Word: vanillas
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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Well, there's music in the air, but it ain't campfire songs. It's the sound of white rapper Eminem and his gay-taunting, mom-bashing, wordplay-loving new album The Marshall Mathers LP (Aftermath/Interscope). The old take on white rappers (circa the 15-min.-long Vanilla Ice era) was that they were, for the most part, whites who wanted to be black. But the new breed of white rappers--guys like Eminem, Kid Rock and the punkish Bloodhound Gang--is proudly white, and they tell you all about it on their songs (Kid Rock's new album...
...Sheila Divine did their time. The Gravel Pit started things up while people were still filtering in, but they wasted no time in energizing the club with soulful vocals and rabid guitar heroics. They seemed an odd choice to play an industry function, though - not much vanilla or mainstream about them at all. Every time the Pit drove into catchy melodies or guitar riffs, they'd let loose into some tuneless noodling or unorthodox chord progression. It was almost a textbook case of indie rock being too complex, too busy - some would say too smart - for mass consumption. That said...
...winegrowers in Italy. His echt classico is a wine of fine breeding: the unimposing structure yields uncommon class and elegance. The outspoken Tuscan character imposingly projects the overall gestalt. Its pièce de resistance is clearly the bouquet of red berries, dark cherries, black currants and vanilla. It has a varietal twang and an agreeable consistency of flavor and aroma...
...question now is whether the design economy can be sustained or whether, when America's wave of prosperity recedes, we'll all edge back to plain-vanilla functionality. If he were around, Raymond Loewy would remind us that he got his start during the Great Depression, so perhaps the real design revolution is still to come. If so, Constant Nieuwenhuys is looking more prophetic than ever...
...tell everybody that I, and not my nonwriter friend, had penned the best ice cream name the store would ever have. I saw the store's other sad, poorly written flavors, like Peanut Butter in My Chocolate and Cassie's Blue Cotton Candy with Sprinkles and the particularly lazy Vanilla. I found myself speaking in a loud, pastoral voice, saying, "My friend is amazingly talented, huh? Someone who perhaps should quit his day job and write a serious piece of literary fiction. He is what I believe is called a writer's writer." The woman behind the counter agreed...