I got mad love for The Apollo theater in Harlem. That place is a staple in American for how it receives its performances. You see, for those not in the know, The Apollo is a theater where the patrons run on pure passion. I mean, real, on-the-sleeve passion. If the audience at The Apollo doesn’t like your bit, they will let you know they don’t like your bit. Hell, they will boo you off the stage, yelling over you so no one can hear you, age, race, and gender be damned. But on the other extreme, if they LIKE what you’re doing, they will let you, and anyone within a ten-mile radius, know that, too. And the luckiest of us got to see some of those good AND bad performances on the awesome Showtime At The Apollo television show. While seeing shitty acts get booed off was kind of fun in a tragic way, NOTHING was cooler than seeing some white boy take the stage, looking all awkward, and within twenty seconds, he has the entire crowd on their feet, hollering for him. It may seem out on control, but it is the opposite of that. It is a place where only the strongest and best performers get to sharpen their skills, and it was a very cool thing to witness. Here, for your enjoyment, five white guys who absolutely and unexpectedly killed it at The Apollo. Look out for me in video three. Just kidding. I would fail so hard at that place, the tree would slap me if I tried to rub it. Only true Apollo fans will get that comment, and that makes me like it even more.
Excuse me, kids, but why the fuck do you all have shorts on in Winter?
Christmas is a magical time of year, when we shuffle around, from store to store, spending our hard-earned money on people who realistically won’t like what we get them anyway. When we are not driving onto curbs to avoid “holiday lunatics”, or fighting our way through a store to get someone the “next big thing”, we all do our best to rekindle our innocence by watching the same holiday specials, over and over again, every year. We say we do it because we love them. But that is not why we do it. We watch them on the off-chance they will rekindle our faith in humanity, or perhaps give us back some of that innocence and purity we had in us when we first saw them as a child. The word is nostalgia, and at no time is that feeling more in the air than at Christmas time. But as you get older, and more and more of you dies inside, you begin to notice things in these specials you never noticed before. The following things I learned in horror last week, watching Frosty again, only this time through different eyes. Bitter, jaded eyes. Prepare to have your mind blown. Or to laugh at me. It will definitely be one or the other and no in-betweens.
I am fully aware Radiohead are the kind of band that would catch wind of the fact that I am sharing this with my readers, and they would contact me with a cease and desist letter. I would then think of all the fan mail I sent them in my teens, and how I never heard shit back, and I would take that cease and desist letter, and I would hang it on my fucking fridge, as a sort of emblem. A badge of honor. Why? Because, outside of telling you when you are doing something WRONG in their eyes, you think Radiohead actually takes time to talk to wee mortals like us? No, make no mistakes. They REALLY don’t. Either way, the Scotch Mist sessions for In Rainbows is better than the actual album version, so I would sit back and watch this with a glass of mead in your hand. Why mead? I dunno, it just makes for a strong visual.