The Hurricanes couldn’t do it all by themselves. To conquer the national college championship title for an outstanding fifth time, the ‘Canes needed their own fight song. They needed a track as tight and dexterous as their skills on the field to fuel them up before their big game. This track was Ballin’ Boy, a bouncing, dirty, South hip-hop party track from the Miami-based rap duo No Good.
The Hurricanes football team was so enraptured with the track that three of its players cut a unique Hurricanes version of the song with No Good. Defensive back Edward Reed, wide receiver Jason Geathers, and running back Willis “The Deuce” McGahee rapped alongside the duo for the Playa edition of the track.
As the #1 most requested song at Miami’s urban station 99 Jamz, WEDR-FM, the Ballin’ Boy Hurricanes’ name-dropping and boastings include school mascot Sebastian, the team’s repeated Eastern Championship titles, and their journey to the Rose Bowl alongside the chant “Hurricanes Ballin’ Boys/What you know ’bout the Miami boys?/What you know ’bout the Miami boys?/Hurricanes Ballin’ Boy.”
“The hook of the song, ‘we ballin’ boy,’ was easy to incorporate with sports, especially because sports are jumping on hip-hop now,” said No Good member, Tracy “T-Nasty” Latimer. “It was easy to tie in, we come from an athletic background and we love those ‘Canes.” Defensive back Edward Reed said that Ballin’ Boy grabbed the Hurricanes’ attention when they would hear it at local concerts. Soon after, a club DJ introduced the team to No Good and the players became fast friends with the rappers.
“And the next thing you know, we’re recording with them,” Reed said.
No Good regularly partied with the players at clubs around town. What surprised No Good was just how efficient the players were getting into the groove of the song.
“It’s very different to go from talking and rapping with friends to actually going into the studio to record,” said No Good member Derrick “Mr. Fatal” Hill. “Reed put a lot of power into what he wrote…it came out really good.”
With the Miami-alluding Ballin’ Boy getting spins in cities like Atlanta, Dallas, and Chicago, and members of the Hurricanes sporting their Ballin’ Boy T-shirts on ESPN’s Sportscenter in the days prior to their momentous Rose Bowl win, the pairing of the two groups meshed well.
“We love those ‘Canes, so it was a real boost for us to know that they thought that much of our song, to use it as their fight song,” T-Nasty said.
Recording a custom version of one of their songs is already standard practice for No Good, a group proud to hail from South Florida and its trademark club-bounce sound. When Florida Marlin Craig Counsell scored the winning run of the 1997 World Series, No Good’s Marlins’ version of Luke’s Raise The Roof boomed out of Pro Player Stadium’s speakers and into the homes of millions of viewers.
No Good members Mr. Fatal and T-Nasty have been working in the hip-hop music community for over a decade now. At the forefront of Miami’s innovative bass music scene, the duo released a single on Laface records titled And Then There Was Bass. No Good has opened up shows for rap impresario Uncle Luke and the late Notorious B.I.G. and has performed alongside Trick Daddy and Lil’ Kim.
The original version of Ballin’ Boy is to be the lead single off of No Good’s upcoming major-label debut album on ARTISTdirect Records, tentatively titled Game Day PBB.” Produced by renowned hip-hop producer Tony Galvin (Trina, J-Shin), the album promises to be replete with part-ready rump-shaking songs will include collaborations with Trick Daddy, JT Money, and Mr. Cheeks.

Every year, in what’s become an annual tradition, critics put out both their worst and best lists. It’s pretty obvious, though, that Freddy got Fingered and Tomb Raider are terrible movies. What’s more interesting are the movies that got critical acclaim but were actually quite horrible. Here is a list of five things from 2001 that were highly regarded yet turned out to be real duds.

Bob Dylan’s Love and Theft:
No other CD got more critical acclaim than this messy, garbled album from the incomprehensible, highly revered artist. It became apparent to me the crappiness of this CD in the last song, as Dylan rants, “Love is pleasing, love is teasing, love’s not an evil thing.” Sounds quite similar to a certain Beverly Hills 90210 soundtrack, but at least Vanessa Williams isn’t as pretentious as the Dylanmeister. Ugh.

Waking Life:
Please…a dizzing animated film about philosophical principles of life. The movie isn’t intelligent or smart or sophisticated or any of those things stupid critics have been proclaiming. Instead, it’s pretentious, moronic, plotless, and feels like a college bull session. All that and Ethan Hawke ranting about the meaning of life. EEK!

Amelie:
I’ve lost more friends over my hatred for this movie than anything else. I realize everybody loves it, but don’t they see that Amelie’s romanticism is a fake? I didn’t care if these two would get together basically because there was nothing keeping them apart. And why were they right for each other again? Call me a cynic, but that was life through glasses a bit too rose-colored.

The Royal Tenenbaums:
Or how bout the royal tenenBOMBS… As wonderful as Rushmore was, The Royal Tenenbaums strikes out on all accounts. Bill Murray does his best to not be Bill Murray and Gene Hackman tries his best to be Bill Murray. Worst than that is the sullen, detached tone of the entire movie. You mostly feel like a child psychologist trying to connect to a mute orphan.

Family Guy:
Critics for the most part hate this show, but some stupid kids on this college campus somehow defend this ugly, mean-spirited trite Simpsons rip off. Gag after crappy gag, the Family Guy proves that the beauty of the Simpsons is its heart, something the Family Guy has none of. Hopefully the show will be put to its rest quite soon.

They came, they played… and they left. Sure, the Strokes had already conquered the audience that came to see them perform at Billboardlive well before they stepped out of their bus. Singer John Casablancas didn’t so much as utter a complete sentence without a four-letter word tucked in between, and took hold of the microphone as if he were about to fall asleep any moment.
But that’s part of the mise-en-scene that makes the Strokes all the more exciting to hear and see. The sound of their short but well-knit set, that here garnered a couple new tunes not included in their debut, but which expand their range of rhythm and melody, enraptured the packed venue.
Boys moshed close to the stage, making the security toughies frantic and overly concerned. These kids were not out to make trouble, just like the band they came to see. They body-surfed back and forth, wave after wave, and those who weren’t bouncing up and down at least banged their heads.
Anyone who’s heard a Strokes song can say that it’s a very catchy collage of 1970’s-laden punk rock. Some say it all sounds the same, but that is not precise. The fair thing to say is that each song is an angle of John Casablancas’ musical persona, and sometimes some angles seem superimposed.
But look?and listen?closer and you will notice that even his muffled voice and dejected poise are more complex than they seem. It’s a careful study in expression. He’s got IT, and doesn’t even have to try making IT in order to make his emotions come across. How many times he will be able to match this subdued energy on stage and in new compositions, is the riddle that, so far, his audience has not picked up on. But the record executives decked on the VIP lounge at Billboardlive surely staked much into whatever IT is.
We’ve heard all the naysayers claiming that the boys from the boarding school had it easy, that the collegial look and dress of the Casablancas gang is the stuff of teenage-girl morning dedication, but ask somebody sans the class-bias and jealousy, and chances are they will remark on the tightness of the group as a whole.
The guitars played by messieurs Hammond and Valensi never miss a chord, sounding full and round in tone, yielding a cascade of fast and fancy riffs. Bassist Fraiture hangs back with drummer Fabrizio Moretti and put the engine into motion so the driver, Casablancas, can careen the vehicle in fast-gear around jaw-dropping cliffs of sheer energy.
With lyrics that mix innocence, bravado and jadedness, the tunes that make up their debut album Is This It? echoed around the venue propelled by the compliant fandom present, and those who were not so familiar with the band left with at least a couple of choruses playing in their heads along with the buzz from the outrageously loud speakers.
The Strokes played all the tunes they had in about one hour and then left the stage, prompting many in their audience to ask: “Is this It”?
Brazilian drummer Moretti still managed to throw in a solo performance, sipping from and handing out a beer bottle to the audience; he then threw himself onto the throng, only to be restored back onstage and into the paws of a misguided security honcho.
Yes, that was It.
And it is up to define the elusive pronoun.