He who possesses the source of enthusiasm will achieve great things. Doubt not. You will gather friends around you as a hair clasp gathers hair.
Meanwhile, East Point's seemingly cartoonish Ying Yang Twins, on their single "Salt Shaker," tell us:
Five dollars get your ass a table dance/If you got 10 then bring a friend/ Ho, shake your ass to the song then/If you ain't with it then we gone then.
To not see the correlation is to be blind. But I'll be honest, though. Before this past week, I did not fully comprehend the philosophy behind the Ying Yang Twins. Now being able to say I have rolled with Kaine and D-Roc, however, I am closer to appreciating what it is to ride, drink, smoke and twurk like a ColliPark crunk party-starter.
On Oct. 22, my friend Craig and I headed to Conyers to catch the phenomenon in person. Creeping slowly through the quaint, narrow streets of Olde Town Conyers, searching for Club 908, we wondered if we were in the wrong place. We didn't see the Ying Yang Twins' tricked out Monte Carlos or Novas, among the duo's other 15 or so cars. Once acknowledged at the door to the venue, however, we were whisked through the alleyway to VIP.
You can learn a lot about an artist from their VIP, and not just by the deli tray, bottles of Hennessey, Grey Goose and Dom Perignon, and the assortment of cigars. (OK, you actually can learn something from the cigar assortment, and that is: the cigars are not there because anyone appreciates fine tobacco, i.e., puff, puff, give, that stickiest of the icky, motherfucker!)
The truly revealing aspect of any artist's VIP is the people they allow in with them. And in the case of the Ying Yang Twins, they keep it real for real. Backstage, Kaine and D-Roc hang with the same cats who change tires at their favorite auto shop on Lee Street in the West End. It was the same crew that stopped for a heated game of street craps, then went onto the stage to help deliver the duo's top hits -- including "Halftime," "Twurkulator" and "Naggin'" -- to an all-ages audience.
Standing in the odd, Greco-Roman interior "courtyard" of the dinner theatre-like Club 908, Craig and I watched Conyers girls shake it, if not till soaking wet, at least until a whole lot sweaty. Trash talkin', but not trippin', the Ying Yang Twins took the crowd on a grind with its tire-shreddin', slung-low, booty-shake beats. And the Twins' friends took to the stage as well, to throw dem 'bows. The Twins showed that it ain't a party without family and friends, something this lone wolf is beginning to take to heart.
Back in VIP, the Henn' continued to flow as the autograph line formed, until the Twins headed back to the ATL, to what's real, and that's holding your bottle and your boys close. So, as the Ying Yang Twins say, "Put your middle finger up, if you don't give a fuck/Tilt ya head back, now finish the cup."
Keep one RedEye open. And send all comments, questions, observations and invitations to firstname.lastname@example.org.