Yesterday

From a lot less...

Yesterday was one of the weirdest I have had since returning to New York, begun on the streets of the South Bronx and ending in the Hamptons.

In the morning, at a parade talking to U.S. Rep Jose Serrano about folks scraping and scrapping to find $8-an-hour security jobs.

In the evening, at another kind of carnival, sitting at the table next to Usher, Alicia and Puffy at a benefit that fused unapologetic extravagance and conspicuous altruism as only Russell can.

Leafing through the thick program given out for the evening, I located the one element that linked the two ends of the economic spectrum together: The Point, the community organization where my day began, was one of the beneficiaries of this pageant hundreds of miles and a universe away.

...to a lot more

Vivica and Puffy are fuzzy

Steaks and Snowtires

As a music industry vet, I am ambivalent about what we euphemistically call “independent promotion.”

Before I entered the business, “payola” meant bribery. After a few years in it, the money my companies paid to indies (read: “middlemen”) and the gifts we gave to DJs were simply the cost of doing business.

And here’s the funny thing about Spitzer’s current witch hunt, and all payola investigations. Nobody in the business itself is ever really outraged. Not even the artists, who often scream when they’re not getting enough indie promotion. It’s only people outside the business who express shock and dismay. As if removing indie promotion would completely wipe Britanny Spears and Celine Dion from the airwaves.

In hip-hop, it used to be about what a DJ liked to play. In the late 80s and early 90s, the mix shows seemed to be the last bastion of purity in all of radio. That ended quickly once programmers started relying heavily on the advice of their rap jocks, using the mix-shows as a proving ground for new records.

Majors began throwing money at mix-show jocks for many records that they probably would have played anyway. They became used to taking “favors” for playing even the records that they liked. So when it came time for them to play yours, you could get a few spins on the strength, or you could pay their side company to do some “street promotion” and get some real support.

For a good record to which you’ve given a year of your life, it was a no-brainer.

An excerpt from an old diary:

“At the local station, XXXX was no longer the rap attack champion. But on the same day we went down to defeat there, we won for the first time at the station across town. Keeping XXXX champion there, however, involved more than just getting all my friends to call the station at 8pm. Every day I’d call the station and ask, ‘Did we win?’ And the answer would be, ‘You didn’t, but you did.’ Soon, I was buying car stereo systems and rims and getting windows tinted and booking plane flights for people I didn’t even know.”

Anybody Thinking What I'm Thinking?

"Don't piss on my head and tell me it's raining!"

Conservatives are already sweating Bush about Gonzales being too "liberal" a replacement for Sandra Day O'Connor, the Supreme Court justice who gave her notice last week.

Why not instead nominate someone beloved by all Americans?

I predict a smooth confirmation process.



HBO's "Entourage" won't be supplanting "The Wire" anytime soon as my favorite HBO show, but...

Just how great is Jeremy Piven as maniac super-agent Ari Gold in "Entourage"? I watch it just to hear what f**ked up s**t he's going to say this week...

Taking your votes on the worst (that is, best) thing he's said thus far...

In the meantime, check the Ari Gold megamix.

[And, by the way, HBO does seem to have an affection for rapacious Jewish characters, innit? You've got Ari Gold. Then Levy, the gangsta lawyer in "The Wire". And Hesh, the Morris Levy-like record exec in "The Sopranos".]

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And lastly, look out for the new Mickey D's uniforms made by Sean John. Seriously, no joke.