Intrigue- I Like It (1982)

The intrigue and allure of driving around in a shiny, brand-new drop-top Beamer is lost completely if you're driving around loudly listening to talk radio discuss why allergies are so prevalent nowadays.

The Brothers Johnson- Stomp! (1980)

On the top of the list of things I swore I'd never do, but secretly knew I probably couldn't avoid forever: Cirque Du Soleil. For those who don't know, Cirque Du Soleil is what happens when you give French Canadians their own circus. They stomp around in elaborate costumes and everyone is a contortionist, or someone that enjoys genuinely endangering themselves. Watching people fly through the air, catching each other mid-flip, I spent half the show marveling at the control these people had over their bodies, and the other half staring at the floor, shaking my head and thinking to myself "white people".

p.s. RIP Louis Johnson.

George Duke- Reach Out (1983)

Working with street youth can be tough. With a natural distrust of the system, connections can be hard to make, and can take weeks or even months to make any headway at all. All in all, I've just learned over the years to try to be as approachable as possible, and listen more than I speak. I have to admit, though, there's still a very small part of my brain that wants to turn my baseball cap backwards, sit on my chair the wrong way, and start speaking in faux ebonics, just like the Narcs that use to come do anti-drug presentations at my elementary school. The fact that I'm ten years in the game without being stabbed tells me that I am correct to stifle those urges.

Keni Burke- Risin' To The Top (1981)

Here's a hot late spring tip for all of you fellas: if you have to question whether or not it is tank-top weather, it is decidedly not tank-top weather.

Ike Turner Ft. Tina Turner and Home Grown Funk- Party Vibes (1980)

They say that your priorities change as you grow up, and it's kind-of true. Like, instead of worrying about drinking and partying every single Friday, my grown brain is mostly just concerned with getting my damn pants off and watching Stevie J raw-dog chicks on Love and Hip Hop: Atlanta.