NPR profiles my man Mingus:
One of American music’s greatest innovators, Charles Mingus was a powerful bass player, an accomplished bandleader and an extraordinarily inventive composer. The ever-impassioned Mingus was a prolific writer of intricate, highly personal music which greatly expanded the palette of jazz. And in leading dozens of his own groups, he brought a fiery virtuosity to hundreds of original compositions.
Check out part 1.
A new study by the Universities of Exeter and Oxford found that:
[W]omen who had sons were more likely to have eaten a higher quantity and wider range of nutrients, including potassium, calcium and vitamins C, E and B12. There was also a strong correlation between women eating breakfast cereals and producing sons.
Give it a try if you’re planning to have a baby boy.
Sure, David Meng’s debut, Tinh Phai, will be the lamest album released this year (if not all time), but let gives the dude a break. Despite his limited vocal ability, mispronunciation (he’s not Vietnamese) and karaoke delivery, he is trying really hard. If you get past those three flaws, you’ll hear his passion for Vietnamese shallow pop songs.
My girl and I were listening to his rendition of “Xin Loi Em” while preparing salad for our lunch for the next day. Near the end of the song she had to give in: “Alright, alright! I forgive you.” Whether his sincerity or annoyance was delivered, it worked. So the next time she gets mad at me, I don’t even have say a word. I’ll just play this song on repeat until apology is accepted. When he sings “Nguoi Dan Ong Chan That,” you can feel the honesty even in his stilted flow. Somehow I keep on wanting to hear him busts out “6 cau vong co” (six bars of Vietnamese opera) to completely the sweet and vinegar soap opera on “Anh Khong Muon Lam Nguoi Thu 3.”
“Mac Ke Nguoi Ta Noi” should have been chosen for the title track for the album. It fits him so well. Regardless of what people are saying, David Meng is doing his thang. Hate the game, not the contestant.
I am becoming a big boy.
Unlike her stage appearance, which is getting creepier and creepier, her music stays unchanged. Her latest release, Shades of Blue, uses the same damn shticks as any of her previous albums. No matter what song she sings, her syrupy vocals remain unemotionally annoying. No matter what lyrics she writes, her rhymes remain nursery. No matter what beats she rides, her flows remain constant. If I have to pick one track to describe this album, it would be “Hollow.” She actually expresses herself pretty well: “I am so hollow, so hollow / hollow in my heart / hollow in my soul / because I am so hooolloooow….” No doubt about that!
On “The 11 Most Unintentionally Gay Rap Lyrics Ever,” I predicted that 50’s line is on the list: “I read somewhere I’m homophobic, shiiiiit. Go through the hood, there’s mad niggas on my dick.”
Finally, I want to say a word about the basic decency I have seen in Mr. Obama. Mrs. Clinton continues to throw the Rev. Wright up in his face as part of her mission to keep stoking the fears of White America. Every time she does this I shout at the TV, “Say it, Obama! Say that when she and her husband were having marital difficulties regarding Monica Lewinsky, who did she and Bill bring to the White House for ‘spiritual counseling?’ THE REVEREND JEREMIAH WRIGHT!“
But no, Obama won’t throw that at her. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be decent. She’s been through enough hurt. And so he remains silent and takes the mud she throws in his face.
Nice shot of the lounge in Noyes House.
