Donk.
Just look at it: a stupid arrangement of otherwise brilliant letters.
Donk as an ‘art-form’, however, is even more ridiculous. Twittering, as I have been of late, resulted in an accidental and brief conversation with someone about what Donk is. We couldn’t fully resolve what it was all about, and as neither of us cared enough, we allowed our exploration of Donk to dissolve into the update ether.
But, it hasn’t gone away. I clicked over to MySpace today, and was immediately confronted by a GENRE ALERT which was accompanied by a lineup of the aging, uglifying faces of Blazing Squad who appear to have re-branded themselves The Blackout Crew. Blackout Crew, incidentally, has to rank amongst the worst names for any sort of crew anywhere on the planet ever.
From what I can decipher -- a Donk can be:
a) A woman’s bum
b) A fierce kickdrum -- thus ‘putting a donk on it’
c) A specifc type of car wit wide-ass rims, yo.
Soulja Boy seems to have publicly coined the term in a video filmed with some of the more glamorous members of Baltimore’s West side crew, whilst he was dealing with a serious back problem.
Ouch. Brave fella that Soulja Boy.
Anyway, that kind of track encouraged dance moves like these:
Which, in turn, attracted the amarous, devoted cries of the youtube devotee:
kollectahX (5 hours ago)
honey in the black can get it.
Around the same time (July 2008) this well-judged article on ‘Donk’ appeared in The Guardian, and though concurring with John McDonnell’s appraisal, what most disconcerts me about the Blackout Crew’s form of Donk is its thunderous embrace of Euro-pap, combined with a consequent adoration of Donk by dumb kids.
The track ‘Put a Donk on it’ sounds like the Blackout boyz popped some happy pills and started rapidly shouting at eachother whilst playing something by Scooter in their local pub car park.
“Aaaah, reet good that -- let’s fucken record it, yeah? Get it down, yeah? Fucken yeah man, wicked -- sorted!” And, lo, a genre was borne…
And now, according to the MySpace advert, “The future has arrived” and, if you hadn’t guessed by now, it’s called Donk. Formed from reconstituted Scouse House or Bouncy House; it’s being branded British; it epitmoises musical abomination and it is the music that will be played in your elevator as you descend into hell if you fail to eschew listening to it this minute.
Just writing this brings me closer to the Dark Lord than I’ve ever been, so let’s leave the last word on Donk to those veritable pioneers of Donk.
“I’m like Superman without kryptonite, fat as hell without celulite and I look well sick in a U.V light. Speakin of sick that’s me on the mic and if you don’t like it get on ya bike. Pack ya bags and get out my sight, otherwise its left right left goodnight.”
Straight. To. Fucking. Hell.
Alright!