“This is a Brazilian ass shaker right here,” Kevin Federline tells MTV as he sits in a studio with his greasy hair pulled back into a ponytail and gigantic diamond earrings dangling from his ears.
He confidently flips a couple switches and announces his masterpiece, a song called “Popozão.”
As Mr. Britney Spears bobs his head and grooves to the dissonant sound of symbols, percussion and lame lyrics, I can’t help but cringe and feel a tad bit sorry for the guy – until he overconfidently ends the studio session by boasting, “That’s the one to get it all started right here.”
Oh K-Fed, you had me at “In Portuguese it means bring your ass.”
Being of Portuguese decent, I can only roll my eyes, shake my head in shame and apologize for the train-wreck that is “Popozão.”
Astrud Gilberto. Seu Jorge. Amália Rodrigues. Jorge Ben. Cristina Branco. Each of these talented musicians passionately exemplifies the true exquisiteness of the Portuguese language. But Kevin Federline?
Believe it or not, it gets worse. Last week, K-Fed unleashed “F*** the Media” via his MySpace music page, where fans – or people who just want a good laugh – can visit and hear him oh-so-eloquently gripe about the media criticizing his every move.
“This is for the haters,” Federline warns. “This is only for the haters.”
As he raps over a Thomas Dolby sample – made famous from Mobb Deep’s “Got It Twisted” – K-Fed claims that he’s soaring to the top, all while apparently “selling a million records.”
In roughly a minute and a half of this freestyle rap, he establishes that he’s a “crazy-ass white boy” with “Fresno on my back,” who now lives like a rock star with women flocking to him left and right.
He brags that he has a lavish mansion, a huge pool with a grotto and a backyard that resembles a jungle.
He bashes the paparazzi and celebrity magazines – in particular US Weekly – and affirms that he loves his wife and his children as he endearingly interjects a few choice curse words every 10 seconds.
Sounding as if it were a line from a Saturday Night Live skit, K-Fed tells the media, “You know what you can do? Grab your socks.”
Kevin Federline’s sudden new career path is disturbing on many levels – the obvious being that the guy isn’t necessarily packing the skills to be the next Jay-Z.
Federline’s songs have been torn to shreds by comedians, the media and – well – the general public.
Earlier this year on “Late Night With Conan O’Brien,” James Lipton, the refined host of “Inside the Actors Studio,” recited “Popozão”
Shakespearean-style, complete with a trashy trucker hat á la Federline.
As a response to “F*** the Media,” VH1’s Celebrity Eye Candy debuted “The We’re Sorry K-Fed Song” on Monday, which playfully apologizes for hounding Federline for all the supposedly unwanted attention.
What’s even more disturbing about Federline’s music is what he is bragging about in his songs. The women, the money, the fame. Not once does he mention how he exactly is able to sustain his luxurious lifestyle – via his pop star wife. Last time I checked, Federline himself was some faceless back-up dancer who became “freeloader of the year” practically overnight when he married Britney Spears. Now he’s an arrogant gangster rapper trash-talking the outlet that made him famous in the first place.
I’m all about music being a creative outlet, enabling individuals to experiment and to express themselves – whether it’s good or bad.
But even I have to admit that all subjectivity goes out the window regarding Federline’s artistic endeavors. K-Fed, stick to what you do best: being that guy in the baggy pants married to Britney Spears.
Tracy Spicer, a senior journalism major, is LV Life editor of the Campus Times. She can be reached by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.