The greatest talentless music group to emerge from Great Britain is finally announcing a lowly -anticipated reunion tour. The 5-member Spice Girls are expected to make the decision public sometime Thursday, in London.
The original members, which include, among others, a former nude model, the mother of Eddie Murphy's bastard child and a desperate soccer player's wife (GIRL POWER!), will reunite for the first time since, eh, not long enough.
In the mid 90's, the Fab-Five preached feminist empowerment to adoring young fans, while enticing older brothers and perverse fathers by wearing next-to-nothing attire. They sold nearly 55-million albums, attempted to act in a hilarious feature film and became so popular, even Jesus Christ was a fan.
But as many suspected, the girls dis-banded, some dis-robed and others married rich. Disappointing solo careers and instrumental, elevator-like versions of "Wannabe" plagued the ladies, leaving them no choice but to announce a reunion tour, album and documentary. This just months after VH1 stopped replaying "I love the 90's," and it was safe to turn on the TV without hearing "Spice up your Life."
With any luck, the tour will feature surprise guests acts from the world of 1990's embarrassments like Los del Rio and "Macarena," or maybe we can get 'Jiggy' with Will Smith on opening night?
One thing is certain, though, and that is a new wardrobe - well, maybe just an altered one to keep things in place. Rock on Spice Girls.
Cheers,
Victor
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
F-L-O-R-I-D-A S-T-A-T-E.
It's 3:17 in the morning and I'm wide awake.
It's been about 20 minutes since I got back home from a very uneventful night at the Grove and around this time is when my insomnia kicks in. I'll sit on this computer for hours, like a voyeur, just clicking different profiles, all for no real reason.
That's my new thing, facebook; I'll sit there for hours, checking useless stuff out. The funny thing is, that about a week ago I was deleting my myspace account because I couldn't decide what current song or unoriginal classic I'd use as my profile song, only to see that facebook is now offering music players to 'myspace' your facebook.
In the news today was a frightening announcement made by current Florida State University's President, T.K. Wetherell. In a statement released sometime Thursday, Mr. Wetherell stated that enrollment at the University will be frozen due to poor state budgeting, in a nutshell.
Because South Floridians can't afford their property taxes and demand excessive cutbacks, students and teachers will get fucked, royally.
As an amateur Realtor I came to a conclusion that others should address. When a person qualifies for a $500,000 home, they must pay taxes on $500,000. When a person can't afford that, they should move to home in their price range. It's that simple.
Let's keep our fingers crossed. Maybe the Sunshine State will realize what a disgrace it will be when other prestigious state-funded universities have to close their doors too. God forbid the new upper-level manager at Circuit City can't afford his/her 5 bedroom, 4 bath home.
Cheers,
Victor
It's been about 20 minutes since I got back home from a very uneventful night at the Grove and around this time is when my insomnia kicks in. I'll sit on this computer for hours, like a voyeur, just clicking different profiles, all for no real reason.
That's my new thing, facebook; I'll sit there for hours, checking useless stuff out. The funny thing is, that about a week ago I was deleting my myspace account because I couldn't decide what current song or unoriginal classic I'd use as my profile song, only to see that facebook is now offering music players to 'myspace' your facebook.
In the news today was a frightening announcement made by current Florida State University's President, T.K. Wetherell. In a statement released sometime Thursday, Mr. Wetherell stated that enrollment at the University will be frozen due to poor state budgeting, in a nutshell.
Because South Floridians can't afford their property taxes and demand excessive cutbacks, students and teachers will get fucked, royally.
As an amateur Realtor I came to a conclusion that others should address. When a person qualifies for a $500,000 home, they must pay taxes on $500,000. When a person can't afford that, they should move to home in their price range. It's that simple.
Let's keep our fingers crossed. Maybe the Sunshine State will realize what a disgrace it will be when other prestigious state-funded universities have to close their doors too. God forbid the new upper-level manager at Circuit City can't afford his/her 5 bedroom, 4 bath home.
Cheers,
Victor
Monday, June 18, 2007
Semi-Sweet 16
One week ago today I was getting drunk, listening to spoken-word poetry and loving life. Tonight, on the other hand, I'm on my makeshift bed, sober and watching a spoiled Hialeah Princess demand a brand new Lexus at the age of 15, hire an amateur singing group (ironically the jokers went to high school with me), and turn South Florida's Parrot Jungle into a playground for the children of the wannabe-rich-and-famous.
MTV's hit show "My Super Sweet 16" encourages parents to spend hundreds-of-thousands-of-dollars so that their son/daughter can be featured on a half-hour television show, expose their truly arrogant personalities and, with any luck, get a seat on next season's "reunion" show.
As these high school sophomores loose their fake id's on South Beach or miss the list at Paris Hilton's release party in Vegas, they are left with no choice but to spend 3-years of their guardian's earnings on a single night of extreme decadence, obviously.
My brother just attended a similar party that didn't make the MTV cut. The over-the-top shin-ding was held at the same location where the aforementioned Princess held hers, featured a popular hip-hop artist and had a guest list the size of my...well, you get picture. But why didn't MTV care to televise this person? Simple. The people who can actually afford these parties, and are appreciative of the fact their parents sacrifice a new car, or vacation plans, or whatever, feel in unnecessary to have a perverse camera crew in their private bedrooms at 8 in the morning.
The saddest part of this phenomenon is not the fact insecure girls are documenting their destructive paths; the saddest part of this phenomenon is that it is one of my guiltiest pleasures.
Let me stop 'blogging,' as the cool kids say, and illegally download Paul McCartney's new song before I admit any more guilty pleasures.
Cheers,
Victor
MTV's hit show "My Super Sweet 16" encourages parents to spend hundreds-of-thousands-of-dollars so that their son/daughter can be featured on a half-hour television show, expose their truly arrogant personalities and, with any luck, get a seat on next season's "reunion" show.
As these high school sophomores loose their fake id's on South Beach or miss the list at Paris Hilton's release party in Vegas, they are left with no choice but to spend 3-years of their guardian's earnings on a single night of extreme decadence, obviously.
My brother just attended a similar party that didn't make the MTV cut. The over-the-top shin-ding was held at the same location where the aforementioned Princess held hers, featured a popular hip-hop artist and had a guest list the size of my...well, you get picture. But why didn't MTV care to televise this person? Simple. The people who can actually afford these parties, and are appreciative of the fact their parents sacrifice a new car, or vacation plans, or whatever, feel in unnecessary to have a perverse camera crew in their private bedrooms at 8 in the morning.
The saddest part of this phenomenon is not the fact insecure girls are documenting their destructive paths; the saddest part of this phenomenon is that it is one of my guiltiest pleasures.
Let me stop 'blogging,' as the cool kids say, and illegally download Paul McCartney's new song before I admit any more guilty pleasures.
Cheers,
Victor
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Let's Get Sirius.
Don McLean refers to February 3, 1959 as "The day the music died," while "Time" states that December, 1980, is "When the music died."
Music almost died again two months ago - at least for me - when, after trading in the old car, I was subject to the shit music South Florida listens to on regular radio. Between Avril's dumb-ass "girlfriend" and Fergie on constant loop, I was a plastic bag away from attempting an A.J. Soprano. But thank god (small g) for my father (ironically enough it's father's day) and his masterful installment of another Sirius unit.
The greatest invention since genie pants, Sirius Satellite Radio has, once again, injected a boost of hope in me - that one day true rock-n-roll will piss all over post-2004 hip-hop and truly meaningful music will dick-slap emotionally unstable oddballs like Pete Wentz, in the face.
Alt Nation, Little Steven's Underground Garage and Left of Center understand that the state of music is on the brink of a massive terror attack led by Ne-Yo and Nelly Furtado. Classic Vinyl, Jam On and even the potheads at Coffee House have joined forces with the aforementioned stations as they fight to keep music alive.
Local bands will emerge as hometown pop stars retire. Techno music will return to touchy-feely pill poppers and the Arctic Monkeys will win a Grammy. Wolfmother's follow-up album will rock hard and Oasis will do something huge in 2008. Mute Math wins a Grammy, or two, and The Raconteurs kick ass. Muse will co-headline with My Chemical Romance, rather than open for them.
Those that welcome change will love Maroon 5's new sound and realize Yellowcard is just catchy. Regina Spektor deserves a Grammy and if she does not get one, fuck the Grammy Awards.
The opening words of the greatest, most underrated song by The Killers:
"Glamorous
Indie rock'n'roll is what I want
It's in my soul, it's what I need
Indie rock'n'roll, it's time"
Yes, it's time. It's time to stop listening to the same 15 songs and relate with criminals and 15-second celebrities. It's time for artists to play an instrument and write their songs. It's time for beat makers to use a drum set rather than a drum machine. It's time to bring musicianship back to music.
Cheers,
Victor
Music almost died again two months ago - at least for me - when, after trading in the old car, I was subject to the shit music South Florida listens to on regular radio. Between Avril's dumb-ass "girlfriend" and Fergie on constant loop, I was a plastic bag away from attempting an A.J. Soprano. But thank god (small g) for my father (ironically enough it's father's day) and his masterful installment of another Sirius unit.
The greatest invention since genie pants, Sirius Satellite Radio has, once again, injected a boost of hope in me - that one day true rock-n-roll will piss all over post-2004 hip-hop and truly meaningful music will dick-slap emotionally unstable oddballs like Pete Wentz, in the face.
Alt Nation, Little Steven's Underground Garage and Left of Center understand that the state of music is on the brink of a massive terror attack led by Ne-Yo and Nelly Furtado. Classic Vinyl, Jam On and even the potheads at Coffee House have joined forces with the aforementioned stations as they fight to keep music alive.
Local bands will emerge as hometown pop stars retire. Techno music will return to touchy-feely pill poppers and the Arctic Monkeys will win a Grammy. Wolfmother's follow-up album will rock hard and Oasis will do something huge in 2008. Mute Math wins a Grammy, or two, and The Raconteurs kick ass. Muse will co-headline with My Chemical Romance, rather than open for them.
Those that welcome change will love Maroon 5's new sound and realize Yellowcard is just catchy. Regina Spektor deserves a Grammy and if she does not get one, fuck the Grammy Awards.
The opening words of the greatest, most underrated song by The Killers:
"Glamorous
Indie rock'n'roll is what I want
It's in my soul, it's what I need
Indie rock'n'roll, it's time"
Yes, it's time. It's time to stop listening to the same 15 songs and relate with criminals and 15-second celebrities. It's time for artists to play an instrument and write their songs. It's time for beat makers to use a drum set rather than a drum machine. It's time to bring musicianship back to music.
Cheers,
Victor
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