Words with Friends has no respect for my crossover.

Where satire happens ... perennially.

Would have liked to have seen Dolan at least jabbed at, somewhere on this poster.
via Rod @boomtho Benson's SWAG bomb tumblr

Double Venom

Art Director must have been frothing at the fang to have produced so on-point a "Black Mamba" visual, inspired by Kobe's new kicks.

Got Next: Leon Marin "Beyond Limitations"

"So much heart I'm blastin'..." 


It's only one phrase on a 17-song offering packed dense with loaded lines. Yet that mere piece of a refrain to the breakneck-paced second track on Leon Marin's latest resonates, encapsulating the oversized personality and snarling talent that distinguish this young emcee. In just a week since Beyond Limitations was made available for download (and that coming hot on the heels of Marin's video for "NBA Theme Song"), the mixtape has received praise for its consistency and reached thousands of ears, many belonging to hip-hop fans who may have been previously unfamiliar with the Brooklyn artist.

Don't expect the low profile to last. The laudatory blog posts are on point -- Beyond Limitations is rock solid from open to close, while demonstrating a versatile array of flows and styles. There's the loquaciously bitter ruminations of "Jaded" and crass bounce of "Women N Some Cash," offset by the earnest "Strugglin 4 Life" and eminently eponymous "Leon Marin Show." Some songs may call to mind hip-hop's biggest names -- his lyrical contradictions and technicolor expressions make it difficult to avoid Kanye comparisons. But listen, really listen --Marin's word choices and themes bear so much originality, his impact is utterly fresh.

Don't just take it from us -- grab the FREE download below and introduce yourself to one of the next generation's bright stars.

Click here to download Leon Marin's "Beyond Limitations" 

Leon Marin will be performing Saturday January 28th at Paint and Poetry: A Collaborative Effort of All Things Art. 

• • 
    

Meet Me on the Flip Side

I've always lip-synched along to songs played silently in my imagination. Lyrics can keep you company that way, no matter where you are. It started with Bruce Springsteen's epics echoing across my mind during longer walks home. At some point, Steve Malkmus' four winding verses from Pavement's masterpiece Watery, Domestic EP were recited like a mantra. Later, it seemed that 90% of my mute mutterings were written by NaS and other emcees. With hip-hop I'd become sensitive to repeated incantations that didn't in any way reflect my own experience. It wasn't just that. Some lyrics are just trite, some violent or disagreeable to the point where I wished neither to vocalize nor internalize them. 

With NaS though, I ran into trouble. Here were some of the most masterful flows and displays of lyrical prowess committed to beats. Even if I couldn't own these words, the rhythm with which they were written energized me. And so these 'Flips' were birthed. Some have been posted here, including one based strictly on AZ's legendary first verse from  "Life's a Bitch (and then You Die)". The conception for NaS' verse and development of this entire flip-to-a-more-positive-tip only came this year when our first son was born. Recently I posted the piece, "Life is Rich (and Love is Why)" on my "big kid culture" blog boobuddha. 

Thought the Viper was simply boring us...

...with an unmitigated flow of legalese describing the deepening rift between former Knick Charles Smith and the National Basketball Retired Players Association.

But when Post readers finally arrive at story's end, all is revealed as deadpan prelude to Vecsey's kicker: "There's something to be said, I suppose, for a man who never seems to tire of getting blocked."

Gadget Freak

My co-worker and friend Terance received some well-deserved recognition from the Atlanta Post today. The opening line...

Calling someone a ‘freak’ isn’t generally a compliment, but if you called Terance Thatch a ‘gadget freak’ he wouldn’t even be mad.

...inspired one of my signature, hasty rewrites of a classic jam. (Apologies to Rick James, bitch):

He’s a very 2K boy, the kind who’s Facebook friends with mama
He will always let you hear what’s “now” (once you read up on his tweets)
He likes the toys in his hand, he says the iPad is amazing
When he makes his moves to new grooves in real-time
He Facebooks every step indeed

That boy is nerdy hip now (the boy’s a gadget freak)
The kind of boy you read about (in mobile marketing e-zines)
That boy’s way more than 2K (the boy’s a gadget freak)
I’m really glad I follow him (every time he tweets)
He’s on point, he’s on point, the dude is on point with things, yeaaaaah, he-he-HEH!

Ode to The Truth

O Paul, where are all your other rings?
Dude was wrong about a couple things
It came back to the city of angels, now the fat lady sings
Show's over, Show Time got over, better luck next spring

Pierce is an 'and one' artist, so L.A. got, to guard this

Fearless not flawless, Queensbridge's hardest,

He's to a fault, honest but when he's on it's

Raw regardless. Congrats, Ron Artest

A test defending champs passed, the final exam

Extra credit points to Phil Jackson's plan

Breathe as one, even Kobe be just one man

To repeat, many rose in turn and learned to stand

Big Spain's inside tips and turnaround swish

3rd game's massive 4th quarter from D-Fish

Odom owed em, and showed em he can finish

Team D slowed em, we all know what we witnessed

So Paul, we're in awe of your one ring
Some legends end up never winning
But Boston's had so many true kings
The Truth? The cost of this loss must sting

Well Said

A timely verse on the state of The Association.

Refreshingly the meter owes more to John Ashbery than to Shawn Carter.

boom blip

Been around the world, dwelled coast to coast

Met a few opponents, been a friend to most

Walk among the living, talk with ghosts

DJed radio shows and like an emcee toast

True dub survivor, tryna revive with flows

My inner sphere inscribed in this pithy pop post

We

My heart flows, gushing like an ocean from a cup

Tide’s always high, ‘cause your love fills me up

Awoke my third eye, when you found me

Broke down my fear, hear? You ground me

Ignite me, stoke the flame of my desire

I’d burn through salary like my calories to attest to the fire

Your passion ever lasts, my very best you inspire

And soothe these uptorn roots, boots made to walk

But I feel we in cahoots, it’s the truth when we talk

Your inner soul comes right through

Make me feel like a right fool

Tryna fake cool as you take me to school

Life’s lessons? Light blesses

Every stress with fresh reflections

Our paths joined, and point in one direction

Follow? I want to walk the earth with you

Or aim higher, I might even return with you

Eternally, when we learn our essence through and through

All the bards of legend pen their paeans to you

Hell, I wish I could bring everything to you

Thought I needed Lou Reed to come and plead on my behalf, understand

But this is PD’s deed to do, besides, Lou ain’t agreed with that plan

He said “I’ll say what you like

You know I’ll say what I can

I’ll say whatever you want

But Peter, you love Suzanne”

Indeed I do. Love chose us two, though the wind blows us too

Even when we oppose, we see it through ‘til it’s right

With time left over to get cozy and tight

I just knows I’ll doze divinely intertwined with thee every night

You rose like Lady Gwenyvere--well baby, I'm here to be your knight

And propose, you and me become we, and unite

(P.S., She said yes!)

Son of God's Son: "Made You Think"

A response to NaS' "Made You Look", cast in the original's lyrical flow

Let's shape this hook in a new direction
Take edification, a taste of correct sh--
You know I waited long to give this a retool
Slow, but still street, fool, y’all know how Pete do
Keep it clean, deep inside the beat, too
Maintain a vibe you imbibe, cool as ice cubes
Well paced, no stress
Dressed with finesse in pastel
Puff or pass to me, pal
Wife sharp as a knife, plus she's like "...mmm, POW"
Put us on the F train—F’ cars, they insane now
If we could drive through the city, like de nada
You'd see us in a hybrid Prius en la esplanada
Petro-free style, it's Pedro's freestyle
Get up your hand, child, that ya fuel your coupe with
Slurp soup with, burp your little papoose with
Same hand that you hoop with
Raise a fist, we ain’t stupid
Streetballer? Yeah I be that
You know my steez
I rain threes. "Splash!"
Ya do the 'Smurf,''Wop,' 'Baseball Bat'
That Souljaboy, that super—-naw, buck that

I mean yooooou! – Aw made you dance
Moving to a groove, put you in a trance
Getting light-headed? Breathe like it's yr last chance
Where’s them gods at? Where the truth at?

He provin'! – Aw made you think
Got thirst for knowledge, take a long drink
Getting light-headed? Life sped up, don’t blink
Where’s them gods at? Where the truth at?

This is happening, this how Pete rock
Now get up off your ass, shake the whole block
My kush cousin, spark up the trees, sir
Funk in the trunk? Get krunk if it please, girl
Don’t start none, won’t be none
No reason for you kids be trippin
Just want to see you sway your hips and
Sip $8 drinks, holla, pounds up
That’s how you pop-a-collar in this house, what
Let the music diffuse all the tension
Divine intervention, death protection
Hustlers and players stay on the grind
Lady move in time, we can grind to the tune fine
All my outta-towners, count the hours
Spend mad paper, take a bath, let it shower
Make it rain? You people so crazy
Pull out my waist, sizzurp and purple hazey

They blazing! – Aw that's just smoke
Why you front? Nature gave us the blunt, toke
Getting light-headed? Chill, boy, don’t choke
Where’s them gods at? Where the truth at?

I seen dudes puzzling, yo my mood is dark-brewed
Wire you up just like the feds do
Heads don’t snitch, now they live by a street rule
Let a stool pigeon fly the coop? Nah, they turn cruel
NaS told kids, "learn more, change the globe"
Yet this honor code kill mode, keeps it real…tragic
Whether virtual reality or the physical classic
Whatever you do, whatever you choose
Stay true to yourself, versatile too
Like a renaissance man is. Ask my friends
See they never understand this
How I manage my flow over QB standards
With just enough nastiness to top the class
Baby reach in your stash, pass the spliff
Ignite like Fela, rule the nation on a boom-bap tip
Rewrite slick, eclipse the edit like a lunatic

(Fela Kuti portrait,
courtesy of Discoid Terrorist)

It Ain't All About Me #3

summer's first sunset blessed
today's blacktop lesson beyond introspection


young bro' showed & proved
a few steps slow for our pace of competition
yet, due to unprecedented intermission
(hectic cell phone interruption)
down 5, we had a discussion.
he asked what we gotta do
i'm like "you just be you,
but talk to us on D, they ain't pickin' you
so we ain't switchin';
no help on yr man
unless you holler, unnerstand?"
glad we got a new plan,
i caught my breath


checked the evening's signs,
selected an inspiration in season
summoning jackie gleason
(in the hustler,
you know the reason)


lunacy or did it seem to me
the daydream made the tides sway
this-a-way, and when Big Ray
got off his call, 4-on-4 was recouped
I said "men, let's play some hoop."
we lost that game, then won a deuce
i considered the test's truth,
later on when i was mellow
centered on the young fellow
whose pride highs and lows flipped
the moment his man got past him, then damn
his head hang down to his hand.
Nah bring it again fam
recover quick
when you get crossed up or mixed
don't trip on top of it,
talk and claw your way back into it
that team D,
seems to me,
got a chip for the Big 3



photo: Hoopedia

Hoop Haiku #2

Halfcourt? Slick streetball legend
(in my head). Fullcourt
I hang back on D instead.

[photo by Manabe]

Pencil Stash

I play chameleon with my style, but it's your smile I'm feeling
And eyes can't spy what the soul's really seeing
Maybe they don't know a lick about the deals I believe in
Or get the inside joke on the looks I'm thieving
Baby, if I could talk a mile a minute, no mystery--stands to reason
I'd just be breathing needless b.s. into the breeze
Yet if I slow my riff, will you follow my drift
Get uplifted by the myth, or just catch a whiff of what you missed
From those smoke signal designs we weave in

(image courtesy of Anna Fleshler)