I went to see the man Saturday night with Junior and her dude and we went to Tinkle Camp in our pants. I’ve tried and largely failed to describe him before, but America’s Husband offered this concise appraisal: “He’s the hip-hop Soderbergh.” Good, brief, but a little incomplete. Still, better than I can do.
He told us a story about cough syrup, in the second person I believe, and rapped about words (and the objectification of women, and the objectification of object, and, well, lots of stuff, really). His loop machines offered brilliant accompaniment, and while there was no super-hot, mind-blowing dancer to pull on-stage this time, he still tore the plance down. Always see Reggie Watts.
i am angry with you for not telling me of this arrival and circumstance. i am saddened i missed my local hero—ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING I INVITED YOU TO HIS LAST GIG AND SECURED YOU FABULOUS SEATING.
you are worse than ted hitler.