Oh childhood: the time at which one could play rap complete and utter crap, paint a bow on it and call it gold. Exactly like little girls playing tea party; serving stagnant water, calling it "tea fit for a queen". The cheesy rhymes. The lack of rhythm and originality. You're gonna make a million dollars aren't you, rap star? The best part for me, outside the infamous abrupt ending(s), it took two kids to create this bollocks.
This is a free country, and there was a time where a company, no matter what they sold, could market their product in any way they wish. Suffice it to say, these days, between public opinion and over-reaching government officials, don't expect the Marlboro man to cut an album anytime soon.
This cassette contains twelve songs, all of which are about or are loosely based around smoking and Camel brand cigarettes. I can't find much information or the name of the actual band who recorded this. I suspect that tidbit of information is kept secret as a condition in their contract. The songs are various blues styles; pretty much like every other hack blues group of the time, their blues style is akin to the riding on the coat tails of The Blues Brothers. Very generic. Very repetitive. To be fair to the band, if I was paid to wright an entire album about a controversial product I would be half-assing it as well.
According to the backside, this tape was published in 1993. It seems pretty easy to figure out why many people in congress wanted to see the death of Joe Camel. This cassette doesn't blatantly market to children but there is an image RJR were going for: The cool guy was the one who smoked Camel brand cigarettes. Kids like to be cool. Every kid wants to be 'that guy'. But kids don't like Blues. I'm guessing their target age were those in the early-20's. It would be the perfect thing to hand out on a college campus, right?
I picked six songs to share to best illustrate the abortion of a marketing campaign this tape is. Who was in charge of Public Relations down there in RJR? The poor guy had to smoke a carton a day in order to counteract their level of stress.
There's so many things wrong with this. First off, sure, make the kid with a big nose Jewish. There's nothing racist about that! And let me guess, I bet there's also an Asian kid good at math and black kid in a gang attending that school. Is there also an American Indian and/or Irish teacher with a drinking problem? Yeah I know, he is actually Jewish. Personally I still find that pretty jacked up.
The subject of this video is equality as disturbing. A plastic surgeon marketing rhinoplasty to kids... No wonder this guy is under investigation by the American Society of Plastic Surgeons (ASPS) for breaching code of ethics. At that, no wonder our society is going to hell and terrorists hate us so much.
Even after watching this video, I blame the parents. The doctor wouldn't be marketing to kids if doing so wasn't profitable.
Oh, I hope the person who posted this is telling the truth and this is real. I love the included back story. I'm pretty sure if the guy didn't break up with his girlfriend, if he was all in on his musical career, he wouldn't have to worry about a girlfriend. The only bitches he'll attract with his song are actual female dogs.
We've all been teenagers once. We've all played games in our parent's basement. Like Peggy Hill once said, "Gangsters and hoes are today's generation's cowboys and Indians". To a kid, all required to be a thug is a bandana, a dumb looking hat, a wife beater and a bunch of gestures from GTA. All left to do is download a beat from the Internet and crap out a few lame rhymes and, Boom! You're a rapper!
Actually, in regards to most contemporary rap, not far off the point.
I suppose if the only quality one would require in a woman is how she performs in art of fellatio, it wouldn't matter what she look like. Where did he find his backup dancers? Wally Wally Wally Wally Wally World?
I'm sure everyone was like me and wondered what 1950's doo-wap would sound like if sung by a bad French opera singer. Well guys, wonder no more!
The best way I can describe what I'm hearing, it's somewhere between a dying cat and a middle-aged woman's orgasm. It's really quite disturbing.
I covered Tonetta and his song Pink Hair little over a year ago and he is truly a classic earbleed. Tonetta is a fettishist who enjoys writing songs and posting videos of himself dancing to them, usually while wearing nothing but a wig and women's underwear. I can't possibly imagine who he thinks would get off on watching something like this.
Over the past year apparently YouTube received enough complaints his original page was terminated. Fortunately, or unfortunately for us - depending on your freak bent - he created a new account and reposted all his stuff. I pretty much forgot about Tonetta until I came across this piece. You really need to manage to make it all the way through....until he's finished, so to speak. It gradually and subtly grows more and more creepy. By the end, I could imagine his is alike the voice a rape victim would hear echoing in her head when she's trying to sleep at night.
I don't mean to judge. Each is their own, after all. I just find it hard to ignore the chills that race down my spine from watching a grown man prancing in a frilly metallic pink wig, a woman's thong and orange body paint in strategic places while a song he wrote about masturbation is playing. One can only ignore so much before he has to asks, "WTF is in the water supply?"
I can't help but to love this guy. He's really putting himself out there. I only wish he put more into his song than a single two bar riff. Why not try slipping a chorus in there in between each verse? It's all the craze! But never mind. You're doin' your own thing. At least this song wasn't nearly as creepy as "Without You".
How could I have possibly not come across this until now!? This song predates Rebecca Black's Friday, so, in every fashion, right down to the mid-song urban black guy rap break, GlaDOS style auto-tune (which is amazingly thicker than in Friday), and nothing subject, Jenna Rose is Rebecca Black before Rebecca Black!
For me, over everything else, this song is Further proof teenage girls shouldn't be on the Internet. Not at least until they reach the age 16... On second thought, 18. They sure as hell don't need iPhones; surely we could all agree with that.