Girl Talk, that musician who is famous for not being female and not making songs, is now making songs.
Yep, the guy who makes the world’s best lengthy mashups is now venturing into the world of digestable pop/rap. New York Magazine has the tune, and they like it a lot.
When Pitchfork.tv paired Girl Talk with Dipset’s Jim Jones for their Selector series (which usually just involves one guy freestyling), the pair ended up making a whole new song. It’s called “Believe in Magic,” it samples Honey Cone’s 1971 souls smash “Want Ads,” and it is — despite Jones insistence on once again rapping about his ambivalent relationship with the sparklers that some clubs provide along with their bottle service — pretty great.
This can’t be bad news. Girl Talk’s concerts are supposedly earth-shattering, life-changing events. Attendees are usually weathered and hardened afterwards, like those descending the peak of Hipster Everest.
I’ve never been. I’ve only seen friend after friend return home covered in sweat and unexplained marker smudges, and they offer no details. They just go to bed, pack their things in the morning, then move to rural Utah by week’s end.
It has forced me to create a reconstruction of what a Girl Talk concert actually is, solely based on the appearance of my friends when we reconvene after the show.
Here’s the best I can do:
– The official sponsor of the event is Musty Taxi Cab Cologne. Everybody gets a free sample!
– Somebody will punch you in the face with a bag of glitter.
– Everybody’s thirsty. Nobody gets a water bottle.
– The entire audience is given an elliptical machine set on Steep Incline to power computers and make sure the concert never stops. This explains the amount of sweat.
– Despite this, you will not explain to anyone why you looked like you just fouled out of a two-overtime game in the NBA.
– An infant with very bad small motor skills will indiscriminately fingerpaint bright colors on your face and neck.
– You or your best friend must volunteer to lose your shoe.
– One of your friends will sign a contract requiring her to come home at 4 a.m. with a 37-year-old man named Cesar, who is wearing a button-down shirt without any buttons.
– All of your photos of the event must be cleared by a screener, who will make sure the photo is dark enough, blurry enough, and at least slightly resembles Pamplona’s Running of the Bulls.
Sadly, this movie will ruin your dreams and confirm a Girl Talk concert is just a concert but with lots of jumping. It’s called RiP! and it’s infuriatingly informative. It does a very good job of explaining why Girl Talk can legally get away with combining a Michael Jackson song with some more current hip-hop, why people love it so much, and how he can keep hitting people in the face with a bag of glitter.
He has the best job in the world.