My Pop Life #142 : Gimme Some More – Busta Rhymes

Gimme Some More   –   Busta Rhymes

Yo Spliff where the weed at?
Gimme some more
I know ya’ll niggas need that
Gimme some more
Even though we getting money you can
Gimme some more
With the cars and the big crib
Gimme some more
Everybody spread love
Gimme some more
If you want it let me hear you say
Gimme some more

Got reminded of this TUNE last night at the Flying Lotus gig in the Music Hall of Williamsburg.  Went with Tony Gerber and his daughter Ruby and her friend Isobel, – the kids disappeared as soon as we got in there, like kids do.  Great great gig.  Halfway through FlyLo’s set the Bernard Herrmann strings from Psycho started up and the projections went psychedelic chopped black & white and then the unmistakable drumbeat heralded the mighty Busta Rhymes track Gimme Some More from late ’98 early 1999.  What a tune.  What a lyrical delight.  What a sample.  And what a flipmode flipping video (see below).  He was at the height of his powers on this track and this album Extinction Level Event, his third.  In early 99 this was the bomb with its jerky rhythms, sudden drops and verbal dexterity.  It felt about as fast as you could rap without tripping over your tongue.  I loved it.

I still love it.  It felt different then though.  Everything felt different then.  The pre-millennial tension.  The excitement.  The fear.  The imminence of – what ?  We didn’t know.  This song seemed for the moment, jittery, greedy, consumptive and utterly mental.  The whole of 1999 had a party atmosphere thanks to Prince and the calendar, or perhaps a delayed gratification repeat meme, because if you weren’t at a party you damn well knew you were going to be at one soon.  And then, in a slightly hysterical but rather fantastic way, you would party like it was 1999, because you’d never get another chance.

Gimme Some More

The dirtiest sexiest most indulgent party we ever had was surely that year, on Valentine’s night February 14th.  Not sure what day of the week it was – an Asperger’s question – and it doesn’t matter, but it wasn’t the weekend.  The gang were invited, in particular single people, and Jenny and I provided space, music, drugs and cake, or Eton Mess ie meringue, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and cream.  We also had bowls full of sweets of all different types and on the kitchen table was a large bowl full of grass, by which I mean marijuana, all nicely shredded and ready to smoke.  There were papers and pipes and there was drink.   Bubbles.  Beers.  Wines.  Spirits.

Who came ?  Brighton people.  Let’s see.  Jo.  Andy.   Josh.   Soriya.  Kerry and Selena who both got very stoned.  The Stomp crew Jo, Luke, Loretta and Steve.  Keith and Yarra.   Mandy.   Millie.  Others.  Who didn’t ?  Mark Williams.  Amanda.  Lucy.  But really?  I can’t remember.  Truly.  The party was too good to be actually remembered. Patrick and Emma?  Jeanne and Laurie?  Fraser ?   It was pre-Brighton Beach Boys so none of that crowd.  No one came down from London like they usually did for our parties (except Mandy).  We had another one later that year for the actual millennium, sometime in December to combine with Jen’s birthday;  in the house as usual, bring your own drugs as usual, Catherine Wearing came down to that one, Paulette, Beverley, Sharon Henry, Eamonn & Sandra, quite a few Londoners.  Jenny and I would take it in turns to DJ, no one else would really get a look-in.  Jenny knew how to get the girls dancing, always critical for a good houseparty.  She had her top playlist – Whitney, TLC, Anita Baker, Deborah Cox, Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye…  We would dance in two and threes or crazy ones, until dawn or later if necessary.  As long and until you felt like you had been at a party.  The last one was in 2003, then we stopped them abruptly and grew up.  Finally got the wallpaper up.  No more parties.  I remember the Valentine’s Party as the most indulgent of them all – midweek, no one’s birthday, mary-jane in a bowl, champagne and chocolate.  We didn’t really do cocaine, didn’t like the effect it had on people, and didn’t take it, but other people sure did and it wasn’t a big deal.

Busta Rhymes aka Trevor Tahiem Smith, Jr. was born in Brooklyn, raised on Long Island and after high school attended George Westinghouse High School in downtown Brooklyn, some six blocks from where I’m writing this blog, alongside Jay-Z, The Notorious B.I.G and DMX.  The story goes that Jay-Z and Trevor had a rap battle in the school canteen one lunchtime, and Busta lost.

Busta Rhymes came up via Leaders Of The New School who would support Long Island crew Public Enemy at early gigs.  Chuck D gave him his moniker after NFL wide receiver George ‘Buster’ Rhymes.  Soon Busta’s verbal dexterity earned him guest slots with New York acts A Tribe Called QuestThe Notorious B.I.G., Mary J. Blige and Big Daddy Kane among others.  He started recording his first album The Coming in 1995 with its startling lead single Woo Hah! (Got You All In Check).  He is undeniably one of hip-hop’s leading exponents thanks to his verbal skills which are second only to Rakim, Biggie and one or two others.  You may argue that among yourselves.  It’s customary for me to learn the lyrics of my favourite raps so that I can spit them at unconventional and unlikely moments.  This particular rap contains so many uses of Nigga and is so fast and difficult to perform that it rarely gets an outing.   The track was produced by Busta’s regular collaborator DJ Scratch.

stills from the video for Gimme Some More

The video is a work of genius.  Opening with the strange pop myth :

As a shorty, playing in the front yard of the crib
Fell down, and I bumped my head
Somebody helped me up and asked me if I bumped my head
I said “Yeah”


So then they said “Oh so that mean we gon, you gon switch it on em’?”
I said “Yeah, Flipmode, Flipmode is the greatest”
Knowing as a shorty, I was always told
That if I ain’t gon’ be part of the greatest
I gotta be the greatest myself !

This over the strings from Psycho and a cartoon day-glo kids TV-world scene.  As the drumbeat kicks in, the video develops with more fish-eye lens angles, strange characters and demonic figures, Busta himself usually shot from the top down like a cartoon of Deputy Dawg.  The effect reminds me of some of Missy Elliott’s pumped-up visuals which were also superb, disturbing and funny all at the same time.

Enjoy.

  Everybody spread love.

for those who like to follow the lyrics :

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My Pop Life #139 : The Way We Were /Try To Remember – Gladys Knight

The Way We Were /Try To Remember   –   Gladys Knight

What a strange blog this is.  Or perhaps what a strange day I’m having today.  For each day carries its own colours, moods, feelings and impressions.  I’m grateful for this, for often a day can be quietly unbearable, and I long for the pall of night to cloak me so that I can start again, refreshed, renewed, by sleep…

the innocent sleep,
  Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleeve of care,
  The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
  Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
 Chief nourisher in life’s feast—

And thence to think on the next entry in this wandering musical through my half-forgotten life.  Many is the day when I start to write a piece and realise that I am not one, but two or three years out with my memory.  Or, perhaps worse, I can remember a snapshot, a few colours and no more.  No details, no essence.  I know I saw Prince at Wembley Arena in the late 80s.  I had to email a half-dozen likely contenders and ask them if they were with me “that night” and on the 6th attempt I got a YES, from Lewis MacLeod, who even remembered the hat I was wearing.   So – hey – drop me a line if you accompanied me to any of these gigs !! :

The Who – Rainbow

Parliament/Funkadelic   –   Hammersmith Odeon

Black Uhuru   –   Rainbow

Aswad   –   anywhere (saw them loads)

The Specials   –   Hammersmith Palais

Madness   –   also Hammersmith Palais I think

The B52s  –  probably supporting :

Talking Heads – at Hammersmith Palais

Smokey Robinson & The Miracles  –  Hammersmith Odeon

Elton John  –  Wembley Arena

This is just a small selection of the puzzle, strewn across the floor of my mind, incomplete, disappearing.  One of the main reasons I’m writing the blog is so that I can get some of it down before it all disappears.  Not because I think it’s important, but because it actually happened, and other people are involved.  Sadly I can’t remember who they are half the time.  Does it matter ?  Maybe not.  Best not to spend too much time thinking about the past, or planning the future.  I know.  But sometimes the present is just too dull to be indulged, and at these points I sit down and write, dig it all up, try and recall a moment, a feeling, a turning point, a reveal.  Just to pin some of it down.

It’s either missing a part, or it’s endless.  This is number 138 and I can’t see me finishing anytime before 500, using the template I’ve now established.  That’s kind of ridiculous.  So now, like Rakim (see My Pop Life #86)

When I’m writing I’m trapped inbetween the lines, I escape when I finish the rhyme

But.  One of the delights of the process is the email traffic between me and people I haven’t spoken to for ages about a specific time.  Or people I do speak to regularly trying to help with memory holes.  This part is fun.  I don’t think I suddenly remember stuff though.  It’s either there or it isn’t.  My friend Simon K has a brilliant memory and has tapped it regularly for his novels and short stories.  He has the ability to open a wormhole in his mind and follow the traces back back way back to a day, an afternoon, a movement of someone’s arm.  It is uncanny and very affecting.  He claims to have trained himself to do this just using concentration.  This may well be true, but I don’t have that kind of mind.  I’m a butterfly-type person, born under the twins, restless, flighty, settling for brief periods before taking off again.  I’ve always been like that.  So many of the memories are these brief glimpses, flickering shadows, inchoate, yearning.  It’s the best I can do.

Memories may be beautiful and yet

what’s too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget

Thinking about these things this song felt perfect.  I think I discovered it with Lewis MacLeod in those late 1970s when we went on a self-imposed pilgrimage of discovery into the music called soul.  We found a book called, yes, The Soul Book, which outlined the various centres of excellence – Detroit and Motown, Philadelphia and the Philly label, Memphis and Stax, Hi Records and others, the Atlantic label in New York which reached out to embrace the whole community, New Orleans, Washington D.C., and many others.  This book no longer appears to exist, even on Google, but I have it in a box in the attic in another country.  Oh yes.

And at the back of the book the contributors – there were about ten of them – had listed their ten favourite soul records.  This was terrifically useful for two 20-year old chaps as a kind of road map.  Some songs – these would be solid-gold certainties – appeared on two lists.  Kind of a guarantee of excellence we thought.  You could tell the ones who wanted to list ten obscure songs that no one else had chosen or perhaps even heard, and we worked our way through these lists by searching the shops of Soho and Camden Town.  Lee Dorsey, Millie Jackson, Lorraine Ellison, Garnet Mimms, The Delfonics, Betty Wright, and yes Gladys Knight and others all endorsed in print.  This is how you did things pre-internet by the way.  Research.  Expeditions. Treasure.

Gladys Knight has already appeared in this blog (My Pop Life #29) as a Motown artist in the 1960s, then she moved to Buddah Records for Midnight Train To Georgia and You’re The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me…and I’m wondering if this song was on that famous lost memory mixtape too.  It never fails to make me cry when I hear this line –

Can it be that it was all so simple then? Or has time re-written every line ?

The song was the theme from a massive hit movie The Way We Were, starring Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand in 1974, perhaps the biggest song of 1974, sung by Streisand herself.

Written by Marvin Hamlisch (music) and Alan & Marilyn Bergman (words) it is quite simply one of those extraordinary pieces of work that touches me very deeply, and though Barbra Streisand sings it beautifully, magnificently, I’m afraid Gladys absolutely lifts it into eternity.   As Gladys Knight explains below in the 2009 live version, (a concert Jenny and I were lucky enough to attend) – she never wanted to record it in the studio, but she would sing it every night with “Try To Remember”as a little spoken entrée.   Her management recorded it live one night then presented it to her afterwards, and now we all have it.  It’s one of the most treasured records in my collection.

and if we had the chance to do it all again, tell me would we ?  Could we ?

Live in Chile in 1979 this is outstanding and very close to the ‘record’:

the ‘record’ from 1974 :

the live version from 2009 :