The Death of "Holla"

Goulet and Rick Rubin have a lot in common. We’ve both rekindled the career of a living legend. We also wear boxers. At least I imagine a man of Rick’s commanding girth would choose boxers over the all-too-constricting “brief.” In 1993, when Craig Mack ruled the airwaves, Rick decided that the word DEF had been co-opted by pop culture in such a way that it needed to die. So he had a funeral and laid it to rest. DEF was five years old, which is 50 colloquial years (human x 10 = colloquial years). Ask Hawking if you don’t believe me, boo.

Fast-forward 13 years and we’ve got another word that needs to die: Holla. (aka Halla, Hollaback, Challah). Holla started out in 1757 AD as a term used for a yearly gathering of Sikhs in India. Picture a Bollywood Coachella. “Where you at?” “Holla Mohalla!” This made sense, because homeboy was actually there. The term lay dormant for a few centuries, until a few peeps (careful, this one’s next) unearthed the term to add some flava (you too) to their vocabularies. Jay-Z, Biggie, Fabolous and other hip hop artists made the term ubiquitous with hip hop culture, however this time with a different meaning. While Goulet doesn’t condone yelling at people, “holla at me” was not simply a passive request to contact the solicitor. It was a plea for understanding. That’s right, hip hop has feelings, too. You remember LL’s “I Need Love?” I could get all Nelson George on you, but I’ll leave that one for Spike Lee’s next joint.

Suffice to say, “Holla” soon took on more meanings, from a form of punctuation (“My toe! Holla!”), to a seal of approval (“Me like Mike & Ike! Holla!). This is when shit started getting out of control and “Holla” began to wear out its welcome. Martha Stewart used it with Busta on some vapid MTV-VHS award show and then some skinny girl from the Valley gave the word international exposure while flanked by Harajuku dancers. Had she gone Bollywood she would have brought Holla back to its roots (sorry - unavoidable pun), but she didn’t. Have you seen a map lately? Then, just as the death bell started to toll, I was suddenly awoken by the grating sound of a nail being pounded into the colloquial coffin. Somehow, “Holla” became “Challah.” Look, Goulet is an equal-opportunity entertainer. I enjoy a nice Challah French toast with a side of Manischewitz syrup as much as a trip to Sylvia’s Uptown for catfish. However, some things were never meant to go together. Like syrup and catfish. The tipping point had been reached, and “Holla” tipped its raggedy, confused ass right into a giant bowl of Absynthe-flavored irrelevance. When it emerged, it didn’t know its name, much less where it came from. The end has arrived, and it is my duty to put “Holla” out of its befuddled misery. Off to a better place, where you can run hand-in-hand with DEF as “Beeyotch” lies in a nursing home with tubes in its nose…

“Holla,” lived a long and colorful life, name-checked by hip hop stars and homemakers, rockers and rabbis, and was used to pepper many an entry in Rene Gouet’s blog. “Holla” was 60 colloquial years old.

50 Cent to star in Hammer of the Gods

So I spoke with Senator Tang the other day. You still haven’t met him? Your bad. Just don’t mention his name if you ever find yourself hanging by your genitalia in a Thai prison. Tang tells me that a rogue group of South Korean film students are currently filming the big screen adaptation of “Hammer Of The Gods,” the unofficial Led Zeppelin biography. In case you haven’t read it, there’s a scene where the band catches a mud shark from the window of their bayside hotel in Seattle after a show, circa 1978. Like good Christian boys, they turned the shark into a rabbit, which was then used to penetrate the innocence of a very suspecting (and willing) groupie. Minnows for foreplay? Tang tells me that 50 Cent, who apparently received numerous Korean awards for his stunning portrayal of Johnny Cash, has been chosen to play the groupie. I tried to tell him that 50 wasn’t Johnny Cash, but Tang threatened to gouge out his own eyes if I didn’t acquiesce. As further evidence, he gave me this photo and recording, both taken from the infamous shark scene. When I saw the horrified expressions of Mobb Deep and heard the Deliverance homage at the end of the track, I knew Tang was right again. You go, Tang.

Check out "Whole Lotta Shark"

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Whole Lotta Shark

Music Reviews: June 2006

One-Two - Love Again (Four Music)

Frederic Beucher and Severin Tezenas Du Montcel are the French duo One-Two. True to tradition, they sing in the International Language of Love...English? Au Bon Pain!!??? Fear not, my little flower; while they do sing in English, their French accents add to the playfulness of their sunny tunes, which are devoid of gruyere-flavored pretention. I get the feeling that they speak the recently-annointed official US language with ease, however their penchant for placing the em-PHA-sis on the wrong sy-LLA-ble from time to time is all the more endearing. Touche, Les Halles. Linguistics aside, One-Two crafts deliciously edible pop tarts with just enough electronic production to hijack the sand from even the tightest bikini. Their songwriting is an unabashed nod to the 60s pop of the Beatles, Beach Boys & The Kinks, while their production follows in the footsteps of Air, Phoenix and Zoot Woman. (Stephane Briat, who produced Air and Phoenix, contributes to the record). “Blissful Boy” is straight-up Paul & John meets Brian, complete with lush harmonies and finger snaps, while “Emma Needs A Love Song” drips farfisa-fied mooginess and oozes pop perfection. On first listen, I thought of the scene from “Better Off Dead” when Layne “Wenie Man” Meyer pimps his Camaro to impress Monique, the vixen French exchange student. They cut out the scene of little Ricky sniffiing her panties, but at least his mom’s face gets blown off, no?! Ahhh...John Cusack. “Oh Yeah, Alright” takes the romper-room vibe new heights, as One-Two channels Oingo-Boingo into a frenetic beach-blanket-orgie, complete with Bea Arthur in drag. After all, they sing about “dirty socks for golden girls,” so it’s either this or an ode to Betty White’s menopause. I’m not sure, but you gotta hand it to the Frenchies.

Get these: “Blissful Boy,” Emma...,” “Oh Yeah, Alright”
Wax it if you like: Air on a speedball

Check out "Emma Needs A Love Song"

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Emma Needs A Love Song



Sam Wynch - The Lullabadeer (Down Pony)

I’m told that Sam Winch lives somewhere in Wisconsin. Then I heard something about a bowling alley outside of Philly. Doesn’t matter, because the truth is that Sam Winch is a burgeoning circus performer who is fully versed in the “Carny Code.” If you don’t know what that is, you haven’t woken up next to a bearded woman named Stingy. Hormone coctail, anyone? Those circus performers sure are wacky. Sam couldn’t throw knives or swallow fire, so he stole a guitar from a dancing monkey and learned to craft a tune. Now it seems that Sammy is all growns up and has perfected that craft. From the album’s title track, Sam sets off on a roadtrip through the nether regions of the heartland, complete with box cars, mechanical bulls and a keg full of elixir sold by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney. (Before the sex change and divorce, respectively.) A true storyteller, his songs are peppered with vivid and colorful lyrics about netless trapeze acts, black and blue eyes, bad breath, love & loss along with a take on Pachabel’s Canon. Anchored by a 10-piece band, this is the closest thing to The Last Waltz that you’re gonna get without actually pulling the the lump of coke out of Neil Young’s nose.

And in true medicinal form, a few of these nuggets served as background music for Izzy’s 36Ds in Grey’s Anatomy. Hey, it’s not like he played at the Peach Pit on 90210, but I hear that hospitals RAWWWKK!! Morphine drips all around, orderly! You know what I like most about Grey’s Anatomy? All of those cute little medical terms sandwiched in between sexually charged shenanigans? The volupuous 85-lb figure of Miss Grey? Promiscuous bedside manner with release? No, silly; it’s that feisty little Sideways girl and her ability to put a smile on my McJohnson. Ohhhh, Sandra tickle my humanity!

Get these: “The Lulabadeer,” “One Two Three,” "Julio”
Wax it if you like: The Band, Little Feat, Menudo (just checking)

Check out "One Two Three"

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One Two Three


Primal Scream - Riot City Blues (Columbia)

Bobby Gillespie, the chemically-inclined leader of the Scream, once answered a reporter by saying, “you should take some California sunshine acid, whoever you are, and find out the answer for yourself. Then tell me, because I don't fucking know." Words to live by. Always willing to wing it, I’m told that Bobby simply dips his hand into a hat box full of meds and whatever he picks serves as inspiration for the next project. Starting with “Sonic Flower Groove,” “Primal Scream” and the incredible “Screamadelica,” Bobby went from Bart Simpson acid to MX-missles; “Give Out But Don’t Give Up” and “Vanishing Point” started out with Jim Beam-laced bong hits before working its fingers over to any-given-opiate, while “XTRMNTR” and “Evil Heat” saw a new school of modern pharmacology, as Bobby combined heavy doses of microwaved horse tranquilizer with crushed ritalin. For the latest installment in Bobby’s Rite Aid fetish, he dips his hand and...wait a minute...Advil?!?! Apparently, the grinding electronic pulses of the last two records gave Bobby a headache. On “Riot,” the Scream revists the no-frills organic sound of their earlier recordings, and while little ground is broken here, it still has the potential to shake 19 yr old girls out of their new “vintage” rock tees all over the LES. Starting with “Country Girl,” Bobby swaggers through a simple, Stones-esque bluesy romp that’s catchier than a malaria wading pool. “Nitty Gritty” tries to recapture “Rocks,” (aka Get Your Rocks Off) which is like trying to catch a greased pig. A tasty one that you plan to eat, of course. And while most of “Riot...” tips its hat to the New York Dolls, glam Bowie and mid-70s Stones, tracks like ”When The Bomb Drops” (produced by Will Sergeant of Echo and the Bunnymen) and “Little Death” breathe fresh electronics into Bobby’s little pill case. Sure, he sings about priests choking on rosary beads, but he’s only kidding, right? On paper it may appear dated or sound like a Hooters record (ouch), but somehow the Scream manages to make it as refreshing as a post-gumbo Tucks pad. If it were winter, I might’ve been a bit more critical, but I’d rather not alienate girls in rock tees, especially since this record has the potential to liberate skin from unnecessary clothing all summer long. Please enjoy before Bobby grabs a bottle of Absinthe-soaked Xanax.

Get these: “Country Girl,” “When the Bomb Drops,” “Little Death”
Wax it if you like: the Stones, New York Dolls, Diamond Dogs Bowie

Check out "Country Girl"

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Country Girl


Lee “Scratch” Perry - Divine Madness Definitely! (Pressure Sounds)

When I read today that Gnarls Barkley will only be photographed dressed as movie characters, someone said, “That’s twisted.” My dear friend, you obviously don’t know Lee “Scratch” Perry. If given a chance Lee would dress like E.T. everyday with Wonder Woman underoos on the outside as if it were his destiny. One of the true innovators of Jamaican music, Lee had his hand in the evolution of reggae, most notably as the innovator of dub. Employing only a 4-track mixing board, Perry showed us what a pound of kind, sticky herb actually sounds like by dropping deep bass, reverb-drenched guitars, screaming baby samples & cosmic phasers all over the mix. He produced a ton of records (including Bob & The Wailers’ Trojan recordings), had a number of chart hits in the late 60’s & early 70’s and then started bathing in Ma Brown’s mushroom tea. That’s when shit just got weird. While in his backyard studio, the legendary Black Ark, not many people blinked an eye when he blew ganja smoke on a microphone before burying it under a palm tree to record its heartbeat. But when Lee started worshiping bananas, drinking gasoline, christening people with garden hoses and built a duck pond in his drum booth only to burn his studio to the ground, people started to wonder if he was an alien. Like a Rasta Michael Jackson of sorts. Hmmm. The early stages of Lee’s pending lunar launch are evident on “Divine Madness Definitely!” which focuses on his early productions and features rare cuts along with the dubbed-out versions that were surely inspired by terrestrial fits of Red Stripe. While back-to-back versions of the same track get a wee bit tedious, his influence can be heard in everything from the Clash (who he produced) to Massive Attack and beyond. A true mad scientist despite the absence of the crutch we call technology.

Get these: “Dub Fa Ya Rights,” “Africa Dub,” “Kingdon of Dub”
Wax it if you like: King Tubby, the Slits, early Trojan recordings

Check out "Dub For Your Rights"

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Dub For Your Rights



Hard Fi - In Operation (Atlantic/WEA)

So you want a little more dub, huh? Hard-Fi, who managed to fuse Oasis and Blur into the best Brit-Slop album of 2005 (see October 2005 review) gives us a breath of fresh air with “In Operation.” The main component is a DVD that I haven’t watched. My fear is that they’ll do something to compromise my lofty view of them. For instance, Richard Archer might have an unsightly mole or bathe in runny egg yolks for breakfast. Kind of like how Evangeline Lilly is dating the hobbit from Driveshaft on “Lost”!?!? I didn’t need to know that; it kind of ruins the show for me, although Angie needs to meet my Other. You get my point. So...I moved right over to the accompanying CD, which is - surprise! - a dub version of Hard Fi’s recent album “Stars of CCTV.” (I try to connect the dots so you don’t have to overexert your pretty little frontal lobes.) This isn’t the first time that a band from the other side of the pond has infused their music with rude boy riddims - The Clash, The Slits, Primal Scream (you go, Goulet), Stereo MCs and countless others have all fallen under an occasional dubby haze. Massive Attack released a dub remix version of the album “Protection” (entitled “No Protection”), however this is the first time I’ve heard of a band making such a departure from their original sound, nonetheless as an entire dub remix concept. I shouldn’t work, but somehow this record is pretty damn sinister. Sinister like the bad guy you love to hate. The production is so tasty that I can almost hear Lee “Scratch” Perry digging through the ground to bury Richard’s microphone. Peppered with his reverb-drenched vocal textures, deep, droning bass, blunted horns and a bombardment of analog keyboard tweaks & bleeps, this is a great modern dub record. All of the tracks are laced together seamlessly, anchored by the spooky, uptighty version of “Cash Machine,” the rocking cover of “Seven Nation Army,” and mooged-out “Dubbed Up Too Tight.” Get this record and you will get lifted.

Get these: “Dubbed Up Too Tight,” “Seven Nation Army,” “Dub of CCTV”
Wax it if you like: Mad Professor, Scientist, Dub Sound System

Check out "Seven Nation Army"

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Seven Nation Army


Action Action - An Army of Shapes Between Wars (Victory Records)

The marketing sticker states that this CD is “for fans of Depeche Mode, Interpol, The Faint and The Killers.” Wow - they’re just setting themselves up for comparisons, no? They should’ve thrown in The Bravery to round it out. The problem is that Action Action can’t seem to decide what kind of band they want to be, so they end up sounding like everyone else. This is not to say that the record is a wash. When they remove the unnecessary layers of electronic noodling that may (or may not) evoke the above artists, a few of the songs are quite catchy (“A Tornado/An Owl,” “The Game”). But it’s still difficult to figure out how a dude from Long Island can adopt a lazy 80’s Morissey-meets-Thom-Yorke-tinged British accent. I guess it has something to do with Thomas Friedman’s contention that the world is flat... Besides the lack of originality and dull lyrical content, perhaps the most puzzling part of the CD is “120 Ways To Kill You.” It’s actually an embarrassingly sappy love song, but what’s up with the title? I’m beginning to think that this dude spent too much time in the underground parking lot at Nassau Colliseum. Hint: if you want to get the girl back, you probably shouldn’t kill her. 120 ways, nonetheless. Not very sexy. But before they head back to Strong Island, I've picked out Action's best Oasis impersonation for you to check out... J-E-T-S, Jets Jets Jets.

Wax it if you like: following instructions on the sticker...

Check out "The Game"

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The Game