Quote of the Day:”And I still find it so hard/To say what I need to say…” — New Order, “Blue Monday”
Yesterday was a Soap Opera Sunday at my crib. Between catching up on my videotaped Guiding Light episodes (and liking the way Josh is standing up to Reva about this whole Jonathan/Nate situation and the way Olivia decided to just take control of it), I finally unwrapped the new R. Kelly CD TP.3 Reloaded, which included the DVD of the five-part “Trapped in the Closet” saga and got a chance to see what all the buzz was about…I gotta agree with a buddy of mine as I listened to the tracks: even amidst the charges still pending, R. ain’t exactly shying away from the “explicit content”, is he? Thing is, the whole “Closet” serial wasn’t as scandalous as I expected it to be. But props anyway to R. for working in the “soap operatic” format that I love. I admit to being probably the only person on Earth who actually thought MTV’s late, lamented daily soap “Spyder Games” had potential for something really good–other than just unleashing Cubano papi Enrique Murciano on the world. (By the way, I’m working on something–not quite sure yet–about soap opera culture…if there are any soap heads out there into being interviewed for it, shout a brotha out…)
Back In the Day.Was doing some spring cleaning the other day—okay, yeh, I’m a month or so late—but I came across some remnants of my hardcore music critic days, back when people would send me music by unsigned talent in the hopes of getting some coverage or at least making some music biz contacts. Oftentimes I’d toss stuff away after a courtesy listen; sometimes, however, something told me to hold on to it. In one box I found two four-song cassettes of music by an artist named T.I.P. (The Infamous Pimp), this kid outta Georgia who was managed by this kat named Jason Geter I’d met at an Outkast party in ’99 or 2000; they both seemed like good peeps. Now, minus the “P”, the artist goes by the name T.I. and he’s a celebrated platinum act and I feel sorta like one of those rock and roll kats who claim to have original Elvis demos stashed away in an attic somewhere. Also came across an old Alicia Keys demo CD, from back when she was hovering in that limbo between Columbia and Arista and J Records. Then I found the star-studded video invitation to Puff Daddy’s 1998 Birthday Gala back, that November night when Cipriani Wall Street became the official true birth site of The Ghetto Fabulous Party Aesthetic. Brought back mad memories: chatting and laughing with Angie Harmon, my second favorite of all the ADA chicks from Law and Order (of course Jill Hennessy’s Claire Kincaid will always come first); getting a pound from David “Boomer” Wells, my then-favorite pitcher on my dear ol’ Yanks; hearing various hiphop heads continually call Penny Marshall “Laverne” right to her face; chatting with designer Diane Von Furstenberg about Brown, my alma mater, where I’d hung out a bit with her daughter Tatiana; almost getting shoved off a crowded dais by some burly bodyguard as I was trying to make a space to chat with this chick because he mistakenly & idiotically thought I was trying to move in on his client Mariah Carey. I wasn’t bit more thinking bout Mariah than the man in the moon, wasn’t, in fact, even a fan (not like I am now, all over my Strong Island homegirl since she put out that hot ballad “We Belong Together”…So there, ya big oaf, wherever you are.) Ah, memories…misty Cristal-colored memories…of the way I was. Ha ha ha…
Bookmark This! Oh yeh…I got a bunch of emails from peeps who want to see the HUNG bookmark we were giving out at the Harlem Book Fair yesterday. Bookstores should have them later this summer or early in September. But I’ll check with Doubleday’s super marketing genius Meredith McGinnis and see if it’s possible to post a graphic of it here. If not, we’ll figure something out.