Friday, February 15, 2008

What community? # 14: Have fun in New York, Cuy.

Encounter #55: Parle à ma main. (More Yelle-ing)

Those wacky French pop stars. They're always dressing in drag and telling dudes to talk to the hand. But Yelle knows what's up: she won't give up dick: Christelle Bazooka says, "Maybe we should go homo!" and Yelle replies, "FBI: Fause Bonne Idee." That's right! Get outta here! Talk to my hand! (Yes, I know: I'm broadcasting my one-track-in-the-AM mind.) --RWK

Encounter #54: Je veux te voir. (More Yelle-ing)

You're right, girl, I do take the subway all the time. I don't want know no Hummer. And the only "video pornographique" you get to see me in, girl, is the one we make "ensemble." (Where T-Pain talks money, she talks dirty. Read along! Get big!) --RWK

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Encounter #53: À Cause Des Garçons!

Okay, these boys know what's up. And this TEPR remix is the version I like of the song. (Good lookin' out, Melo. This satisfy you?) I'll reiterate: I need to practice my jump style/tecktonik moves. Also, I need some more sneakers. --RWK

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

What community? # 13: Next level (underage) French jump style dance moves. UPDATED.

The Husky Boys need to work on their moves if they're going to compete with these young'ins. We'd murder them on the court, tho: that's where we throw down on the real. Still, I'm going to work on my jump style. That shit is tight. --RWK [via Willie, again]

UPDATE: an mp3 for the fanatics:
Axwell - I Found U (High Contrast Old Skool Revenge Mix) [Mediafire]

Encounter #52: Her daily routine.

My friend Willie just sent me the link. I think it's best you simply watch this, without me explaining much. All you need to know is this is a short film that played at Slamdance (among other Festivals) about a 60-something grandmother who works as a sex phone operator. She has many voices, and, yes, a dirty mouth. I don't blame you for turning it off but do yourself a favor and try to stick it out. Its length works in its favor, as a matter of fact. But I'll shut up and let you WATCH. --RWK

Sorry to bump Kanye down a spot, but, shit, man.

Encounter #51: Kanye's Flashing Lights

pretty strange actually, good for him

Encounter #50: Grammy's '88

just standing there alone, half-dancing at some points,
so alive as a performer, ahhh, its really satisfying to watch.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Encounter #49: Creep into the Red Light Special

Cuz I found out I still had these two on my hard drive. I dig the first one more but, sheeeeeit, "Take a good look" is the first line in the second one. I know: I'm predictable. Who cares? These ladies were pretty sexy once upon a time. --RWK

RE: Encounter 47 (#48)
Amy Killed it-
This Formula is just too Perfect

about time they performed together, too bad the forum was the Grammys. quite a jacket that is, that is.


Sunday, February 10, 2008

Encounter #47: Your Big Winner, Back From "Rehab" -- UPDATED (TWO THREE TIMES)

I just don't pay attention to music anymore. Or, I don't pay attention to anything but what's currently en vogue among my friend group, like this French Touch/French Club/Italodisco/Aussie Party tip I've been on. How come I never heard this when it came out? It's, like, a big deal, right? How come I only heard it now, after her trip to rehab? Oh well. I salute you, Amy. May you stay crazy, and productive, and clean. (We don't need no more of this.) I'm sure it's been said before but, wait, this girl is white? --RWK

UPDATE: Grammy performance. Dig those dancers, those facial expressions, the 'hive. Don't dig that terrible directing or the sound mix (disregarding the TV quality, those dancer/singers sound mixed way down, and flat). Way to go, girl. Nice horseshoe tat. SECOND UPDATE: First, A better quality Grammy performance. Second, the song that best exemplifies what I dig (what a ton of people dig, I imagine) about her almost-mod, almost-soul, almost-sexy, almost-60s, all-love, all-pathos, all-awesome schtick. THIRD UPDATE: How did I forget the winning speech? Her stunned face is priceless.