I know a lot of words. Really, I do. I write; I read; words are sort of my thing. My favorite game is Quiddler. There is nothing I love more than Jeopardy‘s “Crossword Clues Q” (or J or X or…) category. Sometimes I pick up Macbeth and start re-reading it, just for fun.

And yet, the number of words I don’t know still seems as large and limitless as it did when I was three years old, and the only word I recognized when my mother would read The Monster at the End of This Book: Starring Lovable, Furry Old Grover to me, was “strength.”

For instance, I have just finished reading Atmospheric Disturbances by Rivka Galchen. This was an absolutely (as they say) whip-smart book, featuring a man who believes his wife has been replaced with a simulacrum, a cosmic conflict between the Royal Academy of Meteorology and the 49 Quantum Fathers, a quixotic quest, and a flawlessly executed unreliable first-person narration. Now up there with I, Lucifer, this novel has made it onto the short list of my favorite books. (Incidentally, I came across it, as I do so many of the best books, by randomly browsing the shelves of my local library.)

The point I am slowly meandering toward is that this novel—aside from provoking me into envying Rivka Galcehn‘s intelligence, command of language, and ability to produce an engaging plot—taught me a lot of new words (see below). And when I think back upon the countless number of books I have read over the course of my life, it frightens me to imagine how much less knowledgeable I would now be without having done so. What I’m saying is this: Please read.

Note: definitions gathered from Merriam-Webster, The Oxford English Dictionary, Dictionary.com, and Wikipedia

Dear Rappers,

1. How am I supposed to believe you are as rich as you say you are when you can’t afford a singer. Do-it-yourself projects never scream affluence. In fact the wealthiest people show off by doing as little for themselves as possible. Think Hakeem in Zamunda from Coming to America.

2. Auto-tune came and went so if u couldn’t do it then, what delusion are you espousing now? Why are you making that $3000 microphone sound like a drive thru order box? Hopefully you have the gift of gab because melody definitely illuded you.

3. There’s nothing gangster about singing. It directly contradicts the machismo rap boasts. Not only that, since you can’t actually hold a note you just sound even more emasculated. You might as well attempt your own back up dancing in your videos. Singing is a talent and a fine art. It requires the same finesse and care that a skilled lover would have but when you attempt to hold a note it seems, as Bruce Leroy would say, you ‘don’t even own a paintbrush.’

4. R&B is already a dying genre. So much so that I can’t even find a proper link to point to helping to define the style i’m talking about. Add on to that the rappers and weaker vocalists autotuning themselves and there is no room for a great voice. Essentially vocalists like Teddy Pendergrass, Luther Vandross, even Tank, Javier and Carl Thomas are regretfully a thing of the past. There are possibly two cats with the capacity to pull off a viable ballad and/or respectable vocal runs still heard in heavy rotation on the radio. (I’m stretching, it seems Trey Songz is the only cat even trying to carry the R&B flag still. Though some of us give him the Prince look at times.) Fortunately the soul singers don’t give much of a care about the spotlight, hence their promotion tactics (or lack thereof), so they’ll continue to mark their little niche. A small oasis for those who get tired of the mainstream to go hang out. As I’ve said before, Nas may have claimed Hip-Hop is dead, but really R&B kicked the bucket.

That said, aside from that lonely island of soul and the ever-increasing gentrification of R&B to manifest as pop music. There aren’t many places left for a R&B singer to do his/her thing. Maybe they should turn to rock music; the results could be interesting. I think I will go listen to some Jimi Hendrix and I feel a blues binge coming on.

I used to always think about how tragic it was that my generation never really had some revolutionary superstar martial artist that was featured on primetime television doing an interview on the philosophical aspects to martial arts.  Moreover, I would like to see something like that done on the topic of peace, tranquility, and Enlightenment as well.  I guess that’s why we document stuff and put it out on the web.  So people never really forget it.  Hell, to be perfectly honest I sometimes get jealous that we (the generation X’ers) didn’t get the opportunity to know what it felt like to even watch CBS news in entirely black and white.  Anyways, moving on.

I wrote a paper one time on an aspect or type of philosophy titled, “Existentialism”.  In it I tried to describe how an individual can overcome adversity simply by using the power of one’s mind.  The idea was simple, “to exist, persevere, and to never stop questioning.”  I feel like I’m supposed to cite that sentence to the left but I’m too lazy today.  Unfortunately, I feel like the father of existentialism Soren Kierkegaard never really answered the real questions of why obstacles are put in front of us.  He merely described them.  Martial arts on the other hand I feel answers those questions.  It does however not by training you how to fight, but rather training you how NOT to fight.  There is a mental application to the arts that I feel never really gets any credit.   What does this mean?!  Here is an example.  You’ll need a pen and pad for this experiment.

With your pen in your hand and your pad in front of you, take a long hard look at your surroundings.  Try and become the room around you.  Every infinitesimal grain of sand or dust, every bookshelf, the tree in the corner, try and memorize it all.  Now slowly close your eyes.  Breathe.  In….out….in…and out.  Try and ingrain into your mind all of the things you had seen.  Now with your pen and pad handy and your eyes still closed write a list of the things you had seen.  Write it all down.  Do this for about one solid minute because anything longer would be strange.

Now open your eyes.  Take a look at your settings.  Your list I’m sure is more comprehensive than mine but why are we not fascinated that despite its length, it’s just…not…enough.  What did you miss?  A whole lot I’m sure.  I know, you’re wondering Virtuoso, where are you going with this?  What does this have to do with martial arts?

The notepad and pen experiment shows us our fragility.  Putting it another way, our inability to fathom control.  You see the fact of the matter is no matter how hard we train or practice at something we never really get it right. That is of course until the very end, when we understand the value of nothingness vis a vie, death. That is the beauty behind living, there never really is a shortage of things to do but at times it can get extremely overbearing.  Your mind shows you that in any fight, the outcome will be how you think it should be.  This is important.

I mean….isn’t it amazing that we have options and potentials that are all around us.  In an ENDLESS sea of potentials we are truly and honestly limitless in our abilities.

I have to quote someone here to make my point.

“The brain processes 400 billion bits of information a second, but we’re only aware of 2000 of those.”  -Dr. Joseph Dispenza

I took that quote from two wonderful movies titled, What the Bleep Do We Know and Down the Rabbit Hole.  Both movies deal with the wonders of quantum mechanics.  Now imagine that, 400 billion bits.  400 billion pieces of information!  All that information floating around you, everyday, consistently without you even realizing it.   400 BILLION pieces of information.  The sheer fact that we are able to process 2000 isn’t just radical, it shows us that we border upon the abilities of gods.  With practice of course.  You see, like  a good intense workout the human destroys his or her’s muscle tissue in order to build larger and more powerful tissue.  The brain works the same way.

Everytime you close your eyes, everytime you need to get in your car and just drive to think, or not think, you are going through one of the most beneficial workouts of your entire life.  I believe the martial arts version of this comes in the form of meditation.  People tend to be really skeptical when you tell them stuff like this but after the world’s most intelligent human being Stephen Hawking alerted ABC News that he believed in aliens, I don’t think these ideas are too far-fetched.

What does the understanding of our limitations have to do with anything?  Besides the fact that it levels the playing field for us as a race it teaches us of our LIMITLESS potential.  The fact that we know means we can practice and get close to perfection.  It all comes down to choice.  It is important that I mention that the purpose to this article is not to have everyone jump out of their chairs and slap people around just because they KNOW they can or FEEL they can.  No, on the contrary the KNOWING should actually give you more of a reason not to.

What it SHOULD do however is make you feel more inclined to practice and work on not just your physical attributes and abilities but also your MENTAL ones as well.  Because one day you WILL want to close your eyes for a solid minute, open them and actually be able to write every single thing around you…in perfection.  Why?  Because it is only then when you have tasted sheer bliss.  It is only then when you can master control.  The Dalai Lama in his book Illuminating The Path To Englightenment illustrates on how exactly to do this.  Currently, I’m still trying to finish the book (100 pages in) but I should mention that it is an amazing read.  As a writer he touched on some fascinating research, particularly with regards to words.  Apparently, there was research done that said that those individuals who were prone to use the word “I” in any form of it had a greater risk of dying from heart disease.  It was as if only words of possession were our lifeline as Hominids on this planet.  Truly fascinating stuff.

Anyways, that’s all for now.

Casa Bey!!

The Mighty Mos Def rocks Japan, tours the country, catches a Sumo tournament, rides the Bullet Train, shops the freshest fashion boutiques and stops in at a Tokyo Giants game.

Watch Mos Def aka Flaco Bey aka Black Danté perform hits from his latest album The Ecstatic as well as jams from previous LPs. As well, listen as he issues commentary on Music, Japan, Fashion, Hip-Hop Culture, the Black experience, History, Performance, etc.

I read this baby over last Labor Day weekend and LOVED it.

You have to understand. I’m in a bit of a book rut. Being only a little employed at the moment, I read a lot of books. Most of the time it’s an anticlimactic experience. Sort of like going back and watching a TV show you used to love when you were a kid. I should watch that again, you think. So you try, but after five minutes you’re gaping at the TV wondering, Was I ever stupid enough to enjoy this drivel, truly? When you relate this adventure to your friends, they say, Oh, you should try X. It’s just like that show you used to watch, but way better. So then you’re running through Netflix animated, crime-fighting robot DVDs like they’re going to start melting them down to make water bottles without giving you adequate warning, all the while searching for that old thrill that used to keep you glued to the floor in front of the TV, unblinking, for twenty-two minutes at a time when you were a kid. But you never find it.

That’s how I am with books now. I used to love books. I used to ache for them when I didn’t have them (during gym, or science class, or car rides–I get motion sick, very easily); I devoured them when I did. I spent summer afternoons when all the other kids my age were outside playing kickball or riding bikes sitting in a dim, danky basement, curled up on the corner of a couch reading. But now, I read books and think, Meh. That was well-written. There was nothing wrong with it. It was fine. But boring. Uninteresting. Done a million times. Bland. A chore to get through.

But not I, Lucifer. This book passed my first paragraph test with flying colors. Hell, this book made me forget I had a first paragraph test. ”I, Lucifer, Fallen Angel, Prince of Darkness, Bringer of Light, Ruler of Hell, Lord of the Flies, Father of Lies, Apostate Supreme, Tempter of Mankind, Old Serpent, Prince of This World, Seducer, Accuser, Tormentor, Blasphemer, and without a doubt Best Fuck in the Seen and Unseen Universe (ask Eve, that minx) have decided – oo-la-la! — to tell all,” it started (with Nabokov “Lo-lee-ta” promises of linguistic playfulness) and putting the book down was quite possibly the very last thing on my mind.

This book, with it’s deceptively uncomplicated give-the-Devil-one-last-shot-at-redemption-and-let-him-tell-you-about-it premise, I want to re-read. I never want to read books a second time. I already know what happens, so what’s the point? But I, Lucifer I want to re-read so that I can watch Lucifer luxuriate in the vivid sensations of the human world one more time. I want to experience again the sheer pleasure of listening to Lucifer’s arrogant, prideful, hubristic, intelligent, angry, rebellious, cheated, doomed, screwed, curious, philosophical, mischievous, scheming, playful, fun, fierce, sad, pathetic, sympathetic, futile, tragic voice. I want to close the book and think, Ah, right, that’s why I read.

I suppose if you’re touchy about religion or have influid ideas about the Bible, you might want to stay away from this book. It is narrated by the Devil. He will offend you. On purpose. But if you’re not like that and you, you know, like fun, I highly recommend I, Lucifer. And considering the vast amount of things in the world I think suck, that’s something.

The Los Angeles Times was the first to report his hospitalization and passing. Then announced that Jackson was in a coma before confirming that, at age 50, Michael Jackson suffered a fatal cardiac arrest.

Reports state that brother Randy Jackson said Michael collapsed at his home in Los Angeles. Paramedics responded to a call and arrived around 12:30pm. They performed CPR and rushed Jackson to UCLA Medical Center.

At this time no official statement or declaration has been made but several news outlets are starting to report the star as deceased. Fans worldwide have rushed to the internet to comment. Reactions are citing everything from his glory days to his legal troubles and personal eccentricities.

Jackson’s passing ends a vast career decades in length. Jackson was the seventh of nine children and breakout star of what has been deemed the original boy band the Jackson 5. Through his work in the 1980s with Quincy Jones and Rod Temperton, Michael Jackson would go on to earn the title “King of Pop”. His album “Thriller” has long been known as the greatest selling album of all time.

Editorial:
I must admit I had the feeling he wasn’t doing to well. However, you never wish ill on the man, even despite his strengths and weaknesses. With all the confusion about when/where/how Michael Jackson passed away, I’m wondering if there will be all new King sightings? Now that would be a ghost story! Won’t stop me from jamming my Off The Wall cd though!

(BBC News) – American singer, dancer and actress Eartha Kitt has died at the age 81, her friend and publicist has said.

Kitt died of colon cancer on Thursday, Andrew Freedman said.

She was one of the few artists to be nominated in the Tony, Grammy and Emmy award categories and was a stalwart of the Manhattan cabaret scene.

She famously played Catwoman in the Batman television series in the 1960s and was known for her distinctive, feline drawl.

She also had a number of hit songs, including Old Fashioned Girl, C’est Si Bon and Santa Baby.

Kitt was blacklisted in the US in the late 1960s after speaking out against the Vietnam War at a White House function.

She also caused controversy when she toured apartheid South Africa in 1974, arguing that she had helped wean the regime by raising awareness of racism.

However, she returned triumphantly to New York’s Broadway in a 1978 production, Timbuktu!, and continued to perform regularly in theatre shows and concert halls.

From the 1980s onwards she appeared in numerous films, and her 1984 hit Where Is My Man found her another generation of night club fans.

Big break

Kit rose to the top of the entertainment world from humble origins.

Her mother worked on a cotton plantation in South Carolina and was just 14 when she gave birth.

Kitt was then given away at the age of eight and sent to live with an aunt in New York.

Her break came at 16 when she got a job as a dancer with a professional troupe touring Europe. She later sang in Paris nightclubs and appeared in several films in the 1950s.

Kitt, who had one daughter from a brief marriage in the 1960s, lived in the US state of Connecticut.

(Source: BBC NEWS | Americas | US singer Eartha Kitt dies at 81.)

I Am…

“If I Were A Boy” kicks off Beyoncé’s half of the album with an open-hearted role-play, fitting her in the shoes of a lover. In the verses she explores this vantage point through various scenarios, making choices as a wiser consciousness. Ms Knowles reaffirms her vocal prowess as if battling detractors, effortlessly moving from near whispers to uncompromising belting across the breadth of her range .

“Halo” and “Disappear” take barely innovative approaches to the same tunes you hear on the radio. Whether it be a subtle removal of superfluous synthesizers or the addition of acoustic guitar accompaniment, the focus is on delivering the ‘Beyoncé: singer-songwriter’ persona. Though her stories/songs fall short of compelling, they will still entertain those hungry for anything from Queen B. As well, “Broken-Hearted Girl,” with it’s trudging piano and synthesized drums, will no doubt become the anthem of romantically abandoned adolescents.

The album returns to task with “Ave Maria”. In it the Houston native mixes the contemporary and the classical, weaving the third song of Schubert’s “Ellens dritter Gesang” (better known as “Ave Maria”) with an original ballad. From there Beyoncé channels her indie rock side for “Smash Into You” and “Satellites.” She seems more comfortable on these songs than the previous mid-tempo numbers which sound like Rihanna reject tracks; fitting since people generally feel the same way about Rihanna’s music.

Unfortunately, while I respect Ms Knowles’s sincere attempt to create a substantial album and re-establish herself as a singer/songwriter, the first five songs on the “I Am…” disc blend together a little too much; the rest, however, can grow on listeners. Regardless of the explorations from track to track, Beyoncé consistently asserts her talent so as not to be bumped from anyone’s list of prominent singers.

Sasha Fierce

I’m sure the “Sasha Fierce” disc will please the bulk of Beyoncé’s fanbase. Supposedly “Sasha” has served as Beyoncé’s stage presence since her solo debut if not before. Thus the throngs of those that usually hate it when their favorite artist tries something new will happily chant along with Ms Fierce.

“Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)” immediately breaks away from the style of the first disc. Upbeat, club/radio friendly, ‘commanding-not-demanding’ Sasha tells it like it is and how it’s going to be. Her “your loss” attitude is quick to walk out of your life, each step more brazen than the antecedent; in much the same manner the song has strutted its way up and down the charts.

“Radio” idolizes the hit song mentality and falls right in line with the current post-modern movement in production. A sort of revitalized electronica experiment one might associate with Euro-pop or strobe lights. Stateside though, prominent producers TImbaland, Danjahandz, Kanye West, and Ryan Leslie have been toying with the triplet sixteenth-note pattern in padded synthesizer strings for the better half of the recession.

We learn the new definition of “Diva” on the track of the same title. Sasha lays out the female equivalent of a hustler and the her activities. Garnering comparisons to Lil’ Wayne’s “A Milli,” her diva feels perfectly at home over the track’s southern-style booming bass and kick. While “Sweet Dream” merely flirts with the electronica sound a bit more, “Video Phone” furthers the division in personas as Fierce seduces a suitor with sultry suggestions involving a cellphone–a side of Beyoncé I’m sure few behold. Overall this disc of the pair is as playful, rebllious and naughty as Sasha Fierce is reported to be.

Even if the entire release were on one disc with the same song order, the contrast between the two would be evident. If Beyoncé is Jekyll, then Sasha Fierce is her Hyde in both music and lyric. Understandably, there are things you do on stage that express inner creativity/lunacy and resonate with various audiences but don’t necessarily align with how you define yourself. Trust me. Complexity keeps an artist interesting and while I don’t know how Sasha Fierce feels, I’m definitely curious about the future of Beyoncé’s sound.

Earlier this week, Jackson, 50, filed legal papers making the Sycamore Valley Ranch Company the new owner.

The company is linked to investment firm Colony Capital, which bailed the singer out in March when he owed $24.5m £16m on the property.

When it bought the debt, Neverland was a week away from being auctioned off.

The refinancing deal had meant that Jackson could keep the sprawling property.

Jackson, whose huge catalogue of hit records includes Billie Jean, Thriller and Man in the Mirror, has not lived at Neverland since he was acquitted of child molestation charges in 2005.

Fantasy land

It is not clear what will now happen to the property, which he bought in 1987.

The property, which Jackson aimed to turn into a fantasy land, is named after an island in the story Peter Pan, where children never grow up.

He built a zoo and fairground on the 2,800 acre 1,100 hectare property which is north west of Santa Barbara.

It was closed in 2006 after Jackson failed to pay his staff or maintain proper insurance.

(Source: BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Jackson gives up Neverland ranch.)

Editorial:

This just seems wrong.  Then again, I’ve always felt the same about the ranch itself.

Though, what other residence so perfectly displays the enigma that is MJ?  And, who is just chillin’ living next door to Neverland?  How weird must that be?

Also, I’ve always wondered what would happen if MJ got with Mariah Carey.  Who would regress to the younger age?  Currently, she’s stuck on 13 (butterflies, rainbows, charm bracelets, etc – though moving up to 15 with Nick Cannon), and Jackson is stuck on 11.

Things that make you go “hmmmmm”.

John Legend: Evolver

May I throw an ‘R’ before that album title, sir?

John Legend’s new album Evolver is what I like to refer to as mainstream soul.  In fact, John Legend in general defines mainstream soul.  He draws upon all that greatness that could make an artist iconic, but for some reason it never quite manifests into new greatness. Thus every time I hear about a new John Legend album coming out I get excited, but then when I go to listen to said album I lower my expectations as not to over-hype myself.  Somewhat like an M. Night Shyamalan film, there are things to appreciate if you skew your expectations, but don’t expect to be blown away.

Most notable already from the album is “Green Light” which you may have heard over the last few months on the radio or other such outlets.  A commendable effort to get out “from behind the piano” for which Legend has expressed a desire.  Another critic would go into something about an artist having to grow and reflect where they are through their music, but really… John is bored.  It’s understandable, remember when Alicia Keys went through the same thing.  “Green Light” is definitely a new side of Legend.  A side which everyone (listeners and critics alike) seems cool with, especially since Andre 3000 is in tow sprucing up the attempt.  So with a grandiose title like “Evolver” and lead off single vastly straying from the Legend we all know and … tolerate (hoping to love one day), I let my curiosity run through the new tunes to see what’s new with I Am Legend.

Though the intro got my hopes up, halfway through the album I’d say it is hard to even describe the growth of this album.  With his last album I could say “Oh, John Legend is doing this Black Tony Bennett thing…” and back it up with tracks like “Save Room”, “Where Did My Baby Go”, and “Slow Dance”.  Once Again brilliantly drew in the lucrative Norah Jones crowd while not alienating the young bucks.  Evolver would be an attempt at the reverse.  However, I don’t know that this album will succeed in retaining the baby-boomers (unless they start midway) and, as a younger member of the next generation, the last thing I want to hear is John Legend taking production cues from T-Pain (“Cross The Line”).  The sing-song chorus “Everybody Knows” while best suited for the audience participation part of a live show is otherwise forgettable. As well, the artist features on the album are pretty superfluous in the scheme of the album as a whole.  Essentially, John Legend exemplifies the rule about only featuring someone more famous than yourself (though, Estelle holds her own on “No Other Love” but I still stand by the comment – let that marinate).

The second half of the album takes a dramatic turn for the better.  If each of his albums has an “Ordinary People” on it, then “This Time” is Evolver‘s reincarnation just as “Again” was Once Again‘s.  I figure the titles of these ballads progress predictably so we can more quickly point them out.  “This Time” fails to debunk the fact that lightening never strikes the same place thrice.  Even still, it stands among the stronger cuts from Legend’s third EP with GOOD Music/Columbia.  “Satisfaction” harbors a more modern swagger in its production and almost does all of the work necessary to liven up Legend.  It should definitely be in the running to be a single.  Meanwhile, “Take Me Away” and “Good Morning” revisit that niche sound in which Legend excels and that divides him from the mainstream R&B personalities while leaving him slightly more noticed than his soul contemporaries (though I’m sure his association with Kanye West does not dim the spotlight).

In summation, Evolver probably works best if you see John Legend in concert.  He really must be tired of sitting at the piano and the tunes here can at least let him stand behind a microphone (even walk around – which he does do if you see his full concert. Fun times).  However, the album overall may be slightly underwhelming if not merely the John Legend you’ve heard before.  Though why shouldn’t it be?  Same artist, different day… er album.  As previously affirmed, John Legend is mainstream soul soon aspiring to R&B.  While lacking those few undeniable hit songs you can’t help hearing on repeat, Evolver at least holds you over until that next John Legend album for which I’m already getting excited, thinking about its potential.