As a perfectionist in the art of perpetually jumping on the hip wagon late, I have some confessions to make.
The first is tejano club rap, which I recently got hooked on no thanks to Delinquent Habits' "Return of the Tres" at the opening screen of Total Overdose. So I started listening to the tejano stations and kept getting my H interrupted by delusional latino communities talking up political activism with laughable ignorance, not unlike what I saw with the Asian community. It always boils down to "White Guy X is so rich it's his responsibility to give back to the community and save us from evil Arnold Schwarzanegger."
First of all, White Guy X has no incentive what-so-ever to give back to random community "leaders" making demands from their armchairs. I almost crashed my car when someone said Steve Jobs recently acquired half of the $7.54 billion worth in Pixar, and was morally obliged to save a cluster of no-name underperforming middle schools. Second of all, for the UC system to demand money of Arnie is nearly the joke of the coast. Apparently 6 figure salaries and 5 figure "compensations" for moving, perversely overdrawn business expenses, bogglingly inefficient new facilities, and extraordinate wastes of money in things like a second renovation of the same football field, apparently these have no part in the low wages across campuses and had no effect on Arnie's decision not to give the UCs more money. Did I mention student body increases and a 40% tuition hike within 5 years?
Anyways, this is just a long way of saying that I bought Daddy Yankee, and his tejano rap mojo was good.
My other confession is Children of Bodom. They are rawk incarnate. They are metal. No, they are fucking metal. If listening to them does not make you want to air guitar the way Flogging Molly makes you want to grab a stein or Alanis Morisette makes you want to dirty sanchez little children, then you have no soul. It's not particularly cerebral, it's not even heavy, but I haven't had this much fun since Kataklysm's "Poetry of War" or early Dissection. Or the Black Album. Dismember? Anyways, forget the fact that wild child prodigy Alex Laiho is just a kid, if anything that teenage angst has long been missing from the one-ups-manship of modern metal. This is the Billy Idol of our time (which they in fact cover).