This is deep -- Neo Soul deep!

Log Out | Topics | Search Moderators | Register | Edit Profile

Email This Page

Author Message   Viqi_french Newbie Poster Username: Viqi_french Post Number: 22 Registered: 07-2005 Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) Posted on Tuesday, August 16, 2005 - 11:54 am:        Check out this piping hot Neo Soul & Nu Jazz blog site: ViqiFrenchFever.blogspot.com. This is a site for Nu (and Old School!) Music lovers who like journaling out loud. Come unleash your creative spirit here. Crawl in and peek at the love, peace and soul going down! Catch frequently updated musings on artists as diverse as Carmen Lundy, Bilal, Erykah Badu and Tweet to Grace Jones, Donald Byrd, Jhelisa and Groove Collective. You'll find entertaining writing, and it's always a visual trip. Blessings, Viqi French ViqiFrenchFever.blogspot.com ViqiFrench.com (author's web site)   Viqi_french Newbie Poster Username: Viqi_french Post Number: 23 Registered: 07-2005 Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) Posted on Thursday, August 18, 2005 - 02:29 pm:        "Tell My Hip-Hop Horse" An Excerpt from Music Commentary by Viqi French Posted at ViqiFrenchFever.blogspot.com I felt like Zora Neale Hurston, trekking across foreign soil on which probably 99% of Americans would never, ever, travel. And in the tradition of that treasured, African American writer, I braved it. But only for a week and some change. Small change at that -- like a half-dollar's worth. Each steamy, Caribbean night -- well past the bewitching hour -- the sound of conga drumming in wild abandon echoed from the smokey, barren hills. Haunting me, beating the soul of me with more intensity than I've ever experienced in a house music club. And I, mind you, dance next to the six-foot speakers in these dark, thunderous dens. (Which is why I now feel damn near deaf.) But it wasn't the volume of the hillside drumming; it was their deep purpose that had me on edge. The drums were driving traditional religious ceremonies... Every night... Until the crack of dawn. I rarely slept. Luckily, the hotel bar was always open. I stayed at the Oloffson, a "gingerbread" mansion surrounded by lush gardens. But I was hardly the only wide-eyed guest swizzling a little plastic stick in a glass on the porch at 4 a.m. Not with the fierce cries of Africa keeping us so awake and social... I welcome you to read the full essay at: viqifrenchfever.blogspot.com Blessings, Viqi French Author, "Daddy's Gonna Buy That Baby a Jaguar"