They put out other stuff, too, but like an alcoholic that only drinks beer, I only buy 45s. Shrug emoji.

SONG OF THE DAY: Speedoo

Don't worry, just because sometimes I be listening to shit like this, I ain't gonna start wearing a pork pie hat or bowtie or twisting the ends of mustache up with beeswax or nothing.

SONG OF THE DAY: Wild Side of Life

Any time I hear a wannabe wanton women refer to her own big ass as a “dump truck” instead of a “caboose”, it makes me sad about all we’ve lost.