shaking it without breaking it since 2006.

Dear readers, Dr. Morebounce has questions for you:

- When you come in to work in the morning, do you dread getting your day started, even after coffee?

- Do you love the wind in in your hair and funky drums in your ears?

- When presented with a frustrating situation, do you wish you could strap on some skates and roll your troubles away?

If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, you need this blog’s newest feature - the Roller Boogie Audio Successory of the Day.

When you sign up, you will receive a perfectly funky, glidealicious link to an mp3 in your mailbox every day. An mp3 that will make you say, “I can DO it,” “Got-DAMN, that’s fohnky!” and “Why don’t today’s songs have horns any more?” And before you know it, you won’t even care about your 1500 unread e-mails. Because you’ll feel like you’re at the hottest roller boogie party this side of Roll Bounce.

Ready to sign up? Use the form in the sidebar. And remember, I am lazy and uninformed, so I will never use your e-mail address for anything except to send you Audio Successories.

And just because I love you, here’s a successory to get you started.

Vaughan Mason and Crew
Bounce, Rock, Skate, Roll (parts 1 & 2)
Bounce, Rock, Skate, Roll EP, 1980

Have a rollerriffic day!

Lord have mercy, it’s been a hell of a few weeks up in the Morebounce empire. If it wasn’t horrible tragedies, it was work drama, or the everyday fuckery we see around these parts. (Yes, you may use that word, please and thank you.)

Which is why it’s time for some of those joints that make you think you’re in some alternate universe where everyone is happy, lives on the beach and works at a record store.

Pleasure just might be the most perfect happy music. For all the funk in their collective trunk, they have an incredibly light and melodic sound. With the fat-assedness of Brick and light touch of L.T.D., they’re a funk crate-diggers’ naughty dream.

Coming out of Portland in the early ’70s, Pleasure put out at least seven solid albums (if you know of more, get thee to gmail and hit me up!) without ever really gaining any widespread recognition. Why? I dunno. I guess folks have no damn taste. But today, true heads know about Pleasure’s genius and dance floor magic. Flip one of these on and just try to keep that mean mug:

Pleasure
Let’s Dance
Accept No Substitutes, 1976
Damn, nobody is better at building anticipation than Pleasure, on the real. Sometimes, in the beginning of their songs, you think you can’t wait another bar for the stank to start. But they always pay off with some stank horns or nasty bassline. Also, I love a good wocka wocka.

Joyous
Joyous, 1977
A friend introduced me to this when I was having a shitty-ass day. He sent it to me and simply wrote: “go to 1:05.” He was so right.

Glide
Future Now, 1979
Straight ahead low-bottomed disco. Does what it says - try it on roller skates.

I’m sorry to break up the usual nonsense up in >bounce, but I need to be serious for a minute. Those of you with no tolerance for seriousness (I don’t blame you), please come again later in the week. [-gforce]

Last Friday, Milwaukee DJ Rock Dee passed away. Actually, saying “passed away” seems to minimize what was certainly a horrific episode; for some reason, Rock Dee committed suicide (according to this). He left behind a wife, a two year old daughter and I think at least one other child from a previous marriage.

I didn’t know Rock as well as others in the Milwaukee DJ community (that’s us in the photo above). He’d been to my house a few times, and he gave me my first DJ gig. He was a fixture in the local house scene, and everyone seemed to know him. He’d been DJing and producing since the ’80s, and had a few notable records on his resume, including one with Speech from Arrested Development. Heartbreakingly enough, he signed all of his emails with “No Stress - God Bless!”

But the reason I’m writing this post isn’t really to eulogize Rock Dee. I’ll leave that to his best friends, wife and family. It’s because I just feel like I need to speak up about suicide.

Six years ago, my father died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. It was horrible to grieve his death, and even worse to endure other people’s discomfort with the way he died. I lost friends, listened to moralizing condemnations and watched my family try to cover it up. It was the worst trauma I ever hope to endure. I know I’m stronger for it, but I would never wish it on anyone.

Folks, we need to start talking about this shit. Did you know that twice as many Americans die by suicide than get murdered? And about 90 percent of those that “complete” suicide suffer from a diagnosable mental disorder?

What does that mean? We all need to be less afraid of getting killed and more afraid of getting depressed. We need to recognize depression in ourselves, our friends and families, and treat it. We need to be able to talk about suicide and bring it out into the open if we want to make a difference. Of course, you can’t stop somebody if they’re determined to take their own life. But I have to think some lives could be saved if we weren’t so afraid of the subject.

Take care of yourselves and your loved ones. If you think somebody is going to kill themselves, have the courage to ask. Let them know you don’t want them to die, and call a suicide hotline (1-800-273-TALK) to ask what to do next.

Let’s not let Rock Dee’s death be marked with just another whisper-filled funeral. I have no idea what his circumstances were that made him make this decision, or even if anybody could have known. Rock Dee was a proud guy, and I suspect he was very secretive about all of this. But what I know is this: we need to start talking about this awfulness so that we might have fewer funerals.

Jimmy Spicer
Money (Dollar Bill Y’all)
12″, 1983
The first record I played for my that first DJ job that Rock Dee set me up with, at Milwaukee’s Summerfest. I was terrible, fumbling and embarrassed. But Rock Dee was very kind and encouraged me to keep on, even giving a little speech afterward about how even a 30something mom-of-two can decide to be a DJ, if they love music enough.

Almost 14 years ago, Sean “Puffy” Combs released a single from his latest protegé, a chubby rapper with a wicked wit who sounded like he was talking into a jar. Four days earlier, the MC with the ever-present Kangol and the sad eyes married his girlfriend of two weeks, and was still itching to sell crack, a routine he’d taken up in order to support his two year old daughter.

After August 8th, 1994, the rap game was never the same. “Juicy,” The Notorious B.I.G.’s lazy tale of makin’ it over a smooth Mtume sample, went on to sell 500,000 copies by November and started an entire hip hop movement, the remnants of which can still be seen today.

Biggie went on rule both charts and radio waves, and started all kinds of drama along the way, beginning with his flagrant affairs, continuing with his West coast rivalries, and ending with his 1997 murder, just a little over three years after it all began.

But earlier this year, Biggie’s been spotted online, commenting on blogs here and there, and gaining over 225 followers on his Twitter account. Is he alive? That’s not for us to ask; the question is too weighty. But what is for us to ask is this: what the hell has he been doing in the last 11 years?

Investigative reporter Aaron Matthews is on the case.

Continue reading →

This morning Metallungies posted a new Beat Drop on the Neptunes, and OMG it is SO. GOOD. It even includes contributions from blog visionaries like AaronM, $port, Skillz, and me!

Check it here.

I think it’s been well-established in this blog that >bounce publishers deeply dislike music that requires thinking. Oh, sure, every in a while we notice a message in between our Roger Rabbitting, but for the most part, we’re just here to dance or make out. Keep your manifestos for the poetry slam, thank you.

And lately, we’ve been listening to some particularly vapid lovelies. They remind us of 1984, when you just needed a drum machine and a shit-talker from the neighborhood to cut a record. In fact, a couple of these have no melody at all - their whole purpose is to bounce that ass. So get it warmed up:

Detroit Grand Pubahs
Sandwiches
12″, 2000
Paris the Black Fu was a DJ friend back in my old dusty days in Detroit. He used to write crazy deep poetry with serious illustrations. But he also used to make his own jewelry out of found wire, clear the dance floor with his high kicks, and wear his hair like a pineapple. (Not unlike one of my other favorite crazies!) So I’m glad he didn’t turn out to be a thoughtful emo producer. He makes music about asses.

Def Cut
Street Level (Original Tokyo Mix)
Street Level: Remixes EP, 2002
This song is really electro, pretty house-y, and has nothing more than a Doobie Brothers sample. I don’t really know why that guy keeps saying “That’s My MAN Throwin’ Down!” but maybe it’s a European thing. Crazy Swiss.

I:Cube Feat. RZA
Can You Deal With That?
12″, 2003
This beat is straight filthy 1983, and I’ve never heard RZA sound so laid back. I was so excited when I discovered this song, I made it my ringtone.

Twista Feat. Pharrell
Give It Up
12″, 2007
You can be sure that anybody who wears an angry ice cream cone t-shirt is gonna write some dumb rhymes. But the thing is, if that person is Pharrell, it’ll also be over a beat so hot, it could make you consider stopping to pop your ass on your walk to work. What. Nobody saw me.

Hey y’all! I know >bounce has been a little less bouncy lately. Even though I’ve been mad busy, I hope you know I’m still thinking of you, readers. Even when I’m drinking Courvoisier and lampin with D’Angelo and Common, my loyal >bounce crew is always front of mind.

And! I’ve been thinking hard about life, and happiness. The conclusion I came to is this: I like ridiculous shit, and Busta Rhymes makes me happy. On the real. Let me count the ways:

1. He Looks Like a Muppet.
He’s got a big, wide mouth, a ridiculously long index finger, and giant pants. Yay!

2. Actual Insanity
This man keeps a machete in his car. Why? To defend against the people he’s kicking in the head, of course.

3. Rhymes Really Fast
Busta Rhymes raps so fast, he can finish a sentence before starting it. In fact, I never know what this old turnip head is saying. But who cares? He could bust it about federal interest rates, backgammon, or oatmeal, and I’d still bump that shit in the Honda. THAT’s how happy he makes me.

Go ahead, try him:

Leaders of the New School
Case Of The P. T. A.
A Future Without A Past, 1991
Not sure what this song is about. Something about high school and the Kid N Play kick step?

Busta Rhymes
Woo Hah!! Got You All In Check
The Coming, 1996
An entire song based on an offhanded callout in an old Sugarhill Gang joint. It’s in this video that Busta debuted his giant index finger.

I Love My Bitch
The Big Bang, 2006
So romantic. How could you refuse a man who admires how you fuck with the thugs? It’s not only a weeper, it’s also a perfect will.i.am-produced track.

Don’t Touch Me (Throw Da Water On ‘Em)
Blessed, 2008
This is seriously my new favorite. I mean it this time! This head nod shit will make you break ya neck.

The other day I was showing my TOTALLY ADORABLE new shoes to my old man, and I asked him, “Aren’t these the cutest shoes I own?” And he said, “I guess, but don’t you say that about every pair of shoes you buy… ?” Hmmph! My man clearly does not understand the shoe relationship cycle.

I’m kind of like that with music, too - whatever I’m listening to right now is just about the banginest cut I’ve ever heard. Until the next one. Anybody remember Unklejam? me neither.

But this time, it’s different! I think my relationship with UK MC Estelle will be long-term. First of all, she wasn’t born until 1980, but she’s got mad respect for classic soul older than her. She runs her own label, and she rolls with John Legend, Kanye and Swizz Beats. Also: her grill is straight wrecked, and I kind of respect that.

Folks are comparing Estelle to Lauryn Hill, and I guess I can see that - she’s got a husky voice and she’s the stylistic antidote to Beyoncé. But Estelle seems more authentic, and more importantly, she’s not dressing like a clown or rambling batshit nonsense to interviewers.

Estelle
1980
The 18th Day, 2004
Estelle’s first big UK hit.

Musiq Soulchild Featuring Estelle
People Everyday
Meet the Browns OST, 2008
About TIME somebody started remaking the REAL classics by the REAL masters, like Milwaukee’s own Arrested Development!

Estelle
Wait A Minute (Just a Touch)
Shine, 2008
The first single, kind of made up of crazy shit mashed together that works really well. That “OH.” gets me every time. Borrows liberally from:

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins
I Put A Spell On You
45, 1969
Yikes! This song scares me, no lie. Put this on and I will run out the room.

and:

Slave
Just A Touch Of Love
Just A Touch Of Love, 1979
Disco classic with a nasty bassline.

Estelle
In The Rain
Shine, 2008
Oh god, this is so girly. It’s all summer storms and movie soundtrack. Sounds suspiciously like:

Love Unlimited
Walkin’ In The Rain With The One I Love
Love Unlimited, 1974
Written, produced, and arranged by the late Barry White after a conversation (and frenching) with the lead singer.

When was the last time you heard a decent cowbell in a song? Of course, you can hear your run-of-the-mill “Low Rider” and “Hey Ladies” any damn day.

But a well-placed cowbell is really a gift. Deceptively tinny and deceivingly lowbrow, the cowbell is a creeper instrument. It starts out with a little tink-tink sound - you barely know it’s there - often growing more pronounced until folks are shaking asses up, down and all around without even knowing what got them there.

However! The cowbell can also be an instrument of evil. Beware the cowbell’s unnatural power over weddings and bar mitzvahs, as evidenced in Wild Cherry’s “Play That Funky Music” and the most wretched of all cowbell songs, Tone Loc’s “Funky Cold Medina.”

Let’s get to the awards: here are my five all-time favorite cowbell joints, in ascending order.

5.
Master Jay & Michael Dee
T.S.O.B.
12″, 1980
Perfect, perfect. So perfect. Master Jay & Michael Dee spit over the Sound of Brooklyn, which I guess is a couple of hot boogie breaks, a kick, a snare and a cowbell the size of Madison Square Garden.

4.
Sugarhill Gang
8th Wonder
8th Wonder, 1981
Cowbell use here is almost under the radar, creating the unconscious funkiness. But still: Woo-Hah! They got you all in check.

3.
Michael Jackson
Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough
Off The Wall, 1979
Nothing much needs to be said here, except DAMN, MIKE! If you were thinking right, you woulda spent all that surgery money on a time machine and a week of Quincy Jones’ production. You coulda been somebody again…

2.
Quincy Jones
Sanford & Son (The Streetbeater)
45, 1973
And speaking of Quincy, how could such a fine-ass man write such a nasty, funky TV theme? It sounds like a LeMans with no muffler, Fat Albert and a rusty old cowbell.

1.
Sergio Mendes Brasil ‘88
I’ll Tell You
Magic Lady, 1979
This has got to be the hottest cowbell song of all time. It has everything: handclaps, growling female vocalist, and the lyrics make no damn sense. It’s like somebody poked their head in the studio to ask for directions to the Piggly Wiggly or some shit, and Sergio said, “Write zees down! Eet’s a song!” or however you say it in Brazilian. And then he brought out the cowbell and it was ON.

So what about you? What’s your favorite cowbell song? Don’t act like you don’t have one.

After years of toiling, I’ve finally hit the big time. I’ve been selected as a finalist as one of America’s next Top Hot Messes!

But now it’s up to you, readers. Can you make me and Morris Day stars? I have to be honest, the competition is top-notch - not sure how I could ever compete with #11, but I’m gonna try.

Vote for hot mess #5 here!  And in honor of all the messes, a song from the year this picture was taken:

Boogie Boys
You Ain’t Fresh (Morning Dew Mix)
12″, 1985
“It’s like a bulldog in an UGLY show!”