Deen has a fan club in Cardiff.
Like most humans, I have a list of my favorite Welshmen. Yes, favorite Welshmen. See, the Welsh are a very illustrious bunch with great and unique talents. Probably because they’re a bunch of overgrown mountain elves with a dragon on their flag and a weirdly magical native tongue. Pause on native tongue. If Future 3000 happened to be a white man, we’d probably be able to trace his origins back to the wonderful land of Wales.
So who are my favorite Welshmen? Pause. Well, that designation changes depending on what’s poppin at present, but the first person to hold the baton of Mobbdeen’s favorite Welshman was Ryan Giggs, the evergreen Manchester United player. In other words, he plays soccer. I used to be a big fan, even though he played for a team I hated, just because he could do magnificent shit with his left foot. I’m a lefty and I needed role models, so he fit the bill for a while. Then he scored a ridiculous goal against my Arsenal back in 1999 and became dead to me. Add that to him banging his brother’s wife for years and I consider him a stain on the great nation of Wales.
Next was Sir Anthony Hopkins. But he’s old and he can’t play soccer or rap, so that didn’t last long. Then it was Gareth Bale, but he got really good and he also played soccer for a team I despised. I still kinda tolerated him because I read somewhere that he was a childhood Arsenal fan, despite playing for Arsenal’s local rivals. But the munghkey faced genius got a lil too good so I had to start hating. Now he plays for a different team, so we’ll see. In any case, Aaron Ramsey is a the top of my favorite Welshmen list in 2014. He’s a midfielder, he plays for Arsenal and he’s good as hell.
I made you read all that bullshit to write this: you should really pay attention to random Wikipedia pages and smart girls that know a lot about West Coast rap. I recently decided that it was time to do a more thorough evaluation of Battlecat’s discography. Yes, Battlecat, the legendary West Coast producer. I realized that I had never heard a Battlecat beat that I didn’t fuck with, so it would behoove my ass to get a lil more familiar with the man’s work. So I contacted my West Coast plug for a crash course/playlist in Battlecat. The first song she sent me is the most interesting, unintentionally hilarious and dope shit I’ve heard in a good minute.
What is it, you ask? Sir Tom Jones’ “I Don’t Think So”. Yes. Sir. Tom. Jones. Singing. Over. A. Battle. Fuckin. Cat. Beat. This really happened. On Earth. Apparently, in 1994, Tom Jones – now officially my 2nd favorite Welshman – decided that it would be a good idea to don a mesh shirt on an album cover, as if he’s Jamaican instead of Welsh, and make a buncha weird ass dance songs. For neither the first nor last time, Interscope records decided to do some really stupid shit and ask the guy that was supposed to be the next Tony Bennett to make contemporary R&B. Basically, they blacked that white nigga up and I’ll go ahead and confess now: I don’t have the balls to sit through this shit. There are some lines even I refuse to cross.
Nevertheless, my friend the Battlecat expert sent this along and I pressed play without realizing that I was about to listen to Tom Jones sing over a West Coast rap beat. And I have to admit, I didn’t hate it at all. I actually liked it – once I managed to ignore the mesh shirt on the album cover. As a matter of fact, I chose to watch a live performance of the track at the House of Blues and I think I’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t a song that can’t be made better by Tom Jones humping the air before he performs it.
Jokes aside, Mr. Unusual totally commits to the track and knocks it outta the park and as always, Battlecat put his foot in the damn beat. I’m sure the temptation was strong to record this shit with a heavy dose of irony – even as far back as 1994. Contrary to popular belief, mid-2000s Brooklynite hipster fucks didn’t invent irony – Alanis Morissette did in 1995. Interscope may have made a mistake with the album this song was on, but things sorta turned out quite alright. I bet Carlton from the Fresh Prince would have loved this shit. He wouldn’t have been able to do his trademark dance, due to the slower tempo and all, but ain’t no fighting the funk on this shit.
I suppose I should also credit every one involved for resisting the urge to give Snoop Dogg a call, because I kept waiting for him to jump outta nowhere with a 16. I bet Snoop would have been all over this shit in 1996. Best of all is the fact that Battlecat probably got a pretty nice sized check from this shit. Probably large enough to make him seriously consider changing his moniker to ‘Pussycat’. Old white nigga money long. Pause.
So what’s the moral of the blog post? Well, there are a few:
Be inquisitive;
Visit Wales;
Ryan Giggs is a massive cunt;
There is only one Aaron Ramsey;
Watch soccer;
Continue not giving a fuck about Sir Tom Jones; and
Listen to Battlecat.
I’ll let y’all know how the rest of my Battlecat experience goes. Or not. Maybe if you ask nicely. But probably not. I think I’ll write about Jermaine Dupri instead. But probably not.
