For the Record

Author: Melissa Marshall

It was a problem that I could no longer ignore: my hips did lie, and they were laying completely and utterly still. When I would go to parties, I would try to drop like it was hot, but the closest I could get was lukewarm. I did not have an answer for what I was going to do with all that junk, all that junk up in my trunk, and my humps were most certainly no competition for the excess of cheap beer in terms of intoxicating the masses. I had backed my thang up against a wall of boredom and musical apathy. Fortunately, the help I need seems to be on the horizon. In their infinite wisdom, the International Students Organization has planned a Global Underground Party, which is to take place this Saturday evening. With the promise of lucid techno rhythms and grammatically incorrect lyrics, I now harbor the dream of becoming an expatriate of Cristal-coated poetry and repetitive beats that short-wire the brain, causing the listener to simulate mating. With these artists, you too will be inspired to bust moves that shine brighter than P Diddy's neck at a Grammy after-party.

Brazil has finally given America something joyful enough to neutralize the pain and suffering introduced by the Brazilian wax: Cansei de Ser Sexy. Their 2006 self-titled release has wormed its way into the head and hearts of ragers and indie-boppers alike - their single "Let's Make Love and Listen to Death from Above" solidifying itself as a mainstay on many self-proclaimed DJs' playlists. Although the band sings almost entirely in English, their often quirky and sometimes bizarre lyrics seem to mock the pompousness of the American music scene. All thirty-four minutes of the art rock act's virgin disc are rooted in danceablity. From "Music is my Hot Hot Sex" to "Off the Hook," Cansei de Ser Sexy will certainly exhaust your feet and hips, but don't worry, there will still be an excess of sexy.

And if CSS doesn't convince the masses of the miracles that can occur when the genders unite, then Sweden's own, The Sounds, will easily convert the few disbelievers. Their 2003 release Living in the America plays like a collection of A-sides and their single "Dance with Me" even enjoyed a few seconds of fame as a float in the parade of omnipresent background music employed by VH1. Even though their sound swirls like a throwback to such 80's darlings as Blondie and the Cars, Maja Ivarsson's powerfully throaty vocals over multi-layered tracks more than compensate for the comparisons. Their 2006 sophomore effort, "Dying to Say this to you," manages to evoke the same feel good euphoria as their debut, however, it fails to capture the catchy cohesiveness cemented throughout Living in America. On one track, Ivarsson croons, "I've got a nasty habit called rock n'roll," and after a few spins on the dance floor, The Sounds will become your new favorite addiction.

Now that you've wiggled and gyrated your way from the cusp of the Euro-trash to treasure genre, you're ready to cross the language barrier. Introduced to the states during the regrettable Latino invasion in the late 90's (my bon-bon was all shook out after three weeks of constant Catalan clones) Columbian-born Juanes produced music whose beats need no translation. Gaining critical acclaim, including five Grammy awards, for his 2002 release Un DÌa Normal, Juanes' music is slightly hackneyed yet heartfelt. While his third full-length album, Mi Sangre, lacks the same teeming tempo as Un DÌa Normal, tracks such as "La Camisa Negra" and "Amame" compete with such classics as "La Noche" and "Fotografia" in terms of arousing manic-maneuvers.

So tell Justin Timberlake to concentrate on patching things up with Cameron, sexy has been brung, and inform Missy Eliot that the only "dutch" I'll be passing will be in the form of Doe Maar records. Thanks to ISO's dedication, overseas is no longer under-exposed, and neither will be your dance moves. I may have ninety-nine problems, but now rhythm ain't one.