RUN DMC and others Featured at MOMA Exhibit.

May 11, 2011 JUKEBOXDC Staff Videos No Comments  

Looking at Music 3.0, the third in a series of exhibitions exploring the influence of music on contemporary art practices, focuses on New York in the 1980s and 1990s. In this dynamic period, imaginative forms of street art spread across the five boroughs, articulating the counter-culture tenor of the times. As the city transitioned from bankruptcy to solvency, graffiti, media, and performance artists took advantage of low rents and collaborated on ad hoc works shown in alternative spaces and underground clubs. Appropriation, also known as remixing, thrived. Approximately 70 works from a wide range of artists and musicians will be on view, including works by the Beastie Boys, Kathleen Hanna and Le Tigre, Keith Haring, Christian Marclay, Steven Parrino, Run DMC, and Joanie 4 Jackie, a video chain letter founded by Miranda July.

S/O MOMA

Looking at Music 3.0
February 16–May 30, 2011

The Yoshiko and Akio Morita Media Gallery, second floor

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Skyzoo – The Definitive Prayer (Video)

May 10, 2011 JUKEBOXDC Staff Videos No Comments  

 
Lyrics after the jump. 
 
As soon as the drum rolls I’m picturing unloads,
I’m picturing one show that gives them an unclosed
description of one grown, and witnessing son grown,
“that boy good, and to the greats, he the one chose”,
as soon as the horns lift, I picture the cautious
becoming beyond it from fear of the lost sense,
I’m picturing all them that said he was awesome
retracting their talking for fear an endorsement
may seal up their coffin, hammer to the nail,
metal to metal but he’s just planning to prevail,
ghetto to ghetto they say he handle what they rail,
echo the echoes, and if he handle what they rail,
he’s never been settled so if your handling is frail,
he let go the legos and tell you “catch ‘em if you will”,
you catch like D-Will, well and good, have you riding for your team,
until you find out you traded off the bottom of your screen,
like “let me find out”, gave it every line of what I be,
until the time’s out, and this shit is just not what it should be,
so every glock that ever leans and every shot that ever leaves
from off the top of where that beam is red dotting where you breathe
is in a box apparently waiting out to hear from me,
they wait aloud to hear the screams and they about whatever needs,
and their hearing’s well and good so if they think they heard a call,
they tryna hop outta that box and make you sing the words along,
serenades warrant hearing aids, ringing murder ones,
blue and whites move alike if they should think they heard a drum,
and they justifying justice, pulling triggers for the cause,
I got a big enough applause off the strength of the allure,
saying this is what it was, well if this is what becomes,
then I became what they paint as the picture never hung,
I became what they made as a glimpse of what was won,
the W’s at The W, spilling off the hum,
the one to do what they wanna do, in it for the run,
’til the tape’s broke in half and I’m praised off of laps,
call it A-side B-side, tape broke in half,
and my A-side B-side was made to be exact,
no 40 dollar replicas but all of my etcetera’s
exemplified the inner sides of all that my forever does,
live or die, get us by, bigger signs, better runs,
bigger rides, get inside, visualize what never comes,
minimized inner highs, Phyllis Hy’, level one,
staring at a page and a pill with a heavy tongue,
say that I amaze but I still feel forever young,
heavy is the fade that should fill that New Era son,
imagine it in front of you, like packages that wanna move,
so much so that they react without you running to,
so running towards is all that you in it for,
all the stones in that crown is all that it really was,
all them stones on the ground is all that you penning off,
from the pitching to the ditching, its more than they get to pump,
so chorus them for the trunk, meaning sing for the drive,
I’m still the peddlers theme, they say I sing for the drive,
now bring in the reprise, and let the beat breathe,
I’ll let you comb through the poem and what’s beneath these,
I’m on my throne, Pewter Foams and the seat reads,
that “you should know you alone is what the need needs”,
so on the low I know the code & how to debrief,
but on the low I know the dough is where belief be,
so all of my encouragement is pointed on hurrying,
’cause getting it don’t mean that you got it, so we gonn’ hurry this,
and get it until each of us got it, you say you listening,
I hope that when I speak in these pockets you get the gist of it,
they open off of me in them boxes where they be signaling
like “we see them a block away, so put all of that stock away!”,
I come through, windows off, still knocking Rae’,
the Hilfiger version, and I feel I’m in its purpose,
so I wheeled ‘em where the words is, pedal to the predicate,
for the love of money baby, decimals is delicate,
for the love of money baby, settling we never did,
they can’t fuck with where this effort is,
see if I told you everything I ever wanted to say,
you’d either nobel prize me or scurry away,
and that nobel prize seat?, I’m one up away,
“A Dream Deferred” will chauffeur me to one of them thangs,
either a plaque or a stat or a ribbon that’s attached
to a gold plated Alfred, in-scripted through the back,
homey this shit is a wrap, if you was bitching in the past,
the future is more looted, baby get it how you ask,
the truest to walk through it, so whoever yall spewing
to be that guy back slides, I fountain pen baptize,
the same shit that I was with, I’m still in that mind,
so never mind who on that side…

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