Austin Powers was not the most recent use of Quincy Jones’ Soul Bossa Nova. That honor goes to Dream Warriors.
My Definition Of A Boombastic Jazz Style utilizes Jones’ 1962 recording very nicely, and counterpointed against the cool vocals, the song really works well. Definitely one I fell in love with the first time I heard it.
And of course, the lyrics:
here we go are you ready for one other
Dream Warriors’ noise is new discover-al
once again with a new blend so telephone a friend
(yo dude I just got this new song It’s dope man)
compact disc to the prime is optimist
fans and friends I’m universally cosmic
concrete jungles abound
you stand by the speakers
you’re smothered and covered up in the sound
you stand strong as you pump your fist
I’m talkin’ all that jazz
now what’s my definition
[Chorus:]
my definition
my definition
my definition is this
my definition
my definition
my definition is this
my definition
my definition is this
my definition
when I kick rhymes there’s something said to do damage
hits so strong even superman needs a hand
so bob your head dread as I kick the funk flow
this rhyme is subliminal yet you don’t think so
I walk with a gold cane a gold brain and no gold chain
behind the truth lies there lies a parafix
in the mix is where Dream Warriors go
define if you will but I know so
there is no definition
[Chorus]
rhyme thou I know it to flow it just like a poet
your definition of me is definetly wrong
why must I try to lie and build an alibi
when all you ask is just for me to be me
replace a replacable replacement with this
relax relax relaxtion boombastic
my name is King Lu
(mine is Capital Q)
bags of mostly water search to find my definition
[Chorus]
I sought beauty through the dust of strife
I sought meaning to my music addicition
arise awaken we have need to reverse
a plauge has befallen us no time to reherse
this rhyme speaks it speak and has spoken
this rhyme will not change things
it needs to be changed in a hurse
you find caskets in my rhyme baskets of rhyme
your definition can define
so what’s my definition
[Chorus]
(yo, where’d everybody go?)
Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia) is one of those songs that makes you want to get down and boogie. The beat, the horns, the smooth lyrical delivery all mesh together to make for a great, catchy sound. It’s one of those songs that’s great to play when a party is at it’s peak, as it will fill the dance floor–or at least, put people in a good frame of mind.
And of course, the lyrics:
Ladies and Gentlemen,
as you know we have something
special for you at
Birdland this evening.
A recording for
Blue Note Records
What’s that? yeah
yeah yeah
funky funky, how
’bout a big hand now?
wait, wait a minute
Groovy groovy
jazzy funky pounce bounce dance as we
Dip in the melodic
sea, the rhythm keeps flowin, it drips to MC
Sweet sugar pop
sugar pop rocks it pops ya don’t stop
‘Til the sweet
beat drops
I show and prove
as a stick in move
Hear the poems
recited on top of the groove
Smooth, mind,
floating like a butterfly
Notes start to
float, subtle like a lullabye
Brace yourself as
the beat hits ya
Dip trip, flip
fantasia
(ah, ah, ah,
what’s that? biggity biggity bop)
Feel the beat
drop, jazz and hip hop
Drippin’ in the
dome, and mix is on the lock
Funk and fusion, a
fly illusion
Keeps ya coastin’
on the river we cruisin’
Up down round and
round, round the found
But nevertheless
ya gots to get down
Finesse the freak
thru’ the beat so unique
Ya move your feet,
the sweat from the heat
Back to the fact
I’m the mack and I know that
The way I kick the
rhymes, some would call me a poet
Funky flowin’ goin’
on with the sweet sound
Caught in the
groove in Fantasia I’m found
Trip the tour upon
the rhymes they soar
To an infinite
height to the realm of the hardcore
Here we go
off I take ya
Dip trip
flip fantasia
Jump to the jam
boogy woogy jam slam
Bust the dialect
I’m the man in command
Come flow with the
sounds of the mighty mic masta
When I rhyme on
the mic I bring a sucka disasta
Beaucoup bucks and
I still rock Nike
With the razzle
dazzle star I might be
Scribble scrabble
on the microphone I babble
As I flip the
funky words, into a puzzle
Yes yes yes, on
and on as I flex
Get with the flow
words manifest
Feel the vibe from
here to Asia
Dip trip flip
fantasia
I’ve found it. At last.
Put it on.
There was a brief period in the early to mid 90’s where several artists showed up with a rap/jazz fusion at the same time, and Digable Planets was one of those bands. This particular song caught on in a big way, probably because of the cool jazz bass and the simple, funky beat. That’s the reason I like it, and I imagine that’s why it was a big hit.
And of course, the lyrics:
we like the breeze floats straight out of our lids
them they got moved by these hard rock brooklyn kids
us floor rush when the dj’s boomin classics
you dig the crew on the fattest hip hop record
he touch the kinks and sinks into the sounds
she frequents the fatter joints called undergrounds
our funk zooms like you hit the mary jane
they flock to booms man boogie had to change
who freaks the clips with mad amount percussion
where kinky hair goes to unthought of dimensions
why’s it so fly cause hip hop kept some drama
when butterfly rock the light blue suede pumas
what by the cut we push it off the corner
how was the buzz entire hip hop era
was fresh and fat since they started sayin outtie
cause funks made fat from right beneath my hoodie
the puba of the styles like miles and shit
like sixties funky worms wit waves and perms
just sendin chunky rhythms right down your block
we be to rap what key be to lock
but i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool
(Ladybug)
we be the chocolates taps on my raps
she innovates at the sweeter cat naps
he at the funk club with the vibrate
them they be crazy down with the five nate
it can kick a plan then a crowst burst
me i be diggin it with the bug verse
us we be freakin till dawn beats and i
he yes a stranger smile so i say hi (wassup)
who understood, yeah, understood the plans?
him heard a beat and put it to his hands
what i just flip let borders get loose
how to consume all the beats just like juice
if its the shit we’ll lift it off the plastic
the babe’ll go spastic
hip hop gains a classic
pimp player shark it don’t matter i’m fatter
ask butter how i zone
(Butterfly)
man, cleopatra jones
(Ladybug)
and i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill (chill)
(All)
blink, blink, blink, blink, blink
think, think, think, think, think
(Doodlebug)
we get you free cause the clips be fat boss
them dug the jams that commence to goin off
she sweats the beats and ask me could she puff it
me i got crew kid, seven and a crescent
us cause a buzz when the nickel bags a dealt
him that’s my man with the asteroid belt
they catch a fizz from the mr. doodlebig
he rocks a tee from the crooklyn nine pigs
rebirth of slick like my gangster stroll
the lyrics just like loot come in stacks and rolls
you used to find the bug in a box with fade
now he boogies up your stage plaits twist the braids
and i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m pace
(Butterfly)
check it out, man i groove like that
i’m smooth like that
i jive like that
i roll like that
(Ladybug)
yeah, i’m thick like that
i stack like that
i’m down like that
i’m black like that
(Doodlebug)
well yo, i funk like that
i’m fat like that
i’m in like that
cause i swing like that
(Butterfly)
we jazz like that
we freak like that
we zoom like that
we out (we out)
A simple song of lost love, So Low is a really catchy and cool sounding song. I enjoy the sound immensely, particularly the bass, drums and keyboards. The first time I heard it, I had to listen to it again–then again–then again. It’s that sort of song.
Here’s a link to the video (love the clothes, BTW).
And of course, the lyrics:
Hello, meet my problems
I only miss you when I’m with you
I gotta fly car to jet around town
Gone sour to the bone
Gone bad to the marrow
Financial situation’s depleted
Guess a slap in the face is what I really needed
From a strong hand to make me a man
What more could I ask?
What more could I stand?
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
With a knife in my chest and a bullet in my head
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
Must I go on?
Sold all my friends today
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
Gave everything away
Now I’m bound only by twine and thread
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
With a knife in my chest and a bullet in my head
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
Must I go on?
Just give me time
Don’t give me time to miss you
Just give me time
Don’t give me time to miss you
On a short leash yet she was eathbound
So I threw her in the lost and found
Now she’s scaring me
A fine charity
With a pink trombone and a tuning key
So just ignore the footprints
And just ignore the sand
My epitaph stands before me
So wear your ego to the funeral of a frightened man
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
With a knife in my chest and a bullet in my head
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
Must I go on?
Saw her standing in the doorway
Fade away
And I believe in it
If I were dead
If I were dead
If I were dead she wouldn’t love me anymore
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
With a knife in my chest and a bullet in my head
I’m so low that I wish I was dead
Must I go on?
Debonair was the first song I ever heard by Afghan Whigs, and it captivated me from the start. The funky guitar at the beginning, the lyrics, Greg Dulli’s voice, it all comes together really nicely.
The subject matter is interesting too (and pretty much in line with most of the rest of the Whigs’ work). A man–and not a good man either–has done something to a woman, precisely what is a little unclear. Has he beaten her, cheated on her, or simply not lived up to his part of the relationship? Still, despite the murkiness, I think the lyrics are truly excellent.
And of course, the lyrics:
Hear me now and don’t forget
I’m not the man my actions would suggest
A little boy, I’m tied to you
I fell apart
That’s what I always do
This ain’t about regret
My conscience can’t be found
This time I won’t repent
Somebody’s going down
Feel it now and don’t resist
This time the anger’s better than the kiss
I must admit when so inclined
I tend to lose it than confront my mind
‘Cause it don’t bleed and it don’t breathe
It’s locked its jaws and now it’s swallowing
It’s in our heart
It’s in our head
It’s in our love
Baby it’s in our bed
Tonight I go to hell
For what I’ve done to you
This ain’t about regret
It’s when I tell the truth
And once again the monster speaks
Reveals its face and searches for release
A little boy is tied to you
Attracted only ’til it comes unglued
This is another one of those songs I fell in love with the first time I heard it. I love the slightly twisted 60’s style girl-group feel, I love the drums, and I think it’s just a great song.
The song itself is about–I think, feel free to correct me–a man pressuring a woman to either have sex with him or fall in love with him, or possibly both. I cannot say for sure either way, but I still love the song.
And of course, the lyrics:
She
Colourblind, tired eyes
Her
Hallway, aching
She’ll never move him
Likes it that way
He’s just a walker
And he’ll
Never stop walking away
“It’s not too soon,” he said
“It’s not too soon at all,”
“You might as well be dead,” he said
“If you’re afraid to fall,”
I said:
“I know her…”
She said:
“Why do you stare so hard?
Wrapped up like a doll
In bad dreams and broken arms
Make these old bones shiver,”
“It’s not too soon,” he said
“It’s not too soon at all,”
“You might as well be dead,” he said
“If you’re afraid to fall,”
I said:
“I know her…”
The last time I saw you
You were standing in the dark
And with a freezing face
I watched you fall apart
“It’s not too soon,” he said
“It’s not too soon at all,”
“You might as well be dead,” he said
“If you’re afraid to fall,”
I said:
“Done your time, been in your place
I couldn’t look you in the face
And tell you that it turns me on
It makes my stomach turn!
I know I know her…”
I can always enjoy a self-deprecating tongue-in-cheek punk rock song, and that’s exactly what Punch in the Face happens to be, as the singer affirms that the best thing to happen would be an assault.
The bass kicks it off, followed by some fun staccato drums, and the vocals and the chorus are particularly fun. Just cool.
And of course, the lyrics:
Middle class white boys trying hard to annoy
All we really needed is a ticket to ride
Fighting with no-one at all that’s ok
We’ve got no balls
Someone needs to sort us out
And make benny cry
All we need is a punch in the face
Lary Emdur is ok compared to us
He makes the grade
Self-depreciation is important for some
We deserve a beating can someone teach a lesson
All that they’d be doing is just having some fun
All we need is a punch in the face
And they go bam ba ba bam etc…
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If this song didn’t rock so much, I would have to classify it as bubblegum. One could easily hear the likes of the Bay City Rollers pounding this one out. It’s so damned catchy.
Screamager is pretty much a perfectly crafted power-pop song–a good melody behind the instruments, a great chorus, and it’s quick and sweet too. It’s just one of those great sounding songs that makes you want to play it again and again.
The song itself is typical teen angst, and reasonably well done I’d say. It doesn’t bludgeon you over the head, and I like the defiant attitude of the singer.
And of course, the lyrics:
With a face like this I won’t break any hearts
And thinking like that I won’t make any friends
Screw that
Forget about that
I don’t want to think about anything like that
Screw that
Forget about that
I don’t want to know about anything like that
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
Your beauty makes me feel alone
I look inside but no one’s home
Screw that
Forget about that
I don’t want to think about anything like that
Screw that
Forget about that
I don’t want to know about anything like that
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
I’ve got nothing to do, but hang around and get screwed up on you
But get screwed up on you
But get screwed up on you
Me, Myself and I is a great song about the joys of solitude–something I can personally attest to enjoying fairly regularly.
I know I like this song because I think it really sounds good, and because it’s so very simple. It also touches a certain nerve within me, and I’m sure within many other people as well. The crush of everyday life does get overwhelming and annoying over time, and it’s important to get away sometimes.
And of course, the lyrics:
I sit here by myself
And you know I love it
You know I don’t want someone
To come pay a visit
I wanna be by myself
I came in this world alone
Me myself I
I want to go to China
And to see Japan
I’d like to sail the oceans
Before the seas run dry
I wanna go by myself
I’ve just room enough for one
Me myself I
I wanna be a big shot
And have ninety cars
I wanna have a boyfriend
And a girl for laughs
But only on Saturdays
Six days to be alone
With just me myself I
Me myself and I
Just me myself I
Don’t want to be the bad guy
Don’t want to make a soul cry
It’s not that I love myself
I just don’t want company
Except me myself I
Me myself and I
Just me myself I
I sit here by myself
And you know I love it
You know I don’t want someone
To come pay a visit
I wanna be by myself
I came in this world alone
Me myself I
Me myself I
Me myself and I
Just me myself I
Doors Of My Heart is a tune that hits all the classic ska/reggae themes: unity and love. It’s a shameless, pure declaration of love, plain and simple. It’s also got a great groovy beat, and the dance hall break in the middle by Ranking Roger really gives the song a flair of coolness.
From the Rolling Stone review:
“Doors of Your Heart” comes closest to blending sauciness and sage advice. Ranking Roger struts and strolls through the vocal, savoring the wickedly catchy chorus. His toast-rap break pitches for brotherly love by drawing sly parallels between eros and agape: everybody looks the same when the lights are out.
And of course, the lyrics:
Every story has to be about something, I suppose
This one says I lose my head
As the feeling starts to grow, you know
I can feel love thumping at the doors of my heart
Feel love thump as it tears me apart
Feel blood punp as the worrying starts
I can feel love thumping
At the doors of my heart again
At the doors of my heart again
I can feel love thump
Bom-bom, be bom-bom
Everybody needs someone
They can cling to now and then
No more defense, no more pretense
No reasons for explaining
You can feel love thumping at the doors of your heart
Feel love thump as it tears you apart
Feel blood pump as the worrying starts
You can feel love thumping
At the doors of your heart again
At the doors of your heart again
You can feel love thump, bom-bom, be bom-bom
Bom-bom, be bom-bom
This one, your unity rocker, Lord
Stick him in your living room and turn off the light, eh
Bet you wouldn’t know if he was black or white, boy
Say what’s the use in fighting?
Man say, I say you shouldn’t really fight
Take him to a discotheque
Take him to a pub, eh
Take him to a blues and then you play him rub a dub, eh
Say you shouldn’t really fight, man say
I say you shouldn’t really fight
Everytime it happens, seem to act a little touched
In this at least, you’re just like me
I think we think too much, why can’t we just
Feel love thumping at the doors of our heart
Feel love thump as it tears us apart
Feel blood pump as the worrying starts
I can feel love thumping
At the doors of my heart again
At the doors of my heart again
I can feel love thump, bom-bom, be bom-bom
I can feel love thump, bom-bom, be bom-bom
At the doors of my heart again
At the doors of my heart again
I can feel love thump, bom-bom, be bom-bom
Bom-bom, be bom-bom….
—————-
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