An American Christmas
This is what I’m missing.
If you didn’t already know, that’s Cliffs of Dover — one of the greatest solos, ever. Look:
America. The beautiful.
Nothing induces patriotism so deeply as living abroad for a short while. Let me say then that it’s good to be back — it’s just that simple.
Looking over my last few posts, I think you and I both know I’ve been completely out of my mind for the last few weeks. (Clearly. A post about what weapons I like? Crazy…)
To celebrate my return to civilization, let me shine upon you the very best Hip Hop the United Kingdom has to offer, juxtaposed against our very own stylings (courtesy of “greatest in the universe,” Kanye West). Now I’m not saying the UK stuff is bad (I think it’s charming, actually). But, like all Americans, I need something raw and gutsy and deeply, deeply sophisticated. Enough said; now listen:
Now while that did have its merits, listen to the attitude on this track:
For the longest time, I was clubbing in London, listening to this one (following) tune, which I called “The Colonoscopy Song,” because it, simply, sounds like the guy is saying “colonoscopy” after every few bars. Shah Abba, the anxious-to-please girl that she is, quickly set me straight, however.
Really fucking catchy, actually. Especially so after a few tequila shots — truly. But listen to this track; it pulls no punches:
I won’t argue the merits of American music here — the Beatles and Ting Tings are English, after all — but I will say that when it comes down to it and you’re in the club and there’s a 10 on the dance floor tooling guys left and right, rest assured you can count on me to rock her world. All I ask is that you, respectfully, spin something with attitude — something American.
I (heart) America
The problem with America is not that we are a country of buffoons, rather, our buffoons make for the best of our television and, hence, we are cursed (and blessed) to carry their reputation with us, always.
This is not my problem, however. Mine is explaining two things to every African I meet: that I am not Jackie Chan and that, no, I don’t know how to fly.
As for Europeans, how do you explain to them that in some ways WE ARE EXACTLY LIKE THEM: