I’m late on this. Kardinal was on Jay Leno last week and, oops, he mmmmmmashed it again:
I won’t get into how boring I think Akon is (okay I will: he’s really boring), but I do want to take a moment to profess my love for an under-appreciated hero: the likkle white towel. I got misty-eyed when Kardi whipped out the soca and started twirling that piece of cloth like a helicopter over his head. The sight of it made me sigh with nostalgia.
Oh, the towel.
Hip-hop towel, sweat towel, fête towel, call it what you will. It has long been not only a trapper of moisture but an accessory and a symbol. When you bring one of those towels to a jam, everyone knows you mean business. If a gang of people walk in with them — woowee! Keep your stamina up, kid, cause you know that party’s going to go allll night. I guess it’s something like the equivalent of bringing lawn chairs to a parade. If you’re about it, you’re about it.
Toss it over one shoulder, let it hang around your neck, drag out your back pocket, or flex a two-hand grip and lean into it. Wave your towel in the air when you’re feeling good, or wrap it around someone who’s looking good. It is multi-purposed — though not multi-use. The towel has always got to be fresh.
Big love to all my towel-rockers on dancefloors all over the world. Keep dabbing, yanking and twirling. Don’t stop til the ugly lights come on.