World Music Audiences: I used to make bit broad statements like “I can’t stand World Music. That shit is annoying” For the most part, I do think that, but there are exceptions. I’ve been taking stock of my likes and dislikes in the World Music genre and come to the conclusion that it’s not so much the music I hate but more so the vibe and more specifically the audience. Outside of “hippies” which of course fucking flip for anything with a conga or a timbale, there are a wealth of stereotypical World Music fans that deserve some hate time. Here are a breakdown on a few stereotypes I witness first hand at the recent Manu Chao show here in SF.
Urban Gypsy/Hula Hoop Enthusiasts - I used to think of these two stereotypes as wholly separate, but now I know they are one in the same. A hula hoop is just a means to an end (more on that later). There has been a recent outbreak of displaced Urban Gypsies (I blame the proliferation and mainstreaming of Burning Man ) Start watching your back and your shit (including your children). Gypsies are fucking everywhere and up to no good. Urban Gypsy season traditionally runs between now and September but in the last year I’ve seen a noteable surplus surfacing here in SF a lot earlier and they are not leaving. (LA you are probably safe, but NYC get up on game — I know they are out there.) UGs are noted by an excess of accessories like flashy earings, homemade looking caps, weird fingerless gloves, makeshift leg and/or arm warmers, akward belts with trinkets and almost always including some sort of wierd bag (that’s where they stuff thier stolen wares). Clothing sorta varies but they are really into layering and makeshift clothing (think bathing suit tops under mid-drift bearing wool sweaters) Sure they look innocent enough, toting around fun shit like Hula Hoops, smiling and being all amicable and shit — that’s all part of the game. They lure you in with all that camp and uniqueness but they are not to be trusted. Never and I mean never look them in the eyes - that’s where their power lies. Oh and never smoke weed with them, ever. I don’t care how good their stash looks (and it will probably look REAL good) - one hit from that pipe and you are going to end up with a house full of them muttering to yourself, “How did this happen? I thought he just wanted to fill up his water bottle? Is that a goat? Oh jeez why does my Lacoste sweater smell like sage and feta?”
Fake Muslims - Listen homegirl, I don’t care how tightly you wrap that scarf around your head and how drab you dress we all know you are a white girl who got a little too inspired by one of your Ethnic Studies courses. I’m no religious scholar but Im pretty sure Muslim women shouldn’t be out after 9pm on a weeknight at a concert where the performer praises the use of marijuana and sings songs littered with left-wing socio-political messages. Might want to rethink that whole “look” a bit more. Also last time I checked Allah wasn’t opposed to eye brows, so you might want to pencil them shits in a bit more.
Hippy Dudes, Who Only Want To Fuck Un-Hippy Chicks: Here’s the deal bro, you can’t live the natural life and then expect to be able to fuck chicks who still shop at Nordstrom and keep their waxing appointments. It just doesn’t work that way. Sure you can try, shit, I encourage you to. I’m just saying it’s not going to happen. If you get lucky you might score a chick who’s trying to make her dad angry (like this broad here) so she’s out smoking weed and doing the hippy two step with some dude named “Rain” but it only lasts so long. One of two things is going to happen-
A. She decides her dad is “ruining her life” and in order to really get back at him she’s got to make a commitment to rebellion. You my friend are just the first step. Enjoy the now, because in a matter of weeks all that hair is growing back and she’s going to turn in all those tight little shirts and form fitting skirts for hand-sewn hippy sundresses and start using one of those “Crystal Sticks” in leiu of Secret and that Issey Miyake body lotion you’ve grown to love so much.
B. Dad realizes that he’s about to unleash an inferno of chaos if he doesn’t give Daddy’s Little Girl a bit more attention (and allowance.) He finally breaks her off with a promise ring from Tiffany’s, a trip to Bloomies on the gold card and an introduction to that young go getter in the Executive training program at his firm. New dude picks her up in his Porsche, takes her to dinner at Gary Danko, then next thing you know he’s got an 8ball on the dash as he mashes across the bridge blasting Nelly’s “It’s Gettin’ Hot In Here” while she’s singing along at the top of her lungs in the passenger seat wearing nothing but that new La Perla bra she copped on Daddy’s dime.
Dancing Queens: I’ve come to the conclusion that the “Jumping Jack” is the un-official dance of all World Music lovers. It’s easy to do, it expresses joy and can be freaked enough to actually appear like one is dancing. Well, sort of. I tried and tried to get a good picture/video that captured the terrible dancing but between the fake salsa dancers, the jumping jacks, dudes twirling imaginary dirt, arm dancers, hula hoopers and all the crazy feet — it was impossible.
Player of the Week:
Got to give props to this broad — she’s obviously a good earner. A good earner never leaves early, misses a shift or passes up an opportunity to make it rain. A good earner knows that a loyal client doesn’t have to be found in the club itself. Nothing better than finding a dumb ass who actually thinks he’s got a chance at finding love and then duping his ass into a visit to the club. Those dudes spend the most money, every good earner knows that. When I saw her go to work on this sad sap, I was awe-struck. This is taking it to the next level. It’s never too early to start grooming your clientele, ladies! If only you could see the look in that sad sap’s eyes, when she bent down to pinch his cheek. Mere seconds after I stopped taping Zweibacks were flying out of that stroller at an unprecidented rate.
Bonus Hate: The audio playing in the background is a fine example of the type of hip hop I hate. Once upon a time, I had a much larger tolerance for this sing songy generic ass “conscious” rap. These days , I hear shit like this and it just makes me shake my head and daydream about walking up to the soundboard and just unplugging dude’s mic and plugging in my mp3 player locked and loaded with “I Got Chips“
June 8th, 2007 at 4:36 pm
I laughed and laughed over the hippies flipping bit. Thank you.