Oh that Madge… I can’t help it, I’ve got the biggest Cheshire grin plasted above my chin right now…

See the thing about it is, I wanted to not like this video – hear me out: I wanted to not like this video because after the hoopla and hype, after the media blitzes and reductionism, this era was gearing up to be the bark of Confessions with the bite of Hard Candy #notgreat then, there’s the distractions and the white noise pulling attention from the product at hand and towards the peripheral gossip… in a nutshell: I was ready to not like this video for the same reason I was gearing up to not like Born This Way – because people were going GaGa over Madonna; but lo and behold… Pop never lets you down.

First things first: 2012 – We’ve got Madonna dropping MDNA *and* going on World Tour, and then we’ve got GaGa Born This Way Balling out of control *and,* y’know, Hauskeeping: these are facts. Head-to-head we have the Greatest Generation and the Re-Generation. Brass tacks: beyond all of the Madonna homages, there is the very apparent, clear, and present situation at hand: this is the first time Madonna is presenting a new product to the market, Anno Monstrami, since GaGa. Thus far, Madonna has battled GaGa on laurels – yes, they are some beyond-laudable laurels, but laurels nonetheless. Madonna’s past has fought her way into the future, and now she has to make good on said greatness for the first time since ever. Madonna is proving not only to herself, nor the market, nor to Universal, nor to GaGa, nor to Warner, or to LiveNation, but to Pop Culture that she is still the Franchise Player. Madonna has not faced GaGa on VEVO or the Billboard charts with new material. Madonna has not toured against GaGa. Madonna has not entered the Pop blacktop with her Jumpmans on tight and right against GaGa – until today.

Pop 2012: because this used to be my playground.

SnappIt: Madge… I can’t help but smile… This is a great video, because, well, it’s just a great video. It’s so tongue-and-cheek kitschy… it’s so literally symbolic, it’s so unironically artificial, it’s so amalgamated Pop past, it’s so hollow Bubblegum Pop pastiche, it’s so now, it’s so then, it feels… reductive – it feels so… GaGa. #notlikethat

This: is Madonna on GaGa on Madonna.

So, since Hov didn’t actually write that letter to Blue Ivy, Madonna took up a pen to draft a lil’ something for the next generation – in the form of a music video (before videos became filmhouse shorts) entitled “This Used to Be My Playground” ”Give Me All Your Luvin’”

L-U-V Madonna / Y-O-U You wanna
I see you coming and I don’t wanna know your name
I see you coming and you’re gonna have to change the game
Would you like to try? Give me a reason why
Give me all that you got
Maybe you’ll do fine , as long as you don’t lie to me
And pretend to be what you’re not

When I first saw her, I saw her performing at a very small club in Manhattan a couple of years ago, maybe it was like three years ago, I was actually really impressed by her. I thought she was really cool and she did remind me of me back in the day. I liked her rawness and there was something fresh about there and ballsy, and when she spoke to the audience, she sounded like she had a similar sense of humor to me, quite ironic, and I liked her.

Don’t play the stupid game 
Cause I’m a different kind of girl 
Every record sounds the same 
You’ve got to step into my world 
Give me all your love and give me your love 
Give me all your love today 
Give me all your love and give me your love 
Let’s forget about time 
And dance our lives away

It feels… reductive.

Right so, lyrically, it’s quite clear where we’re at #sufficetosay but the kicker here isn’t the lyrics (c’mon, it’s Pop – lyrics are 10 percent of the battle, if that)

Madge runs the gamut from Hollabackin’ Harajuku Loving Jabbawokee dance crews, to Amy Seeking sideglance suburban chic sets, a splash of the Hold It Against Parisian Nagger dubstep bridge, and more bricks than Jeezy and Rosay sprawled on the “Edge of Glory” wall. Where she goes H.A.M.est in the paint though, is through her own videography – in an ADD, campy, “Generation Too Broke to Pay Attention” way, which is kind of the point. This used to be Madge’s playground, “until these whippersnappers moved in with their constant flow of derivativeness leaving me feeling… reduced.” So, Mo reduces the reduction to a premier production: she runs the gamut from eponymous early days to Dick Tracy and well through Like A Virgin (including ”Material Girl” Monroe nod – in one fell swoop – in, yo’ car bar)

She’s being reductive if only for the sake of showing what it means to be so. Unlike 90% of the Pop playing field though, Madonna is not serious about it… which is kind of the point. MDNA is fun Pop, throwback mixed with a bit of contemporary smoke, mirrors, and synth… so as far as “Luvin’” goes, if this is any early indicator for the album as a whole: “If it’s gapless, she’s golden.”

Random triviality: So… collectively, Madonna shrugs off haters – and, like any Pop figure worth their weight in print, said haters fuel, support, and carry said Pop figure through their careers #loveallmyhaters…

next time you’re watching this video, remember that Madonna went to the University of Michigan, whose bitterest rival is none other than the Ohio State Buckeyes #pauseforlaughter the Buckeyes whose team colors are *gasp* scarlet, silver, and black? like *gasp* the players carrying Madonna through the video, and who inevitably get decapitated by said Pop mistress? #doublenosetap

Watch This Space: Pop comin’ out of my ears today, man #lifeisgood … M.I.A. on the side coming through #hard with THIS #hitemwiththehee

Live fast, die young, bang on the dashboard #kalashrug

Dear Society,

The idea of being defined by others rather than one self seems to permeate our culture. Parents have desires for who we should become, friends have preferences for how we should act, and society as a whole determines if our way of life is acceptable or not. This could include anything from occupations and life long dreams to small habits and personal quirks. But there is also an alternative that exists within the true self. In this photographic series, I aim to collaborate with my subjects and encourage them to react to this contrast by placing their opinions directly onto the negatives of themselves. Additionally, I am creating diptychs to reinforce this dichotomy between the imagined self and the true self, and provide a visual representation for the conflict itself. My hope is to invite the viewer to become more comfortable with the conflict within them, and more accepting of the person they dream to be.

Sincerely, Emily Detrick

It’s that critical moment that every music journalist ventures into. It happens when we get an artist worth digging. We slide our hand underneath the desk to whip out that hideous facial mask of a straight-faced, grade school teacher with red ink in hand ready to carve our music reviews into someone’s membrane. Taking the time to ride the Voyeur voyage was a pleasant treat as it suited perfectly with the rain Gods deciding to pour down some cleansing wash on good music and his Texas land, of course. The music produced by Childish Major with the vocals to match under Rome Fortune’s belt creates an upcoming groove that falls closely to acts like DJ Shadow and Danny Breaks rave crave. The electric boogie definitely comes to light with the duo along with a hint of Atlanta’s rap recipe, but the two are truly doing something astray from other artists emerging in the mix.

This electric left-field relationship between the two young men is definitely worth listening to. It’s a total different scenario from the usual southern, Atlanta rap crews. Childish Major brings his eclectic style of intelligently mixing electric, future 2042 sounds with straight head-nodding, dirty beats of hip hop. It’s a bit of cinnamon and a bit of spice, literally. Major is like a mini Kanye who loves to exert different electric drums and then switch it up with live percussion and snare. As a listener who goes straight for the killer critique of a descent beat (I like my beat super hard by the way), kudos and much respect to the brains behind the production. The engineer can never catch enough credit for quality-earned beats.  The producer has a few good words for his brother-like figure too. “Rome has definitely schooled me on lots of things. I respect him as an artist and a person.  He is without a doubt, a game changer.  I really believe in the moves he chooses to make,” says Childish Major.

The first track of the Voyeur EP, “Drugs to School Children,” automatically catches heat because it’s simply the introduction and sets the tone for the rest of the tracks. The drums set the smooth, laid-back vibe style which is often heard throughout the rest of the album. In this song, “drugs” could easily relate to the heartbreaker mentality of girls or the result a break-up from that one girl. Either way, Rome Fortune speaks some truth by suggesting not rushing into something with a hoochie, and his pride won’t up the ground along with his feelings.

“Other” and “Filter” seem to find themselves on repeat with iTunes as I genuinely dig instrumentals of nothing but pure sounds and noises. A mellowed out blend with blusters of fixed arrangements of music sounds pretty damn good, like waking up to birds on the most beautiful day outside. “Other” is a definite space voyage that could make Gnarls Barkley’s Pandora station or Madlib’s. “Filter” suggests more of a sensual blend between Prince and the Dream’s first album, and something for the ladies to unwind to. That’s a hint, my men. “Wanted” and “Jesus, Gouda” are your ride-out in the city of east Decatur songs. That slight Atlanta rap peaks out and the beat is laid down.

Voyeur’s EP is scheduled to dropped January 30 and with much anticipation, we support the movement. “I want the audience to experience something unusual, accept it, and relate. Be inspired if nothing else,” says Major. The producer goes on to joke that the “Voyeur EP is mysterious and sexy, like a one night stand with a stranger.”

voyeurEP(demo) by RomeFortuneSmallWorld

“You is kind. You is smart. You is important” is the mantra that Abileen Clark (Viola Davis), a domestic worker in Jackson, Mississippi in the 1960s, uses to comfort and empower her employer’s daughter. Neglected by a mother who finds her too chubby and cumbersome, and a constantly absent father, Abileen is the only caring adult in the girl’s life, the one who’s there for her through real and metaphorical storms. This all while being told, she is nothing short of the opposite of her own mantra.

Based on the bestseller by the same name written by Kathryn Stocket in 2009, the movie version of The Help, directed by Tate Taylor, tells the story of the young aspiring writer Eugenia (nicknamed Skeeter and played by Emma Stone). Skeeter is different from Elizabeth (Ahna O’Reilly), Hilly (Bryce Dallas Howard) and her other friends who spend their time playing bridge, organizing charity events and being snooty. Instead of trying to find a husband, Skeeter’s focusing on her career. She also believes that black domestic workers shouldn’t be treated as subhumans; a radical view stemming from her relationship with her old nanny Constantine (Cicely Tyson), who raised Skeeter before disappearing without a trace.

After landing a job answering housekeeping questions for a newspaper column, Skeeter, who knows nothing about housework, asks Elizabeth to let her domestic worker Abileen help her. After a short time in Abileen’s company, Skeeter realizes that life as a black domestic worker isn’t all rosy, and the idea is born to collect the stories of all the invisible hardworking black women surrounding her and her friends and write a book. Initially reluctant Abileen eventually succumbs and convinces her friend Minny Jackson (Octavia Spencer), an outspoken lady who has just been fired by Hilly to help Skeeter realize her dream. As the film progresses the audience is treated to various displays of racist stuck up behavior, bad parenting, loyalty and silent resistance. “This isn’t about me. It doesn’t matter what I feel,” Skeeter promises early in the film which turns out to be mainly about her, Elizabeth, Hilly and the ostracized housewife Celia (Jessica Chastain).

As New York Press’ reviewer Armond White points out the main aim of the film is to entertain, which might explain the lack of engagement with the subject matter at a level that considers the changes that have influenced discussions about race, gender and power in America since the sixties. The approach makes for a dated film that requires the audience to ignore the most important change; that black American women no longer rely on white spokespersons to voice their concerns. In 2012, we have a Black President but a black actor can’t get noticed at the Oscar’s let alone win unless it’s in a yawn-worthy period piece like The Help. Abileen’s, Minny’s and Constantin’s primary function in The Help, a film that does little to challenge traditional racial power dynamics, and translates black agency into steeling and black pride into frying chicken, is simply to help us distinguish good whites from bad, coward and victim whites. Maybe the shallow treatment of the complex subject matter and the blatant stereotyping (incl. Minny delivering one Chappellesque line about chicken after the other, among them “Frying chicken just makes me feel better about life. I just love me some fried chicken”) got in the way of all the fun, but regardless, the film would have gained from more nuance and less slapstick.

The ethos of the film is that of Skeeter; quite radical in the 1960s, less so in 2011. Black underprivileged women playing second fiddle to their white counterparts isn’t the problem. It’s just a pity that the white women, having forgotten how much they loved their black nannies as children, let the black help raise their children but not use their bathrooms. For someone in tune with this ethos it makes sense that Skeeter is the one who contributes with ambition and skills, and her informants (even if they, like Abileen, also are aspiring writers) with sensational stories about daily humiliation to be turned into literature by Skeeter. To assume, as Skeeter does when finding out what happened to her nanny, that the old woman, who at least until the day she disappeared had a brave and caring daughter by her side (LaChanze), wouldn’t survive another minute without Skeeter isn’t outrageous given the logical framework of the film, and similarly there’s nothing strange about Skeeter’s narcissistic reluctance to leave the thirty something informants in the racist town for an attractive job in New York. A concern that reminds me of a that of the man who approaches a group of girlfriends in a bar, asking them what they’re doing there all alone.

Different approaches at different times; that’s how to make any story relevant at any time. Nothing illustrates this better than the example of The Stepford Wives, the 1974 novel by Ira Levin which was adapted to the big screen in 1975 and 2004, and to TV in 1980, 1987 and 1996. Also dealing with oppressive and reactionary ideals, each version of the original story reflects the time in which it was made, with hypnosis being the tool of domination in the 1980 version, role reversal in 1996, and a woman being the master brain running the show in the 2004 version in which the women have become sex- and cash machines. In response to Taylor’s dealing with The Help, nothing feels more appropriate than to conclude in the same non-innovative and slightly offensive manner that characterizes his take on the story:

You is patronizing. You is irrelevant. You is out of touch.

Watch This Space: You’re welcome, black people. White people, solve Racism.

Not to be confused with anything Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey related, the self-proclaimed “Afro-slash-pop” group, Fool’s Gold, is picking up much traction these days. The five-piece sonance collective showcased their cultured sound while headlining for the long anticipated Red Hot Chili Peppers 2011 European tour. Given their take on African music, indigenous yet á la mode, Fool’s Gold is beginning to accumulate a reputable character and cosmopolitan fan base all the same. Despite the fact, a notable sculpting of their signature sound has materialized throughout their chronology since 2007; Fool’s Gold to Leave No Trace, these guys have attained a collaborative nirvana through positive narcissism in a euphonious self-realization.

Originating in Los Angeles, California, what came to be known as Fool’s Gold is the product of Israeli emigrant Luke Top and California native, Lewis Pesacov’s shared love of African music. Top, a vocalist and bassist, and guitarist Pesacov assembled a twelve member band consisting of established musicians to construct the sound they had envisioned. On their self-titled debut album, Top’s Israeli influence reigned lyrically, as he sang chiefly in Hebrew, only partially in English; because of so, the album became more so a personal journey for him through decoding a culture from which he then felt estranged. The album entered the refreshingly unfamiliar domain of Organic P-Funk.

Considering the Western audience’s distant comprehension of both their Hebrew lyrics and African sound, the communal Fool’s Gold experience was originally centered around the band’s “jam” factor. Today, on the contrary, the Fool’s Gold image has taken a directional shift in its defining ingredient. While still maintaining a Western touch on African roots music, the band has integrated more English lyrics, and subtracted seven group members from the initial twelve, which in turn reflected the more concise, synth-sahara feel on their most recent album, Leave No Trace.

In light of their refined band structure and worldly sounds, Fool’s Gold could ask for no better reward than headlining for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. On touring, Pesacov claims this one “the most incredible tour [we’ve] ever been on in our entire lives.” From their “great fans” in Paris to the “dancy” Dutch, Europe, he says, is “always fun.” Pesacov admits to favoring smaller, more “intimate” venues, wherein “you connect and everybody’s alive when [they’re] playing music,” but the band is happy to play for anyone who appreciates music whether it be a large or small venue.

The music community has only known Fool’s Gold for a mere five years, but the clan has far from failed in connecting with its fans across the world; from California to Israel to Europe, the globetrotting Fool’s Gold remains ever libatious on the ears and light on their feet with their newfound unparalleled complexion, as best dictated in their latest release, Leave No Trace.

Greg Mike took to his blog to announce the recent completion of his latest mural. Known for his collaborations with brands such as Freddy Jones and artists like Donnis, this time the Atlanta based artist and designer collaborated with New Belgium Brewery for a vibrant mural outside their space in the Little Five Points area of Atlanta.

I wrapped up collaboration mural with the folks from NEW BELGIUM BREWERY today in the Little 5 Points district of Atlanta. I have always been a fan of their beverages so it was great when they reached out and wanted to collaborate on a piece in my hometown. – GREG MIKE

Greg also hinted at an upcoming video depicting the process of the mural. Can’t wait to watch, until then take a closer look at images of the final piece below.

The tracks are set to be released via Daz’s upcoming imprint I-Kue Recordings. Sniff, Sniff, no time for cries. Go ahead, indulge and get all the way into this one.

Download: Young Jeezy – I Do (Sammy Bananas Bootleg)

Are you ready to JUMP?

The Perfect Cherry Blossom is a symbol for flourishing spring and peace, but also the name of one of the most advanced and violent Japanese Bullet Hell Games. A video game made by gamers for gamers from a time before the gaming industry turned into a home entertainment device. Artists Keiichi Tanaami and Oliver Payne explored this game in their latest series of work.

In the films by Keiichi Tanaami pop culture from east and west meet. Abstracted, post-traumatic impressions from the Great Tokyo Air Raid are combined with LSD fantasies and aesthetics of consumption merge with hallucinatory erotic desires. Tanaami is one of the most influential Pop Art artists of post-war Japan. His work had a great impact on a younger generation of artists working with pop aesthetics in Japan and abroad like Oliver Payne.

In Oliver Payne’s collages stickers of Japanese Bullet Hell Games are arranged on torn out pages of an ancient Greek sculpture catalog. Payne transforms the violent imagery of these videogames into psychedelic explosions of color. Greek statues serve as a background and a reminder of the fantasy worlds produced in Japanese arcade games, which often picture rural Europe. Sounds of an arcade field recording give a notion of manic playfulness towards the exhibited works.

The arcade has traditionally represented an idea of a “third space” for teens. Too young to go to bars, adolescents have so few places to hang. I like places like that — skate spots, graffiti halls of fame, arcades. Slightly sketchy places for teens to kick it. The arcade industry is on the way out and they really wont be around for much longer. I think places like these are important to document. An aural representation of them makes the most sense to me as the “noises” they create have these completely inimitable and unique quality. Nothing but an arcade sounds like an arcade — a completely deafening cacophony of bleeps, bangs, teenage yells and deposited tokens. It’s a noise that I can hear many bands aspiring to capture — but always falling short of the mark. Perhaps due to the fact that they don’t spend hours playing in arcades.

 Another motivating factor for the recordings is that it poses the question: Why are arcade on the decline? Why have they they been shutting at an alarming rate? The lazy answer is that home consoles such as the PS3 and the XBOX360 are so good that they have brought arcade quality to the home. But arcades are still in full force in Japan. So why can the west no longer profit from dedicated gaming rooms? Oliver Payne

The psychedelic eroticism on songs like “Heartbeat” featuring vocals by Karima Harrison (Noot D’ Noot) serve as pit-stops on the digital safari that is Planet of The Ape$. The effort has an infectious smoothness that you can’t deny and makes the more avant-garde musicality of everything surrounding the lyrics easier to swallow (pun, intended). “Yellow Gran Torino” sounds like something plucked straight out of Top 40 Radio from 1978, and it just feels good for no reason.

If there ever was such a thing as altruistic music, this would be it. Some songs are more adventurous like “Nu Africa” that finds female rapper, Corrine Stevie, boasting about how many gangsters she knows and how she likes to text her lover. She returns tenderer on the song, “Home (I Think about You).” She raps, “Tagging on the streets, just for the love of art.” That lyric explains the entire sentiment of the mixtape. Planet of the Ape$ is simply for the love of art and the desire to create, nothing less and if you feel something more, GREATeclectic isn’t taking responsibility. Each artist has made their niche in this distinctive planet that GREATeclectic has been so kind to let us journey into. Some places feel dangerous like the high-energy, vocoder-laden, Jay Scott-controlled dance floor anthem, “Light$.” “Bea$t” is the softer sister song to “Light$,” but with just as much attitude and danger present in the music. Think if The Eurythmics and Lisa, Lisa & The Cult Jam decided to do a duet, it’s that addictive and seductive.

Planet of the Ape$ creeps in your ear like something new, but on further investigation you can hear the inspiration and the more vintage references as the album has deep roots in downtown, New York in the 1990’s. I’m talking Larry Levan. I’m talking Paradise Garage. It’s probably 2012, but it could very well be 1992. GREATeclectic has curated a tour de force of youthful sounds and ideas, and has consequently made a whole new planet out of his creativity, just in time for Earth’s eminent apocalypse. We just have to learn to share it with a lot of great music and a few primates.

With a career’s worth of top-shelf session work with everyone from Snoop Dogg, and brother to Grammy winning drummer Ronald Bruner, Jr. makes the fact that Bruner is both the bassist of Suicide Tendencies, and responsible for this album of electro-jazz fusion seem not quite so odd. Long time friend and part of Flying Lotus Brainfeeder collective, Bruner has tapped into the vein established by Lotus’ Cosmogramma LP of last year-A continuum where break-beats and solo existentialism are paired with abstract sounds.

Bruner’s influences are simple and clear: Jazz and soul then focuses on the electronic aspects. While these inspirations are embellished it is where technological cinematic flourishes, and Bruner really brings something memorable is in his virtuoso playing. Entitled The Golden Age of Apocalypse and issued autumn of last year by the Brainfeeder label, it has already been hailed by BBC radio DJ Gilles Peterson as “the most essential bass player’s album since Jaco Pastorius’ Jaco Pastorius.” Bruner is undoubtedly what was once called a musician’s musician, a practice based enthusiast who reveres good playing and he is unashamed of his talent.

“HooooooO” opens the beat as a short intro with a sample from the 80’s cartoon over a 70’s fusion clip before “Daylight” kicks in with a bumpy psychedelic pop beat with synthetic programming mashed with analog. Breezy and dreamy soulful vocals chants over the up-tempo rhythm; “Open your mind, daylight.” This is spaced out soul from a newly arrived time machine.

It is on the third track, “Fleer Ultra,” that his true loves finally leaps to the fore, because that’s the first time the bass really buzzes. On the mellow “Goldenboy,” Thundercat toys with time signatures, cooing Moogs, and a melodic bass technique that would make Jaco Pastorious proud. The noteworthy “Walkin’” is about as close to convention as Thundercat comes here. The tune struts in all its 80s glory like a would-be Michael McDonald demo submission for Eddie Murphy’s Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack. Throughout Apocalypse, it’s Bruner’s exceptionally fluid funky bass work that ties together the new millennium computer madness and that feels like they could have been laid down in the analog days of 1974.

However The Golden Age of Apocalypse is likely to confuse a number of those expecting some form of Cosmogramma part deux. It is primarily a jazz album with a touch of electronic interference, and clearly a sum of Thundercat’s numerous influences and co-collaborators rather than drawing on one area in particular. Regardless of the musical position it occupies in comparison to its immediate peers, Thundercat has a defiantly esoteric and individual debut, as well as a fantastic showcase for his remarkable talent. Perhaps not everyone’s cup of coolade, The Golden Age of Apocalypse seems specially made for a hipster SEGA game or long, hot, chilled California sunshine days.