Category Archives: Boner Jams

Kenton Dunson – Count On It

By Zach

I found this song on the Kollection, one of my favorite music blogs, and I thought I would share. It’s one of the better hip hop songs I’ve come across recently.

 

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Gator Don’t Play No Shit — Literally

By Simon
Now — I realize I’m new here, so I’ll start off with a little bit of context.  I’m writing to you lovely Internet people from the Great (Republicans-will-never-let-it-be-a-)State of Washington, D.C.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you have heard of it at one point or another, though perhaps by a different name: The Capital Capitol, Obama’s Backyard, Spin City, the Taxation Without RepresentNation, Newt Gingrich’s Personal Speed-Dating Service, etc…

Ah, the District.  It’s a city that has it all — the humidity of a golden-age Atlantis, the pastoral splendor of a Newark and the breathtaking skyline of an Akron, whose tallest building until July of 2010 was, I believe, LeBron James.  To top it all off, it entertains an air of political clusterfuckitude (patent pending) that other countries have been feverishly scrambling to match since George Washington threw off the yoke of his first monarchy (note: it will not be his last).

But there are some parts of this city that I love, few so much as I love the very thing that drove me to write this in the first place: The Gator.  You all are familiar with Gator of the silver screen, who I’m told is played by one “William Ferrel” or some such, but I’m talking about a real Gator, with sharp teeth, thick skin and a quintessentially creole accent.  Every Saturday from noon until two I visit with the Gator on 89.3 WPFW, D.C.’s local source for Jazz and Justice, which just so happen to be two of my favorite Js alongside greats like Jokulhlaups, Jurisprudence, Jewdar and, of course, Jibberwigglin’.

The Gator is the kind of man whose Saturday is seven days long, and he plays music to match.  Perhaps the last scion of Zydeco, the enduring musical legacy of the New Orleans diaspora, Gator plays the kind of tunes that put fire under your feet and what most turn-of-the-century revival preachers would describe as “the devil in your loins.”  If you’ve never had your loins bedeviled, the closest verbal approximation that I can give is “existential proctology.”

Gator opens the show every week with an assortment of tunes apropos of his nickname, including such classics as Lazy Lester’s seminal recording “Alligator Shuffle,” or the precautionary bayou tale “Gator Gon Bitecha” by Memphis Gold.  From there the setlist spirals out of control, beginning with relatively mundane titles such as “Oh Happy Day,” but quickly escalating in vulgarity and blissfully frenetic amperage to the timeless “Full-figured Woman” by the unforgettable and medically accredited Dr. S. O. Feelgood.

By the end of the second hour, we’re ass-deep (in Zydeco units, this equals about 43.775 billion light years) in raunchy rags: “When a Man Loves a Woman”; “I Want to Ta Ta You Baby” (as sung by the late vocalist/angel from the womb of heaven, Etta James); “Your Husband is Cheating On Us”; “She’s Got the Best Lovin’ That Ever Put On a Pair of Drawers”; “Honey Hole”; “Booty-Thumpin’ Grind”…The list is inexhaustible, as is Gator’s deep-bellied laugh and ability to produce noises that are ostensibly syllables and words but which have no discernible meaning.

Gator isn’t the kind of DJ who’s on the radio to “educate” you about music you haven’t heard or dig up old tunes that you stopped caring about when your parents buried the vinyl under the raccoon traps and embarrassing wedding gifts from your foreign step-aunt in the attic 35 years ago.  Gator is an immanent DJ, he’s in the music, interrupting the track 4 or 5 times a minute to tell you how great of a time he’s having playing it for you.  Gator’s the kind of DJ you listen with rather than to, and he sounds like more fun in an hour than you’ll ever be in your entire life.

The moral of the story — and, coincidentally, the punchline of this post — is that, for two hours a Saturday on every Saturday, Gator don’t play no shit.  Literally.

I Stole This From a Blog That Stole it From the Internet

By Anthony

I found this video via our friend Adrian’s CryoftheDuck blog and it’s given me something to do for the next few weeks. See, I’m a big fan of the Black Keys — I’m going to their show in March — and now I want to dance just like this man while I’m rocking out.

Look for me practicing in the shower for the next few weeks. Then try not to scratch out your eyes at the thought of that. Enjoy:

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Boning: A Lexical Examination

By Anthony

If you read Zach’s previous post on Nude Facebook (something I’m proud to support) then you have already been acquainted with the term “boning.” I wanted to take a brief moment to examine this word and its usages, history, hopes, dreams and aspirations. I liken this back to my junior year at university (I call it university because I want you to picture me as more formally educated.)

Now, if you didn’t know, I went to a liberal arts school with Zach and Ruairi. All three of us were English majors with a focus in writing. But you aren’t surprised by that; the flawless grammar and exceptional literary expertise tipped you off ages ago. Anyway, our liberal arts careers basically comprised of us sitting around in old mahogany classrooms wearing dinner jackets, khaki slacks and boat shoes. As we sipped cognac and smoked cigars, we examined literature and philosophized on “why.” Sometimes we didn’t even know the subject. We just said, “Now, tell me why he did that.”

One of the other things we did was look up words in these things called dictionaries. Which are basically big books which define words for you. These were invented BG (Before Google). And this brings us back to my junior year. We had an assignment to write a paper on a single word. We would examine the origins, meanings and evolution of the word itself. I wish I had picked boning. But I haven’t seen a phone booth in a coon’s age so I don’t think I’ll be able to go back. I might as well make up for it here. Jaunzems would be proud — or violently sick.

The trombone, a tool for one common type of boning

At first glance, a Google search of boning gives us two separate, very different results. The boning in corsets, for one. And the boning that you see defined by urban dictionary. You are all no strangers to the seedy underworld of black market definitions provided at UrbanDictionary.com, so you are safe in guessing that I’m talking about the boning defined there. If dictionaries were like pharmacies, UD would be known as Viktor or Boris and could only be found driving his black van around Brooklyn handing out definitions in little brown bags.

Boning, laying your man pipe in a girl’s nether region until neither of you can stand it any longer.” They also have another user-submitted one about playing the trombone, which I think is funny with or  without the sexual innuendos that come associated with a trombone.

The most natural jump to make from boning is to boner. I hope I don’t have to define this for you. We all know I’m referring to Bill Boner, former mayor of Nashville. Who, not coincidentally I’m sure, looks like a real boner of a dude. We can also jump to Bona Fide, this time defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as genuine; real.

Bill Boner, mayor, boner and bona fide expert

The OED, unlike UD, would be named William, maybe the 3rd. He would never leave New England except to ski out West and has definitely worn a dinner jacket while drinking cognac.

The OED uses bona fide in a sentence: “she was a real bona fide expert.” I bet she was.

Notice how what she is an expert in is not specified? My liberal arts powers of higher reasoning are kicking in and they’re telling me that a bona fide expert is someone skilled in boning, of course.

So there you have it. From Oxford itself, that great bastion of literary masterpiece. Boning is alive and well folks. So next time you’re boning down somewhere, think of Bill Boner, mayor of Nashville, boning down with chicks at Oxford and telling them to mention him in their next edition. That image might even make your bone sesh last a little longer.

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Ruben and Ra – Street Machine

By Zach

Nice funky song accompanied by clips of street performers. I’m always hugely impressed by people who dance in subway cars, because I can barely stand upright on the train even when I’m holding onto something. But then again I have the balance of a drunken toddler.

The Most Embarrassing Music In My iTunes

By Zach

My last post gave me the inspired idea to delve into my music library, see what embarrassing gems from 10th grade I might find, and then share them with everyone on here. Sort of a musical self-intervention, if you will. Here’s what transpired, in alphabetical order by artist.

It turns out I have not one but two songs by Ace of Base, “All That She Wants” and “The Sign.” And I’m very comfortable admitting that I’m listening to the former right now and nodding my head.

Let’s see…I have entirely too much Akon. I do have fond memories of listening to “I Wanna Fuck You” the first time I got really hammered drunk, in my senior year of high school (yeah, I know, late bloomer). I remember thinking it was the most ridiculous yet kinda tantalizing song ever. Akon’s not really that embarrassing, though.

Bon Jovi is, though, and I have 11 songs of his. “You Give Love a Bad Name” is arguably my favorite song of all time. Also, the video for “Always” has to go down as the most unintentionally funny music video ever:

Isn’t that glorious? I have tears cascading down my face every time I watch it (Uhh, I mean, the first and only time I watched it) and I’m never positive if they’re from laughter or from the memories of my every heartbreak.

Back to the music. I also have a hilarious song by Eminem’s old rap group D12 titled “40 Oz,” in which the chorus consists of several rappers screaming “POUR YOUR FORTY OUT…GUZZLE IT”…And speaking of rap, I still have a couple Dem Franchize Boyz songs, “Lean Wit it Rock Wit It” and “White Tee.” What happened to those guys? Maybe Soulja Boy and Waka Flocka gunned them down for supremacy of the Southern-rap-that’s-entirely-devoid-of-lyricism game.

This is brutal to admit, but I also have Elton John songs not titled “Tiny Dancer.” “Rocket Man, “Crocodile Rock,” and “Indian Sunset,” to be precise. Equally brutal: I have three Foreigner songs. They’re the band who did “I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight.” Tragically, they don’t seem to have music videos for that or “Cold As Ice.”

Next up, “Baby I’m Falling In Love Again” by Hamilton Joe, Frank & Reynolds. Here’s the story that led to me downloading this song: one fall when I had just arrived back at college, my friend Andres and I were driving back to campus from my storage unit; he was driving his Mustang convertible, and I was in the passenger’s seat with a mini refrigerator on my lap. If at any point he had slammed on the brakes, my parents would have had to get a jumbo-sized casket to accommodate the refrigerator fused to my top half. Thankfully, he didn’t. But my life changed regardless – this song came on the radio, and we were both flabbergasted. Almost gave us the gay, as Rick Santorum might put it. It’s just a real classy jam.

While we’re on the subject of cheesy music, it’s probably a good time to admit that I have like 2 albums of REO Speedwagon. If you’re not familiar, and I’m guessing you’re not, because if you’re reading Gator you’re probably not a middle aged trucker from Iowa, they’re one of those Midwestern arena rock bands whose anthems have names like “Keep on Loving You,” “Time for Me To Fly,” and “Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore.” I used to like REO Speedwagon. OK, I still kinda like them.

That might be it for now. The main lesson from this experiment? I apparently have a crippling weakness for 80s rock.

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A Gift From My iTunes To Yours

By Zach

In between all the old 2Pac and Third Eye Blind, this song by Mickey Factz popped up while my iTunes was on shuffle. It’s great. Enjoy.

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Come Cruise With R. Kelly!

Bring your daughter! Not her, the younger one.

By Zach

Over the past two days I’ve been working at the New York Times’s Travel desk. Checking facts on stories about New Orleans and Bruges, researching the first class amenities offered by U.S. airline companies, stuff like that. More interestingly, I had to research music-themed cruises. Here’s what I found.

First of all, if anyone’s interested in Kid Rock’s 3rd Annual Chillin’ The Most Cruise (ft. Uncle Cracker and Yelawolf), it departs on April 26 from Miami. I know, I know, I probably lost every person reading this blog.

I’ll wait.

Okay. Booked your tickets? Good. Next up, we have the New Kids on the Block Cruise, which departs June 7 from Miami. Yes indeed, I’m talking about the only 40-something “boy” band that features Mark Wahlberg’s infinitely less successful brother, Donnie Wahlberg. Let’s just say that Donnie could not have stopped 9/11 if he had been on those planes.

That one, somehow, sold out last August. Sorry guys.

But maybe you’re looking for something sooner, to rid yourself of these winter doldrums. Why not book yourself a cabin on the Donny and Marie Osmond Cruisin’ With Friends extravaganza, departing Fort Lauderdale on February 28? They describe it as a once in a lifetime cruise, and I have no reason to doubt them.

Ah. Wait a moment. I’m forgetting the best one! R. Kelly’s Love Letter Cruise, from October 1-6. Prices start at a measly $1,499 per person for a double cabin. Want some more information? Here are some quotes from the cruise’s website.

You don’t sell over 33 million records by chance – it takes consistent, peerless artistry.

How many artists are versatile enough to effortlessly switch gears from club groove (“Step in the Name of Love”) to inspirational anthem (“I Believe I Can Fly”) to a timeless R&B classic (“If I Could Turn Back The Hands of Time”) without missing a beat or losing one drop of emotion?  Only R. Kelly. 

A few years ago, Kelly told a journalist, “the studio is my oxygen.” For his legion of fans who have stayed the course over the last two years, there’s no more waiting to exhale. The R. Kelly magic continues.

I’m sold.

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Differences Between My Life and Young Jeezy’s

Prodigious blogger, or rap star Young Jeezy? We'll let you decide.

By Zach

Young Jeezy – Used to deal crack in Atlanta.

Zach – Once set up a lemonade stand, but soon realized that traffic on his idyllic gravel road in New Hampshire was too slow to maximize profits.

Young Jeezy – Is from the trap.

Zach – Is from a place with a lot of bear traps. (Come to think of it, is trapping still a socially acceptable form of hunting? I tend to doubt it, but I honestly don’t know the answer.)

Young Jeezy – Had beef with fellow rapper Gucci Mane, and once rapped in a song: “What type of real nigga name himself after a bag?/Nigga you’s a hoe, a Louis Vuitton fag”

Zach – Made a rap video a couple years ago for a Danish politics class, and by all accounts TOOK DOWN Danish prime minister Lars Rasmussen.

Young Jeezy – Has diamonds in his chain.

Zach – Wore one of those leather-hemp-ish necklaces he got in the Caribbean for about six months when he was like 13 or 14, and then decided that jewelry was kind of stupid.

Young Jeezy – Puts on for his city.

Zach – Calls his mom AT LEAST once every two weeks.

Young Jeezy – Is a soul survivor.

Zach – Is not sure what that means.

Young Jeezy – Is African-American.

Zach – Is really, really, like REALLY white. He’s wearing a button down under a sweater as he types this. Admittedly, he does sometimes speak in the third person.

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Coupla New Boner Jams

By Zach

Here’s a few songs from my iTunes recently added queue (which admittedly goes back like four months). Some are newer than others, and they cover a wide variety of genres and styles.

Portugal. The Man

I’ve been perusing the internet for new music the past few days, and along the way I came across the band Portugal. The Man, an alt-rock group from Portland and Wasilla, Alaska (Sarah Palin!). Apparently they learned to slappa da bass in between their presumed daily helicopter wolf-hunts and porch-based Russian coastwatching. I’m not into too many indie/alt-rock bands, but I’m digging their chill, melancholy vibe. They can also switch their sound up a little bit, which is a nice change from a lot of  bands in this genre.

More stuff from their newest album at Big Green Beats.

Nero – Reaching Out (Fred Falke Remix)

Fred Falke does some great remixes. This is one of them.

Medium Troy – Space Tree

Chill song with a trippy feel to it. Brings me back to the days when I knew the horrors of tripping on pot.

Raaban and Evana – Realize (Extended Mix)

God I wish I was still in college. They do not play songs like this one in dive bars in Brooklyn. So I’m left listening to it on the subway with mirages in my head of the hard drugs, dope beats and fast women that defined my St. Lawrence experience.

Doug Bogan – I Can’t Let You Go

While a lot of mashups descend into poorly produced chaos, this one works. Doug Bogan takes verses from some well-known rap songs and puts them over a haunting beat by Araabmuzik.

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