Non-stop Hip Hop

"Blaa, bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla, blaa"

Nice lyrics innit? This is the catchy chorus line from 'Bla Bla Bla' by Ezkimo, Finnish hip-hop's finest export. I was introduced to Ezkimo (real name Mikko Mutenia) by Niko (obviously) who, always wishing to introduce the world to Finland's finest, whacked it on full blast at the tail end of a house party last week. I gotta say, its not bad at all. Very catchy tune that sort of soups up an oompah band sound with a pretty fat beat. I think you'll like it, so check it out. It should be downloadable. This is Ezkimo by the way. He seems to have a slightly disturbing penchant for Clockwork Orange, but then he is Finnish.

So Mr. Mutenia's blablabla-ing got me thinking about hip hop and how much of a global culture its become. Its pretty crazy when you think about it. Something that started out as an underground music scene the Bronx has spawned into a worldwide phenomenon that could lay claim to being the dominant cultural movement of this generation. If you compare to things like the hippie movement in the 60s, or the more recent punk and grunge scenes, it really stands out by a mile. The hip hop way of life has really captured a generation of kids, teenagers, twenty-somethings and even 'old people' (sorry niggle) everywhere you look. From the way people dress to the way they speak, hip hop's influence is undeniable. When the Finns get hold of things and apply their own wacky twist, you know things have gone global. But surely there are some limits to hip hop's all-conquering spread? Well the great thing about blogs is that they give you the chance to indulge in such whimsical thoughts. It also helps to be a man of leisure so you can spend idle time researching and writing about your whimsical thoughts, so here we go...

I reckon that even if you can find pretty decent hip hop in Finnish, there must be some languages that haven't been yet been rapped in. As a brief aside, Finnish doesn't really lend itself to rappin and rhymin - French on the other hand (a la MC Solaar) flows like honey drizzling onto hot buttered toast. So French and Finnish have beeen done. I've heard German, Venezualan, Brazilian, Japanese and English of course, but what some of the more obscure antiquated languages? Has anyone ever rapped in Latin or rhymed in Gaelic? A mildly exhaustive Google session proved inconclusive. The latin searches were scuppered by the blanket use of the term 'latin' to describe any kind of music with spanish or south/central american links and despite a curious unexplained reference to 'gaelic rapping' on a random blog, I abandoned this line of investigation. My guess is that there's no-one young and cool enough around who knows these vanishing languages and is into hip hop.

I had another thought though - what about sign language? They say killer scratch DJs (like me) talk with their hands, but can you rap with your hands? There's some obvious problems to overcome here, for instance you'd have to be pretty dam quick with the hands to keep up with some MCs and also there's gotta be loads of invented hip hop words that aren't in the signing repetoire (can you sign "fo shizzle ma nizzle"?). There's also the fairly major obstacle of the crowd not being able to hear the beat, which is kind of fundamental. However, a brief googling came up trumps on this one. proGrammar is an artist who is taking hip hop to the deaf and hard of hearing. He has translated his lyrics into American Sign Language and projects himself signing lyrics onto a giant screen while he raps on stage. There's also a professional signer on-hand (excuse the pun) to sign all 'spontaneous interlocation' during the show. I guess this means banter between tracks. Its all very impressive, so check out his site and you can even see a video of sign language hip hop in action.

So there you have it - hip hop conquers all and disenfranchises none. Proof that its more than the music. Nuff said.

Plain lazy

Feelin a bit lazy today, so there's gonna be no in depth educational article about the curiosities of Californian life. Sorry. I guess its an early onset of blogger's block. To make up for it though, I thought I'd try and help you gain an appreciation for the setting I'm in right now, so here are some pics of the view from the veranda at the back of our house here in Berkely. The first one is a daytime view showing the Golden Gate bridge in the distance. Then there's some sunset shots of the same vista. We generally get spectacular sunsets to accompany our barabeque food and intellectual discussion (liberally sprinkled with childish humour). I could definitely get used to this way of life, but a continent beckons and I still haven't done any planning for this trip. Mañana mañana.

Love is in the air

"No way. I'd definitely put my balls above my d*ck."

Apologies for the crude langauge to open up - I do not mean to offend, but such magic quotes cannot be ignored, especially when they are backed up by such good blog-fodder. Today's quote comes once again from the deftly subtle tongue of Niko, but before you become alarmed at such outrageous uncouthness, let me explain the context. We were of course discussing the advice of Bobo's (World's finest scrotum polish) publicity material that "It's time to acknowledge your second ,most valuable asset" and get yourself a scrotum shine. Having just been handed this fascinating piece of advice from what could only be described as a 'hybrid pixie/man/woman' we then entered into debate about what was the first most valuable asset - hence the Finn's vehement response. Welcome to the San Francisco Love Parade.



More on Bobo's scrotal treatments later, but for now let me take you to the wonderful world of San Francisco. So far since I arrived here, my time has been spent in the leafy, relxed, intellectual surroundings of Berkely (University of California). Its a beautiful place to be in September with clear blue skies, gently warming sun, magnificent views of the Bay Area and thousands of uber-students whose main worry in the world is which variety of organic juice smoothie they're gonna buy. In a word, it’s lovely (and the juices are amazing), but lovely as it is, I was itching to get a feel for the city on Berkely's doorstep - the famous, but surprisingly small (only 750,000 inhabitants) city of San Francisco. Well now was my chance. As the weekend rolled around in a blur of chilli, port and poker, Saturday brought a new and exciting option. The Love Parade had come to San Francisco and was destined to be the highlight of my first Stateside weekend.

For those unfamiliar with this event, Love Parade is a celebration of exhibitionism, freedom of expression and dance music. It was born in Berlin in 1989 as the winds of change swept through Europe, when 150 people held political demonstration for peace and unity under the guise of a techno party. The event became an annual fixture following the collapse of the Wall and grew almost exponentially to the point the by the late 90’s well over 1.5 million people flocked to Berlin for the party. Unfortunately, the love ran out in Berlin and there has been no Love Parade there since 2003 (all down to legal issues over who foots the bill and subsequent funding problems). However, love overcame this bureaucratic heart-breaker and the organisers decided to set up the Love Parade phenomenon from scratch right here in San Francisco. This city notorious for its love of peace, free love, parties and exhibitionism seemed the perfect location.

So it’s thanks to all this that I found my self heading into the City on the BART rail system looking for a party. Within 10 seconds of emerging from the underground station, I’d already clocked a giant white rabbit, numerous ant-war/anti-Bush placards and two ladies exposing decidedly unappetising suspender-clad buttocks beneath tiny schoolgirl skirts. Definitely a sign of things to come. The remainder of the afternoon and evening was spent meandering around the heart of San Francisco, amidst architectural splendour of City Hall and other imposing period buildings gazing at men dressed as women (and vice versa), men dressed as giant fluffy beavers, a multitude of matching fuzzy boots and bras, painted ladies, girls dressed as cops, cops dressed as cops and lots and lots of naked chests. It was truly a sight to behold. San Francisans appeared to be welcoming Love Parade with open arms. You can see more photos of Love Parade here on my flickr photo site.

So it was while pausing to reflect the bold sponsorship of the event by Niko’s favourite Finlandia vodka that we were approached by the lady of unusual appearance brandishing the flyers for Bobo’s. She gave a good sell and had us all thinking why we’d never contemplated giving our beloved balls some TLC. We pocketed the flyer and checked out the website. Its good. Opening animations of cartoon scrotal regions strolling down a street have a tendency to bode well and this is no exception. Here’s a sample of what you’ll find…
“Haven’t you forgotten something? You take such good care of your teeth, hair and even your armpits, but what about your second most valuable asset? That’s right, your cramped, overheated, underloved SCROTUM. You never even mention your scrotum, let alone care for the poor wrinkled fella. Don’t you think it’s time for a bit of pampering?” Well if you agree with Bobo’s, then they have a range of scrotal polish varieties for you. There’s Rise and Shine – stimulating morning mint that gets you up and at em, or Cowboy Cappuccino – giddy up and glow and even Bobo’s bovine – in the big jar for the well endowed. Give the site a look. Its sure to bring a chuckle and maybe you’ll revolutionise your scrotal outlook.

I think I already failed on my quest to bring Latin into every post. Never mind. Que sera sera.

Cacti

Cactus of the day

You gotta love cacti. I snapped loads of the beauties at Berkely's Botanical Gardens. Highly recommend a visit there if you're in the area, which by the way you should be coz its damn nice here.

Raccoons

"Goddamit! We got hit by raccoons
again."
Yep thats right. Those furry little critters caused this damning exclamation from Mr. Vuori. They look sweet don't they? Well at the moment they're mounting a sustained assault on the bins around the house. They seem particularly keen on corn cobs and lime segments. Obviously have taste. Now I've never seen a raccoon, but Niko assures me they're as big as a dog. I struggle to believe this and suggested a stakeout tonight to try and catch a glimpse of the blighters. Pre-empting that this may not occur, however, I went for the Wikipedia source of all knowledge and discovered some fascinating facts about 'coons (as they call em over here):

1. Raccoons are nocturnal and omnivorous, eating berries, insects and even small animals (no mention of corn or lime - maybe I should add this to the wikipedia entry)

2. Raccoons seem to wash their food before eating - a curious behaviour that is reflected in their name in other languages. For example 'waschbar' (German) and 'pesukarhu' (Finnish), which both mean 'washing bear'. Even better is the French 'raton laveur' or 'little washing rat'. Not so cute and cuddly now.

3. Raccoons are notable for their thumbs (although non-opposable??) which, using all their renowned cunning, they use to great effect on closed containers, such as bins. Clever eh? Surely they could think of other good uses for their non-opposable thumbs - like hitchhiking.

4. There are numerous varieties of raccoon, the most exotic being the Crab Eating Raccoon (procyon cancrivorous) from Central and South America. I'll be keeping me eyes peeled for em when I get there.

So there you go. My first post and its all about raccoons. Not sure its a sign of things to come, but I will now try to get a bit of Latin into every post. I aim to educate. Sianara amigos.