Siblings and Shizzle

My sister Fizzle, (named for one of her heroes, Snoop Do double gg, obviously), is my automatic go-to in times of hip hop or R’n’B need. Her hourly slot on her university radio station aptly titled “Hip Hop Honeyz”, was a personal weekly highlight, serving up the latest in iced out joints and anything Westwood would give his bingo winged left arm to play gunshots over. I’ve lost count of the immense tunes which spilled out over the airwaves and revolutionised my Ipod.

It's hard not to love the kind of music which can transform a dingy student dive and feeble arm waves into an Atlanta crunk club hollering for some mass booty bouncing across a spotlit dancefloor. Everyone’s got a soft spot for pimping out their playlists, and I hope Fizzle will appreciate the few tunes I’ve corralled here for both her and your delectation

Where better to start than the namesake himself? It’s only Snoop Dogg himself with a brand spanking new wriggler of a song splattered with the kind of ice cold freshness only a collaboration with go-to zeitgeist Kid Cudi can bring to the table. Extracted from Snoop’s imminent re-release of “Malice N Wonderland”, “That Tree” ably mixes pumping beats and the tasty juxtaposition of the two so-relaxed-they’re-horizontal vocal stylings.



This spot necessitates the inclusion of this joke: Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella?
………..
Fo’ drizzle ma nizzle
Immense.

Let’s take it back to the old school. Gorillaz are finally, beautifully back, with new album “Plastic Beach” due to drop March 8th, featuring this big bassy number which, fingers crossed, shows that there’s great things to come off this record. Oozing style and just begging to accompany ice rimmed cocktails in blazing sunshine, I’m going to renew that mid Noughties fan membership.




Ey up, it’s an electro take on the standard aerobics work out promoted by all self respecting rappers; a hip hop night out generally means better thigh toning and core strength posturing than you’ll find at your nearest Fitness First with the continual demands to get low (Lil’ John , I’m talking about you). For once, the addition of tinny chipmunk vocals aren’t as annoying as John Terry’s face and Luda manages to show some shred of dignity despite his recent jump onto the Justin Bieber bandwagon. The Filth remix soups it up with some vivid electro builds and an almost Justice-esque organ soundbite meaning sheer exhaustion after six solid minutes of hovering with your bum scraping the floor.



© Miranda Thompson 2010
DISCLAIMER: The video links hosted on my blog are not being presented as my own. If you believe that the copyright in your work has been violated through this post, please contact me through the blog

Sunday Afternoon Selection

This afternoon my house spent a bizarre hour meeting randoms and seeing more male gentalia than I care to recall on chat site du jour, Chatroulette. Items of note? An “encounter’ with the Jonas Brothers (we were conned), sexing couples, dirty men young and old, lonely Asian dudes in empty IT rooms, juiced Americans and a French doctor, all whilst screaming and waving at anyone who came into view dressed in appropriate disguises, namely sunglasses, scarves and my polar bear hat.

In between all the mayhem and chaining myself to my desk to try and prepare for dissertation doom, I’ve needed some serious tunes to get me through the day. So here they are:

First up, a sprightly boptastic tune from Vampire Weekend meets Ra Ra Riot sideproject Discovery. A mass of punchy drums and dancing electronica, it’s just an easy, toe tapping listen.



The whole album “LP” is a musical treat; from Ezra Koenig offof Vampire Weekend lending his familiar vocals to “Carby”, or the intensely amazing reworking of “I Want You Back” with some slow burning bass and twinkling synths.

Love of my life Ellie Goulding takes the next spot on the podium with her cover of Bon Iver’s “Wolves”. I’m going to throw a whole load of words out there you could dangle off this beauty; haunting, electrifying, eerie, ethereal, hazy, and gorgeous, its music to sit and watch the snow and stars by. I massively enjoy the crackling fireworks effect at the end, apparently due to a faulty cable. My girl crush escalates out of control by the moment.




In my head, I want to join the Young Money crew so that I can be BFF with Drake. It’s about 99.566611 % probable that this isn’t going to happen, since I currently live in Bumfuck Nowhere UK and can’t rap to save my life. I can passably mime though.
So here’s to the next best thing; downloading his fitter than fit mixtapes. I recently got my paws on “So Far Gone”, mainly for my dream combination of Lykke Li and Drake combined on Li’s delectable “Little Bit”. Press play and slide from Sunday to Monday in a haze of heat-beating percussion and soothing vocals. This video is a little bit adorably cute as well.




Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

© Miranda Thompson 2010
DISCLAIMER: The video links hosted on my blog are not being presented as my own. If you believe that the copyright in your work has been violated through this post, please contact me through the blog

Drink and Drugs

Terrific, fan-bloody-tastic good news. One clean liver, one healthy pancreas and some sufficiently un-dodgy blood later and I’ve been gently discharged from the Liver Clinic (snappy title) and ushered back into the realm where drinking is a possibility. Of course, celebration was on the cards, and the past few days have read like a teetotal first year’s diary; four stonking nights out in Devon’s hottest hot spots boosted by just one pear cider mixed with several litres of the Co-op’s finest tonic water. Yum scrum. The plan is to gently re-introduce my body to the internal curdling delights of booze, especially since I’m still not entirely sure whether a glass of Chardonnay will send my guts into another pancreatic frenzy.

Ideally, my first drink “back in the game” would have been a long glass of gin, ice and nothing much else. Since I can’t possibly live the dream just at the moment, I’m going to let Snoop take it from here:




In other news, the first in a long line of deadlines is looming darkly in the horizon; a sure to be seminal work on the “liberating effects” of the Pill. The standard pre library plough of a Wikipedia trawl on the topic of the pill produced this gem of a song.




Loretta Lynn’s “The Pill”, controversially released in 1975, is fantastic for demonstrating just how society has changed over the last 50 years since the introduction of the Pill. The world pretty much takes cheap, convenient birth control for granted nowadays, let alone the fact that women are now free to make the choice whether to pursue a career if they want to, rather than being chained to the nursery in an “old maternity dress” clutching a brood of offspring. I love the deliciously caustic lyrics; whether Loretta’s suiting up with “Miniskirts, hot pants and a few little fancy frills” or putting the X back into sex because “The feelin' good comes easy now/Since I've got the pill.”

Despite the recent snow dumps, there’s been lots of fabulous new music popping up like spring daisies and gambolling over my spotify like baby lambs. Being a true devotee of the tween American market, here’s The Bieber’s latest efforts. Love current crush Drake’s cameo spot, pool table rolls, classic hand gestures and Beebs being a good half foot shorter than his love. And Ludacris, of course. What tween video would be complete without?



You know when you keep hearing a song but you have no clue what it is? Such was the case with this bad boy. Tinie Tempah might sound like Tinchy’s little brother but his shuddery electro pop and slick spitting will have you nodding your head in no time. Particular year abroad love for “they say hello, they say holllaaa and they say bonjour”.



Finally, the sound of living my life as a dance-floor dominating wannabe first year. It’s Rhianna with the eye popping, colour clashing, high fashion “Rude Boy”. Amongst the teeth-kissing and lip chewing, Rhi takes the baton from Loretta and interrogates her lad if he can “get it up” and if he’s “big enough”. Female emancipation say what?




© Miranda Thompson 2010
DISCLAIMER: The video links hosted on my blog are not being presented as my own. If you believe that the copyright in your work has been violated through this post, please contact me through the blog

Ballin'

I began playing basketball last year, and despite being nowhere near Michael Jordan or even Zac Efron standards, I bloody love it.

Thursday night sees the stage set for lay ups, free throws and the occasional on court wrestle accompanied by a soundtrack I’ve been compiling via Facebook to get my playa in crime pumped for the evening’s festivities. From Mis-Teeq decked out in pink velour and cork wedges to Lil Bow Wow actually dropping some plays into his lyrics, here are a few gems dedicated to celebrating my sport of Kings, Bball.


What better way to slam drunk straight to the point with Bow Wow’s oh so appropriately titled “Basketball”? “Yeah, now basketball is my favorite sport
I love the way they dribble up and down the court.” Couldn’t agree anymore with you there.



A playa can pick up a lot of useful slang from his slightly high pitched spitting, from “faking” or using the “MJ fadeaway” to even getting the DL on Bow’s favourite play (the alley – oop, for future reference. I have no clue).
What with the bouncing dreads and thick white headbands I don’t think the sport can be made to look any cooler than in this video y’all.


Could it get any better? With the magic combination of UK girl garage meeting Montell Jordan’s classic “This is How We Do It”, hells yes. Alright, so there’s not actually any basketball played here, but do enjoy the crowds of ripped men pressed up behind the girls courtside and of course, the angelic Alesha’s gravel rap. That voice is wasted on Strictly.



No basketball related post of mine would be complete without the inclusion of a joyous extract from the seminal High School Musical, the film that inspired me to attend the nearly naked Safer Sex Ball decked out in red and white “Wildcats” crop top and shorts combo from the children’s pyjama section at New Look. Good times.



Feel the thrills as the clip builds to a climax, try to ignore Vanessa’ Hudgen’s face and remember that “The way we play tonight is what we leave behind”, an inspirational mantra ripe for inscribing on a T-shirt.


Finally, the velvety voiced Drake. Quality, quality song and a great spin on the standard boobs and bitches rap video, featuring a girl’s basketball team blessed in the chest department who seem to have mislaid their sports bras in outfits my scrappy shorts will never live up to. This video doesn’t take itself too seriously and it’s refreshing to see a bit of humour mixed in with the bouncing. Girls will wince, guys will gawp.



On a further sporting note, I know I've blogged about it before, but the Matt and Kim's Daylight has been taken to the next level with a banging remix by Troublemaker and featuring De La Soul. It's also being used for the Fifa 10 soundtrack, something I hope footie fans will appreciate. Enjoy!




© Miranda Thompson 2010

DISCLAIMER: The video links hosted on my blog are not being presented as my own. If you believe that the copyright in your work has been violated through this post, please contact me through the blog

JLS = JIMP

A queue stretching two fold around the building. A visual assault of neon bunny ears and assorted multicoloured hoodies. Policemen swooping on teenage girls clutching monster bottles of Lambrini and straws. Welcome to the Manchester Apollo, with the scene set for the Saturday night performance of national treasures JLS.

I know I’m now nearer thirty than I am ten years old (fml) but when the opportunity to review JLS popped into my inbox I couldn’t resist. Too young for Take That, slightly overawed by the Christ like efforts of Westlife “Flying Without Wings” and didn’t fancy any of Steps, finally, it was my time to scream like a baby and cross fingers for a seductive wink in my direction.

Inside, the air was thick with excitement as thousands of teenage girls began to fill up every nook and cranny in a shimmering mass of sequins and eyelashes. My personal hysteria began when we reached our seats; far from a corner in the gods, the PR company had blessed us with seats just feet from the action, and inches from all the flashing neon and whistles a girl could ever wish for.

Before we could get to the good stuff, we had to sit through the tedious limbo of the support acts. First up, bizarrely and completely un-originally named “Phacebook” who smouldered in sequins and did an alright job of pretending to be Blighty’s answer to Pussycat Dolls. The seven year old in front and I weren’t very impressed. So far, so standard.




Next, a marketing mogul’s genious idea; soulful Chinese Brummie singer Stevie Hoang, living up to his Oriental roots with a raucous piano performance and bringing his own hype with a personal rapper. I felt a bit embarrassed during this one; my age gap was becoming increasingly evident as every other female in the place joined in a massive singalong. Oops.




After half an hour of Cascada and Pixie Lott on loop, FINALLY, The lights went down and I was more than ready for some action. The lads didn’t disappoint. Opening with the classic boyband entrance of appearing through the floor of the stage, kicked off the show and the screams with a stonking rendition of album track “Private”, eyes blacked out with the biggest sunglasses I’ve ever seen and washboard abs on display. Aston could probably have been cautioned for indecent exposure with a low cut hoodie ensemble that just screamed for some body oil.



With no less than five costume changes over the course of the set, the boys raced through their hits, from a heart pumping ‘Beat Again” to an electrifying “One Shot”. The bit where they arrived onstage clad in white suits and clutching roses was probably on the Stilton side of cheesy, although it took a lot of self discipline not to leg it to the front to get a rose from Oritise. Love him. Their showmanship was spectacular, managing to make every girl in the audience feel wanted (I’m talking DIRECT pointing and winking) as well as squeezing in plenty of flawless dances moves which featured more than a few glimpses of their prime beef abs. The abs. Oh, the abs. I think that once they’d realised that a nuclear scream bomb detonated upon every flash of flesh, it was probably quite hard for the guys to stop themselves.




Even though the boys had just one album of songs at their disposal, the show was nicely pimped out with the inclusion of several covers which recalled the X Factor; Gabrielle’s “If I Ever”, “dedicated to every girl in the audience” and the X Factor classic “Umbrella” complete with background video showing the boys drenched in water. Another highlight was the Michael Jackson medley which showcased each of the boys’ individual vocal abilities; from a stripped back “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” to an energetic “Beat It.” The one, tiny, weeny thing which slightly marred my enjoyment? The bloody scream-off three quarters of the way through. Annoyingly, we had Aston and JB to scream for and I’d decided since first setting eyes on Marvin in tight leather trousers that he was the one for me. Cue three minutes of solid noise as the boys encouraged the hoardes to reach window-shattering decibel levels.



The finale arrived on an exultant wave of screams and hands in the air as final backflips were exhibited to all time crowd pleaser “Everybody in Love”, putting an end to a faultless show that felt too big for the cosy snug of the Apollo. The dazzling dance routines and charisma are just made for stadium venues. Just as well the stadium tour’s sorted for the end of the year then.
I’ll see you down the front. I’m going to get a bloody rose even if it means infiltrating the flashing bunny ranks and decimating them all with my twenty two year old strength.



In an attempt to restore any vestige of credibility, here’s the lovely Two Door Cinema Club with “I Can Talk”, a Jeffmix Hot Track. Jeff makes the best mixes known to man, available on itunes and it’s all free, free, free. He’s such a legend, he even helped me plan my tourist trail of Toronto when I popped over in the summer. Check him out, and suck on this little beast of a song.

http://jeffmix.com/

Swede-licious

Just to sum up, Miike Snow was probably one of the best musical experiences of my life. Not to sound too gushing or anything. The gig was held at the Bristol Thekla, a grimy old boat down on the Bristol quay and the perfect setting for an intimate concert which didn’t feel too crowded or stuffy. What’s better, we soon realised that most of the people there were far too edgy to act bothered about being at the front. All the better for me and my shameful groupie ambitions then.

Following on from a fantastic synth laden support (no jokes. There were about 5 massive keyboards on stage) complete with lead singer who spent the last song wrapping his orange pashmina around his head, Miike Snow didn’t so much erupt on stage so much as ooze on in a crescendo of music and masks. For the first three songs as the music seeped on I felt like an extra from a Scream film as all band members moved menacingly about the stage, their razor sharp cheekbones and intense eyes shrouded behind blank white masks redolent of serial killers.



However, as the final plinks of “Black and Blue” faded away the masks were flung aside and the night belonged to the euphoric sounds erupting from the crowded stage, a magical mix of the instrumental with some serious onstage mixing treatment. Each track was begun in its usual fashion and then spun into a fantastic psychedelic further interpretation; the ethereal “Silvia” swirled into ecstacy whilst “Animal” radiated into endless guitar solos and a cacophony of sound.

Lead singer American Andrew Wyatt (formerly of The A.M) kept the audience transfixed as he quite literally jumped back and forth from reticent piano playing to lunging into the crowd clutching his guitar, much to my friend’s delight, who had just decided A) he looked like Jesus and B) she’d always had a thing for Christ.




Basically, it was dead good.

I was even more ecstatic to find this on my regular trawl of hypemachine; the UK “Animal” Bonus track. It’s a standardly amazing Snow tune; slightly dark and mournful yet still deliciously poppy. Savour it.




What with Miike Snow, Lykke Li and Peter Bjorn and John I’ve really been feeling the Swedish pop (although ABBA not so much) over the last year, and yet another one popped up on my radar during my visit to Briz; sweet Swede singer Erik Hassle

“Hurtful”, along with its angst laden pretty colour scheme and enviably lush velvet leggings, just screams James Morrison mating with Air Traffic. If I were a man I’d definitely want to be called Erik Hassle; looks-wise I’d probably want to look more like Matthew Goode or Cory Monteith than Napoleon Dynamite, bless his heart. Thanks Woz for that.




Here are two of my other favourite SWEDELICIOUS sounds:

Peter Bjorn and John “Nothing To Worry About”. Their album “Living Thing” is fanbloodytastic and this is a little cracker; galumphing drums and wailing children = winning combination



Lykke Li “Possibility” offof the “New Moon” soundtrack.
Still not seen the latest in the Twilight shenanigans, still not decided if I am Team Jacob or Team Edward. However, I do know this is immense.



One final thing. I just tried listening to the new Lil’Wayne album “Rebirth” on Spotify. Thoughts? I think I need to start drinking again. He’s gone all rock and left the rolling rap behind. Gutted.

© Miranda Thompson 2010

DISCLAIMER: The video links hosted on my blog are not being presented as my own. If you believe that the copyright in your work has been violated through this post, please contact me through the blog