My initial reaction to Pink Friday mirrored that of my second impression of the artist behind it.
The first was far milder. I discovered her by way of blogger, Kid Fury, who posted a video of Nicki Minaj’s “Tha Jumpoff 2007” on his site.
At that period of Nicki’s still very early career, the comparisons to Lil’ Kim were far more credible. It was clear the Queen Bee turned bitter pill influenced young Nick. That didn’t make her a bad rapper, but if you grew up under the original wave of Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown there might not have been very little incentive to get you to care about what looked like their sequel.
Two years later, with her theatrics, multiple voices, and sleeker look Nicki Minaj left you no choice but to be somewhat curious and feel some way about her once she finished her part of BET’s Cipher at the 2009 BET Hip Hop Awards.
Many would prove later themselves to get lost in the colored wigs, but Nicki’s performance in the cipher suggested that she was now more intrigued with the character driven delivery of emcees like Busta Rhymes, ODB, and Ludacris than the overly sexual female rappers she first compared to.
I still dismissed her and her shtick as a bit obnoxious, but as she became increasingly unavoidable I decided to look past my initial grievances and biases about female rappers and give and her music another chance.
I’m glad I did so because it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with the very things that previously irked me.
And while I may not exactly be in love with Pink Friday, I’m far more receptive to it now than I was the few hours following my first listen.
In a previous post on Keri Hilson, I was accused of being too harsh on her newest single, “The Way You Love Me,” and its shrieks of “Fuck me! Fuck me! It’s the way fuck me!” After watching the subsequent video for Keri’s now third single, I’m thinking I actually took it easy on her.
If you put this video’s treatment in my hand along with a red pen, I’d easily mark this overtly sexual work, For Colored Girls Who Considered Recreating The ‘Dirrty’ Video When Their Chart Stats Aren’t Enuf.
Seriously, I woke up to a video that zoomed into Keri’s crotch for much of the whole thing. Thank God I hadn’t put my contacts in yet.
Keri Hilson is a beautiful girl and she has a really nice body, but this video comes across as extremely desperate. That’s why despite the theory of others who note that I have a thing for trampy anthems, I still cannot get with this song.
If anything, this video actually makes me even less inclined to give it another chance. While I love the fact that Keri brought in great vocalists like Faith Evans, JoJo, and Dawn from the Diddetts to show female solidarity (or something), this Smoking Aces tribute seems out of whack. Was an acting coach in LA not available or was it the director’s intention to have this video double as a reel for the Steven Seagal School of Acting?
Another backhanded compliment I have is the choreography for the video. I don’t find Keri Hilson to be a natural dancer, but I didn’t think Beyoncé was either and she got ultimately got better. So, way to go Keri for trying. I won’t lie: I’ve done many of these same moves before after an ample amount of alcohol, but I knew better to have my antics recorded. I have never licked the door either. Yuck. That part kind of confused me.
Equally confusing is the direction of Keri’s sophomore album. Thus far all I’m getting from Keri is that she’s a pretty girl who rocks but she comes with a breaking point if you keep asking her to buy everything for you. But maybe, just maybe she might keep you around because you appreciate the fact that she’s got that pussy that will keep you off the streets (although I thoughtshe said No Boys Allowed).
Speaking of Keri’s pussy (hey, she brought it up) and its effects on street life (no Randy Crawford), I’ve never had an urge to bear hug the block until today. Keri and Ciara, repeat after me: Less is more sometimes.
Thank you, Keri, for helping me clear up any further confusions.
I want to like Keri Hilson despite the objections from her Twitter account, but while I always knew she was sexual this video comes across as it was tailored around the notion of, “I’m naked so like me.” Why do artists assume that still works despite evidence to the contrary? How many times do I have to repeat that spread eagle themed shoots don’t equate automatic sales anymore for people to get it?
That said, I’m about to throw a single on the ground and some Lysol on my computer screen. Try again, Hilson. You’re better than this.
Honestly, I don’t why you all are indulging in this can of suicide. At the same time, I don’t know why people smoke cancer sticks or pour hot sauce on McRibs. People have their vices I suppose — even when they’re proven to be unhealthy for you.
And as I write in my latest piece for Aol News, “I’d rather drink pork chop grease and gasoline than Four Loko.”
Yet, I don’t support the notion of banning the drink altogether. Why? Well, if you care you can click here to find out.
I work in a reference to MD 2020. C’mon nah, that alone is worth checking out, right?
Updates to come and for the millionth time, working on something and would appreciate feedback on more lengthier and personal pieces. So if you have not read it yet, read and comment on “Accepting Where My Piece Blows.” You’re helping me. Hint.
Back when I was a whole lot rounder and far less secure I wish I had a song like this to lift my spirits. Self-deprecating humor is a great defense mechanism against the sourpusses of the world. Combining that with ratchiness and a Casio beat is pure genius.
No, really why didn’t I have this song back when I cursed this girl out for calling me a fat bitch in middle school? Or the time I came back into my house after hanging outside and my mom looked at me and said, “Go back outside for a little longer.”
What she meant to say was, “You need to go walk off those 20-piece nuggets I wish I hadn’t bought you.” I did not want to go back outside, but I had no choice. Had I been able to have this song on Side B of my TalkBoy cassette player I may have took her command in stride.
Of course there are other ways to look at this. I imagine some of you are thinking, “They should’ve never given you n*!$@’s a Web cam.” This is true. Not to mention it’s unfortunate to see how anyone can make up a song in three minutes and people like me who know better will dance to it anyway because it has an easy beat and even simpler hook. Yahh trick yahh!
Yeah, I know this is some bullshit but guess what? I’ve already made it an MP3 anyway. This will accompany the proud prostitute anthem, “Got Dat Work” by Memphis Blac & Smokahontas Jones (introduced to me by her Royal Ratchiness, Fresh) on my iPod.
For those of you who turning up your nose at me and this fat bitch, I will quote the great Kanye West: “You have to balance ignorance with intellect! Can’t have school with out recess! #Greatesttweetofalltime”
New life motto, people — and consider me on my damn break at this moment.
Naturally, this song and its video is not without fault. The “all my ladies say ‘hey’ and all my fellas say ‘ho’” part is something you would expect from a person who says things like “June 1982…those were the days.” That’s alright, though. Those lines could be cleaned up once hat Magick Jumpoff is signed to Bad Boy.
As for the “video,” uh, I’m not sure if dude intentionally tried to pay homage to AKA in the background, but I suppose not tightening up makes you more trill. And as a sidenote, I’d like to say that I am quite curious as to how people get so fat on skinny stoves. That’s almost more impressive than the song — that’s some serious dedication to the cause.
Nevertheless, this made me chuckle for a few minutes and I most certainly will play this in the car whenever some of the fat phobic people I’ve met in Los Angeles are riding in it. And I will definitely keep pushing with my rap dreams (only to ether that bitch, Sallie Mae and her BFF, Citibank).
Who wants to help me pen the “Skinny Slut Stomp?” Or “Skinny Slut Strut.” I haven’t decided yet.
P.S. I’m about to go make me some chicken nuggets. I’ll be fat bitch walking the whole way there.
This post is dedicated to one of my favorite pastimes on the site: Complaining about some shit I know I cannot change. For some people, that would read as pointless but for me it’s still cathartic. Plus, it’s my own special way of paying homage to the grouchy old man on the stoop. As in Mr. Wilson throwing a bitch fit.
So if you’re down, bend ya knees and slide under the link. If not, Google around – but make sure you come back here tomorrow. Thanks.
This is one Gerber baby who simply won’t stop crying. Forgive me if I sound insensitive. I have a knee-jerk reaction to rich people who complain. This tick is especially set off whenever I hear a rich person complain about what exactly made them rich.
It comes across as so hypocritical, so nonsensical, and so…whiny.
For those of you unaware, let the record show that I can give a compliment when it’s due. Of course, this fun fact is aggressively challenged whenever I happen to critique one of your favorites. Indeed, there’s always a few ready to sharpen their knives and chop my off my favorite typing finger.
Such is the case for my Keri Hilson post, in which some felt I’m too busy snuggling into Beyoncé’s left nipple for supper that I can’t notice good music when I hear it.
My opinion stands: The song sucks.
But, if it helps I think Keri deserves two points for the “Pretty Girl Rock” video.
There’s something incredibly lame about a person who tries way too hard to prove a point to people. It could be the stench of desperation reeking from their antics. Or perhaps it’s simply the notion that if you have try that hard to make your case it’s not worth it. Whatever it is, it reads as corny.
And corny is the nicest way I can describe Keri Hilson’s newest single, “The Way You Love Me.”
Judging by the title, you would expect a song actually about love. Instead, it’s a shallow, vulgar homage to Keri’s crotch and the ego that keeps it moisturized. It’s my own fault, really. I was being far too literal. With a title like that, naturally the lyrical content would be more about how one is fucked and the reason why that one is so damn fuckable.
To her credit, this final version is a bit less explicit. Now it’s not necessarily, “fuck me, fuck me, it’s the way you fuck me.”
I believe it’s “thug me” now, which is you know, far classier.