Atlanta Crunk Licks, 2003

YOUNGBLOODZ, Drankin’ Patnaz An Atlanta-crunk concept album about drinking and driving. Guests: Lil Jon, Killer Mike, Backbone. The twosome has a  circular way with country-fried drawl choruses, yummiest of which occurs in “Sean Paul,” named not for a dancehall superstar but for a Youngblood. “Mud Pit” spins dirty doughnuts; there’s a G-funk-like slow and low… Continue reading Atlanta Crunk Licks, 2003

Spin Doctors review, 1992

They were at least slightly more useful than most so-called “jam bands,” and I do still own “Two Princes”/”Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong” as a two-sided 7-inch vinyl jukebox 45 (yes you could still order those in the ’90s). But I clearly cut these dorks too much slack.

Singles Again: Lunch Goes On

Lonely hearts who’ve misinterpreted this column’s heading on the Voice Web site are welcome to skip directly to the rather pervy L.L. Cool J single, if they want. Chumbawamba: “Enough Is Enough (Kick It Over)” “It wasn’t hip anymore/They were playing our tune, but it was clearing the dancefloor”: “Tubthumping” didn’t last long, did it? But struggle goes on,… Continue reading Singles Again: Lunch Goes On

Singles Again: Age of Discovery

The presence below of a few as yet commercially unsuccessful records should not be construed as fashionable dissatisfaction with what’s now on the radio (much of which—Backstreet Boys’ “Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely,” Dixie Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl,” Dr. Dre featuring Eminem’s “Forgot About Dre,” M2M’s “Don’t Say You Love Me,” Third Eye Blind’s… Continue reading Singles Again: Age of Discovery

A Flock of Seagulls review, 1987

Rebuttal to rebuttals to the Wire review I posted yesterday, and the rare Village Voice review of a greatest hits album — i.e., a challenge by definition to rockism-so-called even if it wasn’t about a synth band with owl hairdos. Cartoon beneath it is a rebuttal to the rebuttal to the rebuttals. If Goodreads is… Continue reading A Flock of Seagulls review, 1987

Bill “Spaceman” Lee profile, 1987

As far as I’ve been convinced, the 1970s of Mark Fidryrch and Dock Ellis and Luis Tiant and Al Hrabosky (all pitchers, hmmm) were the last great era of baseball eccentricity. (See my friend Dan Epstein’s wonderfully funky Big Hair, Plastic Grass for in-depth knowledge.) Not counting a brief return for the Wild Thing/John Kruk… Continue reading Bill “Spaceman” Lee profile, 1987