Monday Mix Tapes: 'Cooing Elegant Boleros' with Y La Bamba, Robert Glasper & Common

I am in so much trouble. Here I am, already juggling multiple girl crushes on Sharon Van Etten, Ana Tijoux, and, yes, SIGH, Lana Del Rey, and then I find out about Luz Elena Mendoza of Y La Bamba.

photo from [here]

It was probably inevitable: Not only does Neko Case make a little guest appearance on the title track of Y La Bamba's new album, "Court the Storm,"  but it seems the inspiration behind the band name comes from Mendoza's six-toed cat, Bamba. From her six-toed cat. Bamba. Over at NPR, Felix Contreras writes of Mendoza:

Ultimately, it's Luz Elena Mendoza's vocals that draw me in. In interviews, she's said that the music she writes will never sound like traditional Mexican music. But to me, her deep, dreamy voice is exactly the kind I used to hear blasting out of the radio in my mom's kitchen — belting out rancheras, cooing elegant boleros or letting loose over accordion-fueled corridos.

I'm not quite sure what I love more—that I completely agree that her voice is deep and dreamy, or this amazing happenings in this kitchen he describes. Belting out rancheras? Cooing elegant boleros? Dude, that never happened in my mom's kitchen. And while I'm not even entirely sure what it all means, it certainly sounds fucking awesome, and reads that way as well. I also really enjoy the earnest-looking dudes harmonizing and playing with her: 



And since NPR First Listen so obviously fuels my Monday Mix Tapes as of late, next up we have the Robert Glasper Experiment.

Take a listen to "Black Radio" streaming at NPR. Lots of familiar guests on there, including Erykah Badu, Musiq Soulchild, Chrisette Michelle, Lupe Fiasco, Bilal, and the artist formerly known as Mos Def. (Side note: I fucking LOVE that I get to say "the artist formerly known as Mos Def"—it's Yasiin Bey now.)

Here's "Ah Yeah," featuring Musiq Soulchild and Chrisette Michelle. It's really a sweet song, with a simple but beautiful and true message. Right from the start:

I think beauty's overrated/cause that's something anyone can be/attraction now that's something different/ah-huh/ and thankfully you're both to me

When Chrisette Michelle comes in, after a lot of lovely "ah-yeah"-ing, talking, "You're sweet/and you see through me/you let me be free/I'm woman/I'm woman"—it's just the bizness. I love it:



And while I really enjoyed the entirety of "Black Radio," this one was another favorite of mine:



Last, but not least, I finished reading Common's memoir last week. I'm glad I read it (even if I now know more than I ever really needed to about his first sexual experiences). I particularly enjoyed learning more about his relationship with Erykah Badu and his thoughts on President Obama.

But his chapter, "Retrospect for Life," that begins with a letter to his unborn, was my favorite part. Being the Chicago man he is, I figured—and hoped— it was not a coincidence that he begins the chapter (after the letter) with an almost direct quote from Chicago poet Gwendolyn Brooks' poem, "The Mother," stating, "Abortions never let you forget."

As with the rest of his book, I found this chapter to be honest and thoughtful. I've always loved this collaboration with Lauryn Hill, particularly with the Stevie Wonder hook. Common writes about the song: "That was a very personal song for me. It was also a public song in that I wanted to reach out to women by talking about something that matters deeply to them." I'm glad he also admits that his acting in this video is not, um, the best.

The song, however, is something else entirely:



Happy Monday! What's been playing in your ear buds? Tell me about it!

Monday Mix Tapes: Lana Del Rey No Longer Fire of Interwebs' Loins; I Remember Other Music Still Exists

So, I was planning on talking about Lana Del Rey's SNL performance for this week's mix tapes, but then I remembered THE ENTIRE INTERNET ALREADY IS.

So nervous! So..out of breath? But pretty!

Jezebel hilariously called my GF a "Valley of the Dolls cosplayer" and rather harshly described how "she mumble-moaned her way through both performances with the dead eyes and quaalude-slacked limbs of an American Apparel model." ("That was way harsh, Tai.")

Pretty Much Amazing summed it up with: "It was… pretty painful to watch. We aren’t sure why she tries to hit odd notes that leave her too breathless to keep up with her lyrics. It just doesn’t work."

Valley of the Dolls? LANA? IS THAT YOU?

Vulture backed off my darling a bit, with a rather spot-on commentary. This is my favorite (emphasis is mine):

It didn't go too well. Granted, the sound at SNL is famously bad, and Del Rey was visibly nervous, but still — the timid falsetto, shaky jumps between registers, that lip snarl. It was not her best work. And the fact that a Lana Del Rey performance can really only consist of Lana Del Rey standing dead center, preening, does not help her cause. How many moody pirouettes can one woman do, over the course of four minutes? (Like two and a half, by our count, during "Video Games.")

Things had been quiet in LDR land — the "Born to Die" tigers and general yelling fatigue had seemed to briefly calm the waters. But with the rocky SNL performance, we've now arrived at "backlash to the backlash to the backlash" on LDR's Undulating Curve of Shifting Expectations (or does it just switch back to Overhyped? Are we in the Backlash phase of the Backlash curve?). Meanwhile, Born to Die is not due until January 30. How many more times can we cycle through this thing in two weeks? Will everyone start feeling guilty for making fun of an obviously terrified 25-year-old on her first live TV performance? Or will the non-Internet-faithful, who just met Lana on Saturday, shame the rest of us for ever caring in the first place? Will Lana Del Rey run for president? Really, anything could happen at this point.

And who would have thought that BRIAN WILLIAMS would be such a hater? HA! (Also, why haven't I ever brought my love of Brian Williams to the attention of the Interwebs? Cause he's awesome.)

I guess now should be the time where I follow up with videos of the SNL performances, but I can't and I won't, dammit. Go watch it EVERYWHERE ELSE ON THE INTERNET. And then watch this performance instead:



So her stage presence isn't the greatest here either. What is the greatest is that dress. And when she sings "let me fuck you hard in the pouring rain (you like your girls insane)" — now, can we all take a time out from LDR now? I'm worn out.

Therefore, in other music news:

When I wasn't annoyed that the Interwebs was exploding over my sweetie pie's SNL performance, I was getting increasingly excited that I'll be seeing The Lemonheads this Friday night. That's right! The Lemonheads! No one I've told seems to share my excitement. Whatever.

Today also happened to be one of those days where I was smiling to myself like a lunatic during my commute to and from work, because what I was listening to seemed to match perfectly with the day, and probably more accurately, my mood. (In case you're confused, no, I did not get MLK day off from work. Major boo. I didn't realize Ron Paul was running the joint! Gross. I just mentioned RP on my blog.)

On the way in this morning, it was Charlotte Gainsbourg. The sun was shining brightly enough to start melting the snow, and the water was coming down from the El tracks, on to the street, as I walked on Lake Street toward the office. Listening to this:



After work, the streets still seemed more deserted than usual, and the air felt oddly warm and slightly eerie as I stepped out the door. While I waited to cross the street, I put on Four Tet. "Love Cry" carried me nearly the entire walk to the train, and the repetitive beat turned hypnotic as I walked along, noticing how the street lamps bounced off the water glistening on the near-empty sidewalks. To be a total geek, I'll just say my mundane daily walk felt kinda magical due to the combination of all of it. That's right: kinda magical.



Well, that's it, guys. I promise not to talk about LDR for at least a week now. Off to the races...

Monday Mix Tapes: It's Now or Never

"I feel different today. I don't know what else to say."




I listened to this song on the train this morning. And then I listened to it again. And then I listened to it one more time.

Once, someone taught me how to hear the poetry in hip hop. I was mad that I hadn't heard it for myself. But now I'm only mad that I was too scared just to listen.

Monday Mix Tapes: Splitting at the Seams

Talk about a Monday morning. Sprinted up the stairs to catch the train, only to make it to the platform right in time to get the doors closed in my face. Survived the train ride, got on the bus, then was so thrown off by the teenage girls saying they would "push a bitch" who wouldn't get out of their way (who may or may not have been me) that I walked in the wrong direction when I got off. Not that I was scared of 14-year-olds or anything...

It wasn't until I was approaching my building that I realized I'd forgotten my security key. Ten minutes later, feeling like that kid whose mom forgot to pick her up from school, I was finally at my desk. I looked down. My fly was undone.

LOOKS LIKE SOMEBODY'S GOT A CASE OF THE MONDAYS! Barf.

Do you think it all happened because I listened to this as I got ready for work?



"Things start splitting at the seams"/ (I'm forgetting to zip my jeans) ...

At least it wasn't as bad as this historic, awesomely awkward Monday morning commute.

Monday Mix Tapes: I Heart NPR Music

If you're not hip to NPR's "First Listen" feature, you're missing out. I am 100 percent obsessed with it.

Just a sample of the awesomeness it's allowed me to hear, prior to the album release: The Black Keys' Brothers, Jenny and Johnny's I'm Having Fun Now, The Swell Season's Strict Joy, and Joanna Newsom's Have One on Me.

And that's only a sample of the awesomeness! (Yes, I have now used the made-up word, awesomeness, twice in one post. Three times.)

So far today, while attempting to be a grownup and organize my finances (ha!), I have already listened to the new Deerhunter album and am currently falling in love with "a young man Aloe Blacc" (to borrow NPR's turn of phrase). Seriously. Click on that bizness. He's incredible.

After that, my heart is about to go pitter pat for my first full listen of the new John Legend and The Roots collaboration. (I've already pre-ordered it, duh.)

How can I complain about being flat broke when I'm listening to all this awesomeness, sitting on our back porch eating my pop's leftover chicken pot pie?

I can't. Now go brighten your Monday and listen to some music. If you've got any homemade chicken pot pie, all the better.

Monday Mix Tapes: TNC put Ms. Lauryn on my mind.

Inspired by TNC depressing the hell out of everyone today.

Dear Lauryn, I still love you. Love the Score, love the Miseducation, love the Unplugged album, love Back in the Habit (don't deny it!).

Love it all. Especially this:



Then there's the song that's gotten me through all five million of my terrible decisions regarding, umm, men:



And you know you love Lauryn, teenage angst and all:



I still remember walking out of Best Buy with my mom and my brother after buying The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. Probably one of my smartest decisions at Best Buy, ever. When my Fugees cd broke in half at college, I almost cried.

But this is still my favorite. I can't help myself:





You're welcome.

Monday Mix Tapes: Rat-a-tatting Boombox Moocher

And I would have given anything to be at this Schuba's show. Mike Doughty, I'll bust up a Starbucks with you any day.

(Video is meh, but audio quality good.)


Anyone have his new album? Jay?

Monday Mix Tapes: You Can't Remember, You Try to Move Your Feet!

My Monday afternoon gift to you.

Eeeeeet, eet, eet.

Isn't she darling?

Mondays, Mums, and Mom

Because Mondays are my day off, for me, it’s always a disconcerting way to start the week, one totally devoid of any real responsibility or need to be anywhere outside of my apartment. By early afternoon, I’m restless, irritable, and feel useless: Shouldn’t I be doing something?

I miss Monday afternoons at my old job, because even if I didn’t have a pressing deadline, or a meeting to go to, I was still needed somewhere. I had a responsibility. What I wouldn’t give for some metadata to work on right now! Because even though that was the most boring and mundane aspect of being a content specialist, it still was important for each website. Now the most mundane aspect of my job is a toss-up between stuffing napkin holders and refilling ketchup bottles. Yeesh.

So in recent weeks, I’ve developed a new routine of heading out of my apartment, into the real world, every Monday afternoon. Usually, like today, I take a book to Starbucks. If I’m feeling ambitious, sometimes my journal gets pulled out of my bag and I attempt to write. Just an hour sitting in public, drinking my chai (or my pumpkin spice latte, this week), and reading my book, and my restlessness begins to calm, and I don’t feel quite so useless. I should probably be taking this time to apply for jobs, but that has the opposite affect on my psyche.

But today my Monday ritual got me so fired up that after two hours of reading, I finally had to put the book down. (I’m reading The Women’s Room, by Marilyn French.)

It's a Monday Miracle!

Great start to the week!

I overslept. I put on mismatched socks. Then I realized they were inside out. Did I fix this? Of course not. Thought I'd boost my mood by wearing a new shirt. Feeling pretty good about this, then I look in the mirror, only to discover I have become five months pregnant. Overnight! It's a miracle!

I guess the cooks at work knew something I didn't—they kept repeatedly wishing me a happy mother's day last night, even though I've told them, repeatedly, I don't have children. I am a child. I have no business pro-creating. "But you will someday!" Antonio says. Oh, right. I forgot. I have a uterus! I better use it! Throw away the oral contraceptives, ladies! Free love for everyone! Time for a baby!

But, after working two doubles this weekend, I was too tired to fight about my uterus and such, so I just shook my head and shrugged. The response:

"You might not be a momma, but you are a MAMACITA!"

Then he gave all the servers a free piece of banana cake. So really, everyone wins.

Now, back to my miracle illusion pregnancy. I'm thinking I should use this unflattering shirt to my advantage. I have to work tonight. And who would you tip better: a pregnant young waitress in a pretty flowery maternity blouse, or an un-pregnant young waitress in a poorly fitted shirt? I think we all know the answer to that question.

And that is why I will be rubbing my belly as I talk to my customers, and loudly talking with the other servers about baby names.

It's genius.

By the way, I made it up the escalator safely this morning. I know you were all worried.

Monday tape

The usual monotony of my Monday day shift was disturbed today thanks to President’s Day, which apparently means everyone goes out to lunch at Logan Bar and Grill and forgets their manners. I shouldn’t complain, since I usually make about 40 bucks on Mondays and spend the majority of the day reorganizing ketchup bottles and staring at the clock, but… if I had to say, “Chips, fries, or veggies” one more F*$&ING time at a table where no one was paying attention to me, I was going to knock someone’s head off.

I’m pretty sure my boss prefers that I smile at customers rather than snarl, but by about 1:30 the best anyone was getting was a grimace.

I really wish something along these lines would have happened instead: