Nuff said, I’m out. Holla next week. Till then, enjoy the nightlife.
To those diehard fans who were engrossed in the hotly contested NY Giants vs. Dallas Cowboys game, nothing else mattered.
We’re a little past the midway point for the NFL season, and both area teams are winning below expectations.
I really enjoy those conversations with previous generations. To hear them tell it, we and future generations ain’t about nothing.
It was the summer of 1982 that the world was exposed to Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s song “The Message,” which proved that hip-hop music was more than just meaningless rhymes strung together.
Once upon a time, the grandiose ambition of a child was to be known as the biggest and best in the whole wide world.
Many moons have passed, but the memories are crystal clear of heading to the crib and waiting for the BX 55 bus on the inner block of 161st Street and River Avenue.
As a long-time follower of the sport known as battle rap, it’s not hard to imagine the future vision projected by the fervent believers coming to fruition
It’s hard to find levity of any kind in weeks like this; however, an attempt was made. Why not? Chilled Saturday, my born day, glued to CNN, monitoring the transgressions in Ferguson, Mo., so maybe a minute to enjoy this fine August weather was in order.
Understanding why the chasm is growing wider between today’s youth and the previous generation—I guess now I’m part of the latter—is perplexing, especially when we, the previous generation, laid the groundwork for the culture that young people have so dearly embraced. You’d think a little dialogue be broached to discuss the conditions that spawned the movement and what detrimental factors stunted the growth of the creators of the art.
Funkateers over the world can relate to the dichotomy that comes with the beginning of August. Aug. 5, 1983, reinforcement of his legacy was added with the “Cold Blooded” release of his then-seventh studio album. Like the previous sixth, it also went on to at least gold.