was very hard to decide 🧱
i like both album selection just the same, so the singles had to decide, and thanks to No Scrubs1999 is getting my vote by a small small margin.
My problem with Fanmail: Here we are, a year removed from Lauryn Hill's masterpiece, and Fanmail (for the most part) covered the same exact ground with a lot less effort and tact. No Scrubs took the idea of Doo Wop (That Thing), took out the fact that females can be guilty of running game too, polished it up a bit and mass-marketed it to the community. I'm not going to pretend I'm offended or going to cry about reverse sexism or anything, but if No Scrubs was that good of a song, how come it was so easy for Destiny's Child to xerox it a few months later and call it Bills Bills Bills?
So my main beef with later TLC and Fanmail in particular is how they changed their entire sound to a watered down Lauryn Hill or Missy Elliott so that they could sell to the 13-18 year olds, the most important demo of the late 90s.
I disagree with everything said here. Everything. You make your point well, and it's good to see someone else on BEA who is into their R'n'B, but I couldn't disagree more.
"It's a magnificently gothic trip in which guitars grind pitilessly against hip hop beats, electronic circuitry throbs to breaking point and Iggy Pop cameos as a serial killer."
"of the 1300+ cd's i own, this is in my top 5, easy. to paraphrase another review I read elsewhere, it's one of those gems that you want to share with everyone, but it's so great that you want to keep it to yourself. the first half is awesome and then it unfurls into brilliance."
"Roots Manuva's flow combines elements of both hip-hop and reggae. His British accent has a faint Jamaican lilt, and his rapping contains some of melodic barking of a dancehall DJ. He also inherited some of his father's oratory skills, which come across in the self-confident righteousness of his rhymes. He spends some time on hedonism, but also gets into deeper subject matter. On "Juggle Tings Proper" he raps:
"Don't go callin me coon, you'll catch a boot to your jaw
We pro-black, freak that, can't sweep no floor
I heard those my people, them burst their backs
Work hard for eons and paid tax and have not seen jack
In return, how does shit burn
It could well make a guy lose sense and rationale
Onto kamikazes on shifting streets
It's eyeball for eyeball and teeth for teeth
While we spin on this ball of confusion
I sight no solution, cesspits just get more frowsy
Chemical rain got me drunken and drowsy
Rowdy, I got no choice but to be
The living example of a root-fi youth type soldier
Bowling through like there ain't no tomorrow
Brave them terrains of pain and deep sorrow
But still keep sliding on, I try to make sense of the madness
But it seems like I'm wasting my time, it's best I just
Go get me mine, find some inner peace
Climb to higher heights, embrace the light"
You cannot post new topics in this forum You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum
UW+q,GPBMYrEpIO7!~~_35.JPG)
