With Lusty Abandon…


You know who’s fun? Pharoahe Monch. Pharoahe Monch is fun. I mean, the ho has the most awkward and deceptive name spelling of anything ever but ooohwee if’n the chile ain’t a fun time. Here’s some fun facts about Pharoahe:

He’s way gorgeous in person. Like, you’re not expecting him to be so cute but he is. And cut too. You can slice some bistek on those biceps. It’s what we sophisticates call, yum.

Also, he’s chatty. Like, way chatty. Not in a bad way at all, but in a totally fantastic way. You’ll be like, “Hay Pharoahe, how you doin’?” and he’ll be all, “Yeah, I went to the dentist and he spent all this time looking at my teeth. I think I have some teeth in the back of my mouth that he really likes. It was weird. Then I had to spit out all this Listerine. But yeah, the dentist is cool.” Then you walk away wishing your life was as full of as much endless wonder as Pharaohe’s.

Thirdly, homeboy just dropped one of the best hip hop albums of the year (I know that usually means ca-ca coming from pie-faced media critics but coming from me you know surely, it’s for serious).

You kids can read tracklistings so I’m gonna limit my rapturous dick-riding to two songs: Desire and Welcome To The Terrordome. If I was an addle-headed noise-making DJ for Hot 97 or some other splaboo terrestrial radio station I’d be all, “DEZIYAAAAH!!! CONNY GOT THAT CRACK!! HOLLA AT THIS FAM!! WORDPRESS IS IN THE BILL-DINN!!!” and so on. But that kind of unbridled verve is emblematic of my feelings for the track. Desire…work chile.

Then, you know how Chuck D died? Like around the time Flava Flav started getting international acclaim for tonguing down the Z-list tranny on Strange Love? Well, Pharaohe has done a nice job of dusting off his crown of righteous indignation and rockin’ at a zesty rakish angle. Boyfriend is murderin’ em on his track Welcome To The Terrordome which invokes all the rage that was well, all the rage in the early 90s. Shouting out Amadou Diallo and Sean Bell, you can almost feel him lacing up your combat boots and putting a red, green and black “Africa” medallion around your neck. And snaps to him for not being afraid to be political. I’m tired of these pansy-ass Kanye’s and Kweli’s whining like bad, bad children, smackin’ their gums like, “I’m not political, I’m emotional, I don’t even read the newspapers.” If yo ass is a rapper and you went to college, yo ass is political. Own that shit and stop being such candy-ass, foot-shuffling gaywads. Ill.

The rest of the album then smooths out with tracks with E. Badu and Dwele peddling his foot-shuffling, dinner car porter shoo-bee-doos (Damn, didn’t that heifer just fall the eff off? Picking up D’Angelo’s raggedy 1995 style is not the way to get back into the fold).

Anyway, bless Pharaohe for being such a character. I mean lyrically, dude is like an unsolicited rim job. You don’t think you’d like it and at first you’re kind of alarmed but eventually you settle in and cuddle up to an inviting experience. He says stuff like in the cut like Neosporin and rhymes it with something fabulous like, I don’t know, chipmunk whorin’.

Sigh…simply fantastic.


2 Responses to “With Lusty Abandon…”

  1. seher Says:

    i likes me some mooonnnnnchhhh.

    monch monch monch.

    am i a dork?


  2. Lady Half Breed Says:


    You’re a fool for that one, Conny.

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