Love Is The Drug, And I Need To Score

Did ya miss me?

Yes, yes, I’ve been slacking on my Friday Night Strobe Lights.

So I’m here to make it up for you…really, for myself because I’m in a mood for some Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music.

This is the first song I heard by Roxy Music and I felt like I was thrust into a glamorous world of 1970s excess with hints of 60’s yesteryear and what society thought the 1980’s would be.

Does that make sense?

I’m tired.

But Roxy Music channeled the decade prior and the decade coming with elements of their contemporaries. It just made sense. They fit, and this time was meant for them.

And again, Bryan Ferry? The amount of class this guy possesses — these kids now could learn a thing or two:

Bryan Ferry

Bryan Ferry

I first heard of Bryan Ferry when I watched the film “Velvet Goldmine”. I had a nasty crush was a huge fan of Ewan McGregor’s, and I saw some of Jonathan Rhys-Meyers work, in which I developed a strong appreciation for his work. He was really a talented young fellow before he exposed the world to how he is a racist drunktard who is on permanent vacation in crazytown (it’s in the eyes! I should have known!).

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Stare so hard, I feel like that muthaeffers trying to find me! That shi- cray.

If you’re unfamiliar with the film, it is loosely based on the relationship (working, and otherwise…) between Iggy Pop and David Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust era, particularly during the advent of British Glam rock. In addition, it showcased how that counterculture affected the generation of the time, specifically a young man portrayed by an even younger Christian Bale. That was his first adult role that I saw him in, from which also lead me to respect his development as an actor.

As for Roxy Music, I didn’t immediately jump right into listening to Roxy Music, but I never forgot the name. I remember hearing them on the radio a few years later by sheer accident. From that moment, I was hooked.

Anyway, I’m keeping it short tonight. Please enjoy my first and favorite track by Roxy Music (okay, top five. It’s hard to choose) :

Love Is The Drug

Miami: Where Vacations Go To Die

Yes, my friends, I’ve been away.

I apologize for the radio silence, which was due to a semi-torturous vacation in Miami.

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In the meantime – here is my review of my vacation, courtesy of Trip Advisor.

Please enjoy.

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Fontainebleau deserves no stars because that is how poor the service is. But unfortunately, I’ve been forced to submit a rating. Whatever beyond terrible, atrocious and wretched is, this hotel fits that. However, if you have a strong desire to feel like a background video vixen, then this is the place for you.

First, we were greeted with a toilet full of fecal matter. Right when we checked in. We called housekeeping — apparently, that is normal in hotel rooms that are supposed to be clean. When we called housekeeping, we were hung up on. Called back, inquired about the disconnection — the dispatcher was beyond rude. We told her about our situation — and also requested towels. Took two hours. TWO HOURS. Now, this is not the fault of the ONE person they have (and I’m sure they can afford to have another person working) to clean. And the fact that the housekeeper was disgusted at what we found in our toilet — that’s a problem.

Now, we did talk to the head of housekeeping and she was incredibly helpful, however, the message didn’t get through to the dispatchers because they continued to be rude and hang up on us again when we made requests for towels, for the toilet to be cleaned, and just general cleanliness — which is something that is not a common practice at this hotel.

I guess the European water and chocolates were supposed to appease our travel woes. It was four days of non-stop torture. Then, they didn’t want to bother to give my parents a late checkout. One extra hour is supposedly going to be a giant financial burden to the hotel.

NEXT, the hotel security? I’m not sure what their purpose is for being there. I had a man harass me while watching the Heat game — I informed the security at the bar, and next thing I know — the security guard is yukking it up in the corner with the man. I was asked to leave — when this man invaded my space and was pushing me out of the way to watch the game in a spot that I had been standing in for over an hour. So, I get cursed out and spit on by a drunkard, and I have three witnesses to this situation — and he’s not escorted out, but I am forced to move? Yes, makes total sense.

NEXT, 11.00 for two cups of coffee?! COFFEE! why is fresh squeezed orange juice 8.00? I went to a juice bar and it wasn’t even that expensive. There is a fee for everything. Even the late checkout — a charge for every thirty minutes. You guys make money off the bar on a Friday night alone. Seriously?

Taxi drivers got into an argument while we were trying to catch a ride to the hotel. However, the valets were nice.

I see what kind of clientele you offer your best service to, and it is very obvious that it’s not for people who are well versed in travel. My money means nothing to you. And that is fine, because I will not be wasting any more money or time here. Both are too valuable.

Best part of this trip was when I saw the hotel in the taxi rear view mirror. It confirmed that I was going home and that the nightmare was over.

Never again.

Don Juan De-Failure

After my brief stint at the branch I was transferred to, I thought that I was going to be safe from the usual McCreepsters and Fauxtharios that try to — well, not court me — but whatever the opposite of courting is, that’s what they’re doing.

It’s a family oriented community, with a heavily immigrant population, so many of them, again, are tight-knit families that hold on to the their culture in this strange and confusing nation that is known as the United States.

WELL, of course, SOMEONE had to prove me wrong.

Of course it wasn't Joseph Gordon-Levitt. If it was, I wouldn't be complaining. I'm sure i could at least carry on a conversation with him. His age is also not creeptastic.

Of course it wasn’t Joseph Gordon-Levitt. If it was, I wouldn’t be complaining. I’m sure i could at least carry on a conversation with him. His age is also not creeptastic.

He came in a couple of weeks ago, and I could tell he was eye-screwing me from my seat that sits nary a four feet off the ground (no cleavage that day, so I’m not sure what he may have caught that sparked interest). He said some things that alarmed me that I’ve since blocked out, but one part of his behaviour that I DID notice was him trying to make his balls drop further than God will allow by making his voice sextra deep and smooth. Yes, I just thought of sextra, because that is how hard he was trying. I thought he was going to choke (damn!). He tried to use his card and had a massive fine. Didn’t seem like he wanted to pay, so I thought that he finally left and I’d never see him again.

Wrong’em Boyo!

Yesterday, he comes straight to me (fuck!) and wants to pay up his fine. I pull up his account and announce the amount he owes. He gladly pays for it. I process the transaction at the register, and print out his receipt.

“You forgot something”

*Insert black woman’s vocal crescendo here*

Telling ME how to do MY JOB?

“No, I did not.”

(third testicle drops) “You forgot to put your number on the back of this so I can take you for lunch.”

Pause.
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FIRST of all, this is not a Schliz Malt Liquor Commercial, nor is it 1987 (though sometimes I wish it would be…). It’s 20EFFIN13! If you’re going to hit on someone that is younger than you, and very much clearly not your age —  at least try some new shit. Not something that I would hear on some craptastical “Up All Night” flick on USA from the 80s and 90s.

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I don’t know how I got away with watching that. Duckman, maybe?

DISCLAIMER: The following re-enactment of the remaining event can only be explained by the Divine Ms. Retta (aka Donna Meagle on Parks and Rec)

                                                                   “AhAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAH.”

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“No.”tumblr_mm6qkoY63o1qhub34o4_r1_250

“I’m good, thanks”

(those are both of my responses. This is not an exaggeration)

Keep that shit for people in your age group, bruh!

And what happened to people trying to get to know you first before agreeing to meet them for dinner? Ask me my name. Where I’m from. General information that you can use to stalk me on Google or Facebook. But please, don’t just assume that I’d want to attend or accompany you to dinner because you were able to whip out 50 plus dollars casually to PAY A DEBT. The beauty of that invitation will only be swooned over if I’ve developed something mutual after having spoken with you for more than 10 seconds.

Now, I’m not opposed to dating someone who is older than me. HOWEVER, if you look like you could have attended primary school with my parents (neither my mother of father have aged…) then maybe we shouldn’t be talking.

I know people say that you attract what you put out there, but I don’t understand how I get hit on by Billy Dee Williams’ bastard son, a lost child of the Manson Family who drives around a mini-van (but has no kids!), Thugs.  Just Thugs. Guys who are two years younger than me and consider me an “older woman”, and you know, people who don’t have any future plans, but expect me to take care of them. Oh, and the one that has to tell me EVERY.TIME. that I remind him of his baby’s mama. If that’s the case, get back with her! And stop bringing in your kid so that I can see how much we DON’T resemble each other. Kthanx.

How me, as a working woman, trying to do better, not lacking in a sharp amount of intelligence (and can always use more…), who speaks eloquently despite the amalgamation of accents (Guyanese, Grenadian, Queens, Southern – blame my parents), a bohemian spirit that mixes funk, punk, and class in my wardrobe and way of life. Yet, I have all of these Fauxtharios lusting after me? I had someone tell me recently that when they see me, they know what they’re getting…so they don’t understand why I attract the individuals that I do, or why I haven’t attracted anyone at all.

Me either.

Yes, I may be endowed in the rear and bust, and — apparently killer legs (?) — until the mosquitoes ravage them, among other places, but I look healthy and don’t show it off. What is it that brings me the most undesirable and delusional individuals? Why do they believe I am busting at the seams with an unstoppable desire to be whisked away in their windowless (but well decorated interior. It has cable. No, I haven’t considered it) child abduction van to spend a lifetime together?

How can I escape this? Do I start dressing like a whore to averse the effects?

Or I guess I will just wait until the one shows up…whoever that may be. But hurry up, whoever it is. I need kids to drop off to mum and dad to keep ’em occupado.

Quality applicants only.

That Awkward Moment When… #404

You’re cruising down the street with the windows open, music blaring to one of your favorite jams.

The song transitions to another classic tune. However, there is a slight moment of confusion from those you’re passing by.

You know that you’re listening to this:

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But people actually think that you’re jamming to this:

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And you turn down your radio in swift increments and speed away to avoid any further embarrassment and/or confusion, no longer diminishing the cool factor  that was in your possession for such a fleeting moment.

That Awkward Moment When…#323

When someone is preparing food to serve, and they stop and talk to you.

During that conversation, you cannot help but stop breathing and tensing your entire body up because you notice something.

You notice a lonely piece of dried snot wafting in and out of that nostril, begging for escape amongst the cilia that keeps it trapped, never wanting to let it go. You want it to be freed, but not on the food, and not in your mouth. So you keep it shut and just nod “yes”, “no” pursing your lips “mhmmm!” – careful to not aggravate it with any sudden movement so that any part of THAT being doesn’t become a new inhabitant of YOUR being.

Not listening to anything your partner is saying, they almost leave to start re-preparing the food and utensils. You stop them and warn them of the possible infraction that could make or brake a meal.

The Flight of the Boogerator (Like Flight of the Navigator. Work with me, folks)

Embarrassed, they clean their nose (not in the restroom! AHHH!!!!!! – but at least they used tissue). Didn’t see or hear handwashing.

Later food was offered. All I could think of was how many more might have escaped before I caught that one trying to?

Though, I do feel proud. I saved many lives that day. Including my own.

Which reminds me…

Yes, this was an actual candy that was sold the children.

WHO THE FARK thought that this was a great idea? Boogers candy? The one thing that Nickelodeon got wrong when picking up advertisers. The announcer (on Guts, Legends of Hidden Temple, whichever one…) advertised this, I always turned. Just nasty. He sounded like a guy from Jersey trying to give you a hard sell on some hot property that he knows is no good and has to push in a 24 hours before his life is over.

We’re Gonna Set Fire To The Whole Damn World

You’re getting another triple shot of the Saturday Night Safety Dance.

Marc Almond.

What can I say?

Another underrated vocalist and lyricist. He was always a smart lyricist, but “Tainted Love” did not show his prowess as a singer. Almond does these amazing things with his voice that I am unable to explain. He’s torchy, chantuese-y, but channels the soul, jazz, and a bit of country (in regards to his duet with Gene Pitney – “Something’s Got A Hold of My Heart”) music influence that is very apparent in his styling. You can dance and have intelligent thoughts running through your head with his tunes. That doesn’t happen much in today’s music anymore. 😦

Bronski Beat – no no one can ever replace Jimmy Sommerville, his voice was also too damn distinctive and paired gorgeously with their music. But when Sommerville left to form The Communards, that left a perfectly fit space for the beast that is John Foster to step in and take reign.

Another one of my favorites:

Now, over the years, OMD (also known as Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark) has become increasingly one of my favorite New Wave acts of all time. Seriously. I was disappointed in myself that I was completely unaware of their contributions to music (except for the whole Atomic Kitten phase. Andy, I forgive you for that). I’ve been trying to figure out how I could feature them into a post for the longest, and now it seems like the right time. Everyone knows ‘The Pretty In Pink’ song, “If You Leave” — but they had a slew of other hits. Not as much stateside, but they’ve got a massive following. And their new album (yes, they’re still releasing music) “Metroland” is nothing but synth-pop goodness.

This isn’t from Metroland, though I encourage you to take a listen — one of my favorite cuts from them:

Blue Lights In the Basement

Blue Lights In The Basement is a radio program that aired every Saturday night in Atlanta on the local R&B station. They featured popular rhythm and blues cuts from the late 70s and early 80s, lots of funk, go-go, and everything in between.

I’m starting to think maybe I should start another blog dedicated to this…yes? no? I’m thinking yes. There are too many great musical acts to discuss in this world betwixt the rants of my everyday life. Plus, I can feature some of my most cherished vinyl, oldies and goodies, as well as new acquisitions. Don’t worry, I will also include rants on crappy music, too. Rants are fun. You can never have enough.

So, let’s expect a secondary blog in the near future. (I hate that phrase near future. It’s either near or not — but yes, I used it. Don’t judge me.).

This week, I was getting a playlist together for a party that I’m attending. One thing I can’t stand is going to a party that has NO MUSIC. The silence life-threatening. And it forces you to actually listen what could quite possibly be a rather banal, one-sided conversation, or an unfortunate attempt to flirt with someone that has no interest…or could be spiraling into a flamed-out disaster. Your pick.

Anyway, whenever I throw together a playlist, I always like to include some throwback jams, contemporary tunes, and everything in between. But, basically, anything that will get people moving and grooving on the dancefloor (or backyard kicking up dirt). Just when I thought I finished the hours long playlist, I forgot to add one of my favorite songs! I had to go back and start all over again. The order of tunes is a serious thing. The song was “I’ll Be Good” by Rene and Angela. Now, I could have just settled for the track that I already added that sampled the song (<——you’re supposed to click on that) but I just didn’t feel right!

Angela Winbush is another favorite artist of mine who does not get the credit she so rightfully deserves. They do not make ’em like her anymore. These are the vocalists that these kids should be looking up to, in my opinion. But what do I know?

(Shhh, don’t tell, but EVERYTHING)

She started out  in the 1980s with another vocalist named Rene (“Crazy Eyes” Moore. He never included the crazy eyes bit in his moniker, but he does have ’em) as part of a duo appropriately dubbed ‘Rene and Angela’.

Rene "Crazy Eyes" Moore and Angela Winbush

Rene “Crazy Eyes” Moore and Angela Winbush

They spawned a number of hits such as “You Don’t Have To Cry”, “Angel”, and “Your Smile” — a lot of them were ballads, but the one that got me was “I’ll Be Good” — and they were.

Enjoy

#keepjammin #keepdancin

Friday Night Strobe Lights, May 31st/June 7th

Yes, my friends. I am behind. I know, I know.

Can you handle a triple dose of some Friday Night Strobe Lights?

I certainly hope so.

Recently, I acquired “The Groove” through my Sirius satellite radio subscription upgrade. An upgrade that was strangely discounted when I subscribed, and then strangely increased in price within in a month.

I’m not sure either. But with a lot of bitching and moaning, I got the rate back. That’s not matter, back The Groove. It used to be an internet-only station, but now they’ve upgraded to the satellite broadcast, which is great, since Sirius was limiting on their R&B channels. They have 40 channels dedicated to classic rock music, but for some reason, the urban market is only relegated to late 50s and 60s soul, 90’s R&B, Contemporary R&B, and Hip-Hop. There was never anything dedicated to what was in between, and these artists were responsible for bridging the years between the constant evolution of rhythm & blues music.

Now it’s time to jam to a few cuts:

Starting with Shalamar, Jody Watley, Jeffrey Daniels, and Howard Hewett were all members of it before they broke off into their respective solo careers. Again, I will dedicate a post to Shalamar. One of the best trios in rhythm and blues music.

And I am ashamed to say that I never heard of the following band until I got started listening to the station. I know I’ve heard the song, if only in passing, but the groove caught me bad. And I’ve been on the hunt for some of their music.

Dynasty is a severely underrated group that of which I am eager to discover more music.  Here’s another excuse to stock up on some of their vinyl cuts. “Groove Control” is the first song I heard by them:

Now, the last one — let me know if you can recognize the voice in the following video. He was a very well known back-up singer the established himself as a powerhouse in his own right:

How many of you knew that Luther Vandross was in a disco group called “Change”?

Enjoy!

#keepdancin