Blue Room
One of my more painfully memorable hotel moments came last year when I was working at the Belamar in Man-ha-ann Beach. It is a boutique style hotel, very cutting edge. Hell you can see most of the place in the video linked two posts ago.
There were a lot of smaller wedding ceremonies that took place there, and we always grew close to those involved. For five days, we would drive them around, learn about how they met, and try to give anything we could to make them feel better. Sure we were angling for tips, but this is one of the things I like about my job, I like talking to people. And when you talk to people who stay in hotels, it’s like making friends at summer camp, you may never see them again, but you are in the same location as them for a decent amount of time, and both parties lose any slow social inhibitions and become the kindest most outgoing face of their persona. Except for celebrities. They are assholes at hotels. Notes to anyone famous at a hotel. 1: Tip. Your presence ain’t that magical. We know you have the money. 2. You are not that cool up close (except for the girls from TaTu, the world stopped when they entered my old hotel). Mainly this is pointed at you Kevin Federline. Ya jackass.
But one night I was given the call to go up and help a pair of newlyweds. I walk in to see a man sitting in a chair with no clothes on, yet not naked. He had taken a cowboy hat and placed it over his junk.
He then began yelling at me to fix the radio. “I can’t fuck with out music,” I think, were his exact words. I tried to get the CD player to work. No dice. He then yells to just put on the radio to anything. I seriously considered switching to ESPN radio and walking out, but hey, the guy just got married. I decided to be nice. I am looking for channels when I start to feel him coming over towards me.
In the corner of my eye, I saw the cowboy hat still on the chair. I’d gage he was at full mast when I turned around. Thankfully I found some poppy music and he thanked me. And yet, he didn’t tip me. I don’t really squabble over money in these situations, but really that was worth at least 30 bucks of his money to me.
I hope one of the Robinson brothers commercials came on during an ad break. Followed by one of the Sit and Sleep commercials with Irvin the nasal Jewish accountant screaming “you’re killing me Larry!!!” That’d be fair play.
++++
So… music to fuck to.
Great topic. One that is in the right hands both blue and intellectual. Other times it’s saltier than a NBA player looking at his slew of groupies. Before he showered. (Who wants to sex Mutumbo?)
In practice, I am terrible at this because I am far too fascinated by music. I will stop conversation at work if I hear a song I like on a car radio 10 feet away.
I love dancing quietly to Frank Sinatra. I like singing it when flinging woo.
But not so much with the ambience. It has to be quiet yet effective, the mood of the music almost has to be secretive, it’s a whisper of music that is felt in basslines and soft singing. Rock, save prog, is almost always out. Rap is good, but R & B is better because the albums don’t have a crippling number of comical interludes. Good electronica is tops, if only because they are best as a background filter, like dance clubs.
But on to Rihanna. A young singer from one of the Caribbean Isles, she has already scored two big singles with “Pon de Replay” and “If it’s loving that you want.” I thought the former song was garbage. How many songs can possibly be made about being in a club and dancing? The second wasn’t bad, but meh, its more of the same old Isle music coming to American radio.
In the Isles music scene, beats are not sold exclusively, like they are in the states. There was a minor fiasco when Lil’ Jon sold the beat track that would eventually become Usher’s “Yeah” to both Usher and Petey Pablo for the song “Freek a leek.” I still can’t believe that was a hit, not because I despise Usher, but because when I heard it first, I thought it was a radio parody of crunk music. When the chorus of a song is “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,” with out “She loves you” preceding it, I just don’t think that’s good writing. Even with the Beatles it’s a stretch for creativity. All I could think of when I heard the Usher song the first few times were the crash test dummies song “mmmm” and four non blondes “what’s going on.”
Anyway, Lil Jon came up with the bassline for Pablo’s song in a few days, and both went on to decent success. While on wonders what would happen if the two were switched, that’s what it is in the US music scene. In other parts of the world, beats are licensed out, but not exclusively. Pitbull and the pair of Puerto Rican twins (whose name escapes me) both had hits featuring the same backing track.
In the US, NAs will buy a track from Pharell for 3 million. Elsewhere, multiple singers engage in a who can top this mentality with famous beat tracks. Both are terrible ways to make music, and consequently represent the downfalls of both communism and consumerism.
However, Rihanna has a song out now laid upon a bass enthused version of Tainted Love. This is a song that has been remade three times prior to this version, and all were hits. Maybe it’s the beat, maybe it’s the warbling synth effects, maybe it’s the accuracy of the bass hits, but each version of the songs, Gloria Jones in 1964, Soft Cell in 1981, and Marilyn Manson in 2001, has been a decent hit.
Which always perturbed me, because it’s a creepy song when you look at the lyrics. It’s a song about feeling dirty after, and then fighting sexual addiction because it’s too dark and too weird. But I cannot deny the power of the beat. It’s something unique and it’s always alluring.
Which is why I kind of like Rihanna’s version. It taps into a vain of pure sexuality, one that removes the taint of the other versions, and thanks to the redubbing of the beat, the song feels both kinky and alive as a sexual anthem without any hang-ups. The beat of any version of the song is nigh sexually primordial, and this one taps it just right. It’s a song that is clean enough not to be gutter filthy, but risqué enough to tap the senses. Even with needless vocal overlays. That will be the legacy of Destiny's Child. They had to make it seem like 40 people are singing at once, sure Mariah really started this, but Beyonce had to make every song have at least 13 different vocal tracks. It's like listening to Rockestra, only more commercial, less talented and not even remotely as lame.
For comparisons, think Kylie Minogue, Amerie, and anything that is the exact opposite of Fall Out Boy.
But more so, the video for the song, is a first ballot entry into Furious Masturbation Theater’s Hall of Fame
I’m gonna to scrub my sins.
There were a lot of smaller wedding ceremonies that took place there, and we always grew close to those involved. For five days, we would drive them around, learn about how they met, and try to give anything we could to make them feel better. Sure we were angling for tips, but this is one of the things I like about my job, I like talking to people. And when you talk to people who stay in hotels, it’s like making friends at summer camp, you may never see them again, but you are in the same location as them for a decent amount of time, and both parties lose any slow social inhibitions and become the kindest most outgoing face of their persona. Except for celebrities. They are assholes at hotels. Notes to anyone famous at a hotel. 1: Tip. Your presence ain’t that magical. We know you have the money. 2. You are not that cool up close (except for the girls from TaTu, the world stopped when they entered my old hotel). Mainly this is pointed at you Kevin Federline. Ya jackass.
But one night I was given the call to go up and help a pair of newlyweds. I walk in to see a man sitting in a chair with no clothes on, yet not naked. He had taken a cowboy hat and placed it over his junk.
He then began yelling at me to fix the radio. “I can’t fuck with out music,” I think, were his exact words. I tried to get the CD player to work. No dice. He then yells to just put on the radio to anything. I seriously considered switching to ESPN radio and walking out, but hey, the guy just got married. I decided to be nice. I am looking for channels when I start to feel him coming over towards me.
In the corner of my eye, I saw the cowboy hat still on the chair. I’d gage he was at full mast when I turned around. Thankfully I found some poppy music and he thanked me. And yet, he didn’t tip me. I don’t really squabble over money in these situations, but really that was worth at least 30 bucks of his money to me.
I hope one of the Robinson brothers commercials came on during an ad break. Followed by one of the Sit and Sleep commercials with Irvin the nasal Jewish accountant screaming “you’re killing me Larry!!!” That’d be fair play.
++++
So… music to fuck to.
Great topic. One that is in the right hands both blue and intellectual. Other times it’s saltier than a NBA player looking at his slew of groupies. Before he showered. (Who wants to sex Mutumbo?)
In practice, I am terrible at this because I am far too fascinated by music. I will stop conversation at work if I hear a song I like on a car radio 10 feet away.
I love dancing quietly to Frank Sinatra. I like singing it when flinging woo.
But not so much with the ambience. It has to be quiet yet effective, the mood of the music almost has to be secretive, it’s a whisper of music that is felt in basslines and soft singing. Rock, save prog, is almost always out. Rap is good, but R & B is better because the albums don’t have a crippling number of comical interludes. Good electronica is tops, if only because they are best as a background filter, like dance clubs.
But on to Rihanna. A young singer from one of the Caribbean Isles, she has already scored two big singles with “Pon de Replay” and “If it’s loving that you want.” I thought the former song was garbage. How many songs can possibly be made about being in a club and dancing? The second wasn’t bad, but meh, its more of the same old Isle music coming to American radio.
In the Isles music scene, beats are not sold exclusively, like they are in the states. There was a minor fiasco when Lil’ Jon sold the beat track that would eventually become Usher’s “Yeah” to both Usher and Petey Pablo for the song “Freek a leek.” I still can’t believe that was a hit, not because I despise Usher, but because when I heard it first, I thought it was a radio parody of crunk music. When the chorus of a song is “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,” with out “She loves you” preceding it, I just don’t think that’s good writing. Even with the Beatles it’s a stretch for creativity. All I could think of when I heard the Usher song the first few times were the crash test dummies song “mmmm” and four non blondes “what’s going on.”
Anyway, Lil Jon came up with the bassline for Pablo’s song in a few days, and both went on to decent success. While on wonders what would happen if the two were switched, that’s what it is in the US music scene. In other parts of the world, beats are licensed out, but not exclusively. Pitbull and the pair of Puerto Rican twins (whose name escapes me) both had hits featuring the same backing track.
In the US, NAs will buy a track from Pharell for 3 million. Elsewhere, multiple singers engage in a who can top this mentality with famous beat tracks. Both are terrible ways to make music, and consequently represent the downfalls of both communism and consumerism.
However, Rihanna has a song out now laid upon a bass enthused version of Tainted Love. This is a song that has been remade three times prior to this version, and all were hits. Maybe it’s the beat, maybe it’s the warbling synth effects, maybe it’s the accuracy of the bass hits, but each version of the songs, Gloria Jones in 1964, Soft Cell in 1981, and Marilyn Manson in 2001, has been a decent hit.
Which always perturbed me, because it’s a creepy song when you look at the lyrics. It’s a song about feeling dirty after, and then fighting sexual addiction because it’s too dark and too weird. But I cannot deny the power of the beat. It’s something unique and it’s always alluring.
Which is why I kind of like Rihanna’s version. It taps into a vain of pure sexuality, one that removes the taint of the other versions, and thanks to the redubbing of the beat, the song feels both kinky and alive as a sexual anthem without any hang-ups. The beat of any version of the song is nigh sexually primordial, and this one taps it just right. It’s a song that is clean enough not to be gutter filthy, but risqué enough to tap the senses. Even with needless vocal overlays. That will be the legacy of Destiny's Child. They had to make it seem like 40 people are singing at once, sure Mariah really started this, but Beyonce had to make every song have at least 13 different vocal tracks. It's like listening to Rockestra, only more commercial, less talented and not even remotely as lame.
For comparisons, think Kylie Minogue, Amerie, and anything that is the exact opposite of Fall Out Boy.
But more so, the video for the song, is a first ballot entry into Furious Masturbation Theater’s Hall of Fame
I’m gonna to scrub my sins.
posted by Indiana at
12:19 PM
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