captain’s dead has some pharcyde mp3s available, reminding me of nothing so much as the 8th grade and my second love affair with hip-hop (first was in 1986 with raising hell and license to ill, an album i haven’t enjoyed since then.) anyway, it reminds me of moshing at the dude ranch, smoking camels out back of the dance floor, asking a girl to see City Slickers and a buncha other kinds of ‘magic.’
this was the era of the cypress hill self-titled and the chronic. back then crossovers like that of the Judgement Day soundtrack (let alone the almost helmet-infused check your head) lent a hopeful, interdisciplinary air to things. for a moment i thought it might be okay to be an indie fop in a ‘blunt’ hat. not so, of course, but we mustn’t forget the fleeting utopian promise hovering around all this mushy, messy history – around all histories, really.