1. Miles and I are starting to make the plans for the recording of each of our records, for a future split release of our solo endevors. His solo thing is now called "The Mailes Raymer Progressive Blues Band" and meanwhile, my me-band has no name. Miles suggested I have a 'contest' for the naming. Whom ever wins gets a special treat, which may or may not be a 7-cd mix CD made by me and miles. Or dinner. Or I will come to yr house and paint a portrait of you with Gwen Stefani in your shower. Something good, promise. Email me you suggestions. Advance warning: no numbers, no "bitch", must be in english.
2. The hip hop and feminism conference at University of Chicago blew my mind. It was like when you hear the truth for the first time. Having the opp. to spend a whole day talking about gender identity, pop culture and race - and having my brain be devastaed with validation, inspiration and new knowledge. I trembled when Mark Anthony Neal spoke on the Men, Heterosexism and Hip Hop panel. Joan Morgan , Tricia Rose, Beverly Guy-Sheftdall from Spelman College, Akiba Solomon were all especially moving.
3. FADER V. PITCHFORK / KILL OR BE KILLED: Ryan Schreiber of Pitchfork and I did not get in a fight at the Biz3 party, despite what you read on ILM. I let him know I buried my hatchet back in the nineties -- much to the seeming amazement of his "crew" -- who initially acted like I was going to go on a slapping spree (despite slapping not being fashionable anymore). Props to Pfork for bucking convention entirely and djing Mp3s off a djing program off a Compaq laptop - totes Revenge of The Nerds style. Double props/unprops for inexplicably playing Little Feat in a club-setting, then panicking and playing a ton of grime. Anyhow, brought their aesthetic, and did not front. The Fader DJ crew won over Pfork, because Catchdubs plays everything I like, despite Knox Robinson backannouncing from the booth about "Chicago do you know about this shit? It's called Reggaeton!" -- dude, Chicago has the 2nd biggest latino/chicano population outside of Latin America, for swears, we got the memo before you did. Don't step to Chicago like we're Dubuque, just cos we're not NY. Then, last night, en route to see Catchdubs spin at the show of Calvin Johnson's immitation of a Foghorn, the still-visiting editorial staff of The Fader pulled an illegal u-turn in their rental station wagon and almost ran me over on my bike, which served as a fantastic visual metaphor.Posted by Jessica at April 10, 2005 05:51 PM | TrackBack