Music Dude on: Nikka Costa and a White Woman's Soul

yall know I have a hate-on for Joss Stone, right? Despise her. And don't know if I should despise her, so much as I should despise marketing machines and the music media that drinks that Kool-Aid. But, if I have to see one more awards show parade that teenage euro bish around like she's the hottest thing is soul-music and see her up on stage prancing around and singing in that contrived wanna-be-from-the-pit-of-her-soul-church-voice, I'm going to throw up my innards. As I've said before: I hate Culture Pirates. And the fact that this bish had the audacity to name her debut The Soul Sessions really chases my cognac.

Joss Stone is not Gill Scott or Angie Stone or Badu or Larieux or even Fantansia for that matter.

HOWEVER, if you wanna kop a white woman with some absolute soul, please do yourself a favor and do some knowledge on Nikka Costa. Yall probably heard about her around the same time I did, which was 2001 when she dropped Everybody Got There Somethin'. They played the video on MTV2 (remember the one with her in those blue pants?), matta fact, one of her songs was used in a Tommy Hill commercial. 2001 was a dope year for me. I was makin money, kopped my whip (Jada), moved into my new apartment and most importantly: purchased a sound system. Manytimes, I would to spend Friday or Saturday night at my pad, on the balcony, bumpin my discography and drinkin Brandy. I used to have non-jazz and non-hop nights, where I would load up my CD player with about 50 CDs and either press random-play or if I was feelin sassy and industrious, I'd actually program a playlist. So I'd just sit on the balcony, watch the trafiic, get toasty and tranq out to Badu, D'Angelo, Sly, James, Stevie, Marvin, Musiq, Jimi, Jill, Gil, Lucy Pearl, Brand New Heavies, Omar, Soul II Soul, Res, Prince...u name it, until the wee hours or the cops came to my door.

Nikka would be in there. Matta fact, during my jazz sets or hop sets, sometimes I'd slip in singin-music. For a singer to get thrown into a jazz or hop set was like a testament to how nasty they were. Nikka turned up tenor sax set one Saturday night, I kid u not....Any ways, Nikka is white as snow, but funky and soulful as she wanna be. It amazed me at that time. See, based on culture, upringing and something intrinsic, I think each race has its own unique energy and expertise that they bring to music. True, African Americans created Rock-n-Roll, but I think that only some white dudes could create the kind of harmonic melody that u hear when listening to the Beach Boys. U know why? Because the nigras, inherently and second naturedly, were gonna sound like some derivative of the Chillites or Delfonics. Niggas wasnt surfin in Cali. Listen to the Beach Boys...I'm no officianado on their discography, but I've heard a lot of their stuff because that sound interests me (I love melody)...but that music sounds like something that couldnt have been created by anyone besides someone that lived in carefree Cali and lived that type of lifestyle. Nigras live in Cali, but in Watts and Oakland.

And, yo, straight up, wasn't no nigra gonna be Cobain before Cobain was Cobain. It's something about experience and outlook that comes through music, naa mean? Like, I'm not white, but when I look at some of the tortured white souls, especially the young adult souls, I always think that comes from expectations and the burden of those expectations and, perhaps, preconceived roles and boxes that people (parents, teahcers, society) set out. White kids are born with expectations, which is a great thing, but it they don't always jive with it. I'm skimming and speculating here...but, white kids seem to rail against that -- the expectations and the boxes. And it can be a torturous plight. so u get Cobains. Whereas, the expectations arent there in the black community. In the hood, the torture comes from the ceiling -- be it glass or cement. So the feelings arent as much about confusion as it is about hopelessness, but they both breed defiance and anger. But on one end you get Cobain on the other u get a late 80s Ice Cube. But its all in the experience. and generally, each race tends to be experience life in different ways.

This all gets me back to Nikka. She grew up overseas, came from a music family. But she's that rare breed artist that can pick up cetrain specific emotions or channel influences and make it sound authentic. I'm tellin u, homegirl got waaaaaaayyyyy more soul than 98% of these R&B chicks out right now.

Anyways, she dropped a new album last Spring, Can'tneverdidnothin, and I had no idea until my girl May hipped the crew to this site so we could download the new Ameil Larieux.

I listened to the Nikka this weekend and she's back on that thang, doing what she does and i lover her for doin it how she does it. It's hard to explain exactly why this white woman is so bad, but I think it's best displayed on track 5, Around the World. The way she's phrasing her vocals, it's like slang to me, naa mean? There's just this element that's so sassy and foxy. You ever seen a black woman walk with one of her wrists held-out, limp, and she's switchin and them hips is doin that dance and she's bein a nasty-but-classy black girl. Well that's how Nikka is comin across on this track, except she ain't Afro. it's an incredible thing that she does. And we wont even get into her band and the grooves theyre layin down or the sick guitar chords theyre throwin out. Nope...we wont get into that.

Just know that Nikka gets a Black Card from Twist, the Music Dude and Vince. Matta fact, Couch Test? Fuggedaboutit. I might even do the Good Life dance with her.

Back up in this bish like, what

I got ish to talk about. some comments to respond too. quips from a few things i've been thinking on.

i been away from a minute, but only because my sis Lyd is one of those annoying people that thinks her friggin T-Mobile two-way provides adequate internet access. So I was in the Bronx, virtually unconnected. Once I got back to Florida, I had to rip and run. yall know The Nigga stay movin.

But I'm back. So get at him.

On the road.

Just spent two days in Buff with the fam (and dwindling pot of friends still left in the Queen City). Of course there were stories. But at the moment, I'm getting ready to hit the road with my two sisters Lyd and P. We're headin back to Lyd's crib in the Bronx to hang out. Joy's wedding is this Saturday, in Long Island. About 10 of my closest niggas will be coming into town from all over. It'll be the first time I see them kats in like a couple years. Lookin forward to it.

Everybody enjoy their weekend.

Long Overdue Dilla story

Lots of plusses to workin where I work. I dig that. One of them being, they're open to anything. I could pitch a story on new makes of tampons and they'd at least listen. But perhaps, a downside is that we're in Florida, which -- other than Miami of course -- happens to be one of the squarest states that shouldnt be square. For instance, Mississippi and Bama and Kentucky and the Dakotas -- theyre supoosed to be square. Florida? Not so much. But it is. Thats probably why the Dilla story I wrote close to a month ago just got published and my editor had to keep telling me to watch my language and remember my audience (he was absolutely right by the way. I was writing sentences like: "Niggas that knew Hop was like, "Yo, Dilla's gone? That's F'd up. How come lupus couldn't merk Swizz or Mannie?" On more than one occassion he said some of my sentences or paragrafs sounded like blog-riffs, which I found interesting. So naturally, there are parts of the story where niggas might read it an be like, "Vince, why did you just call Busta Rhymes, "Rhymes", like thats his last name?"

Anyways, expect more music, culture stories out of me in the future. And since one of the reasons I began this blog (check my very first post), was to hit yall with a story every now and then to see what I'm up to, check it out...RIP Dilla

ED -- They got pills for it.

Situations. That's what Pops calls everything that many humans are embarrassed to say. Here's a quick Vince Sr. translation script for you: Vagina = situation. Breast = situations. Someone's butt crack = They situation.
(Pops also uses this in the midst of a putdown. So, a pair of busted sneakers become situations, or "Man, that dude's teeth were yellow." = "Man, that nigga's situations was cold-cheddar.")

But mostly...

Penis = situation. That's Pops.

One more Pops translation, but let's flip the script and reverse the order on this one....

"Yeah, I heard my man's situation ain't all the way correct."

Translation: "Sadly, that man has erectile dysfunction."

That seems to be the tone of these new commercials. Like, it's their mission to destigmatize this whole erectile siuation ('situation' is also synonomous with 'thing') These commercials would lead one to believe that a man with a dysfunctioning erectile is not a sissy or 1/2-man -- he's sick. I never knew this. I just thought those men were half-broad or something.

They've shprtened the name to this...to this...disease. It's ED now. "Yeah, man, I got ED. I'm takin Levitra."

These get-erect-quick (sorry Mom) companies are going one step further, though. Not only are they trying their darndest to engender some public sympath for these men with the jacked-up situations, they're letting us all know that, sometimes, a man's erectile may begin dysfunctioning, not because he's a bish-made woos, but perhaps because he had cancer or is fighting diabetes.

"Hey Sheryl what are you doing here?"
"Oh, I was just here filling Paul's ED prescription."
"Ha. Ha."
"Don't laugh Maya. It's one of the after-effects from that bout with walking-pneumonia."

Gimme ten breaks.

But dig it...in this commercial for Levitra, an old black man that looked like Luther Vandross said his situation stopped working because his blood-sugar levels were on the fritz. He had doe-eyes and a pouty-lip. He wanted sympathy. And then, to show how happy he is after taking Levitra, he does something inexplicable. He's not shown in any amorous setting with his wife, or doing something manly like shooting a deer or scratching his crotch...nope. He's shown taking a picture with his wife -- the kind where the timer's flashed. And then, of course, it happens. (Check how they play dude after going through the sympathy situation with the violins and all) The camera flashes before he and wife are in a set pose. Subliminal message? Yeah, OK. Seems obvious, right? Pops would never discuss stuff like this anymore --even though he once had a conversation with my oldest sister when she maybe 14, censuring RKelly for his explicit R&B music. The conversation included, at least, three-minutes of poetic-waxing on women, their situations and moisture -- but I believe the clinical term has something to do with premature something or another. Which begs the questions: When will with that get destigmatized? And when will that pill come out?

My girl, Paula

This just in from Paula Dean (down-home, country Food network host) as she was eating her baked potatoe smothered with this bacon/mushroom/scallion creme sauce....

"Excuse me, yall, while I keep makin love to my tater."

Yeah, boi!