Man, I really hate the aughts. I shouldn’t, I mean, so far the aughts have admittedly been pretty fucking sweet. But then I think back on the 90s and the great music that came out and I become disgusted with the aughts all over again. It’s so funny how we hated songs that were played on the radio incessantly and disregarded them like unwanted side dishes. But now that we are old farts, we revel in nostalgia and cling to anything that reminds us of, or helps us return to, our youth.
Take Mark Morrison, for example. A bloke from London, England, I assume. The brother looked like DMX before we even knew who DMX was. And, for real, for real, nobody here knew he was British. But dammit, he burst on the scene with “Return of the Mack,” and this song jammed. I’m not even sure he had a follow-up single; hell, I don’t even know if he released a proper album. But I do know there was “Return of the Mack.” Continue reading