I liked "Summer Girls" fine, because the onetime Lyte Funky Ones were pop-40 Beantown hoodies who creamed over the Beastie Boys and Larry Bird, and hey, me too. I stumbled over this worship of white men who excelled in black men's games—a classic Bostonian disease, more troubling than Abercrombie & Fitch product placement—and moved on, humming. Mostly, I liked the song because it was endearingly awkward, lacking both the fancy Swedish chord changes and competent grammar of LFO's cousins in Transcon's boyband empire. In short, I liked it despite feeling somewhat superior to it. No, wait. I... More >>>