Conrad Tokyo - A Tribe Called Quest - We Got It From Here... Thank You 4 Your Service (Cassette, Album)
PopMatters is wholly independent, women-owned and operated. Music Speed the Plough Members Team with Mayssa Jallad for "Rush Hour" premiere Caught in a pandemic, Speed the Plough's Baumgartners turned to a faraway musical friend for a collaboration on "Rush Hour" that speaks to the strife and circumstance of our time. Music The 80 Best Albums of Travel back five years ago when the release calendar was rife with stellar albums. Music Whitney Take a Master Class on 'Candid' Although covers albums are usually signs of trouble, Whitney's Candid is a surprisingly inspired release, with a song selection that's eclectic and often obscure.
Whitney Take a Master Class on 'Candid'. The 80 Best Albums of Solid Wall of Sound. The Donald. The Killing Season. The Space Program. We the People. Whateva Will Be. More Albums. Conrad Tokyo. A wild Elton John appears! Tip just shouted out Joey, Earl, Kendrick and Cole!
Oooh, this outro is nice. Q-Tip hitting them Bilal notes over jazzy keys. Woah, 3 Stacks right off the bat. Why keep anyone waiting for an Andre verse, right?
Q-Tip has been hilarious so far. Where do I sign? Man, this album is going in so many different musical directions. Jarobi handles the first verse while Q-Tip takes hook and second verse duties.
I had to quickly check Genius if that was really him. Official Charts Company. Retrieved November 23, Retrieved March 7, ARIA Charts. Retrieved August 14, Ultratop Flanders. Retrieved December 12, Recording Industry Association of America. Retrieved May 30, Thank You 4 Your Service. Namespaces Article Talk. Views Read Edit View history. Help Community portal Recent changes Upload file. Download as PDF Printable version. The Love Movement Thank You 4 Your Service Record Collector.
Vice Expert Witness. Q-Tip Phife. Fareed White. The Killing Season Lyrics. Lost Somebody Lyrics. Movin Backwards Lyrics. Conrad Tokyo Lyrics. Ego Lyrics. The Donald Lyrics. Scenario - LP Mix. Can I Kick It? Jazz We've Got - Re-Recording. And possibly its owner, too, if it's anything re- sembling an East Bay punk. No, notf really, man, I just wanted to see if you were still paying attention.
But what I do intend to do is explore my thesis that punk rock or alternativeculture in general flourishes more under Republican administrations than Dem- ocratic ones, and also to demonstrate why it's essentially impossible for punk rock to ever again to reach the heights achieved during its glory days of And as for the reader who complained Thomas to Malcolm X a few issues back, fuck off and die, buddy, you have no idea what you're talking about.
Besides, have you ever noticed the number of black people who play in punk rock bands? Don't you think there's a lesson to be learned there? Cookin' Jeff Bale While I was in graduate school and subsequently stressed to the gills from all the studying, I discovered a way to remedy my academic anxieties when I stumbled upon a new form of relaxing recreation: cookmg. To my observation, cooking from scratch is the ultimate survival-level mani- festation of the DIY ethic.
I feel sublimely autonomous every time I pop a pan of cook- ies into the oven or separate an egg. I sup- pose a more didactic, anarcho-cook would say, "Smash the state, bake a cake, " but I hesitate to espouse such knee-jerk polemic.
Nothing spoils the appetite quicker than a faceful of steaming dogma, so I'll refrain from dissecting the issue too vocifer- ously and instead share with you a couple of culinary creations by Chef Jeff. Major Label Beef Stew 2 lbs.
Stir in raw beef chunks. Serve with relish. Grind graham crackers into crumbs. The process of pulverizing the crackers acts as a most beneficial outlet for pent-up aggressions — pretend you are the guitarist for Nirvana smashing up a major- label subsidized instrument on stage, or el Duce pounding on the skins — or maybe your sister's face.
You can even wear a hood to help suspend disbelief! Mix butter and crumbs in large mixing bowl and press to form cheesecake crust in 9" pie pan. Crust- it's punk! Mix 5 lbs. Turn into pie crust and bake 2 hours at degrees. Baking cheesecake, indeed! I'll leave you with just those two recip- ies, as few things piss me off more than the current "know-it-all-ism" of the punk scene, especially as reflected in this mag.
Notice none of these recipies are vege- tarian. Oh, boo-hoo for you, you little over- tofued bean-heads! I'm sure all you vegan- supremists will send a barrage of complaints, choking up the letters section for countless months to come with your feckless, organi- cally-grown, anareho-assimilationist drivel! Get a life, you lentil-breathed losers. In closing, I would like to point out that in our rigid, macho culture, there exists the common assumption that the act of cooking will emasculate a man — thus the coinage of such phrases as "real men don't eat quiche," et al.
I will counter this assumption by stat- ing that, if anything, all this cooking has made me an even bigger man than before. Much bigger. But, then again, that's what cheesecake will do to a guy. I'd better work off some of this self-enrichment As a tear-gas cannister owner, I am fully trained in using my weapon of choice.
I took a three hour course with a few old ladies, some of them foreign, that was taught by an ex-cop ex-marine. He was really a geek, and I was just waiting for him to say something about my "Earth First, Military Last!!!
First we had a lecture to get us into our future teargas use: "My theory is, Mind Over Matter!! Oh, sorry, I just dozed off for a sec- ond, it's hard for even me to follow my transitions sometimes What was I doing again?
Writing my column? Oh, right. We also got a lesson in street strategy. Basically, he told us never to be trapped in a situation that we couldn't escape from, not to have anything behind us if we could help it, and other common sense tips like that.
He explained the effect of teargas, mat it para- lyzes the attacker, giving them a painful burning skin rash and acute nausea. I remembered the time that I decided to meet some friends to go to the "People with vague political sympathies: We're not just socially conscious, we're consciously social" Rally. I got up, convinced my boy- friend to gp, put on a simple outfit, I forget what my T-Shirt said that day, got on the train, sat down, zzzzz What? Oh, sorry, I seem to have nodded off again.
So we got off the train, got to the Rally, saw our friends, well, a couple of our friends, one of them didn't make it, he had to wash his dog. So anyway, when I got there and found the few old ladies, I wondered if it was a feminist course, or what, or did they just want teargas. We are all given the right to bear arms, but the holster was S5 extra, and there's nothing in the constitution about the right to have teargas on a holster, you're not exactly bearin g something on your hip, art you?
I mean , you're wearing it, is what you're doing, if it's around your waist! So I got my license; I have my teargas, I'm not sure how I feel about the other people who carry teargas. I don't feel that much empathy for riot police, and they carry tear- gas, and I liked the other women in mv teargas course, but] think my T-shirt offend- ed them. It'll be a bigger surprise I when I tell you why.
It started when my band I would tell publicity. The local guys offer us a couple thousand to play at tht I -Beam. Suicidal tendencies and Slayer will open for us. We open for Blatz. We get paid by charging the crowd a dime each to use the toilets. Most of the money vvt give to Blatz.
We don't want it to go to oui heads. So there's this babe in the audience. She stands right by the stage. She's really special. She's got two breasts. Both of them a re right in front, attached to her chest. I can tell she's interested, because she looks right at my crotch. I look right at her crotch while 1 sing about how I want to be a homosexual. She takes me in her mouth with her eyes. I even drink a slug of St wits without realizing it That's how bad it is.
Then 1 see him. Yeah, you know who. We crank up the volume so she can't hear him. I can read his lips. I'm the most famous punk rocker in America. The girl still looks at me. Then Biafra figures it out. So there he is. He pulls off his tie. Takes off his blue blazer, ana slips out of the rest of his Armani special. It works. She stops watching me ana starts looking at him. I m pissed. He's stealing my act. He drapes one arm over her shoulder, pushing his hand lower, grasping toward the left of those rosy nipples.
Sne still has her clothes on, but her sweat makes that black blouse titly transparent. I jump off the stage. I stand in front of him, nose to nose. I reach down and grab my dick, then reach forward for his. I hold the two together in my fist and start rubbing up and down. Biafra 's overcooked spaghetti. I'm hard as a billy club. He stretches his root trying to back off, but I hold fast. Finally the guy stiffens a bit. It gets tougher to hold my steel pole against his toothpick.
Without missing a beat, I continue sing- ing, looking down to watch him squirm. I rub my hand up and down to the beat. I have to shorten my stroke for fear of losing him. Suddenly the guy brings his forearm between us and pushes against my neck.
I gag at the pressure against my Adam's ap- ple. That move could be deadly! So much for his respect for human life. The shock makes me come all overborn of us. The slime leaks inside my fist. My limpening organ lets the culprit slip out. Biafra, still hard and ready to work, grabs the girl and pulls her into the bath- room. Me, dripping floppily, can hear her through the wall. You're the best," she says. He's a heretic, a blasphemer. Now you know. You know what kind of condoms Ian MacKaye uses?
You think I'm kidding? I saw his travel kit! I found it laying right next to my bed when I came back from my last tour. Can you believe it? Thatscum- bag claims to be so fucking independent. He fucks with the protection of the biggest skin company in the world. Hundreds of small condom makers struggle to survive the cut- throat majors. This guy buys Trojans! You know that some places won't carry indy bags?
You know that Trojans have such a strangle hold on the condom business that somesupermarketscarrynothingelse? What a hypocrite!
OK, enough about those guys. I don't want togive them more publicity than they're worm, instead, I'll answer another question. In fact, I'm the only one in the universe who knows all the rules. There are TEN rules. The tenth one you got to make up yourself, but you're probably too dumb to clo it! You can't make any money. You can't take drugs, but you HAVE to drink. You can't like any land of music that sells. If you make a record, you can't advertise it.
You can't use your band to get sex, money, fame or anything else that might make you happy. You have to take your clothes off. You can't give little fanzines interviews. You can't luce kids, 9. You can't like anything else either. Got those memorized? Not that they'll help you any, you pathetic little geek wannabes. Why don't you just go and kill yourselves right now and save us all a lot of trouble? Ivhilea tongue wiggles in between my cheeks.
Instead, I move each foot sideways until I'm positioned in a drug raid stance. The tongue continues licking. Moments later 1 score another bulls- eye.
Well buckaroos, this time the April Fool's joke is on me. I literally got caught with my pants down. The kid's father bus ted into the LaGuardia bathroom and caught hb son red handed. Three cracked ribs and z broken nose later I was sitting in lockup. My moth- er heard about it from her bridge friends and nearly ended up in the intensive care unit. Most of my friends won't talk to me - even the ones who claimed to have loved my column about my sexual exploits with a young Thai boy.
In Thailand 1 was a hero, in America I'm a pederast and a pervert. All of this because en route to Minneapolis to visit The boy stands rigid, fingers lightly graspinghis hairless genitals. His head turns slightly and he begins to urinate as he stares at my groin. I only wish I could release the 48 ounces of beer trapped in my bladder as effortlessly as he expels his Hi-C. He spurts the remainder of his iuices onto the pinkpuck, splattering my new toots. He smiles before he leaves. The fist of shame slowly relaxes its grip on my urethra.
I start pissing, slowly at first. The puck is enclosed m a white plastic shield that looks like a dartboard without the numbers. I aim for the bullseye as the flow speeds up and inten- sifies.
I finish pissing and reach down to shake. Another set of fingers has beaten me to it. The hand at the end of the fingers protrudes through my legs like a second erection. A small, smooth palm cups my sack I my loony pal Mark, a 12 year old boy gavt me a hanchob in an airport urinal.
In addition to the sexual charges, I'm also facing charges of indecent exposure, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, disorderly conduct, aggravated assault, at- tempting to leave the scene of the crime and resisting arrest. I'm madder thananuncaughl with a crucifix up her cooze in confession and you can bet I'm going to fight this one tc the finish.
My main charge is a class C felony the case probably won't go to trial until sometime in I spent all of my mad money getting out of jail sol'm pretty fucked financially, but I'll get to that later.
If I plead guilty, I have a good chance of getting off with a short prison sentence.Nov 18, · November 11th listening to A Tribe Called Quest’s sixth and final album “We Got It From Here Thank You 4 Your Service” in the early AM. For ATCQ fans this release is long anticipated and many thought it would never come about. Released 18 years after their last album and arriving six months after Phife Dawg’s unexpected death/5().