Tuesday, May 18, 2010
It's amazing how you can recall shit as a kid. I remember my ten-year-old self being smuggled a fifteenth-generation cassette copy of Eddie Murphy's 1982 show at NYC's Comic Strip; listening to it over and over again under the cover of my Walkman to the point where I could nearly recite it verbatim. And this was no Doctor Dolittle / Nutty Professor Eddie Murphy here, this was the parental advisory sticker, vulgar, off-color shit that made him a star. Of course back then I hardly understood half of the shit he was talking about, yet this album was so ingrained in me that twenty-five years later I can still do "Hit By A Car" word for word. Though I probably don't come off quite as funny.