|
|
|
|
|
|
HOME | ABOUT | BIOS | EMAIL |
|
 |
| |
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
XXX YO! INTERNET RAPS XXX
FREAKS OF THE INDUSTRY
Digital Underground
Sex Packets
Tommy Boy : 1990
[Buy It]
We @ Moistworks hold these tracks to be self-evident:
JIGGABLE PIE
AMG
Bitch Better Have My Money
ZYX : 1991
[Buy It]
But seriously, the bitch really better had have my money.
TALK LIKE SEX
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo
Wanted Dead or Alive
Cold Chillin' : 1990
[Buy It]
"I'll leave you like a rape victim." That, from back in the day.
IF YOU BELIEVE IN HAVING SEX
2 Live Crew
As Nasty As They Wanna Be
Lil' Joe : 1989
[Buy It]
A girl back there who, asked if she *liked* sex said, "Of course/Doesn't everyone?" She was interested in overpopulation. But ask yourselves, people - do *you* people believe in having sex?
MAHOGANY
Erik B. & Rakim
Let The Rhythm Hit'Em
MCA : 1990
[Buy It]
if so:
Al Green = Love.
FOOL GET A CLUE
Digital Underground
Future Rhythm
Radikal : 1996
[Buy It]
And now, with a lot less love:
HOUSEWIFE
Dr. Dre
Chronic 2001
Interscope : 1999
[Buy It]
And a whole lotta lovelessness:
AIN'T NO FUN
Snoop Dogg
Doggystyle
Priority : 1993
[Buy It]I know the pussy's mine
So I'ma fuck a couple more times
Then I'm through with it
There's nothing else to do with it
Pass it to my homie, now you get it
'Cause she ain't nothing but a bitch to me
And y'all know that bitches ain't shit to me... FREAKY PUMPS
Fat Lip
The Loneliest Punk
The Lab : 2005
[Buy It]
That, from from the original sex rap post.... And if that don't slap the fuzzle from your muzzles, here's a few more xxx internet raps xxx :
SIDE TO SIDE
Blackalicious
The Craft
Anti : 2005
[Buy It]
TALK LIKE SEX PT. II
Smut Peddlers
Porn Again
Priority : 2001
[Buy It]
WORK THAT POLE
The Beatnuts
The Originators
Landspeed : 2002
[Buy It]
The Beatnuts, in general, are genuinely unpleasant: Where's their medal?
FUCK THE PAIN AWAY
Peaches
The Teaches of Peaches
Xl: 2000
[Buy It]
[For [all the bearded] ladies.]
ICE CREAM
Raekwon
Only Built 4 Cuban Linx
RCA : 1995
[Buy It]
Someday, the words "I Love you like I love my dick size" will be inscribed on some Staten Island tombstone....
XXX YO! INTERNET RAPS XXXLabels: alex, hip-hop, sex
posted by Alex
LINK |
Thursday, September 27, 2007
GODMOMA HERE
BE ALL YOU CAN BE
Godmoma
Here
Elektra : 1981
Out of Print
SEX SHOOTER (DEMO)
SEX SHOOTER (EXTENDED DANCE MIX)
 Video
French TV Performance
Apollonia 6
Apollonia 6
Warner Bros : 1984
Out of Print
The girl group Godmoma was a sexed-up side project from that funk muppet Bootsy Collins. The girls: former P-Funk vocalists Cynthia "Sugar Baby" Girty, Arnenita "T Baby" Walker, and Carolyn "Baby Kay" Myles. Bootsy beamed them up to the Mothership, along with Sly Stone, and Horny Horns Maceo Parker and Fred Wesley, and cut an album of dirty disco that sweats like a FEMA trailer.
The experiment only lasted the one record, but Bootsy may have ushered in one of the decades great pop trends. Didn't it seem like back in the 80s, every dude and his cousin had a girl group? Not the in a Berry Gordy supergroup kind of way. And not yet the calculated marketing creations of the video generation. No these were strictly vanity projects. The girl group as the ultimate accessory: stage candy, funk whores, the girl group as soft porn harem.
Prince had a vanity project. There were 6 girls in it. Prince called it Vanity 6. But Vanity left the band, so Prince reformed it as Apollonia 6. I would have killed to have been on the Staten Island Ferry the day of that casting call. There's a Herzog documentary in there somewhere. All that hairspray and the anxious savagery of chased dreams and the lingerie from the Red Door Store in Paramus with the tags still on it.
'Sex Shooter' is one of Prince's premier pieces of brilliantly ludicrous porn funk. (When you consider that no music critic worth his vintage Tretorns would dare discuss Prince without those four words: porn. funk. brilliant. ludicrous. - then you know I speak high praise.)
There are certain similarities between Bootsy and Prince's side projects. They both were at their peaks, both brought in all-star support, both embrace their signature sounds, and both parade some serious, vaingloriously confused sexuality.
Take a lick, gimme a hit, get on the stick
and suck upon this
and
I need you to pull my trigger babe
I need you to get me off
I'm your bomb getting ready to explode
I need you to get me off
Be your slave do anything I'm told
Im a sex shooter....
Blow me away,
C'mon kiss the gun
It's a real Pandora's Box. Normally, when it comes to early '80s girl groups and party funk, I try so very hard not to pull the trigger on concerns of sexual identity politics. Those debates of stripper pole feminism: empowerment v objectification, emancipation v subjugation, the balances of power on the fetish exchange. This music just is what it is. It's post-narrative, it's post-innuendo, it's some serious species level action. When it comes to Pandora, Bootsy and Prince really aren't worried about what's coming out of her box so much as what they're gonna' put in it. I like to leave all that figurative groping to the gender studies undergrads at Sarah Lawrence. They can hash it out in their tutorial. Maybe in that new class they have:
The Nasty Dialectic: Transgression, Aggression, Sexuality and the mOthership.
But listening to Apollonia now 20 years on, please forgive me if I clear my throat. Prince really is a freak. Sure Bootsy and the ladies get into some gender role play, but it's all in fun. You know he's just trying to bring some dialogue to the dance floor. But in the Thealogy of pop funk, Prince is flying solo. He's sorting out some serious hyper-gender-erotica business, and he's using Apollonia 6 as psycho-sexual proxies in his little vagina monologue.
Maybe Prince just loves sex so much, that he wants access to all possible POVs available. Maybe he's a raving sexual narcissist, not just satisfied to sex-up women, he wants to enter the female form to embody it so he can experience what it's like to be a woman sexing him up. Or maybe these are just the shadow puppets of his erotic theater, and Prince in the role of of sex puppeteer, Gepetto as pimp. The Apollonia 6 certainly seem like puppets. Really, you can tell their hearts are not in it. When they command "Soon as I get undressed y'all clap your hands OK?" they just sound tired and blue collar. The orgasms are obviously faked, the gyrations the tired hulas of a Tijuana burlesque. They are nice girls; all they really wanted was to work at the Macy's cosmetics counter but Prince went and turned 'em out. And look at poor Sheena Easton: a sweet Scottish kid, with a stable career in Adult Contemporary music ahead of her. She studied at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. She sang duets with Kenny Rogers. She hooks up with Prince, and now she's inviting American inside her 'Sugar Walls' and has Tipper Gore and the Parents' Music Resource Council naming her one of music's "Filthy Fifteen." Prince takes these young ones, coaches them up, gives them a new language, a genital lingua franca.
It must be exhausting to be Prince. Me, if I lived in the Purple Rain universe, I'd skip the whole girl band thing altogether. It's just so deviant and sexually confusing. I'd go for something normal, something conservative. Maybe settle down with a fashionable manservant named Jerome who would be full of self-esteem and would dance around in front of me with a giant mirror.Labels: funk, James, pop, sex
posted by James
LINK |
Thursday, June 28, 2007
KEEP ON CHURNIN'
Wynonie Harris
1952
Available on : Bloodshot Eyes: The Best of Wynonie Harris
Rhino : 1994
[Buy It]
TRY ME
Asha Puthli
She Loves to Hear the Music
CBS/Columbia : 1975
[Buy It]
EN MELODY
Serge Gainsbourg
Histoire de Melody Nelson
Polygram : 1971
[Buy It]
REIN RAUS
Rammstein
Mutter
Umvd : 2001
[Buy It]
I have a friend who recently slept with a guy she just met. That's not extraordinary. But he had three arms! No. He didn't. I guess I'm trying to make the situation more remarkable than it was. It was an ordinary what-for: she broke up with her boyfriend about five months ago, went on a few dates, didn't meet anyone she liked, and then she met (and liked) this guy at a party, and he asked her out, and they went to a restaurant, and he ordered them a bottle of wine, and later they held hands under the table, and still later he walked her home through a light rain, and she invited him up, and they sat on the couch for twenty minutes watching TV, and then they went into the bedroom, got strip-jack naked, and made the beast with five arms.
Anyway, a few days later on the phone, she told me that she had hooked up with this guy and I felt a twinge of annoyance that wasn't exactly annoyance. What it exactly was, sadness, requires some explanation.
I have a negative reaction to these hookups, not a moral objection but an emotional one. In one respect, the reason is obvious. Deep down, there's some element of competitiveness. It’s not that I have designs on these women - I am married - though I can imagine some version of me, in ramified time, having designs. But there's also something else. When I hear these accounts, I feel eighty years old, tired and rueful. There's something in a hookup story that seems to bring the participants one step closer to death. It's hard to explain, or maybe pitifully simple. So long as you are hopeful for sex - or romance, because that's usually the shape that casts the shadow - the world is a place of potential joy. When the target has been acquired, well, then what?
Let me come at it from another angle. If a friend were to tell me that she just had a promisingly flirtatious conversation with a guy she met at a party, I would feel a surge of excitement for her. Even my initial sense of competition would subside. But conversation is sustainable over long periods of time, partly because it sublimates other energies, and partly because it has content other than itself (the weather, or baseball, or literature, or whatever). But sex is often about itself, especially early in a relationship or before there's any relationship at all. So the needle spikes. People get off. And then, sadly, slightly, the life goes out of life, at least for a little while. (It's just a theory, but so is evolution. A few days after my friend told me about the hookup, she called back to tell me that she was in a pit of despair. The walls weren't so high that she couldn't see to the tops, but they were slippery.)
I have a feeling that maybe I've gone too far in the wrong direction, and I don't want to ignore the other side of the coin. Sadness or no, drab emotional realism never got anyone laid. It's like that episode of "You Bet Your Life" where Groucho talks to a woman about her future plans. GROUCHO: "Now suppose you became a famous actress, and then you met somebody you liked and got married. Would you be willing to quit acting and be a housewife and a mother?"
WOMAN: "Well, I think if you keep your feet on the ground you can combine both. That's what I'd like to do."
GROUCHO: "Well, if you keep your feet on the ground, you'll never be a mother." So here's a set of songs about the joys of not keeping your feet on the ground. One is by the great American R&B singer Wynonie Harris. One is by the Indian jazz/soul/disco siren Asha Puthli. One is by the French provocateur Serge Gainsbourg. And one is by the German heavy metal demons and inadvertent comedians Rammstein.Labels: ben, sex
posted by Ben
LINK |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
