Last weekend THC was out at the club. The DJ was lily white, like the dance floor. He set it up and let the records spin. The first three tracks set the mood. Nickel Bags of Funk
Rolling off the G thang, it went a bit stale. It started to feel like tracks some suburban kid rat holed off urban radio on his big brother’s boom box, hiding his obsession like a dirty secret. Reinforcing the image was a non-stop loop of 2 Live Crew music videos.
I would have dug more of a house party vibe, so here you go. This white boy starts in with same Snoop, just to set the mood. If you’ve heard this song too much, you aren’t smoking the right stuff.
This time, lets switch it up. Snoop bounces us out the club, moves the furniture against the wall, fills the fridge with beer and breaks out the biggest, baddest pipe we got. The party is on.
At the Southern tip of India there is a tradition. Not like the 7th inning stretch. More like a religious tradition. The religion has long since been lost, but the tradition continues. They build, from scratch, a village. The people come, and for days they have ceremonies. Priests recite liturgies thousands of years old. No one knows what they mean or what is being said. The sounds have been passed down, but not the meaning. Researchers have recorded and dissected every phoneme. It has no relation to any known language, The closest relation they can find is bird song. At the end of the ceremony, the village is burnt to the ground. Next year they will do the same, exactly the way they have for untold thousands of years.
Roughly 11,500 years ago in Southeast Turkey a temple was erected. Long before any pyramids or Stonehenge. At the tip of the fertile crescent, the temple marks the moment when hunter-gatherers first set root. The plant and animal remains found at the site are all wild. No domestic animals. No farmed plants. Yet, they built a stone temple.
3,500 years ago a group moved from modern day Turkey, not far from the ancient temple, through the Kush into Northern India. These immigrants became part of the great epics of India. They brought Sanskrit with them. They also carried Soma. A drink of poets and gods. A potent cocktail of ephedra and marijuana. It gave the words of the Rigveda.
Like their brothers 8,000 years earlier, they built temples. They praised gods. They came together, building a society. And it begs the question, to what do hunter-gatherers pray? They certainly have the forces of nature, cycles of life, and the stars above but, without farming, they stay on the move. Is it a coincidence that the first permanent temple rises in the land of Soma. The land of the legendary hashish fueled marauders.
Archaeologists believe the stone age temple in Turkey was a gathering point for feasts. That goes along with my own theory. Cannabis. Music. The only thing missing is a house… and it’s a party. Ain’t Nuthin’ but a G’ Thang. Now let’s spark this joint and burn it to the mother-fuckin’ ground.
Nuthin’ But A ‘G’ Thang bt Dr. Dre (feat. Snoop Dogg) from The Chronic
The Mike & Chris Story by People Under The Stair from Fun DMC
ExtraHard by Little Brother from Getback
There’s A Party (Feat. George Clinton & Chali 2na) by N.A.S.A. from The Spirit of Apollo
Merrymaking At My Place by Calvin Harris from I Created Disco
99 Luft Problems by Jay-Z and Nene from A Mashup
Risky Business by Murs
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