Last year, Miami rapper Lunch Money had regional clubs on lock with single “I’m A Freak”, a percussive-heavy hip-house anthem that proudly celebrated the perks of being promiscuous (Unsurprising sample lyric: “She wore a skirt with no underwear/ Then she ride my dick like a ride at the fair”).
All of which means that it was only a matter of time before Pitbull, the reigning King of Hip-House Anthems That Proudly Celebrate the Perks of Being Promiscuous, would sniff it out and attach his name (and multiple “skeets”) to a remix of the track, in effect, greatly boosting “Freak”‘s chances of netting globe-wide exposure…while also helping it nab the honors of being the Official Anthem for Memorial Day Weekend 2010 (no, for real).
At this point, we’re convinced that one need only to whisper nothing but the word “sex” on a beat and Pitbull would make a remix to it within ten seconds.
When you have Pitbull and LMFAO sharing a track, with DJ “I’m The Shit” Class providing the relentless hip-house production work, it’s basically a given that while very little depth is about to be achieved, the late-teens/ early-twenty-something crew will eat it up with no hesitation.
Grown folks, prepare yourselves: you’re going to be hearing “Hold on/ It’s won’t take long/ Let me put this rubber on” and “Five kids, she must love to fuck/ And like a squirrel, I’m-a save her a nut” chanted non-stop by the kiddies for probably the rest of the year.
Who would of thought that nearly two decades after Cypress Hill had the college-age masses happily chiming along to their nasal-voiced tales of homicidal thuggery and…well, being loco, the ever-touring Latin rap vets would enter 2010 as possible holders of the Summer Jam sweepstakes crown?
The central source of this WTF? The group’s latest single “Armada Latina”, a future block party banger from their forthcoming (and eighth studio set) Rise Up that pairs them with J. Lo’s baby daddy Marc Anthony and the ubiquitous Pitbull (who doesn’t this guy know?) atop producer Jim Jonsin’s delightful Crosby, Stills & Nash loop that’s just begging for some sticky-hot three-degree-weather and a round of Mojitos to support it.
Coming off what many considered 2009′s top R&B release (Love Vs. Money), it’s hard not to be left a little underwhelmed by “Love King”, the first single and title track to The-Dream‘s next (and possibly last) album.
Built atop a floaty, snap-laden midtempo groove perked with candied piano plinks and punctuating “Ey”‘s, the song is nothing more than a cut-and-paste patchwork of the singer/ songwriter/ producer/ “ey”-er’s usual bag o’ musical quirks, this time tied together by a thin concept (The-Dream has tons and tons of chicks at his beck and call) that’s in dire need of much stronger goofball lyricism than “Got girls with weaves/…Girls without it” and “Got girls on my Sprint/ My AT&T/ Got girls on T-Mobile/ Metro if it’s local”.
Yeah, it’s “Shawty Is The Shit”-meets-”Rockin’ That Thing” soundbed is perfect riding-to material, but if The-Dream really wants to finally nab some Grammy nods this time around (we, the people, can only endure so many Twitter rants), he’s going to have to conclude his solo album trilogy on the high note it demands with far better offerings than watered-down regurgitations from the same stylistic template.
That’s the reality for pop newcomer Ke$ha and her debut single “Tik Tok”, an air-brainy, white girl rap concoction about on-the-budget “swagger”, Jack Daniels-assisted dental hygiene practices and spending booze-filled nights dodging “boys trying to touch my junk” at the local hot spots while in search for her ideal boy-toy: Dudes that “look like Mick Jagger” (cue puke in mouth).
It’s as unabashedly trashy as it is horrifically catchy (oh, who could deny that classic DJ-directed pop hook or the Twitter-iffically now opening line, “Wake up in the morning feelin’ like P Diddy”?) and basically pleading for some rapper to attach some equally hedonistic sixteen to it.
No surprise at all that that rapper ends up being guilty pleasure-magnet Pitbull, who fronts this remix with a verse that re-heats old ’90′s rap dialogue (“There’s some freaks in the living room getting it on and-”, yeah, we all know how that one ends) while providing other Spring Break in Cancun-centered lyrical fluff that will have your grandparents S-ing their DH’s in disgust.
Whether you dig it’s glitchy dance-pop inanity or chalk it up as Reason No. 5,864,221 why today’s music sucks balls, be prepared to hear it ad infinitum well into the Two Thousand and Dime.
Not to beat a dead horse, but it’s still so amazingly dumbfounding how Nina Sky continually release such great material with none of it ever able to bubble into commercial success. This past year alone they’re unleashed at least two well-acclaimed tracks (“On Some Bullshit” and their heavily remixed Major Lazer/ Ricky Blaze collabo “Keep It Goin’ Louder”) that are deserving of topping some pop single chart somewhere in the galaxy instead of just being the blog-crit/ club sect sensations they are.
Really, what do these girls have to do to score another over-ground hit? Could nicking an old hook from the Hall & Oates’ platinum-lined catalog be the answer? Probably not, but if it’s any consolation, “Here He Comes”, the “Maneater”-biting third single from B-more club hero Tittsworth‘s 12 Steps, has quickly risen up the rankings of our own personal Hot 100.
Tailor-made for a club-set scene in a CW tween soap, with Tittsworth’s light R&B-house thump carrying a distant bump as if to illustrate it’s source being outside the central camera shot, “Here He Comes” hones in on the inner-thoughts of Nicole and Natalie Albino, who are quietly going nuts as their crush casually brushes past them. “Tense up my body/ Can’t talk about it/ These feelings got me, got me…”, their forlorn harmonies trail off, the breathtaking appeal of their favorite boy so overwhelming, they’re rendered speechless.
The track carries such an alluring overall mood, that the fact that it breaks no new ground for the twins stylistically (these girls have managed to successfully marry every single human emotion possible to a “in the club” setting over the years), or that fellow featured guest Pitbull somewhat mars things with his needless misogyny (“I spread legs like a gynecologist”), don’t even begin to matter…all of which only makes it a bigger shame that “Here He Comes” likely won’t ever reach the massive audience it deserves.
You can sample the original below (in addition to a bonus Tittsworth remix of a beloved ’90′s R&B classic), but don’t forget to also cop the complete single EP, featuring remixes from AC Slater, Nadastrom, Stretch Armstrong & Jaimie Fanatic and Rico Tubbs & Will Power.
There are times when Beyonce goes on one of her overly-flamboyant, “tomorrow’s R&B”-soundtracked tangents that modern pop/ R&B brilliance emerges. We’ve experienced that with “Upgrade U” and “Single Ladies”, two tracks that tested the limits of our comfort with sultry vocals being lain atop the most oddly-constructed, mechanized-hip hop-soul grooves, and ultimately won out by having sturdy enough hooks and themes at their core.
But for every one of those gems, there’s a handful of others within that same style that largely fail at justifying the point in her trying so hard to go against the grain. Latest I Am…Sasha Fierce single “Video Phone” falls in this camp.
Over co-producers Bangladesh and Sean Garrett’s weird, cacophonic hip hop-styled homage to Trent Reznor, Beyonce takes on a slinky, exaggerated Southern drawl to indulge in a little burlesque-y “I know you want me; I want you to” preening. “You sayin’ that you want me/ So press record/ I’ll let you film me,” she teases betwixt the track’s eerie recipe of pinball machine plinks, finger snaps and two-ton drums, sounding probably a little too delighted in being some random guy’s via-iPhone jack-off accompaniment.
Like “Diva”, Be’s catchphrase-riddled “A Milli” for the ladies, “Video Phone” would work best as a brief album interlude, since it’s only for about a minute and a half that it manages to be an intriguing curioso cut. After that, it starts to feel like a meandering mess, unable to latch onto a strong hook or cool musical-based deviation to make it’s multiple elements gel into an satisfying whole.
Throwing in Lady Gaga as a duet partner for the Deluxe Edition remix doesn’t really help matters either, as what should be this amazing event quickly grows sour, with Gaga sounding a bit lost trying to mimick the gully sass of Destiny’s Favorite Child and proving, as she did when playing hook girl to Wale, that she’s not as captivating when relegated to the side car role (The video, embedded below, is kinda hot though).
If there is one “Phone” one should attach themselves to, we say go for B & L’s other recently released collaboration, the far catchier “Telephone”, or the Pitbull-assisted remix of “Video Phone” featuring the “I’m The Shit” beat and the Cuban-American emcee giving a couple seconds long karaoke shout-out to the old DC nugget, “Survivor”.
Still obsessed with kick-starting a solo career that no one really cares to hear, head Pussycat Doll Nicole Scherzinger‘s latest singular career move sees her popping up on the “official” remix to Pitbull‘s party rap, infidelity-anthem “Hotel Room Service”…because what we all really needed was a verse-long female perspective on a song in which Pitbull gleefully explains where on his multiple sex partners’ bodies he would like to plant his “egg whites”.
Pitbull is nice enough to keep this new uni-sex version clean though, penning up a brand new, far less titillating verse where all that ejaculation talk is omitted. But Nicole’s breathless contribution in which she mostly focuses on the perks of the room (“Penthouse, top-floor/ Suite, presidential/ Overlook the whole city/ Standing from my window”) feels like a waste of opportunity.
All that time spent leading the “Blow-Up” Dolls, and she can’t give us at least a smigden of Lil’ Kim, circa ’96, lady raunch? Shame shame, Nicole. If was up to us, we would have completely bypassed her and just hired up one of those cruelly under-appreciated background Dolls she so yearns to distance herself from. They’re so desperate to break out from the shadows that we bet one of them would have brought the nasty stuff this kind of track begs for (complete with expert hoochie ballet choreography for the accompanying video clip).
Despite rocking a sick, versatile flow (sometimes he rhymes slow, sometimes he rhymes quick) and consistently dropping hot sixteens, Pitbull is majorly overlooked when it comes to naming the current kings of hip hop. Maybe it’s because most of his singles and guest spots favor “booty raps”, but nevertheless, if Pitbull is featured you’re guaranteed something good. On the future club banger “Go Girl”, a previewing of his upcoming Boatlift, the Cuban-American emcee continues to churn out that addictive hip hop candy.
Over an Afro-Rican, Bjork-styled melange of bird whistles, disco pulses, tribal percussion and a sturdy, four-on-the-floor foundation, “Go Girl” rocks a minimalist techno-hop bounce tailor made for Ying Yang Twins debauchery. Never known for being a prude, Pitbull graciously delivers egotistical big-ups (“I party like a rock star/ Look like a movie star/ Fuck like an all-star/ Baby I’m a superstar”) with a paced “SexyBack” flow, coaxing his personal Top 8 of supermodel beauties to his crib for a little orgy fun.
Nasty rap is to Trina what the Bat-Signal is to Bruce Wayne, so when lyrics turn a suggestive slant, she will always be there, ready to prove that girls just wanna have fun too (“Diamond princess/ I make them bust quick”). Along with newcomer Young Boss holding up the mid-section, the three perfect the formula of hooky, party chants with a mature subtext over an intoxicating, poly-rhythmic beat sure to bring out the dance floor freak in anyone.
Though this can’t be heralded for being on the same level of his more lyrically packed material, “Go Girl” is another undeniable Miami rump shaker from the self-dubbed Mr. 305. It’s doesn’t show his skills enough to finally award him the respect he’s overdue, but when the smoke clears and the party has finally come to an end, watch for Pitbull to be one of the few emcees able to retain a considerable career.
As nice as it is to get free music, think of how much better your soul would feel if you purchased it the old-fashioned way.
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