Here’s the opportunity to see some of the most energetic, creative people making music today. Everyone who plans to be in ATX for SXSW you might wanna stop in at Beso Cantina to check out this line up. Space Up!

If a wikipedia page opens up for Cilla K the introductory paragraph will describe her as a vocalist, beat maker and songwriter based in New York. Her sound combines jazz, soul and hip hop and R&B that comes across as a mix of massive attack meets floetry. After taking a good listen to this French-West Indian’s first full album Fine Line(released April 2, 2010),you can expect a little bit of everything-which could be a good or bad thing depending on your taste. Her back story is as eclectic as her music.

Born in the French West Indies (Guadeloupe), Cilla was accepted by Sarah Lawrence College where she was a History major and also doubling as a model in New York. On her way to a casting call, she ran into David Pattillo, a producer/writer in NYC, and a great collaboration was born. The two have been working together over the past year and have since brought on board such collaborators as Julius Bervine (Floetry, D’Angelo, Common), Clay Sears (Jill Scott, Vivian Green), Danny P. (Joss Stone, Robbie Williams), and Mr. Khaliyl (Da Bush Babees, Talib Kweli). So we have a History major, model, singer, and she produced 7 out of the 15 tracks on her album-if you are reading this MARRY ME.

Honestly I had to take a couple of listens to really get into the album. I am not a fan of people who do everything on their album. I like my gravy with my mashed potatoes, but then again some people like Chinese food with fried chicken. Go figure. but there were some promising tracks like “Future” and if the track tells us anything about the future of cilla K we will be hearing more from her in the future.

Suggested Reading:
Fine Line Review by Terrence Lathan

First off let me start by saying that I have the highest expectations possible for ‘Good Ass Job’ (Def Jam 2010 *fingers crossed*). Not because I thought ‘808’s And Heatbreak’ was a cluster-fuck of burning trash, I (for one) actually love(d) most of it. Not because Ye’s “rapping again”. Not because of the rumored all-star cast of artists contributing to the album, including the likes of Dwele, Pete Rock, DJ Premier, QTip, Officer Ricky, Symbolyc One, and a host of others (maybe Hov. probably Hov.) My expections are high because, well, he’s Kanye…
So although it’s pretty absurd to even review a song that may or may not be finished, may or may not be mixed, hell, may or may not even be on the album, there are so many triumphs as well as pitfalls here, so many read-between-the-lines’ AND in-your-face’s, that I can’t NOT. Because well…he’s Kanye.
Plus I’ve been waiting on this for like, months so…
The dichotomy within this song is so hard to ignore, similar to the duality in his own character. (see: Gemini. Twin. Or Aries. Most times, ram, sometimes, lamb.)

Example…

He reminds you that he can’t REALLY rap…

“…they say / I was the abomination(?) of Obama’s Nation…” Errrr. What??

“….my furs is Mongolian…” Uhhhhh, what??

He reminds you that he really CAN rap…

“…I just needed time alone, with my own thought/got treasures in my mind, but couldn’t open my own vault…” Brilliant.

“…Reality is catching up with me/ takin’ my inner-child, I’m fighting for it, custody…” WOW.

Is this a love letter from Kanye TO Kanye??

“…ion’t need yo p#ssy, bitch I’m on my own d*ck…”

“…he knows/he so/ fucking gifted…”

Or a suicide note??

“…I was drinking earlier, now I’m driving…”

“…Now this would be a beautiful death (Jumpin’ out the window)…”

Or should ANY of this be even taken literally??

?????

A tad bit on the self-conscious and reflective (in its own way) side for a guy presumed *COUGH* to be a self-absorbed ego maniac…right??

Managing to cover the past 18 months in under 5 minutes, (the “break-up”, the introduction of Amber Rose, the VMA stunt/relapse, the cry for help that is the ‘Run This Town’ verse, ect.), “Power” is actually quite the lightning-in-a-bottle. And a breath of fresh air, considering that the song reflects how he FEELS, and feeling is what fuels creativity. Not just rhyming because you can rhyme good.

Simplicity?
Complexity?

Doesn’t matter. It’s about the FEELING. And even WITH the inception of Aubrey Graham, when was the last time you could tell how a rapper FELT in a song?? Sure how ‘Ye feels may be clouded by all that Riesling he drinks (LOL), or a few light-skinned girls and some “Kelly Rowlands” (im not mad, have you seen Kelly lately?), but at least it’s HONEST.
SO honest in fact, that Kanye may actually have the third best performance on HIS own song, following Symbolyc One one the beat, and then Dwele on the chorus. Big drums, big guitars, big sample, big beat, big chorus. Oddly enough, Ye’s lyrics are overshadowed by the music, and for a guy who’s presumed *COUGH* to always push himself to the forefront, he’s essentially playing a supporting role on his first post-hiatus offering??

Hmmmmmm.

Not to mention that (DON’T LOOK AT MY FACE) B.E.T Awards performance….

Hence, “You got the power to let power go??”.

His raps could stand to be louder, noticeably ,and although they’re still mostly filled with the witty narcissism and chuckles we expect, they are overshadowed by the music. Could it be the mix?
Possibly. But I think there’s more to it than that. Purposely.
As soon as he starts to get respect as an emcee (Graduation), he ditches emceeing (808’s). He acts like he doesn’t really give a fuck, obviously he does. “Power” seems to be a mixture all of Kanye’s previous works, only now with the notion that he’s not the underdog anymore. And although the song doesn’t give me chills (yet), I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Helena Andrews and her debut memoir “Bitch Is The New Black,” will be stopping in Houston. The book has generated a great deal of buzz across the nation and she will join the ladies of TheBlvdMag.com to discuss her journey and life lessons thus far. Discussion held on July 16 from 5 p.m. – 6:30 p.m. at Brazos Bookstore.

via NewsObserver

As far as time travel yarns go, “Hot Tub Time Machine” has to be one of the weakest ones I’ve ever seen. It’s even weaker than those “Austin Powers” sequels in which Mike Myers kept bouncing back-and-forth in time, breaking every rule of time-travel continuity just so he can say “Yeah, baby!” in different decades.

“Machine” revolves around a trio of buddies: the recently dumped Adam (producer John Cusack), whipped dog groomer Nick (Craig Robinson) and loutish loser Lou (Rob Corddry), who might or might not have tried to kill himself in his garage. Disillusioned with their adult lives and estranged from one another, the boys, along with Adam’s introverted nephew Jacob (Clark Duke), travel to their old teenage hangout – ski resort town Kodiak Valley – to party like they used to.

Thanks to the malfunctioning, titular mode of time travel, which they hop into during a hedonistic night of binge drinking, they get sent back to a crazy weekend they spent in 1986. Once they’re there, they attempt to relive the events that took place, not screw up the natural, presumably predetermined order of their lives.

“Machine” is a winking compendium of time-travel clichés, even making references to “Timecop,” “The Butterfly Effect” and “The Terminator.” It also casts Crispin Glover – Marty McFly’s dad himself – as a potentially deformed bellhop. And yet, the movie makes no effort to make its own time-hopping premise at least remotely logical. The movie’s concept of time travel is so flagrantly full of holes (when these guys travel back in time, they quantum-leap into their younger selves, with Duke’s not-yet-born character flickering in-and-out like a TV signal), I feel kinda silly for complaining about it. After all, this isn’t “Lost.”

The movie seems to exist just to make a bunch of raunchy gags, many of them, I have to say, quite funny. (Most of them are delivered by Corrdry, who really lets it all hang out – literally. I’ve never seen a man get naked so quickly so much in one movie.) It appears that director Steve Pink (who collaborated with Cusack on the scripts for “Grosse Pointe Blank” and “High Fidelity”) and his crew of writers are doing their own Judd Apatow knockoff, complete with disappointed, emotionally stunted grownups, R-rated humor and the occasional bare breast.

But “Machine” is a movie that’s even more unabashed in its crudeness, from its ceaseless collection of gay and penis jokes to the cruddy look of the film itself. It’s as if Pink, who directed the equally crass, college farce “Accepted,” has directed the ’80s screwball, teen sex romp he always wanted to make and threw in the present-day, time-travel element to frame the whole thing.

In the end, “Hot Tub Time Machine” pulls off something that’s almost as impossible as going back in time: It manages to be both enjoyably and infuriatingly stupid.

craig.lindsey@newsobserver.com or 919-829-4760

via NewsObserver

It’s time for me to rant about something that’s been on my mind for a long time. I would like to spend a few moments opening up about people who get on my last nerve, people I try my best not to smack upside the head when I see them in public.

That’s right, I’m talking about pretty people.

Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, attractive – whatever you wanna call ‘em, they make my jaws tight. Yes, I’m prejudiced against pretty people. I’m usually an open-minded guy, respecting people of all races, religions, creeds and sexual preferences. But if you happen to be pretty, I got no love for ya.

A while back, I wrote about why I don’t like Sarah Silverman without bringing up the major reason: She’s too pretty. Funny women aren’t supposed to be pretty! They’re supposed to be neurotic nerds or loudmouth pit bulls! Less attractive people work their whole lives to be funny just so they can get people’s love and attention, and here comes a pretty, foul-mouthed girl like Silverman swooping in and taking all that love and attention away from them with her cute, little, provocative jokes. It’s not fair, I tell ya!

As you’ve probably guessed, pretty women get my disdain. And not just pretty women, but pretty, young women. And not just pretty, young women, but pretty, young women who don’t know anything.

These days, it seems that many pretty young girls are just coasting on their looks, a camouflage for ignorance and inexperience. If there’s anything we’ve learned from MTV’s “Jersey Shore,” it’s that being sexy and stupid will get you very far in this society.

Yet pretty men are worse. What’s with all these guys who are prettier than the women they’re with? I know people get all excited about adorable dudes like Robert Pattinson, Zac Efron and Justin Bieber (who is making little girls cry on YouTube, by the way). But grown men aren’t supposed to have perfectly coiffed hair. Get a crew cut or something, fellas!

Not too long ago, talk-show host Craig Ferguson talked about another of my complaints. “Beautiful people aren’t allowed to be talented,” he said. “People get very angry when very good-looking people are talented.”

Ain’t that the truth. I respect George Clooney, Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet for making offbeat choices as actors. But, man, why do they have to be so good-looking? Not only that, they’re decent human beings to boot. Why must they rub their photogenic good-naturedness in my face?

I can’t fault these genetic freaks when it’s simply our culture’s fascination with beauty and perfection that designates them as the cream of the human-civilization crop. We are inundated with images of unattainable beauty: Beauty sells everything. I’m pretty sure if someone took a photo of a bikini model hovering over an AMC Pacer and plastered it on billboards across the country, guys would be trying like crazy to get their hands on one (the Pacer, that is).

The pressure to be beautiful can hit all points of the globe. Argentina is where painter and English teacher (and my former high school newspaper editor) Paula Lifschitz , who calls herself a former pretty girl, lives. She says Argentina has a tough beauty standard for women.

“Most of the girls get boob jobs, lipo and face-lifts, and they are all really skinny,” Lifschitz says. “So it makes meeting a guy who is interested in me almost impossible.” She says it’s hard for her gal pals to keep up. “Some girlfriends of mine fast every few weeks here in Buenos Aires,” she said. “They don’t eat food for, like, two days.”

Wow, is it really like that for the women of Argentina?

“Well, no, they’re American! But maybe that’s what they have to do to compete with the Argentines,” she said.

I’ve been raving like a bitter, lonely, ugly madman, but you have to admit that the importance of prettiness is getting out of hand. This is how our culture is: Beauty and prettiness are deified and cherished, while flaws and imperfections are damned and condemned.

But I like men who look like men, ugly cusses who look like they’ve been in a bar fight one too many times.

I like women with belly fat and stretch marks and bullet wounds and C-section scars. I also like women with craters and dents and wrinkles. That shows character – it shows they’ve been kicked in the butt by life!

Pretty people may rule, but it’s the regular-looking folk who keep everything going.

craig.lindsey@newsobserver.com or 919-829-4760

So apparently, everyone from German news sites, to Black men pedaling books, has the remedy to the issue of Black woman singlehood. It has become quite a market, this idea that Black women are desperate to mate and are unfortunate in doing so, apparently because they need “fixin”. The latest ploy appears to be a book entitled, “The Denzel Principle: Why Black Women Can’t Find Good Black Men” by Jimi Izrael. The premise appears to be that women want a balance of wealth, good looks, and success, amongst other things, and that we look for this special balance that doesn’t exist in real life. I haven’t had an opportunity to read the book, and I won’t go into the manner in which books such as these are mercilessly damaging the esteem of beautiful women who imagine that, because they are single, there is something wrong with them.

I don’t know that I identify at all with the single story that is being produced, displayed, projected, and shouted from the rooftops about Black women being beat into defeat by the S word. As a matter of fact, many of the women I know are happily single, and if more knew the work that went into long term relationships and marriage, I gather there would be more names to add to that list. The fairy tell love story that we feed all women is a topic for another blog, space, and time. For once I won’t go there.

However, on the anniversary of the assassination of one of the greatest leaders I have studied, regardless of race, I must interject that if I was to create a “type” list from which to measure potential suitors, Denzel Washington would not be the prototype. No disrespect at all to the beautiful brother, but I want more, a lot more. The man that we have come to know as Malcolm X means more to me, and most everyone I know, than words could truly express, which is an enormous feat for a writer. This considered, it is not actually his charisma, his ability to mentally and verbally dissect the dilemma of my people, his handsome smile, or his simple might that tops my list of characteristics to look for. My desires are much deeper.

Let’s begin with beginnings, with foundations, with the essence of brother Malcolm. We must never forget that, possibly, had it not been for another of our exceptional leaders, Marcus Garvey, we would not have had the good fortune to know Malcolm X. I would argue that Malcolm’s parents, who were Garveyites, instilled in him a respect for himself and his race that would have been difficult to produce from any other movement of that period. Malcolm watched his mother and father battle for a true emancipation, one that had not come with the proclamation perpetuated in 1865. That being said, I would like my future mate to have a strong foundation and understanding that we must work towards true freedom and equality, without limits and without a desire to fold.

Malcolm left his roots like a prodigal son after noting that fighting for freedom and justice saw his father murdered and his mother mentally and emotionally unstable as a result of her husband’s death. He was, at various points, thought to be a bookie, a pimp, a thief, a narcotics dealer and a narcotics abuser, among other indecent things, I’m sure. A low life for a high man, which unfortunately is sometimes how life plays out. But through his incarceration, and finding the Honorable Elijah Muhammad and the Nation of Islam, Malcolm evolved into what I can only describe as brilliance. A phoenix of sorts, rising from the ashes of what this country, many times, forces Black men to become. I desire that my mate be able to evolve, to grow, and to overcome adversity, as this life will surely be filled with it.

The dedication and loyalty that Malcolm showed his family and the Nation of Islam is, well, chilling. The thought of it, many times, gives me goose bumps, not in an eerie way mind you, but in a manner of sheer astonishment. It is often noted that as J Edgar Hoover and the FBI unlawfully tapped the conversations of Malcolm X, they never heard anything more than the brother solidifying thoughts and plans, and speaking with his wife about her and the children. It’s true, there is footage available of Dr. King that reveals some philandering that we would not like to acknowledge. Our leaders were human beings, in each and every sense of those words. And this is not to say that Malcolm was perfect, at various points his marriage to Betty Shabazz was in shambles, but over all he was purposeful, organized, and unrelenting in his passion, other qualities on my checklist.

The greatest lesson I have learned from the life of Malcolm X came from reading of his travels to Mecca to make Hajj, which is the fifth pillar of Islam, and should be carried out at least once in every Muslim’s life. Upon making Hajj, Brother Malcolm had to reconsider many of the things that he had been taught, and in turn had been teaching. Having one’s belief system challenged can be earth shattering, the courage to pick up the shattered pieces, renew, and rebuild, is another thing entirely. El Hajj Malik El Shabazz did precisely that. His break from the Nation was not merely a result of his contention with the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, but also because there were tenants of the religion that, upon experiencing Hajj, he could not adhere to. This caused immeasurable strife and ultimately death, but he had to live and teach his truth. The audacity of leaving what one knows is hindering one’s growth and beginning anew, this is what I desire in a partner. Courage under fire; the ability to walk and lead in truth, although living a lie would be easy and comfortable. Yes.

So you see, my checklist does not at all include spaces for income levels, six pack abdominals, and “good hair”. If I was to create a principle type by which I would measure the men I date, the list would not be centered around a famous actor. I’ve always been one to jump at the sun you see, one to desire the greatest among whatever is being compared. So I unequivocally choose Malcolm. Let’s see a brother write that book while deciding to direct women on what they should look for in a mate. Yup.

Here are a few of my favorite ways to celebrate the life and legacy our Black Shining Prince…

The great Ossie Davis eulogizes El Hajj Malik El Shabazz (audio/video) :

James Baldwin and Malcolm X debate being Black in America (audio, part 1 of 7)

Malcolm X discusses the white power structure at a roundtable disucussion.

http://www.okayplayer.com/news/Video-H.I.S.D.-Break-Of-Dawn-Live-SXSW.html

HISD @ SXSW 2009 from PeaceUvMine on Vimeo.

No one on the corner gotta bop like this
Can’t wear skinny jeans cuz my knots don’t fit
No one on the corner gotta pocket like this
So I rock Roc jeans cuz my knots so thick
You can learn how to dress just by jocking my fresh
Jocking jocking my fresh
Jocking jocking my fresh
Follow my steps, it’s the road to success
Where the niggaz know you thoro
And the girls say yes 
- Jay Z (Swagger Like Us)

Why HAVE skinny jeans become so popular these days? Isn’t it meant for women?   Skinny jeans “the style” is all the rage now, but it’s associated more with women’s fashion than mens. The skinny jeans look on men is tied usually to rock stars and heroin chic because well, these dudes are really skinny. Can the skinny jeans style look good on the average guy?

Girrrrrl, his pants are tighter than mine!”
“Why are dudes dressing like females?”
“Only men who are celebrities can wear skinny jeans and people will say that stuff looks cute”

If you’ve been keeping up with hiphop culture (or even pop culture) for that matter, these are some of the thoughts I’m sure you’ve been having lately. And if you haven’t, I sure have. Trends in fashion typically are a reflection of what is going on in the world at that moment in time, and one must wonder what is happening in our world that is provoking designers to promote, and consumers to consume, fashion that is neither specifically male or female.

Personally, I think, “Why torment me so?” Can you picture construction dudes, your mail man, or even the company I.T. guy in skinny jeans? Uh, no. I don’t think I even want to see Brad Pitt or George Clooney in a pair of skinny jeans.

As a red-blooded male, I can’t think of anything worse than wearing skin-tight denim, which merely serves to highlight your chicken legs, as well as your overly large feet. Also, isn’t it tight on the package? How uncomfortable must THAT be?  When you wear skinny jeans, every single bulge of any kind will stick out like a sore thumb, and well, men have equipment ladies just don’t have. Guys, give the snake some room to slither and stick to the loose and relaxed styles.

Clearly it must be, as the latest trend is for guys to wear it really low, basically hanging around their ankles. What’s this?  It’s pure madness is what it is.

“You know how many people came at me, calling me ‘gay’ cause I wear my jeans the fresh way? …That sh** is disrespectful.” – Kanye West

Anyone who knows me understands my love for Kanye. I believe he is innovative and refreshing in an industry where absence of thought seems to be celebrated. And I appreciate Kanye’s penchant to unapolegetically verbalize his thoughts. However, Kanye is experiencing the effects of a culture that has embraced delicacy and more feminine ways, and not everyone is ok with it.

Kanye brought to light the connection between representation and truth.
On its face, men are no longer required to represent themselves in hypermasculine ways. When men are not visibly representative of their stereotyped masclinity, they are labeled in ways that question their heterosexuality. I don’t agree with labeling someone solely based upon how they look, but at times it’s hard to ignore what appears to be the obvious. When a man is undoubtedly effeminate in his appearance, perceptions are created.

I am no queer eye for the straight guy, but I do see that men are embracing their femininity, and the tight jeans are just a small example of that. Still, some men are going a tad bit too far with trying to toe the line of “I’m straight but I don’t act like it’. More and more men are adopting social behaviors and styles of dress that are so borderline, so sexually blurred, that the lines between heterosexality and homosexuality, male and female, are no longer drawn clearly in the sand, and the fear of crossing back and forth over them is no longer as prevalent.

For years, entertainment culture has tried to include everyone, straight, gay, or in-between. But in recent years, with the rise of metrosexuality, heterosexual men are seeing their masculinity compromised.

Pick up any high fashion magazine, or specifically, the American Apparel clothing catalog, and you’re likely to see men posed in ways that are clearly geared toward the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered) community. Once considered “hardcore” rappers are proudly sporting nut-hugging pants that would give any woman a crazy yeast infection.

Rock-pop-emo stars such as Steven Tyler publicly express their love for eyeliner, flat-irons, and nail polish. Oh, and let’s not forget how often Will Ferrell kisses other men in his movies, but is in a hetero relationship. What is all of this wanting to promote? And why are heterosexual men the newest targets?

So, I ask you enlightened folks a few questions: If androgynous clothing styles are stereotypically considered to be more “gay-friendly” than “hetero-friendly”, why are heterosexual men being encouraged to believe that it’s cool or trendy to adopt these types of fashion choices? Like I questioned above, what are these messages sending? And, “are these just trends… or are people using this as an excuse to show their true colors?”

Guys, let’s nip this skinny jeans thing in the bud. It’s embarrassing, and makes my tummy feel funny.