While I previously thought Nao’s sweetly sensual Bad Blood may be my favorite song from the British songstress, I’ve learned today that I made an error in judgement. You see, Nao has revealed a spectacular new tune, and Fool To Love is my new favorite now. Fool To Love is full of fire and sass, a bumping tune produced by Grades that crosses Ben Khan like funky electronics with AlunaGeorge like coquettish allure. Fool To Love is a hot jam, a steamy swooner much imbued with late 90′s era Brandy and Monica R&B pop. The single gets a release on April 8th via Little Tokyo Recordings.
Today we honor and remember singer, dancer and actress, Aaliyah. On August 25, 2001 she died in an airplane crash leaving behind an impressive legacy at only 22 years of age. She may be gone but she’ll never be forgotten.
[in which monica lewinsky rescues melania trump from the white house]
Monica Lewinsky sits at a maple desk in the library of her flat in London; texts by Donna Haraway, Audre Lorde, and their contemporaries line the walls. It is well-past midnight. Monica unfolds a blueprint before her of classified routes into the White House; stolen from under the President’s nose during her own days in that terrible, terrible building, in that just-as-terrible city. The one she’d damned to hell more than two decades before. Yet. She knows what she has to do. With a sigh, she retrieves a trap phone, a Nokia 3310, from her Birkin. She dials an elaborate series of ampersands and numbers.
“Hello?” Melania––code name: bird––asks in a hushed voice. It is 8 PM in Washington, DC. A Wednesday. A time for dinners that refuse to end.
“Is the bird ready to fly the coop?” Monica asks, lighting a B&H Silver. The ashes tumble onto the map.
“The bird is ready,” Melania responds in a whisper.
In the background, Monica can hear the dull, grumbled gripe of Melania’s husband. Code name: cantaloupe interruptus. ‘Can’ for short.
They hang up. Monica takes the cigarette lighter to the phone, melting it into a plastic discus. She picks up her slender suitcase, exits the flat, and hails a cab to the airport.
From her own iPhone, she calls Eric, the neighborhood hustler kid.
“Can you have another one of those Nokias delivered to me at O’Hare’s international terminal within the hour? The battery in the one I bought from you won’t hold charge and, oh, I miss playing Snake so much.”