Word: riffs
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...with me.? The song is a declaration of promiscuity, and as Mitchell sings he glances around the room, being serially flirtatious: making laser eye contact, leaving a lady in a puddle of love and moving on for the next conquest. For the instrumental break soars into a scat-singing riff; fake-exhausted after the flourish, he pants in 4/4 time. Big laugh from the audience, or rather, audible smiles. Before the first number is over, they?re in BSM?s mood. Now everyone in the room is at his stage door...
...couldn't help but think back to Bush's interview with Tucker Carlson in the now defunct Talk magazine, where the Texas governor mockingly mimicked the death row appeals of born-again convict Karla Faye Tucker. "Please don't kill me," said Bush with a condescending quiver. And the riff on gang violence? It's fine to take on gangs, but I couldn't help but notice Bush's promotion of programs "ranging from literacy to sports" and the standing ovation it drew from House Republicans who spent the Clinton 90s laughing at their anti-gang initiative, Midnight Basketball...
Former late-night titan JOHNNY CARSON, 79, left, retired from his paying gig at NBC's Tonight Show in 1992, but he's now spinning jokes for free. Carson, who likes to riff on current events, writes one-liners and slips them to DAVID LETTERMAN, 57, right, who uses the material from time to time in his Late Show monologues. CBS executive Peter Lassally, a former producer of both the Carson and Letterman shows, told Reuters that Carson "gets a big kick out of that," and has long considered Letterman, not Jay Leno, his rightful heir. Looks like Leno will...
Then we get her strange attempt at a Queen anthem, “Hollaback Girl,” complete with a “We Will Rock You”-style stomped intro and a riff and lyric from “Another One Bites the Dust.” Then, Stefani sings lines like “Uh-huh, that’s my shit/all you girls stomp your feet like this” and my favorite line on the album, “the shit is bananas/B-A-N-A-N-A-S...
...Seadrum,” a 23:03 masterpiece, begins sounding like nothing else in the entirety of the Boredom’s formidable oeuvre of music—the first minute or so of the song consists of Yoshimi’s lone voice beautifully singing a wordless jazz riff. Her sustained final note fades into a rising tide of chimes and deep tribal drums that steadily pound away as metallic and organic percussive noise sounds throb in the background and spiral back and forth between the stereo channels. It seems strange to describe a 23 minute experimental-acoustic track...