Ms. Orzolek, Meet Mr. Burrell...
(Revised March 10, 2006.)
A few hours ago I was in the gym, doing my usual workout on the eliptical trainer. As I listened to Show Your Bones, the forthcoming Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, my attention was drawn to a video monitor which displayed Too Legit, VH1's lamentable 2001 MC Hammer biopic.
Two diversions fused. I waited for Bones to ignite, but I may as well have been listening to Sting. (Or redacting the comments of the participants of the "Reinterpreting The Funky Headhunter" panel from HammerCon '00...)
I got nothin'. Mild frissons, the usual burdensome, post-fame production slather, and no memory of the album once I'd left the rec center. Kinda draggy overall, as I wouldn't have illegally downloaded it had I not wanted to hear it. (Yes, as an ethical absolutist I'm a failure.)
Contrast this testimony with Sasha Frere-Jones' current New Yorker review. A different opinion is proffered.
(Granted, I've only listened to it once, in the midst of an eight-mile workout slog. It might conceivably grow on me, but I tend to either immediately react or not... Not that I really give a crap - I'm as much into the YYYs as I am His Name Is Alive... I like O's taut gams and Nick's retro Cave-y hair, but beyond that point interest expires. All music is gruel.)
As I slid my ID through the exit gate card reader I imagined Hammer's eldest daughter essaying the role of Ms. O in some future MTV2 sludgedoc. My mind then began to clear...
Yours Faithfully,
TS
A few hours ago I was in the gym, doing my usual workout on the eliptical trainer. As I listened to Show Your Bones, the forthcoming Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, my attention was drawn to a video monitor which displayed Too Legit, VH1's lamentable 2001 MC Hammer biopic.
Two diversions fused. I waited for Bones to ignite, but I may as well have been listening to Sting. (Or redacting the comments of the participants of the "Reinterpreting The Funky Headhunter" panel from HammerCon '00...)
I got nothin'. Mild frissons, the usual burdensome, post-fame production slather, and no memory of the album once I'd left the rec center. Kinda draggy overall, as I wouldn't have illegally downloaded it had I not wanted to hear it. (Yes, as an ethical absolutist I'm a failure.)
Contrast this testimony with Sasha Frere-Jones' current New Yorker review. A different opinion is proffered.
(Granted, I've only listened to it once, in the midst of an eight-mile workout slog. It might conceivably grow on me, but I tend to either immediately react or not... Not that I really give a crap - I'm as much into the YYYs as I am His Name Is Alive... I like O's taut gams and Nick's retro Cave-y hair, but beyond that point interest expires. All music is gruel.)
As I slid my ID through the exit gate card reader I imagined Hammer's eldest daughter essaying the role of Ms. O in some future MTV2 sludgedoc. My mind then began to clear...
Yours Faithfully,
TS
Comments
Just checked - 192. Lazy-ass pirates!
Re YYYs: nah, a second listen failed to overturn the previous verdict. The single - "Gold Lion" - is sorta okay, but...
The expected post-obit Ali Farka Touré flood is arriving in the newsgroups. Golden!
TS