“Banji” Is Set To Become The New “Shade”

So I like Sharaya J’s track “Banji.” The video works, too. It’s cheapness done right: creative, energetic, and engaging. And if this song and video are any indication, it looks like we may have ourselves a worthy successor to Missy Elliott. Wait, let me fix that. There is potential there though I realize that even with a Missy co-sign and backing, one has a ways to go before truly being worthy of such a title. Cool your crotches, just throwing it out there with hopeful intentions.

With all of that said, I can’t help but think, “And here goes another instance of a Black gay term hitting the mainstream by way of a non-gay Black male.”

Minutes after I watched Sharaya J’s video, a friend hit me up via text asking, “Hey. Am I wrong for being irked by straight women using the term ‘hunty?’ It is beyond annoying to me.”

She followed with an example of a co-worker instantly abusing “yaaaaas hunty” with the new Black gay guy in the office. She assumed that because the dude likes dudes he must’ve been not only knowledgable of the lingo, but uses it all the time. The homie noted how it’s the equivalent of a white person “Being all “yes, girlfriend!’ to Black women. Just stop.”

And much like that white person trying to get you to answer questions about Waka Flocka or Barack Obama, not every colored knows everything there is to know about the ways of the Negro culture. Same goes for the gay boys.  Hell, I mentioned this song to a Black gay dude and hit Urban Dictionary before I could explain. Plus as the homie Fresh reminds me constantly, “You didn’t even speak the Queen’s English.” For those curious, I’ve improved by leaps and bounds — making other friends proud in the process. Insert your “yasss” here. It’s fine.

I knew about “banji” because my kin’s friends would call me that in the club years ago. Apparently they thought I was “classy” because of the way I was dressed. To which the kin would bark back, “Who?! That nigga?! Pssh. Wait another hour and a couple of drinks.” I was later told that they would indeed see me later on – singing along to certain tracks, throwing up Hiram Clarke, jigging – and conclude, “OH, he banji like you.” That’s a read.

So yeah, I do find it annoying when straight women go out of their way to throw out a “hunty” in that I’m about to make you my gay pet sort of way, or as my friend noted: “The overuse of any slang is annoying.” Still, I don’t find it that troublesome generally speaking since it’s not done with malicious intent. It’s merely excitement about the something new around them. You can turn it down a few notches before you make a motherfucker deaf, but your purpose is understood.

Now what does bug me about this and instances like it is how it shows you aspects of gay Black culture all over pop culture at large yet we continue to be way in the back. Well, unless we have on a dress. No, that’s not shade, just an assessment of the situation at hand.

I don’t begrudge Sharaya J, but I do boo, hiss at the people who partake in this trend who are in the positions to change such realities but don’t. I’m sure if you turn on Bravo and figure out one perfect example there. Then you can flip to other channels for those with darker interests. The examples are everywhere. It’s too bad I can’t say the same about members of the culture.

Shake, Shake, Shake It Off

So I was planning to lead with something else to reference the piece I wrote about the gentrification of the Harlem Shake, but after watching Stephen Colbert jig on beat I obviously had to switch. Look, I still don’t like this fake ass Harlem Shake, but salute to Stephen. In any event, you can check out “Racepalm: That’s Not The Harlem Shake, White People” by clicking here.

Meanwhile, riddle me this: What happens when your popularity goes the way of a Fat Albert F.U.B.U. tee? Click this link to find out why.

More recent links to my work below. Go on, read, please and shit. Thank you.

The Weekly Read: Marco Rubio (via EBONY.com)

The Weekly Read: Dear Michelle Williams Haters… (via EBONY.com)

The World According To Frank Ocean’s Tweets (via Complex.com)

25 Tweets You Are Certain To See About Black History Month (via Complex.com)

And I don’t care if the holiday is done, you can still laugh…shit:

How To Spend Valentine’s Day With Your Social Media Soul Mate (via Complex.com)

15 Ways The Internet Will Help You Survive A Lonely Valentine’s Day (via Complex.com)

In Memoriam: Oh, Drama

How many of you remember that BET show that looked as if it was shot in somebody’s southern auntie’s house called Oh Drama?

I remembered the name of the show, but not much else until I watched this video. Then it hit me. Say, oh yeah, “Kym Whitley was loud as hell on this show; Vanessa Bell Calloway was sort of like a real-life Dee from Moesha on here; oh yeah, they were bilingual with the casting.” After that, I wondered just why in the hell did this show air at night?

Or at all, depending on your preference.

I will say that even if they shot the show with a Tuesday two-piece special at Popeye’s and Church’s budget, BET was onto something with their original programming bloc, particularly when it came to the notion of a morning talk show. The same can be said of all that Tyrese-level interpretations of Oprah’s self-help shtick. Nonetheless, my goodness, this show sure gives much public access realness, doesn’t it? Whereas Mo’Nique’s late nite talk show on BET was essentially an on-air fish fry, Oh Drama reminds me of a telethon. You know, a not as good version as the one on A Different World where Kinu gave it to you in her majorette outfit.

That is overall, because in this episode I’m getting The 700 Club with Mary J. Blige talking about getting an impromptu visit from Lucifer. I do miss hearing her speak this candidly, though. Her thoughts on not going bonkers over finally getting the fanfare from white folks at the expense of the fan base that made her was refreshing to hear. She values everyone’s dollar equally, as Capitalist Jesus originally intended.

Don’t let Oprah catch this clip. I reckon if she did see it she’d scoop up all these reruns and air them on OWN following Tyler Perry’s Whatever and Iyanla, Yell At Me About My Life Like My Overbearing Nanna. After all, it’s the Blacks driving ratings growth. Well, until we’re no longer needed and given the WB-CW boot, but I digress.

So, uh, enjoy this? Or try. Or not. Whatever.

Meanwhile, I’m about to go back and watch the Faith Evans interview that made me fall in love with her all over again. Mary is Queen, but this sure was some pauper-ass programming.

Destiny’s Freak

It was love at first pop when I heard Kelly Rowland’s new single, “Kisses Down Low.” Unlike Ciara, who once again managed to hop on the trendy train and derail that sucker for a hot second, Kelly had an easy, breezy ride with the beat supplied by Mike Will Made It. Speaking of riding, perhaps some people might object to Kelly’s full out embracement of sexually-charged subject matter, but I am in complete cheerleader mode for it. Yes, Kizzy, when it comes to selling crass and cakes, be aggressive, be, be aggressive.

Admittedly, “Commander” was cool for what it was, but with the European Union going the way of F.U.B.U., mama had to bring it back home. R&B is slowly but surely creeping back, so now is the time for Kelly to find herself a nice little niche. With LeToya Luckett providing comic relief on BET, Kelly’s snatched up the resident southern rap hook girl title, too. Like, will she finally release an album that won’t piss me off and put Beyoncé to sleep? Kidding, you know Beyoncé is benevolent so she’ll force herself to enjoy whatever her sister in Destiny releasers. You get it, though.

Between this and reading that she is working with Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis I can honestly say I am curious to hear this new Kelly album. I’d say excited, but that would be pushing it. As much I love “Ice” and adore “Kisses Down Low” because it’s a fine tribute to fellatio, I think I need one more dope song to get me to that place. However, this is progress i.e. I’m making baby steps with an energetic bop.

After that grammatical error of a first single “Stole” and so-so releases such as “Like This,” “Ghetto” and “Down For Whatever,” it seems as if Kelly’s finally gotten what works for her. Yes, give me those midtempo sex songs and every now and then serve me lovelorn sprinkles ala tracks like “Bad Habit” or your duet with Avant (“Separated” remix). Throw in works on par with the underrated gem of a Destiny’s Child bonus track, “Game Over.”

As a lover of the janet. album, Madonna at her most whorish peak, and the days when Adina Howard was crooning about loving her while she rocked items from the Hanes Her Way collection, it’s about time R&B had its female Trey Songz.

Now, there are a few things we still need to work on moving forward.

I love the energy in this performance on Leno, but yo, towards the end Kelly sounds like she’s got a can of Wolf’s chili cooking in the back of her throat. She tends to sound better when with Destiny’s Child, but since that hasn’t been a thing for years now, c’mon nah. You’ve got to make sure your voice is in as tip top shape as that body roll. You can do that. You know Beyoncé. On that body roll in question, please, oh please keep on dancing, Kelly — preferably with your harem of homeboys and homothugs. Madam, I have seen you on tour and you can go.

These few notes aside, seriously, go you, Kelly. It took Tity Boi years to arrive by way of a name change and several years and you’re not even close to 40 the way my play uncle is. You can do it! One head anthem at a time!

Here For Hip Hop Hannibal’s Harem

It’s nothing like the excellence served on All My Ratchets starring the greatest to ever slur it, Joseline Hernandez, but I’ll be watching the new season of Love & Hip Hop, which I’ll now be referring to as Hip Hop Hannibal’s Harem. Full disclosure: In all likelihood, I was going to watch the shit anyway, though at least now I know I’ll be entertained. Much of that has to do with the joy that is Tahiry, but first, let’s begin with Hannibal himself, Joe Budden.

Don’t let his three days after Thanksgiving dry turkey delivery confuse you, Joe Budden is a walking one-man play. He is an Evil Geppetto of Emotion. He literally creates situations where he gets to play Dr. Phil for his own amusement, God complex. I’m so fascinated.

When he purposely riled up Tahiry mere minutes after she sat down for their lunch with no food, I thought, “Ugh! I know sum’bitches like him!” Folks love to get a rise out of me and I absolutely hate, but stupidly give in every single time. As the homie told me via text last nite, “We have all dated a Joe Budden.”

True, but he speaks like prep school Steebie J and gives way too many Silence of the Lambs teases. I’m intrigued, though I want to warn all of the readers: When someone tries to rile you up via a carefully planned mind fuck, raise your two fingers like Celie did Mister and tell that person, “Don’t you Budden me, bitch.”

I’ll chronicle more of Budden’s Jedi dick tricks in the week’s ahead. Dude is far worse than Steebie, whose issues appear sourced in mommy abandoned issues whereas Mr. Budden is kind of like the villain Tyler Perry wishes he could write convincingly. Not sure if you can get that from this interview, which is cool but continues to leave me wishing I had sprinkle it with horseradish mustard, spinach leaves and cranberries for added flavor and a boost in presentation.

Meanwhile, I would like to declare my love of all things Tahiry. She is beautiful, thick, will curse you out if you get out a line, and based on the way she went for Raqi’s head on the season premiere, apparently can kickbox. Some good man needs to wife her now. Of course, if she wants to be married. Not everyone does, you aspiring Tyreseians.

One thing I’d like to say to those of you who shaded her for being a waitress: Shut up.

Being a pinup opens doors, but not necessarily ones to the bank. Publishing remains in a volatile state as it were. And as you can tell from this interview, if she co-signed for things for Budden and  left with the bill, well, a girl’s gotta keep her credit in the Black if someone’s Black ass acts up. Let that be a lesson to us all: Don’t co-sign anything but the hook in that SWV song.

I hope this show opens up more doors for her. Tahiry is like Joseline after she got her self-worth out of layaway and got Rosetta Stone for Christmas.

Also, thank you for introducing the phrase “tweet the cheeks” into my lexicon, Tahiry, xoxo and shit.

Oh yeah, Olivia is still here, largely for decoration. I don’t care for Erica Mena so in all likelihood I’ll use her airtime to go to the bathroom or check on the wings I’m sure to be cooking in the oven. As for Olivia, she hasn’t let go of her entitlement, and I’m caring less and less. I’ll look out for the single, but the show was never carried by her — even less now with the new folks.

Rejoice All Ye Tamartians

If you haven’t had the pleasure of viewing Tamar Braxton’s showcase in full, take a gander now before the man snatches it down. It’s already happened once before, so get your life fast. Should you miss it again, you can click here to watch her perform her first single in full. I ripped the audio and added it to my iPod days ago.

RELATED: Back Then Braxtons

Like a good Tamartian, I bought “Love & War” the second I knew that it was out. As I’ve said repeatedly here, I adore Tamar’s voice and want her to attain the musical success her talent deserves. I won’t lie about initially preferring an uptempo for her first release ala “Hot Sugar,” but I have to admit that it makes far more sense to go this route. “Love & War” is a gorgeous song that highlights Tamar’s abilities and follows the narrative set on the first season of Tamar & Vince. I didn’t like watching them bicker week after week, but it made for a great song.

Now, I do wonder how Keyshia Cole feels about this. “Love & War” is the Mary Kate to “Trust & Believe’s” Ashley Olsen. I’d be a little vexed to know that a producer I worked with wasted no time offering a lookalike version of the track to another singer, especially once who is like the Mariah to my Millie Jackson. Then again, Keyshia’s “Shoulda Let You Go” is a clone of Mary J. Blige’s “Enough Cryin’.”

Oh well.

Anyway, I’m so happy for Tamar. Regardless if you can’t take all that personality, she sings beautifully. I really, really want her to do well. I’m tired of people going out of their way to say that she’ll enjoy the kind of fame Toni Braxton had in the 1990s. That’s akin to telling someone that the sky is blue, grass is green, and asses look better the rounder they are. We know, bitch.

MORE: He Want That “Hot Sugar”

No, Tamar Braxton will never sell the number of records her sister did. Minus an anomaly like Adele and not many artists can even conceive of coming close in the digital age. To be fair, as big a fan as I am of Toni, she wouldn’t even be able to attain the kind of success she enjoyed back then. For better or worse (okay: worse), the pendulum has shifted. The sort of big voice, genuine love songs, and you know, R&B moments we had during the peak of Toni’s popularity don’t exist now. Fortunately, there are people trying to bring it back — Baby Sis Braxton among them.

I love that she has so many things going on. It’s a testament to not letting go of your dreams, particularly when you have a sponsor and a connect. And no, that is not a read or shade or any kind of slickness. That is envy, dammit. I’m not mad about Tamar at all. She inspires me. Just yesterday I played “Hot Sugar” in the car and told my oldest niece that I plan to keep popping like that at 35. By the way, after hearing the song in full, it sort of gives “Beyoncé’s older sister wants to bop, too,” no? Heaven I need a video.

Alright, enjoy the showcase and rejoice all ye Tamartians…and keep buying her single.

Way To Go, Rih-Rih

I tend to ignore Rihanna ballads for what ought to be obvious reasons, but I have to say I was quite impressed with her performance of the new track “Stay” on SNL over the weekend. As much as I adore thee, this walking venus flytrap doesn’t always sound the best when performing live. But yo, listen to her, y’all. She sounds good and not at all like a goat climaxing.

East Coast, where you at? Can she get a hand clap? West Coast, where you at? Can Rih-Rih get a hand clap? Dirty south, don’t you hate that they call us that? Never mind, back to the matter at hand: Can Rihanna get a hand clap?

If I had gone by Twitter’s description of Rihanna’s SNL set I would’ve been stuck on the debate as to whether or not she was “Whitney Houston high” as someone described her to me (I didn’t get that, FYI). That or I would’ve been lost in the Ecco the Dolphin themed graphics she had up during her vocally pleasant albeit demure rendition of “Diamonds.” Speaking of those throwback graphics, I hope Rihanna and Azealia Banks aren’t out here trying to make that fetch. Let’s not and say we did.

Now, granted this performance isn’t as electric as the question of sexuality-loosening performance she gave two years ago, but this is still very much a nice surprise. Certainly better than the lazy pussy pat bit she did earlier in the year on SNL. I hate when I feel like I could perform a song better than a pop star during a caffeine high at the gym, you know?

Anyway, I love “Stay” and if this is a preview of Rihanna’s future, I may tip to the next tour. Okay, probably not because she refuses to stop dancing like sweating is an inconvenience minus the occasional video. Maybe that’ll change yet in the meantime, bravo, Rih-Rih, all the same.

She will be getting my money for her new album, though. Yes, meanness aside, the record sounds good and hood. What is not to love? And she has the nerve to get me into one of her ballads finally? Somewhere Mariah Carey is throwing glass at the help in a hellish fit over the reality that with yet another album comes the inevitable: Rihanna snatching her singles record. The shade will be legendary. Stay tuned.

I Love You, Faith Evans

In 2012, chances are supremely slim that you could get an R&B singer to open up about their cheating, famous top-selling rapper husband, their trifling, no good phony ass rising rapper friend, and nasty rumors about them bedding a rapper feuding with their estranged husband. At least not with the blunt deliverance Faith offers in this clip. Many of today’s artists would like to have you believe that they’re giving their all via reality television, but that can never be completely true if the exposure of your “real” life comes with a story board editor.

A wonderful person mentioned this interview to me, describing it a tee. Is it not amazing? Yes, people overuse the word to death, but resurrect your nerves for a second and agree with me.

As much as I enjoyed R&B Divas after a while, Faith was far more demure than I ever remembered her. Of course, she always appeared smarter than your average entertainer, but clearly there was an edge to her. See above. I’m not going to blame the pregnancy hormones either for this interview. That’s just her and she’s awesome because of it.

In fact, when I met Faith a few years ago at a party in LA, she told me, “Excuse my weed breath.” I say that in full admiration. And regret. Why didn’t I ask to hit the blunt?

In any event, the way she politely shaded the hell out of 2Pac for wrongly invoking her name into a feud he had with another dude is smooth. How she threw Lil’ Kim under the bus for being a terrible friend is hysterical. Speaking of Lil’ Kim being a fake ass person, that sure is a running theme over two decades, isn’t it? No wonder Kimberly Jones is walking around here looking like incomplete white woman in the face with a body that screams, “Tim Burton did my ass and hip shots.”

Until you do right by people, Kimberly, everything you sit on gonna make you worry that your lopsided ass cheeks gonna crumble.

Now, enjoy this interview and remember: Faith is, was, and forever shall be a joy.

And goodness, do I miss the 1990s. So much.

Oh, They’re Shattered

I was not anticipating American Idol to serve as a placeholder for Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta in my heart, but I have learned to accept my blessings as they come to me. As funny as these two have been thus far in their back and forth here and in the press, I didn’t want the rumors of rift to be true. I love them both so much.

I am perpetually praise dancing to “Honey.” I spit Nicki Minaj lines as often as I shower. I don’t like two of my favorites fighting. This is like Beyoncé telling Jesus she heard he was talking shit about her behind her back after their last game of spades and to meet her outside to handle it.

Here are a few pennies, though:

1. Having read the stories leading up to this, they both like not fantastic co-workers. Initial stories were particularly none   too kind to Mariah Carey. It was reported that she wasn’t exactly happy to know that she’d be sharing the panel with another women. She was said to be even less thrilled with Nicki Minaj showing up late as if she’s the one who gave the world Butterfly.

2. If she felt that compelled to do so, Nicki Minaj should’ve waited until it was time for lunch to curse Mariah Carey out. If it’s true that Mimi repeatedly insulted her and called her a bitch, I’d be mad, too. Want to know what would really piss me off, though? Missing an easy $12 million due to my inability to get timing. Mariah knew better than to stoop to touch your toe levels while doing a gig. Yes, I still laugh at this clip, but I’m just saying.

3. Much of the commentary about their tiff shows so many of you folks are turning into your parents. A lot of the scolding of Nicki Minaj reminds me of some respect your elders, you no good kids don’t know good music speeches I have ignored since 1984.

Actually, that’s me being way too polite. Let me get unsouthern. Whatever caused this outburst, I am put off by the idea that Nicki Minaj cannot dare talk to Mariah Carey in any way that’s not complimentary because Mariah Carey is a bigger celebrity.

I saw that Buzzfeed article being passed around that basically argued given Mariah Carey has 18 number one singles, Nicki Minaj should simply bow in the presence of greatness. Do I need to draw some of you celebrity worshipping numbskulls a map to get you the fuck out of here with all that?

By that silly reasoning, Mariah Carey was wrong to be throwing daggers at Madonna back in the 1990s on MTV when Madge was the greater star of the two.

I love Mariah Carey, Lord knows I do, but if or anyone for that matter repeatedly berated me and called me out my name, they would ultimately catch it, too. If Beyoncé told me I was a punk ass bitch who she would throw her weave on if I caught on fire do you think I’m going to say, “Yes, ma’am, Ms. Beyoncé, get me bodied and all the way together?” No, a thousand times.

Nicki Minaj shouldn’t have spoken to her that way on the job. Ultimately, entertaining to anyone or not it is unprofessional, but some of your cousins’ rationale as to why it was wrong is way, way off. And so we’re clear, I love Mariah Carey much more. So much so that I’m going to ignore those Nicki Minaj said she’d shoot me and leave my children motherless tall tales TMZ and Barbara Walters were both way too excited to repeat.

Hopefully, these two will work it out and Nicki will get her tantrums together. Otherwise, Christina Aguilera will us this as an opportunity to compliment her and her rolling chair of a TV talent show in a future interview. We need that even less than a Barbz vs. Lambs knight fact on across the Internet.

…

Edit: I just turned on the remix of “Always Be My Baby.” Confession: When I met Mariah Carey at a party, I may have mentioned that I was a lamb. I can’t recall, I was intoxicated. Anyway, all I said stands but whew, Mariah is everything.

You’re Free To Leave Your Bird Seeds Offline, Love

In my mind, as soon as Oprah noticed the coast was clear, she hit Gayle via Facetime and asked, “What’s tea, bitch?” I do not have any strong feelings in either direction about Christopher Robyn being a thing again. I do continue to grimace when realizing that I have to keep up with their antics to some degree for day gigs that cover the bane of my existence (repayments on my poor choice of funding my college education), though. Now since I can’t always get away with stating things so plainly elsewhere, allow me to use my space to get a bit out.

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