Le1f goes “Boom.” Viddy it now, droogs.
Archive for the Music Category
Renegade Soundwave was a techno-electronic-melange of beats, poetry, beats, and more beats. Led by Gary Asquith, with RS, there wouldn’t be any music at all today. Really; there would just be static on your Pandora.
Over 20 years after their classic tune, “Probably a Robbery,” was released, Mr. Asquith birthed a new version of the song, which you may enjoy here. It’s from 2012, but there will always be “style in his accounts.”
Ah, Michael Hutchence. The late lead singer of the Australian group, INXS, met an all-too-early end via suicide at age 37, in 1997.
Here’s their 1990 hit, “Suicide Blonde.” Enjoy…and aim higher.
Their fans have been labeled a “gang” by no less than the FBI. I can only be referring to one music group: Detroit’s own, Insane Clown Posse.
Together for more than 20 years, Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent Jay have basically been rapping “horror movies.” What is acceptable in the genre of film suddenly becomes a threat to National Security when two guys in clown makeup sing.
Try to plan your next vacation around the Gathering of the Juggalos and enjoy “Chuck.”
The legendary Gary Numan is still going strong today. From leading the Tubeway Army to the classic, mega-hit, “Cars,” Numan pioneered an entire genre of “industrial music.”
Here’s Gary doing the best version of “Are Friends Electric?” you’ve ever seen.
Sir Tom Jones, the greatest Welshman since Richard, Lord Burton, performing “Sex Bomb.” Uncle Tom doesn’t deliver his bombs via drone–it’s up close and personal in this video.
Eich bod yn croesawu.
“Venus in Furs,” by the Velvet Underground. No need to thank me now. Thank me later.
There’s so much “wrong” in this video: men on bicycles singing with each other; Spandex; bicycle helmets; and the seemingly frigid English countryside. However, all is “right” with the Style Council. Paul Weller is a songwriting genius, and as far as I know, he prefers a tandem bike with a lady on the back. Grab your vintage Raleigh and enjoy!
Wyclef Jean gives us his autumn plans in a melodious format.
New York City in the early-1980s: if you didn’t live there…well, you just missed-out on a whole lot. From the puffy Afros of Harlem to the payos of the Lower East Side, Madhattan truly was a melting-pot. The very thing that made NYC great also made it smell: of falafel; of knishes; of garbage (lots of strikes back then); and of change.
Yet, to open our eyes to this “change,” it took a Jew from England. Equipped with a singular sense of style, schmaltz, brilliance, and sheer talent, Malcolm McLaren gave the world the Sex Pistols. As if that wasn’t enough, McLaren helped his partner, Vivienne Westwood, to the top of the fashion mount. A proven, successful, “Renaissance Man” if there ever was one, McLaren went from “fathering” punk music to the jump-roping scene of Harlem in 1983.
Nut-hugger shorts, white socks up to the knees, and beautiful smiles to match–these young ladies do the Double Dutch as Malcolm raps. Thirty years ago, mind you. Did Malcolm turn millions of white people on to “rap” in ’83? You betcha–especially in his native Britain. In fact, years before, McLaren “borrowed” the New York Dolls proto-punk look and attitude and the SPs were born.
Alas, Malcolm passed a few years ago; he’s free to argue with Sid Vicious now, but unable to turn the world on to new genres in music and fashion. Enjoy.