A couple weeks ago, Noz reminded just how much I used to love the singles by Faith Evans. To my mind, one of the great crimes committed against during her career is Diddy putting Loon on the album version of "Burnin' Up," leaving kids like me to watch the video to listen to the superior Missy version and the great (re-?) remix with Free. But this also got me thinking about Faith's first single from this album:
"You can't even be my friend." It is such a cold line, exactly the kind of thing you never want to hear. Anyway, this got me thinking on another tangent about what may be one of my favorite songs from the beginning of high school:
I had no business liking this song, but everytime I saw the video, I'd love every second of it. One of my main problems with R&B in the 90s was that I felt like the guys were either hypermasculine, trying to show they were just as tough as rappers, or soft as doctor's cotton. In hindsight, this was a perfect mix of what rap was concerned with 9 years ago with R&B. I'm pretty sure I never heard this on the radio in Jersey, but it was all over MTV2. Seeing as these guys were from Baltimore, could any current/former B-More residents tell me how well received Ruff Endz were? Or did they end up like B-Rich?
When I moved down to Chapel Hill, the moving company lost (or stole...) a box of mine that had all my coats and jackets. So recently, I have found myself in a shopping mood, looking to upgrade my little whatever whatevers. Those of you who've followed this site for a little while know that I like my sneakers. So last week, I ordered myself a new pair of Claes:
Just how I like them, simple and clean. It's rather odd to live in a college town that, even compared to where I went to school, is sort of in a vacuum in terms of places to go shopping and such without the use of a car. But I'm a lazy person.
I swear I've been trying to find new music, I just got caught listening to Here, My Dear for about a month and got pretty disconnected from the rest of the world. The past two weeks have just been me, hunched over, vibing to Dro's first album and Playa, the group Static Major was in while also helping Tim and Missy craft the beginnings of their musical legacy. At some point soon, I'll share my thoughts on at least one of them.