fourfour

My name is Prince, and I am crappy

That isn't just funk you're smelling, when you listen to Prince. The "two sides" that the proud Gemini often touted (most awesomely by dressing as Batman and Joker at the same time in the "Batdance" vid) were probably meant to make him seem somehow balanced sexually or morally or something, but I think anyone who's paid attention to his career knows of a much more immediate two Princes: the Great one and the Crappy one.

For some reason, people have a hard time with this duality -- instead of seeing how his capacity for garbage makes his brilliance even a more amazing feat, public perception of the man tends toward one side. He spent the good part of the 10 years after '93 totally maligned, considered a joke who wrote things on his face, did weird things with his name and made entirely too much music. But then, for some reason (nostalgia?), in '04, the wind changed and Prince could do little wrong -- he released a typically mediocre album, Musicology, that was surprisingly well-received (and high-charting, even if his giving it away every chance he could get effectively cooked his books), he launched a massively successful tour and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Good Princeyboy!

Things may have cooled a bit for him (he hasn't received the public lashing he deserves for "Te Amo Corazon"), but I wouldn't be surprised if mass fawning occurs whenever 3121 hits stores. Well, I'm here to tell you there's something else: garbage. What follows are four songs from his initial nadir, the early '90s (I chose one a year, starting with '91). If Prince is irritating when he's tossing off some masturbatory album track or extended jam, he's practically absurd when he's at his most commercial-minded and attempting to craft hits for others. If his proteges of the '80s were notoriously goofy, those of the '90s were mostly excruciating (Tevin Campbell excepted, obviously).

I believe that Prince loves women. I really do. And I think that's exactly what makes him such a sucky pimp.

Martika "Martika's Kitchen" (1991) - The table is set, baby, and on it is a cloth that looks a lot like Babyface's. With a limp swing beat, Prince attempted to convince us not just that Martika was new jack, but that she was also sexy. The kitchen analogy is undeniably sexual ("Get some, get some, get some"), but it serves a similar function as his little red Corvette -- sometimes, it seems to refer to a vagina ("Come on get some, in Martika's kitchen"), sometimes not ("The oven is hot"). At least if the metaphor of "Little Red Corvette" is mixed, it has a creepy air of mystery. This is just bright, boring nonsense about Stepford genitalia (it's, at least, very domestic). Martika was a lot of things: a Kids Incorporated alumna, big in Japan, Jennifer Beals-esque. Soulful was never one of these things. Not that anyone could spin this shit into gold -- even Prince sounds like a fool when doing this one (check his demo of it).

Carmen Electra "Go Go Dancer" (1992) - Joining the highly esteemed company of, well, Icy Blu and, uh, I guess Deborah Harry kinda, Carmen Electra tried to corner the white-girl rapper market with this early foray into fame whoreishness. Once again, Prince attempts to to mimic contemporary hotness, and this time tries his hand at house. He crafts a stomp for Carmen's born-to-strip persona -- she's an update of his irresistible bitch with her unstoppable body and "primal vibe." Carmen prowls like she's relishing the fact that sooner or later, she was going to have to sell it. I think this insatiable portrayal of a dancer's life is what got Prince the Showgirls gig (his "319" and "Rippopgodazippa" both can be heard in the movie...with hilarious results). "...In a taxi cab / If the radio's on / Off goes the top / And I'm going going going gone!," says Carmen, and by that time, I'm sorry that the song's inclusion here implies that it's shit. It's totally fucking awesome.

Lois L. "Qualified" (1993) - More new jack crap -- this is truly Prince at his worst because he's virtually undetectable. At least when he's turning out junk, it has personality. Every second of this, however, hurts. Seriously, Carmen Electra's cartoon stripper has more soul in her g-string than these two sisters from the Netherlands, put together. They ended up posing for Playboy, I think, which, OF COURSE THEY DID.

Mayte "The Most Beautiful Boy in the World" (1994) - If you have any question about a nepotist's inherent hubris, look no further than this, a note-by-note remake of Prince's most useless chart hit. Why did he let wife-to-be Mayte cover this track so faithfully? Maybe it's because he was in love...with himself. Whatever, this did not kick off her career the way it was supposed to, but no surprises there. This version's major deviance from the original ("The Most Beautiful Girl in the World" gets a penis in Mayte's version) totally throws everything into confusion. "Could you be / The most beautiful boy in the world? / It's plain to see / You're the reason that God made a girl," sings Mayte and...what? God made a girl only so that she could give birth? Is that what Prince meant all along? I always thought he was much more interested in vaginas as inputs. But maybe I'm being too harsh and what this remake really is saying is that man and woman can unite entirely via music. How of him (that symbol means man + woman + music, right? Right?!?).

As a palate-cleansing bonus, and a way of proving that not all of Prince's '90s output is worthless, here's 1991's "Insatiable". It's gorgeous, probably my favorite of his sex jams. Hate the game, not the cameraman.

Dear stars, dear trees, dear sky, dear Cascada

After viewing Bobbi "Nimpho" Kris' Myspace profile (via crunk and d) and that of her stepsister LaPrincia (also via Fresh), my heart is aglow. Both are using Cascada tracks as their profiles' songs (BK's is the exhilaratingly crappy single "Everytime We Touch," while LaPrincia goes with "How Do You Do").

It made my Monday to discover how happy-hardcore cheerleading garbage can keep sisters together, even if they're apart. Nothing but death, right?

(See even more Brown-related profiles at BEAUTIFULHUSTLE.COM.)

More Saturday love

I'm not trying to overdo the freestyle thing, but I'd be remiss if I didn't share the biggest source of joy in my life for the past week: Stevie B's "Spring Love" video.

Quite possibly the single most beautiful and haunting piece of audio-visual art I've ever seen, it is a tale of yearning, humidity and second-wave electro. You'll marvel at the feats of dramatic skill and hair products, alike. Try not to get too emotional, OK?

And just in case you aren't convinced, here are a few of my favorite moments:

Aaaannnndddd, since you can never have enough Stevie B in your life, here's my favorite of his non-singles, "I Came To Rock Your Body," from his '88 masterpiece In My Eyes. The rare boogie-oriented Stevie B track (more D-Train than Bambaataa, thanks to the full-bodied synth overload), "I Came To Rock Your Body," proves that he's not just a genius, but also versatile. And I looooooove vers guys.

Beyond hot! Way beyond!

Possessed by Zuzu

What, Zuzu worry?

I think Zuzu was unfazed by this week's elimination because she knows that around every corner, ultimately, magic and wonder are waiting for her. She's such an animal!

Who wore it best: A castle built for two

Stevie Wonder "Overjoyed"
Mary J. Blige "Overjoyed"

I'm scared of Mary J. Blige for a few reasons. This is one of them. Her titanic, grapefruit sized balls are another.

Seriously: who, at 21, on her debut album covers Chaka Khan? And not just Chaka Khan, but "Sweet Thing?" And not just covers, but releases the track as a single that goes on to become the definitive version for a generation (or two or all)?

Balls.

And that's why we love her. It's no coincidence that her two highest-charting U.S. singles -- "Not Gon' Cry" and "Family Affair" -- include premium Mary sassin' like, "I shoulda left your ass a thousand times," and "hateration / holleration," respectively. To love Mary is to admire her boldness, her recklessness (particularly vocally -- her aesthetic is almost proud-to-be-flawed), her arrogance (only she could make endearing a diatribe about today's R&B youth beginning with the phrase, "It's not like Beyoncé can't sing, but . . . "). If she's striking fear in your heart, however slightly (even if she's making you scared that she's not gonna hit that next note she's already straining for), she's doing her job.

Mary's cockiness has led her to take on many more classics -- you get the feeling that she's knowledgeable enough to dig up soul obscurities to cover, but she'd rather just raid the canon. And so we get uniformly great remakes of uniformly obvious tracks: Aretha's (sorry, Carole, it's hers) "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman," Rose Royce's "I'm Goin' Down," The Mary Jane Girls' "All Night Long" (sort of), the Emotions' "Best of My Love," Cheryl Lynn's "Got To Be Real," Luther Vandross' "Never Too Much" and First Choice's "Let No Man Put Asunder." Her recent cover of U2's "One," off The Breakthrough, has gotten so much attention that she's set to perform it with Bono on the Grammys. Great. It's not that I don't understand the praise for the track -- Mary's performance is indeed amazing. The track's production (and pointless inclusion of Bono's vocals) is not -- it's just a cleaned-up version of the mind-numbingly bland original.

But that's Mary for you -- most of the aforementioned covers bear remarkable similarities to the originals. Maybe it's out of respect, but considering Mary's ever-present 'tude, I think it's another sign of arrogance: I'ma knock this outta the park without even changing it up, she's saying. She's going toe-to-toe with titans on purpose. Perhaps the most blatant example of this is "Overjoyed," her nearly identical cover of Stevie Wonder's moderate hit from his 1985 album, In Square Circle. Mary's version knocked around for a few years after it was recorded in 1999, bouncing from a Nike commercial to the 2001 Japan-only compilation Ballads to 2003's oft-delayed Wonder tribute, Conception: An Interpretation of Stevie Wonder's Songs.

Mary's "Overjoyed" was produced by Stevie himself and really, it's virtually the same backing track -- Stevie beefs up the bass a bit (it no longer sounds like splashing puddles, thanks to hip-hop culture's demand for a blatant low end), and he turns down the fake strings, but that's about it. Mary, herself, keeps things as close to the original as possible, aping Stevie's every vocal turn, as best she can (for unquestionable proof ,check the 2:58 mark of hers versus the 2:57 mark of his -- the "And though the odds say improbable . . ." section -- identical!).

And so, on virtually equal ground, Mary does what she always does: knocks it out of the park. Her "Overjoyed" has what Stevie's is missing: conflict. Though his voice sounds a bit hoarse in the opening lines, Stevie soon commences joyously gliding over the gushing track, giving a lovely, if forgettable performance (certainly, what I always found so awesome about this song, before Mary even touched it, is the melody and the songwriting, not necessarily the delivery). When Stevie opens his mouth, out comes liquid soul, and he often risks sounding complacent and phoned-in if there's no discernible discord in his work (which is why his sweetness is so effective over sad, sad, sad tracks like, "Lately" and "Never Dreamed You'd Leave in Summer"). Yeah, you know he's overjoyed, but what else is new?

Mary's delivery on the other hand, her natural, gravelly, marvelously flawed tone chafes wonderfully against Stevie's idyllic lyrics. You feel the stucco texture on her castle. You're aware of the pain in turning every stone. You understand what it means for this voice to be overjoyed. The past is caked on her voice, and even if you don't exactly know what it entails, you know that it means so much for her to be, finally, in this ecstatic state.

(As an aside, could someone please, for the love of God, explain to me what the blue fuck " . . . just to find I had found what I searched to discover" means? Please?)

So Mary wins. And I'm not just saying that because I'm afraid she'll choke me if I don't.

How do we like the new ensemble?

Savage chunk

I'm not trying to say that Fred Savage is hot.

I'm not trying to say his new, probably temporary sitcom Crumbs is worthwhile.

But for about 30 seconds last week, I believed both of those statements were true. Why? Exposed chunk:

It wasn't the shirt

. . . though it certainly did you no favors.

What is this show going to be without Emmett's constant reminders of his menswear background, his Ken-doll emotional range and his wonderful linguistic skills that led him to whip up gems like, "I'm a creative man who is looking to define myself creatively?" Emmett was human toast, golf with a pulse, walking wood paneling. Emmett was real 'cause he do real things. Big mistake getting rid of him, Heidi & Co. I mean, really, first Marla and now this?

Project fuck up

This week's ProjRun recap is being brought to you by the letter "fuuuuuuuck!"

When I published it this morning, it created three identical posts. I deleted two and was left with a post largely devoid of images. Not fun for anyone. Sorry.

It's on its way -- I'm going to try to have it up by this afternoon, but it may have to wait till this evening.

In the meantime, you can occupy yourself by staring at Andraé's legs. I don't think it's a coincidence that this is one of the few pictures that stayed up.

Sorry everyone!

Exhale!

Relax, the universe won't be imploding any time soon. Bobby and Whitney are not getting divorced -- in a remarkably swift instance of damage control, he appeared on Wendy Williams' radio show on Wednesday and shot down the rumor that he and Whitney were splitting, just one day after it surfaced. And here I thought Bob's motor skills were permanently impaired.

This is the only celebrity union that matters: now the planned second season of Being Bobby Brown (premiere date as yet unknown, per the interview) can have all the batshit splendor it needs.

Posted below is the Wendy interview in its entirety (courtesy of the Whitney-Fan.com forum) -- be warned, though: Bobby's amicable. Unlike Whitney's infamous tangle with Wendy a few years back, there are no threats to meet Wendy outside for a rumble, no violent mood swings and no insane cackling. He doesn't even let any curses slip. When dealing with Wendy, he is everything his wife isn't. It's almost boring.

Bobby Brown on The Wendy Williams Experience, January 18, 2006

If you can't be bothered to listen/download, here are some highlights:

• Bobby took the short bus to school . . . on account of being bipolar (?)
• Bobby used to do heroin, but never shot it up.
• Wendy: Do you go to church? Bobby: I am a church.
• Bobby doesn't ever poke Whit in the butt: "That's not a place where something's supposed to go in." Yeah right.
• Bobby thinks this is his website.
• Whitney beat Bobby up in the wake of the Superhead allegations. Too bad the cameras weren't around. That woulda made for a very, very special episode of B³.
• Most of next season of B³ will follow his tour with New Edition, which kicks off the third week in March. Yeah, that sounds potentially boring.
• But this doesn't: "I want [Wendy] and Whitney to finally get together and have dinner, on Being Bobby Brown," says Bobby. What are the chances of a food fight?

On that upsetting picture published in the National Enquirer last week, Bobby had little to say -- he said something about Whit must have been walking the dog and denied that drugs had anything to do with her appearance. (An interesting footnote is Whitney's camp won't make a statement on the future of her marriage).

He might be right about it being no big deal, though -- while poking around for the audio of the interview, I came across this story: Basically, a few days ago, a fan with a record deal was recording in the same studio complex as Whit. He found her, and in her studio was a copy of that Enquirer issue, which she was laughing about with Jermaine Dupri and Terry Lewis (who are working with Whit on her new album). He had her autograph it for him, in possibly the best placement of a signature ever. Here it is:

Check it against her confirmed signature:

No smiley, but close. It really could be it.

If this story's real, if she has that kind of sense of humor and sense of self-awareness, she's more together than anyone, anyone thought. For the sake of our entertainment, I don't know if that's such a good thing.

(A lot of love goes to Erika C., who informed me of Bobby's appearance on the show.)