There are certain bands whose audience seems to be comprised of more musicians than laypeople. I have largely escaped the hype on Black Pumas, but I can’t ignore that just about everyone I’ve seen talk about them plays an instrument. So when I found a copy of Chronicles of a Diamond for $2 at a closeout store, it was an easy gamble.
Have any of the Jacksons been as unfairly treated as Janet?
Sure, Tito has been the butt of the joke since the Jackson 5 days, and La Toya has been remembered more for being the spokesperson for the Psychic Friends Network, but neither of them were ever regarded that seriously.
Janet on the other hand…Before the Super Bowl incident turned her into a punch line (and brought the term “wardrobe malfunction” into the vernacular), there was a time when Janet wasn’t just poised to live up to Michael’s star—it looked like she might pass it.
Control, her third record—and first after firing father Joe Jackson as her manager—is a massive statement that established her as a megastar in her own right, kicking off a run of five straight Number One debuts, and serves as a reminder to anyone who has diminished her place in pop culture to Nipple Gate.
In the summer of 2008, three of my best friends from college interned together at their church. Meanwhile, I was interning at a church in a city about 45 minutes away. Throughout the internship, two of them tortured the third, Josh, by singing the hook to “Rehab,” drawing scoffs every time.
The following semester, Josh and I were roommates, and I had drawn much delight from buying records that would annoy or confound him. His look of disgust as he asked, “what is this?” was almost as rewarding as the music itself.
One day, hoping to keep the prank going, I bought a vinyl copy of Winehouse’s Back to Black. To my dismay, he joyfully sang along with every word of the track that tormented him.
I sold the record a few months later, but not before it got its hooks in me. In the years since, I have wrestled with the choice to purchase another copy over and over. This copy in particular was in the “Buy it Later” section of my Amazon cart for months before I accidentally bought it alongside a bottle of conditioner.
Accident or not, I’m glad to have it back.
2013 to 2014 was a frustrating period for Community fans. Despite a number of behind the scenes changes, there was a notable absence of Troy Barnes, the lovable idiot played by Donald Glover. He only appeared in five of the season’s thirteen episodes, then announced that he was leaving the show to focus on his music career.
At the time, it felt ill-conceived. He had already released some music under the name Childish Gambino at the time, and while it was fine for an actor’s side gig, it definitely didn’t seem like the sort of thing that had strong enough legs to build a career on.
Then Because the Internet dropped, and we realized what fools we had been.
Read more at ayearofvinyl.com #childishgambino #hiphop #r&b #rap #vinyl
How do you follow up what many still consider the best pop album of all time?
If your name is Michael Jackson, you embark on a huge tour, make multiple endorsement deals, write a massive supergroup anthem and then call up Quincy Jones to do it again.
Q: What do the Sugarhill Gang and Queen have in common?
A: “Good Times” by CHIC, the rollicking eight-minute disco classic that was sampled for “Rapper’s Delight” and that inspired “Another One Bites the Dust.”
But if you think that that single infectious track is the only thing worthwhile on this disc, you’d be sorely mistaken.
For a moment, let’s forget about the plastic surgery, the Peter Pan syndrome, the dynastic marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, the allegations against him, and his bizarre persona.
Michael Jackson was the bonafide King of Pop. And no one else even comes close.
And while his studio discography has no shortage of straight bangers, Thriller was the album that cemented that status, and it remains the most consistent and rewarding listen. But hidden deep within the wall-to-wall hit singles is one of the most revolutionary albums for racial justice ever.
After ten albums of the sexiest R&B mankind has ever known, Marvin Gaye’s world fell apart.
His longtime writing partner passed away from cancer. His wife left him. He was caught between the IRS on one side and a stifling record deal with Motown Records on the other. He was troubled over his brother fighting in Vietnam, ande was fighting his own losing battle against his cocaine addiction.
He was a rising star internationally, but he felt like a fraud. After a night pondering over a handgun in his hotel room, he decided it was time for a change. He grew a beard, pierced his ear, and found religion.
Then he dropped What’s Going On, a masterful and poignant protest album.
In the mid 2000s, I’m not sure there was anyone who was safe from Gnarls Barkley and the earworm that was “Crazy.” It was a maniacal track driven by a dark bassline and Cee-Lo Green’s impossibly huge voice—not to mention a pretty great thesis on St. Paul’s writings in 2 Corinthians 2.
And, it was as infectious as all get out.
Once upon a time, the Church was the center of all high art. Most important musical and artistic works during the Renaissance were commissioned by the Church to announce the mysteries of the Divine.
But over the last few hundred years, things have changed. Christian art is now the realm of cheap, oversentimental schlock that sells on sentiment alone.
Kings Kaleidoscope has had enough of it.