o.g.

i am admittedly out of the pop culture loop.  when did this happen to me?  i don't watch the award shows anymore, simply because i've never heard of most of the people being acknowledged and haven't heard nor seen much of their work.  i don't watch reality tv at all, rarely go to the movies, keep my ear close to music i need to learn, and fast forward to the sketch comedies on the late night talk shows.  every once in a while a curveball is hurled in my direction, knocking my socks off while restoring hope that i can get my head back in the us magazine mix.  enter ice t.

now... back in the day, ice t was a bad man.  he lent that biting voice quality to many classic anthems from the gangsta rap hanger.  hailing from south central los angeles, he brought the street cred to back it up.  dealing mary jane and pimping were things he had actually done in his life.

i first learned of his rhyme style when i heard him light it up on my new jack city cassette.



i rewound a bit and caught him putting down a laid back title track to the movie colors.



the wife is a big law & order fan and, even though i have a hard time getting into the subject matter on s.v.u, i like watching ice t run things.  crazy seeing him on a weekly tv drama, but he really pulls it off.  and pairing him with so-so comic richard belzer?  why not.

but hey man - why you on the reality tv scene?  they've got you documenting your relationship with some gal who is probably getting famous off you.  your show is lined up on E! around kendra, an annoying playmate, and that kardashian who hooked it up with lamar odom. how you going out like that?

i decided to watch an episode of ice loves coco, just to see for myself.  it happened to be their anniversary party.  snoop dogg was there, and the master of ceremonies was that weird pimp-cup-weilding guy from snoop's crew.  i skeptically waited to see coco, the gal he had married.  who names their kid coco?  once she appeared on the screen, it finally made sense.

okay, i get it.  you're just keeping it real (pun intended).  

the wright stuff

i played a fun gig this weekend with some of my friends from up the road.  we provided the entertainment portion for a high society event that included gourmet cuisine, old timey cars, an expensive auction and an open bar that featured a vintage martini recipe that dates back to 1910.   mason city was out in full force, celebrating the refurbishment ($18 million, yo) and grand re-opening the park inn hotel, the only remaining hotel worldwide designed by the famous american architect frank lloyd wright.

the place was spectacular.  lots of angles and lines, as you would expect.  impeccable woodwork.  mesmerizing stained glass.  some guy waltzing around, dressed as frank lloyd wright.  attractive and somewhat comfortable furniture (hey-it's tough to get both).  classy color schemes.  nifty statues.  an lcd tv screen, playing a rerun of some david blaine stunts, embedded in the mirror of the men's bathroom.

we played fun tunes, old tunes, tunes i don't usually play.  i got my start doing some vocal jazz stuff, and have always been a sucker for getting through chestnuts like a foggy day, but beautiful, don't get around much anymore.  one lady even requested laura, one of my favorites (dig bird with strings). i am obsessed with crafting and observing the design of my lines when i improvise, and was acutely aware of this while nestled inside of a building chock full of this stuff.

i was people watching on this gig too.  i remember reading something where ornette coleman (whose name was just autocorrected to ornate) talks about his thought process when he looks out in to the crowd, wondering "who's that girl...what's she drinking...who's that joker saddled up beside her...did she come here with him?"

i noticed that the invite for this ticketed event suggested "cocktail attire", which was interpreted in several different ways.  plenty of guys were wearing ho-hum navy or charcoal grey suits.  most women accessorized fancy black outfits. cleavage and open-back dresses were common, some unnecessary. a handful of people risked it with crafty patterns and vibrant colors.  the fumes of cologne and hair spray hung in the air. most were strutting in their sunday best.

i wonder why we, as a society, think that dressing up in stuffy and expensive clothes is an important statement of status.  what if we could all just "look nice" and call it at that?  why do orchestras need to wear tuxedos?  choir girls wear unflattering gowns?  why are we so concerned with dressing to impress?  it's a tough situation we have found ourselves in, that i understand.  how can we buck this trend?

people feel good about wearing clothes that they like.  i know that the smug smile i wear when gussied up in a suit and tie would spread all over my face if i could show up in some jeans & a t-shirt (which, ironically enough, is what i wear to school).  i would much rather be around folks in a high class social setting who are more interested in talking with each other than stumbling over their heels, reworking that slip, or sucking it in with a belt that's cinched too tight.  wear the funky clothes that have all kinds of back story.  wear that scarf you got as a gift from your friend's european travels. sport that jewelry your kids made.  rock the hat that hides your receding hairline.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder, musically and otherwise. except for that orange dress.  that woman has no business leaving the house with that thing on.