We interrupt our moratorium on mindless celebrity news, because hey, I could use a laugh.
Much ado about nothing was made after Seattle Seahawks cornerback Richard Sherman went ham and scared a year off life out of sideline reporter Erin Andrews after making the play of the game that beat the San Francisco 49ers (sob) and sent his team to Super Bowl 48.
Sherman’s post-game rant ignited a Twitter firestorm where a lot of folks called him a “thug,” something he is far from being.
Sherman is a big, Black dude with dreads who looks like the Predator, but he’s not an idiot. He only sounded like one.
Now Justin Bieber…THIS is a “thug,” playa.
A night after dropping $75,000 at a Miami strip club celebrating Martin Luther King Day, pop singer and wannabee thug Justin Bieber, 19 was busted for drag racing, driving with an expired license and resisting arrest. Bieber’s Lamborghini was doing 55-60 in a 30 mph zone.
The arrest report is the funniest read I’ve had this week.
I CAUGHT UP TO THE YELLOW LAMBORGINI AND INITIATED A TRAFFIC STOP AT THE 300 BLK OF 41ST. I APPROACHED THE VEHICLE ON THE DRIVER SIDE. I ASKED THE DRIVER TO PLACE THE VEHICLE IN PARK. AT THIS TIME, THE DRIVER. BEGAN TO STATE:“WHY DID YOU STOP ME”.
I EXPLAINED TO THE DRIVER THAT HE WAS STOPPED BECAUSE HE WAS DRAG RACING WITH THE OTHER LAMBORGINI. I IMMEDIATELY SMELLED AN ODOR OF ALCOHOL EMINATING FROM THE DRIVERS BREATH AND BLOODSHOT EYES. THE DRIVER HAD SLOW DELIBERATE MOVEMENTS AND A STUPER LOOK ON HIS FACE. THESE ARE ALL INDICATORS OF AN IMPAIRED DRIVER. I ASKED THE DRIVER TO EXIT THE VEHICLE TO CONTINUE MY INVESTIGATION OF A POSSIBLE IMPAIRED DRIVER. THE DRIVER STATED:” WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS”?
FINALLY, THE DRIVER EXITED THE VEHICLE AS HE KEPT GOING INTO HIS PANTS POCKETS. I ASKED THE DRIVER TO NOT GO INTO HIS POCKETS FOR MY SAFETY AND HIS. FEARING THAT THE DRIVER MIGHT HAVE A WEAPON OR CONTRABAND, I ASKED THE DRIVER TO PLACE HIS HANDS ON HIS VEHICLE IN ORDER TO FACILITATE A CURSORY PATDOWN FOR WEAPONS. THE DRIVER STATED:“WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO, WHY DID YOU STOP ME.”
AGAIN I ASKED THE DRIVER TO PLACE HIS HANDS ON HIS VEHICLE. THE DRIVER COMPLIED BUT TOOK HIS HANDS OFF THE VEHICLE SOON AFTER AND TURNED AROUND TO FACE ME. AGAIN I ASKED THE DRIVER TO NOT TAKE HIS HANDS OFF HIS CAR AND TO LOOK FORWARD BECAUSE I WAS GOING TO PERFORM A CURSORY PATDOWN. THE DRIVER STATED:“I AINT GOT NO FUCKING WEAPONS, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SEARCH ME,WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT?”
I ADVISED THE DRIVER THAT IF HE CONTINUED TO TAKE HIS HANDS OFF HIS VEHICLE, HE WOULD BE SUBJECT TO ARREST. THE DRIVER AGAIN TURNED AROUND TO FACE ME. AT THIS TIME, I GRABBED HIS RIGHT HAND AND STATED TO HIM THAT HE WAS UNDER ARREST. THE DRIVER BEGAN TO RESIST ME BY PULLING HIS RIGHT ARM AWAY AS HE STATED:“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING”.
I ADVISED THE DRIVER NOT TO RESIST AND WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF OFC. MOLINA ID# 064 AND OFC. SOCARRAS#501 , WE PLACED HIM INTO CUSTODY WITH NO FURTHER INCIDENT. THE DEF.WAS TRANSPORTED TO THE MIAMI BEACH POLICE DEPARTMENT BY OFFICER DIONNE. WHILE EN ROUTE TO THE STATION, DEF INQUIRED AS TO WHY HE’D BEEN ARRESTED. OFFICER DIONNE ADVISED HIM THAT HE BELIEVED HE WAS IMPAIRED. DEF ADVISED THAT HE WAS NOT DRUNK, AND THAT HE WAS COMING BACK FROM RECORDING MUSIC AT A STUDIO.
ONCE AT THE MBPD HOLDING FACILITY, OFFICER DIONNE OBSERVED DEF TO HAVE A FLUSHED FACE, BLOODSHOT EYES, AND THE ODOR OF AN ALC. BEV. ON HIS BREATH. DEF WAS OFFERED SFSTs ON A FLAT, DRY, SMOOTH, AND WELL LIT SURFACE (SEE DUI TEST REPORT FOR RESULTS). DEF DID NOT PERFORM TO STANDARDS. DEF LATER AGREED TO A BREATH TEST AS WELL AS A DRUG EVALUATION. IT WAS ALSO LEARNED THAT THE DEF. HAS AN EXPIRED GEORGIA DRIVERS LICENSE (06/24/2013). CHARGE ADDED.
As a foreign national, (Bieber is from Canada) who is spreading terror, chaos and shitty music in America, I am calling my congressman to demand the Beeb be immediately kicked out of this country as an undesirable element.
Let’s expand the definition of “thug” beyond the stereotype of scary Black men yelling in cameras to include disrespectful, entitled, little punks like Bieber who think the world should be kissing his sorry ass because he’s rich, White and privileged far beyond his minimal talent and meager accomplishments.
I don’t know what shocks me more. That nearly everyone I know is talking about Miley Fucking Cyrus or that someone had the balls to ask me where was my blog post about Miley Fucking Cyrus.
Never let it be said I ignore my public. Usually I do, but this is me making an exception.
We are truly in the dog-shit days of summer.
Personally, I don’t agree there was anything racist in Cyrus’ (ha-ha) “performance.” It was just an aged-out teen looking for a way to shock and awe the folks at home who have never ever never seen a young woman shake her naughty bits in such a lewd and lascivious fashion and probably fainted dead away at the sight of sweet and innocent Hannah Montana’s FLAT ASS all up in their face.
Racist? No. Nauseating? Definitely. Great publicity? Certainly.
Twerking is just a dumb way of dirty dancing. Go to a strip club and you’ll find strippers that have shaken their hind parts for years before Miley Fucking Cyrus learned about this mysterious Negro dance style. If being prim and demure were all it took to get over, Cyrus would do that. She tried that so now she’s sticking her tongue out, wiggling her non-butt, and desperately trying to hide her total absence of musical talent beyond Disney tunes.
Nobody has walked up to Miley Fucking Cyrus and told her she can’t dance that way. But somebody should because she looks like a hot-ass mess.
“We Can’t Stop?” TRY.
I long for the good ol’ days when old Madonna sticking her tongue down Brittney Spears‘ throat was considered outrageous.
Wait. No I don’t.
What’s lame is biting off a culture you don’t know shit about and then going on a video music award show on a channel that barely shows video music worthy of awarding and showing the entire world just how little talent you actually have.
Not to make this a racial thing (though it is), but from Negro spirituals to the blues to jazz to rock n’ roll to soul music to rap to hip-hop, Whites have always imitated, adapted or flat-out stolen from Black artists. Pat Boone is one of the most egregious offenders and few dispute his cultural thievery, but throw in Elvis, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Michael Bolton, Vanilla Ice among other musical thieves, and don’t stop until you get Miley Cyrus “twerking” her non-existent ass.
As long as there’s been American music and a Negro making it, there’s been a White person who’s figured out how to cash in on it. As Col. Tom Parker, Elvis’ manager observed, “If I could find a white man who had the Negro sound and the Negro feel, I could make a billion dollars.”
But I’m gonna ease up off Miley Fucking Cyrus. She can’t sing. She can’t dance. She sure can’t twerk. About all she does do well is stick her tongue out. Ooooh. Lookit at me! I’m nasty! Don’t you think I’m nasty? Nasty girls stick their tongue out. Lookit! I’m doing it again! I am such a nasty girl. I’m not Hannah. I’m Miley and I’m NAAAASSSSSSSTY!
One rarely witnesses such a public act of self-humiliation. Poor thing. She needs to come back when she hits puberty because looking at what she calls a “body” and that poor girl got cheated.
We should cut Cyrus some slack for her overt lack of rhythm. And soul. And talent. But that thing with the tongue is working my last good nerve and if she keeps sticking it out somebody is going…well…somebody is gonna DO something to her and that dirty, nasty, bad, filth-flarn-filthy mouth of hers!
What I’m dreading is I know in a week or so, there’s gonna be a new exercise infomercial airing at 3:00 in the morning where some washed-up Z-list, “celebrity” will breathlessly claim to have lost 20 lbs not through sit-ups or diets, but by twerking!
“Hi! I’m Gary Busey, star of stage, screen, television and the L.A.P.D. drunk tank, and I lost 30 lbs of ugly fat by twerking! The hell with Zoomba. Let’s TWERK!”
At that point I will gouge out my eyes with a rusty spoon. I will be blind and it will all be Miley Fucking Cyrus’ fault.
By the way, don’t waste your time complaining to me, “Hey, you’re being sexist because you’re talking about her butt!” Hey, I’m not the one who went out in public dressed like an undernourished hooker with two sore left feet. Blame her, not me. I didn’t dress her and apparently nobody else did either.
- VIDEO: Now We Know Why Miley Cyrus Was “Twerking” During Her VMA Performance (new102.cbslocal.com)
- 12 Animals That Can Twerk Better Than Miley Cyrus [GIFS] (coed.com)
- Miley Cyrus Twerking On Beetlejuice Is The Best VMA Miley Twerk Photoshop Job Yet (PHOTO) (buzzworthy.mtv.com)
Living in a celebrity-obsessed culture means you will be exposed to saturation coverage with around the clock updates of every move our best and brightest stars make and every breath they take. Whether or not we are interested or care about the celebrity is not the point. We are supposed to care. We are supposed to crave fresh results to process, constant communication and breathless bulletins of what our stars are up to. God isn’t dead. He just needs a better publicist and a Twitter feed.
Which brings me to my point. This is Beyonce’s World and could someone slow it down? I’d like to get off.
I can’t be the only person in North America who is sick and tired of All Things Beyonce.
When I say “I don’t like Beyonce” I’m not saying I don’t like her music. She’s a perfectly capable vocalist. When she doesn’t bleach her hair too blonde, she’s quite attractive. She’s a reasonably good dancer, she has a rockin’ body, and even though Jay-Z isn’t much to look at, I give her a lot of respect for being married to a Black man.
But can a brother get a break from the Beyonce News Network? Everything this woman does is not newsworthy. Yes, I know that’s blasphemy. Come get some if you don’t like it.
Beyonce and Jay-Z Go to Cuba. Conservatives Lose Their Minds. Sun rises the next day. World keeps turning.
Beyonce releases diss track telling her haters to “Bow Down Bitches.” You don’t say?
Beyonce sings at Obama’s inauguration and gets busted for lip synching. Surprised?
Beyonce reunites with Destiny’s Child at The Super Bowl and makes Kelly and Michelle sing one of her songs!
Beyonce named one of TIME’s 100 most influential people in the world. Because she’s a diva. And that makes her influential. So there!
Beyonce bans photographers from her tour. Because they took photographs of her that were unflattering. We only want flattering photos of Bey out there.
I’m not one of those old men who spending his 50’s dumping on entertainment that was never designed with me in mind. Justin Bieber, Scandal, Lena Dunham, Nikki Minaj, reality TV, Mad Men, Game of Thrones,
I still don’t need Beyonce all up in my face ALL the time. Even beauty can be boring as hell.
I think Bey deserves a vacation. She deserves one. She’s earned it. She should take it. She should take pity on the world and allow it to focus on acts of terrorism, wars, economic calamity, natural disasters, political machinations, and other mundane stuff for a while. Every fascinating detail of her fabulous life can go unshared and almost no one will care. Well, except Bossip, Media Take-Out, Perez Hilton and a million other Internet web sites that feed on these tidbits of trivial b.s. like a newborn calf suckling on its mama’s teat, but who gives a crap about them?
Beyonce is the 8th Wonder of the World. It will do us all good if she would go away for a week or two or 26 and allow the world to wonder about her.
- Beyoncé Gives Birth and Pisses off A Lot of People (everydayfamily.com)
- Beyoncé’s not a bad role model. Feminists should give her a break | Caperton Gillett (guardian.co.uk)
- Girl Fight: Keyshia Cole vs. Beyonce (tylatimes.com)
- TV: Other Shows: Beyonce: Life Is But A Dream (avclub.com)
When you’ve been invited to perform for the President of the United States, turned heads as the bass-playing beauty in the Academy Awards house band, toured with Prince and beat out teen dream Justin Bieber for the Grammy Award for Best New Artist, you’re having a very good run in the spotlight—and it could turn your head.
From time-to-time an artist gets dubbed as the new savior of jazz. Usually this title is handed out by publications with only a cursory interest in jazz. It’s possible Spalding neither sought nor seeks the responsibility, but with success comes expectation and the expectation is that Radio Music Society, Spalding’s fourth album and her first since her Grammy upset, will be popular in a way few jazz albums have, at least since since guitarist George Benson and saxophonist Kenny G were at their commercial peaks.
The problem with Radio Music Society is it’s only okay as jazz and is tentative as pop music. Spalding is a musician, songwriter, lyricist, arranger and producer and while she does all of this adequately, she does none of it spectacularly.
Everything that has ever been wrong with Spalding is still wrong on Radio Music Society. She’s competent on bass without being exceptional. Her voice is thin and her range limited. The earnestness of her lyrics is overcome by the lumpiness in the delivery. For an album polished and created with maximum airplay in mind, Radio Music Society is noticeably missing a key component of successful pop music: a killer hook. There are multiple vocalists, a choir, a huge horn section, strings, drummers and rappers all over this sprawling record, yet Spalding’s arrangements are sparse and lacking in energy.
“I Can’t Help It,” a Stevie Wonder composition that was performed by Michael Jackson and produced by Quincy Jones for Jackson’s Off the Wall (Epic, 1979,) was then a sweet and soulful little slice of pop heaven livened by Jackson’s energy and affinity for the material. By contrast, Spalding just plows through with an indifferent interpretation that squanders a tenor saxophone solo by Joe Lovano.
Much more successful is “Black Gold,” the stand-out which is an ode to black youth remaining positive in the face of criticism and skepticism. It features an effective duet between Spalding and Algebra Blessett’s stronger vocal abilities. Despite a meandering conclusion, it’s a pretty lead-off single that will doubtlessly play well with younger listeners attuned to Spalding’s neo-soul stylings. “Cinnamon Tree” benefits from Olivia DePrato and Jody Rednage on violin and cello respectively and a soaring guitar solo from Jef Lee Johnson.
Those that bother reading liner notes will notice the familiar names of veterans such as Lovano, Terri Lyne Carrington, Billy Hart and Jack De Johnette as well as vocal contributions from Lalah Hathaway and Leni Stern and assume there will be enough serious jazz to offset the pop aspirations. They may be taken aback once they hear the clunky and heavy-handed environmental message in the lyrics Spalding penned for Wayne Shorter’s “Endangered Species.”
Radio Music Society is Spalding’s first all vocals/no instrumentals record and was conceived with maximum airplay in mind as the first track, “Radio Song,” practically declares. For those digging on Spalding’s girlish but limited range, they know exactly what to expect; but clocking in at over six minutes in length, wafer-thin vocals, knotty shifts in tone, and lacking a chorus to sing along with, “Radio Song” isn’t likely to give Adele anything to worry about when it comes to airplay supremacy.
Two years after its release, Chamber Music Society (Telarc, 2010) was still riding high as the sixth best-selling album on Billboard’s 2011 jazz chart and there is no reason to think the more overtly commercial Radio Music Society won’t perform even better. Despite the fact that it’s unfocused, messy and seems to go on longer than its nearly hour long playing time, this will easily be the biggest jazz album of 2012 (which is absolutely not the same as saying it is the best jazz album of 2012).
The deluxe edition includes a DVD with 11 videos (only “Endangered Species” doesn’t receive one). It’s a mixed bag because the songs that don’t really work on the CD, like “Vague Suspicions,” don’t work any better because there’s a visual to go along with the audio. Spalding is pretty, but she’s not a convincing actress and some of the story ideas are corny, embarrassing or both. The DVD includes bonus material including a 16-minute “making of” the videos.
Radio Music Society aims high and when it succeeds it achieves its ambitious, audacious agenda. A lot of this hinges on Spalding’s big goals, big talent and big hair. She is till a work in progress and even when her ambitions exceed her accomplishments Spalding is still one of the most interesting artists working today. It remains to be seen if she’s really “the One” or the latest in a long list of would-be jazz “saviors.”
Not that jazz necessarily needs one. All the genre needs is exposure, airplay and some respect. Jazz has had supposed saviors before. Kenny G.’s snooze saxophone and Wynton Marsalis’ straight ahead approach taking jazz back to the roots were both hailed as “gateway artists” whose success would surely draw new listeners to jazz. Has it really worked out that way? It’s possible, but it doesn’t seem like its worked out that way.
This review originally appeared at All About Jazz.com
Even though I’m not the biggest Esperanza Spalding fan in the world, I’ve got to give girlfriend some love. Nobody expected some bass-player with a big ass Afro to beat out this year’s boy toy, Justin Bieber, for the Best New Artist Grammy, but that’s exactly what she did. Whenever the underdog beats out the top dog, that’s worth noting.
Facebook and Twitter blew up with people wishing her well, posting links to her videos and just generally celebrating the sister’s upset victory. And I’ll bet percent of them have no idea who the hell Esperanza Spalding is. If you could turn those congratulations into actual sales of her albums, she’d really have something to be happy about.
What’s been funny and simultaneously embarrassing to see how many Black people are ignorant of jazz and blues, but can hum every note of the latest Justin Bieber joint.
Like Nikki Giovanni said, “Ain’t we got NO shame?” When more White folks are hip to jazz than the people who invented the genre in favor of some punk kid with a bad haircut fronted by Usher, it’s time for some mandatory remedial instruction in W.C. Handy, Jelly Roll Morton and Edward Kennedy Ellington, bitches!
I was talking to a woman who owns a really nice local jazz nightclub. She put a post on Facebook asking people if they could have any act, living or dead, play the club, who would they want to see? The answers included the likes of Prince, Sade, Michael Jackson, Bryan McKnight to play a 250 seat club. I was like, c’mon people! Gimme a break! The lady sent me a message that she has to book acts with singers or she can’t get a decent turn out. How pathetic is that? If Herbie Hancock came to town would he have to start “singing” through a vocoder or do an extended version of “Rockit” before folks would show up? That is sad, sad, sad.
I have two teenagers, one about to turn 21 and the other 17 in a matter of months, who have no interest in jazz music. It’s as mysterious and as exotic to them as the Dead Sea Scrolls. They know about Kanye and Ludacris and Beyoncé. They don’t know jack about Miles and Nat and Ella.
There was a Bieber Backlash as some asshole fans crashed Spalding’s website, trashed her Wikipedia entry with death threats “YOU SHOULD GO DIE IN A HOLE…WHO THE HECK ARE YOU ANYWHERE” one fanatic posted in all-caps and accused the jazz bassist of “stealing” the award from Bieber.
The wrath of pimply, pissed-off, prepubescent girls under the influence of Bieber Fever is a force not to be underestimated. Boo-fucking-hoo, ladies. Your idol’s got a crappy 3-D movie stinking up the theaters. Go watch that and have a good cry. That’s show biz, kids.
Ah well, maybe it’s not so important as to shrug off whether Esperanza deserves the big push (“The brightest star on the jazz horizon?” Please.) she’s getting as it is to applaud her providing what President Obama likes to call, “a teachable moment.” I’d hate to think all my jazz albums might as well be burnt up right along with me when I kick off and they toast me up in the crematorium. If Spalding’s success turns a few inquiring minds on to jazz, that’s not a bad thing.
So what if she doesn’t have a feature film or isn’t dampening the panties of 13-year old girls? Justin Bieber never got a round of applause from the President of the United States. It all evens out eventually.