The radio in our barn only gets one channel, and it's of the "Top 40 Dance Smash" variety, which allows me access to the soundtrack of your garden-variety middle-America teenage bedroom. A couple of things made an impression on me: first off, I heard three cover songs re-done in an I-wanna-lick-you-all-over soul vibe: "Don't Dream It's Over" (originally by the brilliant Crowded House), "Rapture" (orig. by Blondie), and then DJ Shadow singing Don Henley ("deadhead sticker on a Cadillac" - does that mean anything to these kids?)
The thing is, these aren't borrowings, or samplings, or homages; these are straight-out covers, like the ones we used to hear when we we kids. We had no idea where those covers had been, we just knew they were some ancient thing by someone who was probably dead, and the new version had to be better. The girl singing "Boys of Summer" today was scarcely alive in 1987 when that song came out. Today's teens could give a fuck about where any of these songs came from, just like we didn't give a fuck about songs from 1972. Except "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)," of course.
Somehow it made me feel both old and satisfied. I've been at this pop culture game for a long time. I started becoming aware of cultural trends when I was about nine, in 1976, and I've never really stopped. Which means there is a LOT of CRAP in my head now. Try filing "Afternoon Delight" with "Jenny From the Block" and see if you have any room left over for "where's the car keys?" 'cuz I sure don't.
Speaking of "Jenny From the Block," I find the whole hip-hop obsession with "keepin' it real" to be more than a little disingenuous. To quote from that song:
Don't be confused by the rocks that I got
I'm still, I'm still Jenny from the block
Used to have a little, now I have a lot
No matter where I go, I know where I came from...
I mean, I totally think "takin' your homies witchya" on the way to the top is a noble pursuit and god knows our posse from North Carolina certainly tries it – but don't we all basically know where we came from? And wasn't the whole point of coming from the Bronx to get out? The hip-hop world is rife with braggadocio, bling-bling, and the ability to bag any hootchie you want. What's with the constant soliloquies on the indefatigable spirit of your 'hood? I'm all for keeping real for my peeps back in the 9-1-9 area code (dat's from Asheboro to Benson, yo!) but somehow, whenever someone mentions their street cred, I'm inclined to think they'd lost it long ago. When's the last time J-Lo actually took the 6 train?
Fittingly, someone who is definitely keeping it real is my boy Roy Williams, who came back to coach basketball at Carolina after 15 years at Kansas. Roy is a UNC alum who stood by Dean Smith's side for a decade, and hails from the backwoods, possum-eatin' town of Spruce Pine, North Carolina. Not only does he have the best last name for UNC hoops (along with Shammond, Scott, Jawad and your humble servant) but he bleeds light blue and will no doubt right our listing ship. I predict some championship rings for our boy, and then you will definitely not be confused by the rocks that he got.
Posted by at April 14, 2003 8:36 PM