When i was a little girl, my mom used to ground me from books. No, really: when i did dumb stuff or just made my mom mad at the wrong time, i was encouraged to go outside and play...with a Wolf Ate My Grandma kind of smile. Though the great outdoors is a wonderful place, for most of my Wonder Years, i was addicted to books and music. Hence my mother's crafty punishment: deftly snatching my copy of Island of the Blue Dolphins from my tense hands, stashing my pink clock radio in the cabinet i was barred from inspecting, and pushing me toward to the door for an afternoon in the autumn sun. i am thankful that i can ride a bike, and that i often stashed books in the garage.
i am a voracious consumer of written and musical media. While others browse and dabble, i study and devour. i don't pretend to be the most discerning of readers/listeners: i've read and enjoyed the Twilight books, and recently compromised a core value in agreeing to listen to My Chemical Romance on the advice of a good friend. While i'm not likely to be named as the most profound literary critic, or astute radio listener, i relish the challenge to distill what i like about what i like, if you see what i mean. i'm opinionated and talkative (too much so, on both counts, i acknowledge), but genuinely love the exercise of grappling with what stuff means. You know. What does all this stuff of life mean to me?
After some prompting by several people i love and respect, i am joining the blog world with no real expectations, beyond enjoying the space to wax eloquent (maybe) satisfying the urging of friends. i'm probably saying that because secretly i'd love to be famous and adored for my public posts. Ah, if only!
i graduated as an English major from college and read tons of things no one has any real reason to pay attention to (see: Pamela, by Samuel Richardson), and was barred by my parents from listening to much secular music (e.g., music lacking an overt "come to Jesus" message, unless it was Lynyrd Skynyrd, in which case my dad made exceptions, 'cause you know, they did that tune about the dangers of drugs!). The classic petri dish for pushing a person toward exploration, right?
Blog goal: undetermined. i'll tell you about music and books i like, and no one is expected to care.
i subscribe to SPIN, mostly out of outdated loyalty, but sometimes appreciate the free mp3s that come my way. SPIN, like MTV long ago, has lost sight of the audience that made them culturally relevant some time ago. They moved in a jarring shift right, away from up-and-comers defining new edges to the musical game, toward mainstream artists not doing anything particularly interesting. Example: Brandon Flowers gets treated in last issue like the heir apparent to Bob Dylan. Um, the dull singer from the Killers? Lackluster, to say the least.
So, here's what i'm shocked and slightly embarrassed about this week. SPIN's latest free collection of mp3s represents artists playing at CMJ. Which is fine. One featured person is Dominique Young Unique, a favored 17-year old Art Jam newbie from Florida, whose choppy spoken rap vocals are backed by relatively boring electronic sound, despite the introduction of the surprising "Part-Time Lover" cut. That's fine too.
But Ms. D chooses to throw in an old school rap nod to homophobia, when she expresses disdain for a woman's interest in her, saying, "No homo!" Ugh. Kanye West, Lil Wayne,
