Excerpt from a Herald A&E staff piece.
Chris Isaak, "Wicked Game"
After hours searching for the perfect love song, I knew after the first two notes that I'd end up writing about this one. The opening of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" makes me feel nostalgic, sleazy, and in the mood to roll on a beach with a gorgeous hunk of man—all at the same time! "Wicked Game" is the quintessential love song because no matter how much I'm tempted to hate it, I just can't. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate what it's like to fall for someone against your will: "What a wicked thing to do/To make me dream of you/And I don't wanna fall in love." I have an obligation to mention the song's perfect counterpart: a video in which Helena Christensen wears lingerie and bites her lip. Sed-uc-tive-ly. The rhythm and guitar are almost as hot as Chris Isaak in nothing but a wife beater. Rolling on the beach and getting sand in inconvenient places never looked so sexy. What a wicked game, Chris Isaak, to make me fall in love with this song.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
REVIEW: Destiny's Child, The Yale Herald, 11/19/05
Music Reviews
Destiny's Child: Desiny Fulfilled
BY CELESTE
Theyyyy're baaack! Destiny's Child returns to bring you Destiny Fulfilled, their sixth and—cross your fingers—final album. Unfortunately, the group that once helped you "drop it like it's hot" offers only a luke-warm and tired album. But perhaps their history will help us rekindle our love.
Remember LaToya and LaTavia and Farrah? Me neither. Michelle and Kelly have essentially joined the ranks of discarded Destiny's Children. There are almost enough to make a pack of trading cards with only one card worth keeping in mint condition: the obvious star, the hottest and most bootylicious one, Beyoncé Knowles. Destiny's Child fulfilled their destiny when Beyoncé went solo. A word to Beyoncé: Better get crack-a-lackin' on that next solo album—-you'll need it after this.
The two best songs are the first two tracks on the album. The first, "Lose My Breath," nails a drum-line beat no booty will resist. It's this year's "Crazy In Love," ahem, "Survivor." Whatever. "Soldier," the second single, is slower, with appearances by rappers T.I. and Lil' Wayne. This song most embodies me. Turns out we have the same standards in guys: "If his status ain't hood I ain't checking for him/better be street if he looking at me I need a soldier." Word, Destiny's Child, word.
The rest of the songs are lame R&B ballads following the pattern of having Beyoncé, then Kelly, then Michelle singing each verse, as if we needed help clarifying the distribution of talent. "Cater 2 U" is the album's nadir. U, Because that's so much more legit than you (see Usher). Their priorities, you ask? Manicures, foot rubs, fixing dinner, fixin' his doo-rag, the usual, I answer. Ho-hum.
In brief, I recommend downloading "Lose My Breath" (legally of course), and skipping the rest. I also suggest re-naming Destiny's Child to Destiny's Second Cousins Twice Removed. Beyoncé is the power, soul, and vocal talent. So, give us more of what everyone wants: Beyoncé, Beyoncé, Beyoncé.
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
Destiny's Child: Desiny Fulfilled
BY CELESTE
Theyyyy're baaack! Destiny's Child returns to bring you Destiny Fulfilled, their sixth and—cross your fingers—final album. Unfortunately, the group that once helped you "drop it like it's hot" offers only a luke-warm and tired album. But perhaps their history will help us rekindle our love.
Remember LaToya and LaTavia and Farrah? Me neither. Michelle and Kelly have essentially joined the ranks of discarded Destiny's Children. There are almost enough to make a pack of trading cards with only one card worth keeping in mint condition: the obvious star, the hottest and most bootylicious one, Beyoncé Knowles. Destiny's Child fulfilled their destiny when Beyoncé went solo. A word to Beyoncé: Better get crack-a-lackin' on that next solo album—-you'll need it after this.
The two best songs are the first two tracks on the album. The first, "Lose My Breath," nails a drum-line beat no booty will resist. It's this year's "Crazy In Love," ahem, "Survivor." Whatever. "Soldier," the second single, is slower, with appearances by rappers T.I. and Lil' Wayne. This song most embodies me. Turns out we have the same standards in guys: "If his status ain't hood I ain't checking for him/better be street if he looking at me I need a soldier." Word, Destiny's Child, word.
The rest of the songs are lame R&B ballads following the pattern of having Beyoncé, then Kelly, then Michelle singing each verse, as if we needed help clarifying the distribution of talent. "Cater 2 U" is the album's nadir. U, Because that's so much more legit than you (see Usher). Their priorities, you ask? Manicures, foot rubs, fixing dinner, fixin' his doo-rag, the usual, I answer. Ho-hum.
In brief, I recommend downloading "Lose My Breath" (legally of course), and skipping the rest. I also suggest re-naming Destiny's Child to Destiny's Second Cousins Twice Removed. Beyoncé is the power, soul, and vocal talent. So, give us more of what everyone wants: Beyoncé, Beyoncé, Beyoncé.
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
Voyeurism, The Yale Herald, 09/2/05
Is anybody listening? Yes.
Remember the clever rhyme secrets secrets are no fun, secrets are for everyone? Do you remember the seething rage you felt when you retorted, "Nay! Secrets are NOT for everyone by the very definition of the word! If secrets were for everyone they would not be secrets but mere public confessions or conversati.onal snippets!" Admit you wanted to smack the nosy priss from elementary school who nah-nah-nah-nah-nah'd her way into your personal space by demanding you share your deepest secrets. Fortunately you had already crossed your heart and hope to die stick a needle in your eye and pinkie sweared that no one would find out about that time you drew a heart around Tommy's picture in the yearbook. Of course, there was always that one category of secret, the one you told all your closest friends knowing that one of them would let it slip into the public sphere. Everyone has had that one secret that was really a confession contained in a plastic wrapper of feigned secrecy. Everyone has a secret they want the world to know.
The desire to know other people's secrets is an addiction that, until now, was hard to satiate. This desire can often be channeled into people watching, eavesdropping, and the high art form of stalking. Lucky for people like me with extremely voyeuristic tendencies, the Internet has become a portal to a new level of people watching, and even a forum for random strangers' deepest, darkest, and most shameful secrets. A veritable Rear Window for the masses, if you will.
The first website I ever encountered that changed the direction of the wave of my web surfing was Postsecret.com. The concept is simple in design. Readers are asked to anonymously send in a 4 x 6 postcard with a secret that they have never confessed before to the listed address. The result is a mélange ranging from the harmless "I love getting my period... It gives me an excuse to be bitchy and irritable and to take naps" to the shocking and heartbreaking, "I think more than usual about killing myself after I have a really on good day." Although the posted secrets can't possibly be checked for reliability, there is no lack of readability as it's impossible to read just one. There's something about this small glimpse into another person's sense of guilt, dreams, regrets, despairs, confessions, and small pleasures that is completely absorbing. Voyeurism never felt so good.
Then of course, there are websites that fall into a grey area. Sites like overheardin-newyork.com and overheardintheoffice.com offer a chance for you to get involved in making another's comments part of the public domain. These fairly self-explanatory websites are an eavesdropper's wet dream, a place where their remarkable findings from both the office and "The City" can be shared with millions. I would say it's hard to believe that people actually say such things, but fact is it's not. Akin to the postcards, the overheard portions of these conversations are often hilarious, whether it's because of the incredible ignorance of the speaker, or, well, you'll just have to see for yourself. Check out one recent entry: "Hobo: Got any money, man? I'm hungry._ Guy: Hey, how are you? _Hobo: How am I? How the fuck do you think I am, 50 fuckin' people walked by and how much do I got? 10 fuckin cents, how the fuck am I. Shit, man. 'How the fuck are you?' What kind of question is that? I'm fuckin' homeless." I couldn't have said it better myself.
One of the most enticing things about this new medium of entertainment is the fact that you can come out of reading the worst confessions and still feel guilt free. After all, they're the one who chose to share it on the Internet. It's not like stalking right? You don't actually know the people who say or do these things and chances are you never will. The days of sticking binoculars through closed blinds are over. No more need for that commando helmet or those night-vision goggles you invested in.
No matter what type of voyeur you are, there is a website tailor-made to fit your people watching needs. If you're into reading the grossest most obscene and morally low things strangers have ever done, check out lowbrow.com. Some entries are less reprehensible than others, but there are a few that will make you look away from your screen in disgust. Keep in mind, there are no pictures on this site. As much as I hate to have to settle for reading livejournals, blogs, and Facebook profiles to spy on the Yale community, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before someone has a genius idea like say, oh, I don't know, overheardinthe-ivyleague.com. If that comes to fruition, I will be ruined.
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
Remember the clever rhyme secrets secrets are no fun, secrets are for everyone? Do you remember the seething rage you felt when you retorted, "Nay! Secrets are NOT for everyone by the very definition of the word! If secrets were for everyone they would not be secrets but mere public confessions or conversati.onal snippets!" Admit you wanted to smack the nosy priss from elementary school who nah-nah-nah-nah-nah'd her way into your personal space by demanding you share your deepest secrets. Fortunately you had already crossed your heart and hope to die stick a needle in your eye and pinkie sweared that no one would find out about that time you drew a heart around Tommy's picture in the yearbook. Of course, there was always that one category of secret, the one you told all your closest friends knowing that one of them would let it slip into the public sphere. Everyone has had that one secret that was really a confession contained in a plastic wrapper of feigned secrecy. Everyone has a secret they want the world to know.
The desire to know other people's secrets is an addiction that, until now, was hard to satiate. This desire can often be channeled into people watching, eavesdropping, and the high art form of stalking. Lucky for people like me with extremely voyeuristic tendencies, the Internet has become a portal to a new level of people watching, and even a forum for random strangers' deepest, darkest, and most shameful secrets. A veritable Rear Window for the masses, if you will.
The first website I ever encountered that changed the direction of the wave of my web surfing was Postsecret.com. The concept is simple in design. Readers are asked to anonymously send in a 4 x 6 postcard with a secret that they have never confessed before to the listed address. The result is a mélange ranging from the harmless "I love getting my period... It gives me an excuse to be bitchy and irritable and to take naps" to the shocking and heartbreaking, "I think more than usual about killing myself after I have a really on good day." Although the posted secrets can't possibly be checked for reliability, there is no lack of readability as it's impossible to read just one. There's something about this small glimpse into another person's sense of guilt, dreams, regrets, despairs, confessions, and small pleasures that is completely absorbing. Voyeurism never felt so good.
Then of course, there are websites that fall into a grey area. Sites like overheardin-newyork.com and overheardintheoffice.com offer a chance for you to get involved in making another's comments part of the public domain. These fairly self-explanatory websites are an eavesdropper's wet dream, a place where their remarkable findings from both the office and "The City" can be shared with millions. I would say it's hard to believe that people actually say such things, but fact is it's not. Akin to the postcards, the overheard portions of these conversations are often hilarious, whether it's because of the incredible ignorance of the speaker, or, well, you'll just have to see for yourself. Check out one recent entry: "Hobo: Got any money, man? I'm hungry._ Guy: Hey, how are you? _Hobo: How am I? How the fuck do you think I am, 50 fuckin' people walked by and how much do I got? 10 fuckin cents, how the fuck am I. Shit, man. 'How the fuck are you?' What kind of question is that? I'm fuckin' homeless." I couldn't have said it better myself.
One of the most enticing things about this new medium of entertainment is the fact that you can come out of reading the worst confessions and still feel guilt free. After all, they're the one who chose to share it on the Internet. It's not like stalking right? You don't actually know the people who say or do these things and chances are you never will. The days of sticking binoculars through closed blinds are over. No more need for that commando helmet or those night-vision goggles you invested in.
No matter what type of voyeur you are, there is a website tailor-made to fit your people watching needs. If you're into reading the grossest most obscene and morally low things strangers have ever done, check out lowbrow.com. Some entries are less reprehensible than others, but there are a few that will make you look away from your screen in disgust. Keep in mind, there are no pictures on this site. As much as I hate to have to settle for reading livejournals, blogs, and Facebook profiles to spy on the Yale community, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before someone has a genius idea like say, oh, I don't know, overheardinthe-ivyleague.com. If that comes to fruition, I will be ruined.
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
REVIEW: Britney Spears, The Yale Herald, 12/3/04
Music Reviews
A farewell letter to Mrs. Federline
Britney Spears: Greatest Hits: My Prerogative
Dear Britney,
I've treated you horribly. I can't believe I joined the ranks of the US Weekly brigade thinking you were gone for good and marking the drop date of Lindsay Lohan's album on my calendar. I should've known your recent spiral into a steaming pile of white trash was your destiny. I mean you're in love! Now that JTim's got Cammy D., you've been able to find your real man. And he's a backup dancer! That must be so convenient. Tell Kevin Federline I say "Holla!" and send my love to the little ones, Shar Jackson's kids. Oh, and don't worry about what the magazines say about Shar. I don't have sympathy for her. I know she's just jealous of your mad skills.
That being said, I wanted to let you know I received a copy of your latest album, Greatest Hits: My Prerogative. You ask: "People can take everything away from you/But they can never take away your truth/But the question is... Can you handle mine?" I think you've proven once and for all you're the veritable Queen of Pop, and yes, we can. And to think I had shoved my copy of Oops! I Did it Again in between my Blaque and Willa Ford albums. How naïve I was! Your cover of "My Prerogative" is so hot that Bobby Brown will soon be snorting coke off of your platinum record. Some think it's too early for a greatest hits album. But let's be honest here. You're clearly stepping down from your throne and tossing both scepter and orb over your shoulder into the desperate hands (or perhaps, cleavage) of Ashlee, Hilary, and Lindsay. You're going out with a bang and making a few extra bucks to support your hubby. (And, of course, his kids! Brilliant.)
I only have one complaint. You put no effort into the two new songs! "(I've Just Begun) Having My Fun" lets us know the same thing you've been saying for years! We know you're rebellious, sexual, and like to have fun, if nothing else. We get it. "Do Somethin'" is only slightly better, but sounds like something picked out of Gwen Stefani's trash bin. The pseudo-rapping is really hilarious, though. I'd like to see more of that.
I can't help feeling nostalgic while listening to your Prerogative album. I've heard each of these songs a billion times, but when they're all strung together, the compilation is overpowering. I've come to realize that your hits have defined the teenage years of my generation. From "Baby One More Time" all the way to "Toxic," you kept us enraptured with consistently catchy beats and awesomely bad lyrics. It reminds me of the days when you still pretended to be a virgin, were dating Justin Timberlake before he was cool (you totally made him), and wore ridiculous belly-baring shirts and skin-tight cat suits.
I don't want to mislead you here: You've had a heinous track record this year. One 55-hour Vegas marriage, a canceled tour, affiliations with the devil (a.k.a. Fred Durst), and now "real" marriage? What's next? Kids? (Oh, wait, you're already a mom.) At least you got in shape for your latest video and album cover. When you really try, Brit, damn, girl looks fine! But, as reluctant as I am to admit the obvious, you're past your prime.
For the time being, we're still in mourning. But I can't say it wasn't fun while it lasted. And I'll still be anxiously waiting the end of your "break from music" to rock out with your comeback album.
Loyally yours (4-eva),
Celeste
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
A farewell letter to Mrs. Federline
Britney Spears: Greatest Hits: My Prerogative
Dear Britney,
I've treated you horribly. I can't believe I joined the ranks of the US Weekly brigade thinking you were gone for good and marking the drop date of Lindsay Lohan's album on my calendar. I should've known your recent spiral into a steaming pile of white trash was your destiny. I mean you're in love! Now that JTim's got Cammy D., you've been able to find your real man. And he's a backup dancer! That must be so convenient. Tell Kevin Federline I say "Holla!" and send my love to the little ones, Shar Jackson's kids. Oh, and don't worry about what the magazines say about Shar. I don't have sympathy for her. I know she's just jealous of your mad skills.
That being said, I wanted to let you know I received a copy of your latest album, Greatest Hits: My Prerogative. You ask: "People can take everything away from you/But they can never take away your truth/But the question is... Can you handle mine?" I think you've proven once and for all you're the veritable Queen of Pop, and yes, we can. And to think I had shoved my copy of Oops! I Did it Again in between my Blaque and Willa Ford albums. How naïve I was! Your cover of "My Prerogative" is so hot that Bobby Brown will soon be snorting coke off of your platinum record. Some think it's too early for a greatest hits album. But let's be honest here. You're clearly stepping down from your throne and tossing both scepter and orb over your shoulder into the desperate hands (or perhaps, cleavage) of Ashlee, Hilary, and Lindsay. You're going out with a bang and making a few extra bucks to support your hubby. (And, of course, his kids! Brilliant.)
I only have one complaint. You put no effort into the two new songs! "(I've Just Begun) Having My Fun" lets us know the same thing you've been saying for years! We know you're rebellious, sexual, and like to have fun, if nothing else. We get it. "Do Somethin'" is only slightly better, but sounds like something picked out of Gwen Stefani's trash bin. The pseudo-rapping is really hilarious, though. I'd like to see more of that.
I can't help feeling nostalgic while listening to your Prerogative album. I've heard each of these songs a billion times, but when they're all strung together, the compilation is overpowering. I've come to realize that your hits have defined the teenage years of my generation. From "Baby One More Time" all the way to "Toxic," you kept us enraptured with consistently catchy beats and awesomely bad lyrics. It reminds me of the days when you still pretended to be a virgin, were dating Justin Timberlake before he was cool (you totally made him), and wore ridiculous belly-baring shirts and skin-tight cat suits.
I don't want to mislead you here: You've had a heinous track record this year. One 55-hour Vegas marriage, a canceled tour, affiliations with the devil (a.k.a. Fred Durst), and now "real" marriage? What's next? Kids? (Oh, wait, you're already a mom.) At least you got in shape for your latest video and album cover. When you really try, Brit, damn, girl looks fine! But, as reluctant as I am to admit the obvious, you're past your prime.
For the time being, we're still in mourning. But I can't say it wasn't fun while it lasted. And I'll still be anxiously waiting the end of your "break from music" to rock out with your comeback album.
Loyally yours (4-eva),
Celeste
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
Monday, November 20, 2006
REVIEW: Bjork, The Yale Herald, 09/10/04
Music Review: Bjork
Shortly before the release of Björk's seventh album, she announced, "Instruments are so over." Coming from a musician, this seems like an absurd statement. Then again, it is Björk. Known for being eccentric (remember that Swan outfit complete with an egg for a purse?), Björk has constantly pushed the boundaries of her music. On Medulla, she has called on the help of the London Choir, the Icelandic Choir, Inuit singers, and beat-boxers such as Rahzel (from The Roots) and Dokaka from Japan. Björk uses this diverse lineup to create an almost entirely a cappella album that even the Whiffenpoofs would envy.
Medulla starts off with "Pleasure is All Mine." In many ways, this piece introduces the concept of the album, opening with sparse vocals that slowly layer and build. "Where is the Line?" is the song that most uniquely couples the hip-hop beat-box with a chanting choir. The jagged and complex beat is paired with interesting chord progressions from the choir.
"Who Is It?" and "Triumph of a Heart" distinguish themselves from the rest of the album by using heavily layered voices to create a full and pervasive sound driven by the addictive dance beat. Björk's voice soars above the complex elements to create a cohesive sound. "Triumph of a Heart" also showcases a "human trombone" to create a unique and fuller sound not seen on the other songs. These two songs are the most like the dance hits that Björk excels at writing.
Other songs like "Desired Constellation" are decidedly minimalist. You often feel like a million wailing Björks surround you. Occasionally these songs sound incomplete or like transitional pieces. Some listeners may also be turned off by the songs with no beat-boxing as Björk's echoing, wailing, and panting can be a bit much to take by themselves. The more successful songs are the ones that employ each element to create a multi-layered composition. Each song on Medulla leads into the next one seamlessly, and even after the occasional clear break, the songs ebb and flow in an order that leaves you wondering what's coming next.
Simply put, this album is all Björk. At times, you will hardly believe that the layers upon layers of voices are voices at all. Although she does stray from her usual love of electronic beats, in many ways this is an amalgamation of her previous albums: Some tracks are as ethereal as any on Vespertine, while others have an experimental sound just like Post and the heavier, grounded tones of Homogenic. Each song is so drastically different (though uniquely Björk) that everyone will find something they like on Medulla. If for no other reason, this album is worth listening to for the amazing manipulation and diverse sound of each voice. You will be astounded.
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
Shortly before the release of Björk's seventh album, she announced, "Instruments are so over." Coming from a musician, this seems like an absurd statement. Then again, it is Björk. Known for being eccentric (remember that Swan outfit complete with an egg for a purse?), Björk has constantly pushed the boundaries of her music. On Medulla, she has called on the help of the London Choir, the Icelandic Choir, Inuit singers, and beat-boxers such as Rahzel (from The Roots) and Dokaka from Japan. Björk uses this diverse lineup to create an almost entirely a cappella album that even the Whiffenpoofs would envy.
Medulla starts off with "Pleasure is All Mine." In many ways, this piece introduces the concept of the album, opening with sparse vocals that slowly layer and build. "Where is the Line?" is the song that most uniquely couples the hip-hop beat-box with a chanting choir. The jagged and complex beat is paired with interesting chord progressions from the choir.
"Who Is It?" and "Triumph of a Heart" distinguish themselves from the rest of the album by using heavily layered voices to create a full and pervasive sound driven by the addictive dance beat. Björk's voice soars above the complex elements to create a cohesive sound. "Triumph of a Heart" also showcases a "human trombone" to create a unique and fuller sound not seen on the other songs. These two songs are the most like the dance hits that Björk excels at writing.
Other songs like "Desired Constellation" are decidedly minimalist. You often feel like a million wailing Björks surround you. Occasionally these songs sound incomplete or like transitional pieces. Some listeners may also be turned off by the songs with no beat-boxing as Björk's echoing, wailing, and panting can be a bit much to take by themselves. The more successful songs are the ones that employ each element to create a multi-layered composition. Each song on Medulla leads into the next one seamlessly, and even after the occasional clear break, the songs ebb and flow in an order that leaves you wondering what's coming next.
Simply put, this album is all Björk. At times, you will hardly believe that the layers upon layers of voices are voices at all. Although she does stray from her usual love of electronic beats, in many ways this is an amalgamation of her previous albums: Some tracks are as ethereal as any on Vespertine, while others have an experimental sound just like Post and the heavier, grounded tones of Homogenic. Each song is so drastically different (though uniquely Björk) that everyone will find something they like on Medulla. If for no other reason, this album is worth listening to for the amazing manipulation and diverse sound of each voice. You will be astounded.
© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.
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