Sam Cooke, Live at Harlem Square, 1963

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I told ya'll about my funk-fiend homeboy Milton Carrillo.  If you've been following Mr. World from day one then you'll be picking up what I'm 'bout to lay down.  Well my amigo from the San Fernando Valley is legendary for his Dub Reggae knowledge.  One of my favorite ways to keep the flow a go is to straight chill in the Sunset studio with my man Milton.  Sun turns to night and the tunes are all super tight. 


Now, my man knows I can get down with some Dub but he really knows what keeps the space machine flying, and my home planet from dying is the Soul.  I'm always bustin' out the classics that the Professor said were essentials; Otis, Wilson, Marvin, Ray and Etta, etc..  Homeboy thinks it's a trip when I start talking my jive about The Mission and my alien crew.  He sees my white skin and my funky ass threads, he's thinking, "This fool can't be for real.".  I try to break it down for him one piece at a time but when you've been in Hollywood long enough everyone seems like they're from a distant galaxy.  


So Carrillo puts me on the spot, "Alright man, I feel ya on the Soul, who's the greatest of all time?".  He may have been looking for me to fumble and stutter but people there ain't no other, Sam Cooke is the king of kings.  And if the proof is in the pudding then the pudding is Sam Cooke: Live at Harlem Square, 1963.

You have to follow me on this one friends.  I know the World can get himself going on the Vibe and the Real but this album is a time capsule of cool.  On vinyl it's a surreal trip inside a traumatic period of American history.  It was recorded live in 1963 at the Harlem Club in Miami, FL but amazingly not released by RCA until 1985, then it was remixed, stripped down, and released again for the Man Who Invented Soul box set.  But skip the digital defunct and find the '85 RCA on Vinyl.  It's immortal.    

If you are looking for the clean studio melodies from Sam on this album you're barking up the wrong tree.  Nothing but raw soul pours out of the man on this famous night.  His messages are raspy, truthful, and even haunting in parts.  Sam riffs and scats like he is in a trance.  The crowd is as much a part of the recording as the rhythm section.  It's as if they know they are witnessing history in the making.  You'll get all his hits but you'll get 'em the way Sam wanted you to.

Sam Cooke was shot and killed less than two years after that night in Miami at the age of 33.  He had 29 top 40 hits during his short career.  His murder was considered justifiable homicide.  Live at Harlem Square is the closest you'll ever come to knowing Soul and Sam Cooke.  That's just how the Man With the Plan wanted it.  Can you dig it?

-Mr. World 

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Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai

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The people of Earth are always coming up to Mr. World and asking me for my list.  Everyone has a list, ya dig, and the fine folk out here must be catching on to the fact that I ain't no regular Jack.  Follow me now, I'm talking about your top 10, 20, or even 100 flicks you can get down with the most.  In some cases, to keep it all cool, I'll rattle off a few "must haves" just to keep the flow a go.  But somewhere down the line I felt it was best to check in with The Professor and lay out some classics for my people to vibe on.  After all, it's a need we all gotta feed.  You have to sift through a whole lot of dogs these days to find a purebred. 

So, the Man With the Plan was happy to kick me down his 20 favorites of all time and the World studied his lineup, believe that.   It read like a road map to the real.  Everything was represented, from the birth of the cool black and whites to the contemporary hip thrillers.  Ya see, the trip is, the good Professor and I have a different set list.  It occurred to me that, although everyone needs to quench their thirst, we all drink from a different well.  Of course, the Professor had a solution; take the best apples from all the barrels and bake the people some sweet apple pie.  Huh, you gotta dig that?

Without dropping too many culinary quips, the ingredient I'd like to add to the bowl first is a flick that has been looked over and passed by way too many times: Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai.

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Back in 1999 Jarmusch wrote and directed this cult classic with Forest Whitaker as his lead.  The backdrop to this "character study" is the mean streets of Jersey City, New Jersey.  Now, once you put a new school urban-hit-man (who happens to live by the code of the ancient Samurai) in a mobster flick you've got Mr. World's attention.  Of course Jarmusch, being the innovator of cool that he is, laid in one of the freshest soundtracks of recent times. 

Just when your planet was settled on the fact that white skinned, Italian mobsters generally whacked each other out in Armani suits, to slow playing string arrangements, Jim Jarmusch flips the script big time.  Whitaker plays Ghost Dog; a black, hoodie wearing, contract killer with a thirst for ancient wisdom and a modern hip-hop collection.  RZA wrote the music and it's way too cool for school man.  The supporting cast, mostly made up of quirky mafia fools and a Haitian ice cream truck driver who only speaks French,  are a perfect compliment to this surreal tale.  Whittaker sets out as the unknown hunter but when a hit goes bad, Ghost Dog becomes the hunted. 

The thing I dig most about my man Jarmusch is once you are in his world you are in it to the end.  If you can get down with films like The Professional, La Femme Nikita, and The American, you'll be feelin' Ghost Dog all the way.  It might even rattle your cage.  Now, if you're gonna do it, do it right.  Don't play it on your laptop speakers or watch it on your Iphone people.  Put it on the big screen and let the beats bring you in.  Can you dig it?

-Mr. World 

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Red Velvet visits Amoeba

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Nothing puts a smile on Mr. World's face faster than having Red Velvet Scrubs come to town.  Red Velvet is my sweet girl from middle America with the heart of a giant and the face of an angel.  The Man gave her both so she could take care of the sick and help heal the hurtin'.  And nobody can make Mr. World feel better that's for certain.  Now if there's one girl who bounces around the Earth as much as Jet Stream Jenny, it might be my girl Miss Scrubs.  Her next stop is Dallas, TX.  That's where she'll learn the skills that will help pay the World's bills.  If you can dig that?  You're probably asking yourself, now who's the Man, Mr. World.  I'll get to that down the road people.  

I told ya'll Red Velvet was sweet and I meant it.  But she's also smooth like silk and sharp as a tack.  My girl is always studying me, trying to figure out what makes me tick.  It's a hard job tryin' to figure out the World.  If I told her I was an alien sent from another planet, that I've taken on a human form in order to save my people from the collapse of the cool, and that the Professor is countin' on Dominguez and I to bring back the hip and restore the funk, well she might just flip and have to skip.  I can see how that might rattle any girl's cage, even Miss Scrubs.  Instead of getting all into that, we play it straight, Velvet and I just take in the best of what this planet has to offer.  Maybe someday I'll come clean, pack my girl up in the Space Caddy and head back home to show her the Whale Tongue Galaxy.  It really is Heaven up there. 

Now the other day my girl and I are standing on the corner of Sunset and Ivar, in the heart of Hollywood.  Velvet turns to me and says, "World, when are you gonna take me into Amoeba?".  I tell ya my fake human heart almost quit on me, I mean it could have killed me and the Mission right then and there.  I don't know how many times Velvet has come my way.  We've seen it all out here; The Strip, The Coast, The Boulevard, you name it, and I've never taken this girl into Amoeba Music?  What a trip!  I grabbed her hand and said, "Hold on tight my love.  We're headin' right into the epicenter of Cool!".  

You see, it's hard to explain Amoeba Music.  To most folks it's a big store that looks like a bee hive for music snobs and movie geeks, but for us soldiers here on the ground it's a sanctuary.  It's a big ass pharmacy where we can all get our fix, a spiritual place where the souls of our fallen brothers and sisters fill the air.  When I was just a little alien bouncin' off the walls with energy, the Professor told me stories about places like Amoeba and the importance of the artists that were celebrated there.  I use to dream about someone pulling my own vinyl or DVD from the shelf; taking it home, diggin' it, and then passin' it on to another cat.  My work spreadin' like a virus you can't wait to catch.    

Of course Velvet, my sweet girl, could see the instant impact Amoeba had on the World's vibe.  My eyes were wide as I thumbed through wall to wall vinyl.  My smile was ear to ear as I studied the vintage concert posters on the wall and picked through hard to find classic films.  She was feelin' it.  For a moment there it was just she and I, standing there amongst my heroes.  There was no outside world, no worries, just a steady stream of peace.  I wanted so badly to tell her that that was my Mission, I had to gather up all I could, and restore balance to my planet.  

Like I told the Vampire on the cliffs of Zion, "There is a flow to the universe, you are either riding high on it or paddlin' up against it.  There are places you can go to feel this energy and catch the flow."  

So if you are swimmin' upstream or you're feelin' the heat of the sun on the back of your neck, strut your ass into Amoeba Music and Cool off.  You'll be right as rain in no time!  Can you dig it?

-Mr. World

P.S.- Big Ups to Twist 'n Shout Music store in Denver, CO for keepin' the Vibe alive.               




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The Vampire and World on the Road to Zion

In order to qualify as an Interplanetary Vibeologist every once in awhile you have to hit the road and do some recon.  So last week I called up the Portland Vampire and asked him if he had ever seen the vast coolness of Zion National Park.  Like I said earlier, the Vampire prefers the chill of the dark and Zion sits right in the heart of the desert so I didn't know if he would be hip to the trip.  Course my man said he had had enough of the sounds and smells of Hollywierd and he was down to leave the underground.

So we loaded up the gear and piled into the Gear Truck, a.k.a. a mid nineties GMC Yukon, a loaner from Jet Stream Jenny. Dominguez and I use it as a cover car on the city streets to keep a low profile.  They'll be more on Jet Stream Jenny later, believe that.  She is another foot soldier the Professor has set up in an undisclosed location.  Fact is, this space chic talks quick and moves like lightnin'.  She's never in the same place twice.

The Vampire and I set out in the cover car, leaving the good Doctor in the garage to tend to the Space Caddy and L.A. hipsters.  Now we use the Vampire a lot for documenting the scene and beaming back footage to the home planet.  He's one talented immortal and that's no lie.  He can bend the light, keep it tight, and make the whole thing look right.  What this cat was a little weary about was the trek we were making straight through Mormon Country.  The whole Utah thing was making my man squirm in his skinny jeans.  But World was there to keep it cool.  When the Vampire laid eyes on the place he'd be actin' fool.

With the stank and sirens behind us we came upon the Park.  The World had to step back.  I was amazed by how quickly we were put in our place by the Enormity of Zion.  Cliffs and jagged rock reached up out of the ground trying to touch the stratosphere.  My co-pilot was instantly transformed as we took it all in.  For three days rivers raged, thunderstorms boomed and blasted, and in between the desert sun warmed our souls.  All was right.   We didn't hear a helicopter, a car crash, or a Blackberry scream fest the whole time.  The Vampire was diggin' the imagery so much I had to shout at my brother to put away the camera, build a fire, and put down a cheese dog.

You see, on Earth, the Christians believe Zion to be the Holy City in the Kingdom of Heaven, The Rastafarian rep Zion as Africa, and Jews believe it to be a hill where the City of David was built.  What I was laying down to my pale skin compadre is that on my planet Zion is a state of mind.  It is a vibe, something you catch and hold on to.  It doesn't belong to anybody so there is no fear to be had. The whole mission centered on this idea.  Man oh man was he hip to that!  He ate it all up; he let it creep right into his skin, and breathed it deep into lungs.

All in all the trip was a success.  We got some serious footage for the Professor, picked up a part for the Caddy outside Barstow, CA, and for the first time in a long time I saw my home shimmering up there in the sky.  It was bright and beautiful.  It reminded me of where I was and how important Dominquez and I are to our people.  A chill came over Mr. World and if you visit Zion National Park that same chill will come over you.  Can you dig it?

-Mr. World 


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Moonshine Charley and Fitz and The Tantrums

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A few days ago I mentioned we had another soldier on the ground out in NYC.  You see the Professor, in his infinite wisdom, only sent out his best crews to take care of this mission.  He knew if we all came burnin' through your atmosphere at the same time ya'll would freak, puttin' a serious end to our winnin' streak.  So before the good Doctor and I hit the streets of L.A., he sent Moonshine Charley down to the Big Easy to blend in with the scene.  This cat has been on the ground for years mixing in up with the sounds and feel of the South.  The Professor knew only 'Shine could come down here solo to a city like New Orleans and go undetected by you human folk.  His ear for the groove and feel for the funk is legendary back home.  

When Dominguez and I touched down on the big blue marble the plan was to rendezvous with Moonshine, take on the human form, and collect our credentials.  After 'Shine hooked us up, he headed straight for NYC on an epic journey.  The dude loves to fly solo and stay below the radar.  He is taking in the sights and sounds of The Big Apple searchin' for the Cool and collecting parts for the Caddy.  Yesterday he hits me up with an update.  "World, what it is my man?" he says, "NYC is crazy cool.  Dig that!  I am getting all mixed up in the scene out here.  I'll send you the data on the Wire if you know what I mean?  Are you and the Doc holdin' it down?  You feelin' any new vibes?"

This was my opportunity to introduce Moonshine and the rest of the galaxy to the sounds of Fitz and The Tantrums.  If you haven't heard Fitz and gang don't worry they'll be world wide in a couple of months.  Their debut album, Songs For A Break Up, will blow your doors off man.  I ain't foolin' and neither are they.  I've heard all kinds of fools trying to define this six piece soul machine.  Trouble is, they escape the crazy word you Earthlings love so much, genre.  

Fitz stands up front delivering the full vocal stylings, it's like Beck meets Darryl Hall.  Believe that?  Noelle Scaggs backs up the man on vocals but her soul soars on it's own.  Jememy Ruzumna is on the keys and the organ play carries man.  It may end up being their trademark.  Sax, drums, and bass round out this L.A. band that seems to be a part of some crazy, cool movement.  These bands are sproutin' up with something to say.  The full feel ya know?  It may cross over to Pop but it's passionate.  It's like their pleading with people to hear them when they sing and man does it sound right.  It's the stuff the Professor wants us to beam back. It's the stuff that keeps the flow, keeps us livin'. 

Grab MoneyGrabber for free on their site: http://www.fitzandthetantrums.com/ If you're not feeling it, check out Winds of Change and We Don't Need Know Love Songs, two of my favorites on the album and a better representation of what Fitz and the Tantrums can really bring.  It's a short debut LP, 5 tracks, but look out 'cause it will grab ya.  Keep your eyes peeled for Pickin' Up The Pieces on the 24th of August, the follow up to Break Up, and more from Moonshine, Dominguez, The Professor, and of course yours truly...

-Mr. World 

 

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The Eldorado Space Machine

As you all know by now the great Dr. and I are trying to hunt down engineers and mechanics to help us put the Space Caddy back together.  Now don't get me wrong,  we are having quite the trip here on Earth and are diggin' the groove here in the City of Angels.  It seems our crash landing here over a year and half ago has left our cosmic cruiser in quite a bad way.  Our mission, to bring the hip and funktastic back to our home planet and save our people, is being curtailed by the lack of technology and suitable parts for our "Big Red" machine.  So in an effort to restore the Caddy, I've gone back to the Professor for help on original equipment and a quick break down on our fine ride:

 Dear Mr. World,

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to give you some information on my 1985 Eldorado.  1985 was the last year that General Motors made this Classic style of Eldorado.  They only made 2000 convertibles which they shipped to American Coach to convert.  After that they went to a short "stubby" version of the Eldorado for a few years and then discontinued it altogether.  This was the classic style "E" body.  This was a shorter version than previous models with more interior room.  Every option was included from the power antenna to the automatic trunk release.  It had an HT 4100 engine with approximately 150 hp.  Cadillac was into fuel economy rather than speed.  It will get you anywhere you want to go in the city and is great on the highways.  It is truly built for comfort and not speed but if someone wanted it to go faster, they could easily drop in a GM 350 engine and smoke the tires.  The all leather interior and a decent sound system for the era makes for a great late night cruiser. Cadillac only made three colors:  red, white and blue with a white convertible top.  In all, it is a wonderful classic car that turns heads when driving down the road wherever it goes.  Of course you know how unsafe it is to discuss how I acquired this classic ride and the alterations you and I made for time travel.  If you need a list of parts or calibrations we'll have to do that off the grid my good friend.  You and the Doc will get back safe and sound, I have no worries. 

-The Professor

Thank you Professor.  We'll be in touch soon.  As for the Doc and I, we just got wind of our East Coast representation landin' safely in the Big Apple.  He has "the keys to the castle" when it comes to fixing the bad, rad Cad and fuelin' us up with enough cool to take the world to school.  That being said, we're still calling out to the people for help.  We need gear heads, space nerds, machinists, a rag man, and a 'whole lotta love' to see this mission come to fruition.

In the mean time, we'll keep ya'll hip on the scene if ya know what I mean.  Just keep your eyes wide and your ears clean...

-Mr. World

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The Professor and Moby Grape

The Professor

It's hard to keep on speaking out to the peeps without mentioning the man responsible for our mission and the reason Dominguez and I can so easily cut straight to the cool.  Now when we left our planet in the Space Caddy it was 1984 here on Earth.  We had a bit of time out there in the cosmos to study The Teachings of The Professor, it was his personal catalogue of books, music, and film...it made up over 60 years of intensive study. 

 The Professor, a.k.a. T.L. or Big Fish, likes to fly low 'cause he's one of the last remaining soldiers of his generation and has his P.H.D. in celluloid and rock 'n roll.  You see, he was able to read the writing on the wall way before it all went down back home.  He tried to pass onto me all the love he had for the sounds and images that make the world...any world that is...go 'round.  But we were runnin' outta time ya dig.  The evil oppressor was startin' to pull all the strings behind the curtain.  The Professor knew if he didn't pack us up in his Vintage Space Ride and send us off with The Teachings that the whole universe might fall into some kind of drone like existence - a sheep herder's paradise, a Jonas bros. highway to hell without the influences of art history.  So Dominguez and I set the dial for Hollywood, CA knowing it would take over 26 years to get here.  What we thought would be an impossible mission has turned out to be a monumental adventure.  All Dominguez and I have done is join a united front that is already reppin' the fresh and the cool.

So in honor of The Professor I give you Moby Grape.  One of his all time favorites and one of the most obscure rock bands to come out of the Haight/Ashbury district in the late sixties.  They had all the pieces: Jerry Miller, Don Stevenson, Peter Lewis, Bob Mosley, and the immortal Alexander Lee "Skip" Spence, a rock enigma who's story cannot be told in less than 16 chapters.  His guitar playing and song writing are historic but his personal struggles were both tragic and legendary.  It is rumoured the day after his release from a six month stint in Bellevue Mental Hospital, where he was diagnosed as a schizophrenic, he rode his motorcycle dressed in his pajamas strait to Nashville to record the incredibly hard to understand solo album, Oar.  There are also rumors of Skip's LSD trips in NYC leading to Shining-esque fire axe episodes in classy hotels.  But enough about the Skip man for now.

Moby Grape - Wow Album Cove

Moby Grape was not just another acid fueled, love fest band from San Francisco.  They had three electrics blasting away, gritty but with some southern melodies as well.  5 guys writing, singing and contributing.  Their debut album is on a thousand top 100 must own lists.  If you dig on some Doobies, Allmans, and The Black Crowes you can hear some Moby Grape in there somewhere.  Songs like "Omaha", "8:05", and "Hey Grandma" are critical favorites but as I learned from the Professor "Motorcycle Irene" and "I Am Not Willin" is Moby Grape at the peak of their game and the apex of Sixties Rock 'n Roll! 

If you are a collector, and can find it, pick up Wow and Grape Jam (simultaneously released but separately packaged full length vinyls).  If you're just a curios cat then at least download "Murder In My Heart For The Judge" and for God's sake "Motorcycle Irene"...Can ya dig it?

-Mr. World

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