good music | Erin Jackson | Stand-Up Comedian

Damn, I don’t know this song either

So I wasn’t working this past weekend and got a chance to be “normal” ;) and hang with some of my friends. Hooray! On Friday nite, me and my friend Kellz went out to a club. I put on a dress and heels and we got to the club before it was real packed and set up shop on the first floor by the bar.

Perfect.

The music was great. They were playing a lot of old school hip hop and R&B, some Chaka — a little Tribe. We were having a great time. We even spotted an S-Curl and I made Kellz pretend I was taking a picture of her so old boy wouldn’t know we were clowning him…

Big fun.

After about an hour, we went upstairs to the second level. And as we were standing on the outskirts of the dance floor watching folks get their dance on, I slowly began to realize that I didn’t know any of the music the DJ was playing. You know that “Awwwwww, s—! That’s my joint / Woooooo!” sound that happens right after the DJ plays the first few notes of a club banger??? Well I heard it repeatedly. I saw the hands go up in the air. But I didn’t recognize any of the songs.

How the hell did this happen?

I consciously stopped listening to urban contemporary radio stations several years ago — not because I don’t like hip hop — but because I *do.* And what passes for hip hop and R&B on the radio these days sickens me. I prefer to read reviews and forums, find artists that I like and buy/download their music myself. But even so, the ignorance that floods the airwaves has always found a way to somehow seep into my consciousness. Thru commercials or MTV or something… Last Friday however, I literally knew none of the songs that were played in like a 20-minute period.

What are you supposed to do in a situation like that? Should you just throw your hands up in the air when everyone else does and pretend like you like the raggedy-ass ‘music’ that’s playing (as one friend suggested)? Or do you just acknowledge the fact that you’re over it and look for a comfy seat?

I opted for option #2.

Overall I enjoyed myself that nite but I spent the last half hour we were there texting a friend of mine who was being equally lame at another club.

My how times change… Continue reading →

Friends… Finally. ;)

So back in April I wrote this blog about how I wasn’t able to add Rahsaan Patterson — one of my favorite singers in the world — as a friend on Myspace. His profile said he didn’t accept comedians, blah blah, blah…It was an admittedly lame blog. But it was also an EFFECTIVE blog. Because on Wednesday, I got an e-mail from one Rahsaan Patterson saying that he read my blog, changed his privacy settings and could accept me now as a friend. Yeee-haw!!!

Thanks to one of my girlfriends who apparently brought this issue to his attention, I received the following e-mail from him… You don’t get the whole thing — just the highlights ;) :

so, a friend of yours sent me a message today.
she mentioned you were not accepted as a friend on my page.
a few weeks ago someone else sent a message saying, a friend of theirs, who is also a comedian wasn’t accepted also.
i went to my settings, saw they were somehow not fixed to accept requests from comedians, and i changed it.

sorry for the mishap and THANKS so much for buying my music….well at least 3 of them. ;)

if you tell me which one you don’t have i’ll have it mailed to you. :)

peace.

rahsaan

Cool huh?

The internet is magic ;) What a nice guy… Thanks Rahsaan!

Buy his albums!!!

My Love Affair with P. Sway

“This is MY dance space. This is YOUR dance space. I don’t go into yours, you don’t go into mine. You’ve got to hold the frame.”

This scene where Johnny says this to Baby is the No. 1 reason why Dirty Dancing is my favorite movie of all time.

Followed by these other gems:

“You just put your pickle on everybody’s plate college boy and leave the hard stuff to me.”

“I didn’t spend all summer long toasting bagels just to bail out some little chick who probably balled every guy in the place.”

“I carried a watermelon.”

“It’s not on the one. It’s not the mambo. It’s a feeling… a heartbeat.”

“Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.”

Yeah… I know what you’re thinking… and I agree.

I remember the first time I saw this cinematic masterpiece. I was in 4th grade. It was a sleepover at Alissa Horn’s house, and we TOTALLY weren’t supposed to be watching it — what with all the ‘adult content’. But we were sneaky, and late at night Alissa woke us all up and popped the tape into the VCR.

It was a life-changing moment. I fell in heart with Patrick Swazye (P. Sway is what I call him) in the MOST inappropriate way. And then he had the nerve to go and make Ghost — I was sure he was the love of my life. So blinded was I that I sat thru films such as Roadhouse and To Wong Foo with absolutely zero judgment for my man.

My heart still flutters every time I hear ‘Hungry Eyes’.

I may never love like this again I know. Here’s to you P Sway.

Double Blognificence — “What What” South Park Style

OK… my love for Samwell has been documented. He really is hilarious and such a sweet guy. We are friends now. Don’t be jealous y’all. Hopefully we can collaborate on something soon. I would love that… Get at me Sam!

But yesterday someone sent me something I hadn’t seen before — the South Park “What What in the Butt” parody… And I haven’t been able to stop laughing. So this is my gift to you on this holiday weekend. Don’t say I never gave you a Memorial Day gift.

Please disregard the opening credits. Kinda crass, but I can’t do anything about that… Note: the irony of me apologizing for the opening credits will be readily apparent after watching the video.

And for those of you not familiar with Samwell, I have to hip you to the original video…

And Part II (this is the funnier part) of his ‘revealing’ in -depth interview… My boy’s lip gloss is poppin’

Why won’t you be my friend, Rahsaan Patterson?

OK… so I understand that what I’m about to write is extremely corny and that it should embarrass me.

It doesn’t. But I understand why it should.

And I understand that everyone doesn’t use Myspace for self-promotion. Even famous people. Some folks use it just to stay in touch with people they already know.

Totally get it.

But one of my favorite singers doesn’t accept friend requests from comedians and doesn’t allow messages from people he’s not friends with. Which leads me to believe that he actually manages his own page. All the more reason for me to want to send him the message I spent nearly 20 minutes drafting prior to being brickwalled by his privacy settings. I reference him in my ‘Music Interests’ section on my page… I own every single one of his albums, and I actually bought all but one of them (just being honest — sista is on a budget). And I refuse to allow myself to consider the fact that he doesn’t care that I heart him because… well because that would be awful.

So in the wake of the worst Myspace catch-22 ever, here’s my question — How do I get Rahsaan Patterson to be my friend? And does my burning (yes, burning) desire to make him my Myspace friend mean that I’m a huge loser?

(Please note that I only really want an answer to the first part of that question.)

I’m a good friend, Rahsaan.Â Really I am.

Also the message that comes up on Myspace… “Rahsaan Patterson does not accept friend requests from ‘comedians'” really made me feel like no matter what my page category was, he’d still deny me. Seriously, in my head, I just imagined a nice pleasant operator voice saying, “We’re sorry. Rahsaan Patterson does not accept friend requests from…” And then some really harsh computer generated monster robot voice saying “Co-me-di-ans.” I feel like if my page was categorized as ‘puppies and angels’ it still would have denied me :(

Pleasant operator lady: We’re sorry. Rahsaan Patterson does not accept friend requests from…

Mean monster robot madlib-filler-inner: PUP-PIES and AN-GELS OR ANY-THING ELSE YOU COME UP WITH SO WHY DON’T U GET A LIFE E-RIN JACK-SON.

OK, I’m gonna go try and muster up some self esteem.

EJ. Out.

Mood Gusic

Wevie Stunder.

That’s what I call Stevie Wonder… because you can make up silly names for people when you’re best friends like I am with Stevie.

Anyway, last weekend when I was in NY, I had some time to kill and I dropped by this bar in the financial district — I think the name of the bar was “Bar & Food”. At least that’s what the sign said on the outside… :) When I got in there, there was a nice little crowd at the bar and the music on the jukebox was great. As each new song came on, the older bartender guy took a lotta pride in letting everyone know that he’s the one who selected the songs… in a particular order for a particular reason. I remember hearing “Always and Forever” by Heatwave and “Johnny Was” by Bob Marley. Not sure what the narrative was supposed to be as the former is a love song and the latter is a song about a woman whose son was just shot dead in the street… But I digress… The last song that came on while I was still in the bar was one of my favorite Wevie songs ever ever. Joy Inside My Tears… Man I hadn’t heard that song in literally over a decade.

So I sang.

In full voice.

And people stared — no doubt in disbelief at my non-embarrassment . But I didn’t care. Jack wouldn’t let me care… Cause it’s a great song! Six and a half minutes of ear yummies… I loaded it on to my iPod last nite and I’ve been listening to it on repeat for the past 33 minutes. Songs in the Key of Life. If you don’t have it. Get it. Today. Cause when music hits you “there” there’s nothing better.

When I was a kid, in the house we lived in in Jersey, my Dad built these wooden bins along the walls and floorboards in the downstairs of the house. And they were filled with records separated by alphabet tabs and by genre. You could sit in the family room and literally be surrounded by music. I remember my dad putting on a record and asking, “Who’s that, Boont?” And I’d be like Count Basie or Coltrane… And sometimes he’d let me pick one and he’d play it. No matter what it was. My love for music–GOOD music–goes back as long as I can remember. And I thank my parents for it.

My Grandma used to call me the “Disco Baby” and Saturday mornings growing up meant Mom and Dad dancing to 45’s and Felix Hernandez on the Rhythm Revue on WBGO Jazz 88 in NYC. I miss those days. Not that there isn’t any good music around anymore. But it sure is getting harder and harder to find.

Everywhere is war

Happy Birthday Bob!

Y’all thought I forgot. Never never ever. Every year (check for yourself) I make sure to acknowledge Bob Marley’s birthday. He is my No. 1 most favoritest musician of all time. (Stevie is No. 1 and a half.)

A lot has been made–I’ve posted it on this blog–about the video and song Will.i.am put together based on Barack Obama’s speech after the New Hampshire primary. It was/is awesome. But in case you weren’t aware, Bob Marley did the same thing decades ago with one of his most powerful songs ever — WAR. The lyrics for that song were taken directly from a speech Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie made before the United Nations. The lyrics are as follows — and they ring as true today as ever:

Until the philosophy which hold one race
Superior and another inferior
Is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned
Everywhere is war, me say war

That until there are no longer first class
And second class citizens of any nation
Until the color of a man’s skin
Is of no more significance than the color of his eyes
Me say war

That until the basic human rights are equally
Guaranteed to all, without regard to race
Dis a war

That until that day
The dream of lasting peace, world citizenship
Rule of international morality
Will remain in but a fleeting illusion
To be pursued, but never attained
Now everywhere is war, war

And until the ignoble and unhappy regimes
That hold our brothers in Angola, in Mozambique,
South Africa sub-human bondage
Have been toppled, utterly destroyed
Well, everywhere is war, me say war

War in the east, war in the west
War up north, war down south
War, war, rumors of war

And until that day, the African continent
Will not know peace, we Africans will fight

We find it necessary and we know we shall win
As we are confident in the victory

Of good over evil, good over evil, good over evil
Good over evil, good over evil, good over evil

***Here is a link to the complete original speech, in case you’re interested.***

I love Bruce Springsteen

I do. In a way that perhaps a 29 year old Black woman shouldn’t. Why am I writing about this now? Because I was listening to my iPod on random this morning and ‘We Are the World’ came on. Don’t you dare judge me. Anyway there’s the gong, the trumpets… Lionel Richie, Paul Simon, Kenny Rogers, Billy Joel (yeah, yeah, yeah) … but then in the second verse Bruce’s beautiful, raspy, voice comes in “We are the World, We are the children…” Game over. Bruce is killing y’all.

And it just reminded me #1 – I need to get more Springsteen on my iPod (right now I’ve only got Born to Run), and #2 – It’s time to reignite my adoration of this man.

Growing up in Jersey in the 80’s and 90’s, I had no choice but to love him — and by extension his band. Big Man Clarence Clemons (I saw you working it out on The Wire last season), Stevie Van Zandt (I still remember thinking wth is he doing on The Sopranos?), his ‘Red Headed Woman’, Patti. Love ’em all. To this day, my mother still buys every single thing he puts out, buys his concert videos, and we love him just the same as we always did. Real blue collar (or no collar) music for real people.

And I mean, The Boss. What an awesome nickname. Not too many recording artists have them. In the rock/paper/scissors game of entertainer nicknames, Bruce trumps all y’all ho’s. Plus, Springsteen barely even opens his mouth when he sings. How the hell does he do it? I swear, I don’t even know. And I don’t need to know. He is perfection in every sense of the word. Remember the cut off flannel shirts. The headband. HWWWHAAAT? (in my best Dave Chappelle imitating Lil’ Jon voice). He is so awesome. And I know that this may sound a little patronizing and you may be wondering whether I’m mocking or if I’m serious. Well please believe that I am serious. I love Bruce. I love Bon Jovi. I love Redman, Queen Latifah. Lauryn Hill (yes, still), and even Naughty by Nature. I have an unhealthy devotion to any and all artists from New Jersey — even though as you can see my musical tastes changed over the years. I was definitely white in the 80’s, but as you can see I ‘found myself’ in the 90’s. (BTW, I think that if there is an award for most parenthetical notes in a blog entry, this one should be the champ.) Out.