Mixtape Friday: Bliss
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
Making a girl a mix is always a dangerous idea. If things don't work out, the painful memory could spoil the songs forever. I can never listen to Ace of Base again after a traumatic breakup with my fifth grade girlfriend. I think about us every time I hear "our song." If it's early on in the relationship, buy her a diamond or make her a card, but don't make her a mix and risk ruining a great Al Green song forever. If you really love her, share your music with your girl (but don't blame me when you get a subpoena from the RIAA).
A-Side
Blackalicious "Make You Feel That Way" Blazing Arrow
This song, arranged around light strings and horns, floats above your head near the altitude of enamored love. Gift of Gab raps about all the things that make you feel that way, including "Christmas day when your momma got your first bike/ type of feeling when you went and won your first fight/ How your team felt winning championship games/ Celebrate in a huddle, dancing in this rain." Gab seems to admit that love remains just beyond the boundary of speech and prefers to sing about the other parts of life that almost compare. He doesn't even mention love until the last line of the song, after he rather awkwardly and unsuccessfully tries to describe feeling that way: "It's love. It's love. It's love."
The Cure "Just Like Heaven" Greatest Hits
Some songs represent your love for your girlfriend or remind you of her. These are the dangerous songs because they are subject to the fickle tide of relationships. "Just Like Heaven" is safe from such contamination because it's about the abstract sensation of love, not someone in particular. My mom once told me she has never fallen in love without this song to accompany her.
The words, though beautiful, are rather unimportant compared to the emotion the song conjures. "Spinning on that dizzy edge/ I kissed her face and kissed her head/ And dreamed of all the different ways I had to make her glow." The only thing better than the original is the live acoustic version on Disc 2 of The Cure's Greatest Hits compilation, stripped naked to reveal its subtle, nervous emotion.
B-Side
Louis Jordan "Knock Me a Kiss" Greatest Hits
There are very few things that I can unequivocally state that I have loved my entire life, including muted trumpets, free parking validation, and most of all, cake. As a result, I understand just how much Louis Jordan loves his girl when he sings "I like cake, make no mistake, but baby if you insist/ I'll cut out cake, just for your sake/ Baby, c'mon and knock me a kiss." (I was equally, though very embarrassedly, amused by 50 Cent's promise, "I love you like a fat kid loves cake." This is the worst part about mainsteam rap - it tricks you into liking something that you actually hate with a passion).
Jordan knows the exact moment he fell in love: "When you pressed your little lips to mine, that was when I understood/ they taste like candy, brandy, and wine/ peaches, bananas, and everything good."
G. Love & Special Sauce "My Baby's Got Sauce" G. Love & Special Sauce
G. Love lacks the gooey Al Green croon, the poetic U2 lyrics, or the sexy D'Angelo bassline, but he loves his girl nonetheless. Endearingly off-tune, he sings, "My lady got the special sauce/ that's why she's my baby, my baby, my baby/ And of course I'll do anything for her." While rappers exchange unrealistic brags about how big their penises are and how often an assorted group of females have come into contact with the aforementioned penis, G. Love proves himself to be the truly enviable one: "My baby got sauce, your baby ain't sweet like mine."
February 17, 2004
Teen girls scream for Atmosphere
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
The crowd at Atmosphere's concert at the Roxy on Feb. 10 could be divided into two groups: hip-hop fans and Atmosphere fans. The hip-hop fans rapped along with classic Mobb Deep songs before the show and were impressed by the freestyle encore, while the Atmosphere fans sang along with Slug and were impressed by his sensitive lyrics and boyish good looks.
Atmosphere (composed of emcee Slug, DJ Mr. Dibbs, and producer Ant) has been the most recent underground darling to bubble up to the mainstream. After years of consistently releasing quality albums, promoting new talent and relentlessly touring, Atmosphere's Minneapolis indie label, Rhymesayers, could no longer manage to distribute its records to match increasing demand. Atmosphere didn't sell out; its popularity simply outgrew the infrastructure of the underground.
Instead of jumping ship by himself when major labels began courting him, Slug declared that his Rhymesayers crew came as a package. To get Atmosphere, labels needed to agree to distribute all of the artists on Slug's label as well.
Surprisingly, Slug found a willing accomplice in punk label Epitaph. Rappers often go back and promote their crew after they make it big, but Atmosphere jeopardized his own stardom by refusing to abandon them in the first place.
Opening for Atmosphere were label mates Eyedea and Abilities. Eyedea is a talented lyricist paired with the absolutely astonishing DJ Abilities. Abilities was the surprise highlight of the concert, outshining all of the emcees. He created entirely new beats for the rappers while onstage that would compete with some of the best underground production that's labored over in a studio for hours.
Eyedea unfortunately seemed to suffer from a little brother complex. Eyedea's style of slightly maniacal emo-rap seemed all too familiar. He's trying to do what big brother Atmosphere does so well, but it isn't his particular strength. Though his emotion seemed feigned and exaggerated, his lyrical abilities shone through the content, demonstrating his strength as a rapper despite his undeveloped song-writing potential.
When Slug came onstage, the girls went wild. He gave a passionate performance, accompanied by fellow emcee Blueprint. He opened his set with "Trying to Find a Balance," his current single that earned him his first-ever video on MTV2. Atmosphere enjoys a large body of work from which to choose and played songs from a wide variety of his albums, including Lucy Ford, God Loves Ugly, and his newest, Seven's Travels.
Halfway through the show, Mr. Dibbs surprised everyone and dropped a Rage Against the Machine song on the turntables. A circle immediately opened in the audience, but it wasn't a cypher with local b-boys, but a raucus mosh pit, which again demonstrated that Atmosphere's fans are not the typical hip-hop crowd.
Racial diversity at underground hip-hop shows is no longer a novelty. White kids at a Boston rap concert are certainly nothing to write home about, but white girls, on the other hand, are a rather rare occurrence. The hip-hop market tends to be male dominated, but Atmosphere's success can largely be attributed to his popularity with white college girls.
Don't misinterpret this as an indication that Slug is some sort of pretty boy pop sensation. Slug is definitely not very pretty. Nevertheless, his emotionally-charged lyrics about his tumultuous relationship with his girlfriend have attracted female fans who are otherwise uninterested in rap.
Slug seemed to recognize this and encouraged his fans to expand their musical tastes to other underground artists, such as Jean Grae and Cannibal Ox, which should end the ridiculous misconception that there is any sort of underground beef between Rhymesayers and Def Jux.
Slug ended the show by calling Eyedea out for an impressive freestyle session to remind everyone that Slug is still a great rapper under all that emotional baggage. After everyone else left, Slug told the crowd, "I'm not here to make money. I'm here because this is what I love. When I go home, I don't know what else to do.
"I suck at X-box, so I go on tour and rap for you people," he said.
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
The crowd at Atmosphere's concert at the Roxy on Feb. 10 could be divided into two groups: hip-hop fans and Atmosphere fans. The hip-hop fans rapped along with classic Mobb Deep songs before the show and were impressed by the freestyle encore, while the Atmosphere fans sang along with Slug and were impressed by his sensitive lyrics and boyish good looks.
Atmosphere (composed of emcee Slug, DJ Mr. Dibbs, and producer Ant) has been the most recent underground darling to bubble up to the mainstream. After years of consistently releasing quality albums, promoting new talent and relentlessly touring, Atmosphere's Minneapolis indie label, Rhymesayers, could no longer manage to distribute its records to match increasing demand. Atmosphere didn't sell out; its popularity simply outgrew the infrastructure of the underground.
Instead of jumping ship by himself when major labels began courting him, Slug declared that his Rhymesayers crew came as a package. To get Atmosphere, labels needed to agree to distribute all of the artists on Slug's label as well.
Surprisingly, Slug found a willing accomplice in punk label Epitaph. Rappers often go back and promote their crew after they make it big, but Atmosphere jeopardized his own stardom by refusing to abandon them in the first place.
Opening for Atmosphere were label mates Eyedea and Abilities. Eyedea is a talented lyricist paired with the absolutely astonishing DJ Abilities. Abilities was the surprise highlight of the concert, outshining all of the emcees. He created entirely new beats for the rappers while onstage that would compete with some of the best underground production that's labored over in a studio for hours.
Eyedea unfortunately seemed to suffer from a little brother complex. Eyedea's style of slightly maniacal emo-rap seemed all too familiar. He's trying to do what big brother Atmosphere does so well, but it isn't his particular strength. Though his emotion seemed feigned and exaggerated, his lyrical abilities shone through the content, demonstrating his strength as a rapper despite his undeveloped song-writing potential.
When Slug came onstage, the girls went wild. He gave a passionate performance, accompanied by fellow emcee Blueprint. He opened his set with "Trying to Find a Balance," his current single that earned him his first-ever video on MTV2. Atmosphere enjoys a large body of work from which to choose and played songs from a wide variety of his albums, including Lucy Ford, God Loves Ugly, and his newest, Seven's Travels.
Halfway through the show, Mr. Dibbs surprised everyone and dropped a Rage Against the Machine song on the turntables. A circle immediately opened in the audience, but it wasn't a cypher with local b-boys, but a raucus mosh pit, which again demonstrated that Atmosphere's fans are not the typical hip-hop crowd.
Racial diversity at underground hip-hop shows is no longer a novelty. White kids at a Boston rap concert are certainly nothing to write home about, but white girls, on the other hand, are a rather rare occurrence. The hip-hop market tends to be male dominated, but Atmosphere's success can largely be attributed to his popularity with white college girls.
Don't misinterpret this as an indication that Slug is some sort of pretty boy pop sensation. Slug is definitely not very pretty. Nevertheless, his emotionally-charged lyrics about his tumultuous relationship with his girlfriend have attracted female fans who are otherwise uninterested in rap.
Slug seemed to recognize this and encouraged his fans to expand their musical tastes to other underground artists, such as Jean Grae and Cannibal Ox, which should end the ridiculous misconception that there is any sort of underground beef between Rhymesayers and Def Jux.
Slug ended the show by calling Eyedea out for an impressive freestyle session to remind everyone that Slug is still a great rapper under all that emotional baggage. After everyone else left, Slug told the crowd, "I'm not here to make money. I'm here because this is what I love. When I go home, I don't know what else to do.
"I suck at X-box, so I go on tour and rap for you people," he said.
February 10, 2004
Beatles Sing Back-up for Jay-Z
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
When John Lennon said, "Music is everybody's possession. It's only publishers who think that people own it," clearly he failed to anticipate underground hip-hop producer DJ Danger Mouse.
Danger Mouse (DM) has taken the anarchy of musical intellectual property to a new level by remixing Jay-Z's Black Album, using nothing but samples from the Beatles' White Album, creating an impressive and entertaining new remix, The Grey Album.
When Jay-Z released the a capella version of his entire Black Album on vinyl, he seemed to be offering his tacit approval for DJs remixing his vocals onto their own beats. In just a few months, no less than six major producers have offered their own versions of Jay-Z's final album.
The remix fad began with 9th Wonder, when he remixed Nas' God's Son, layering Nas' vocals on top of his own signature fluid, old school beats. The remix project earned the unknown producer so much buzz that when Jay-Z was gathering his all-star list of producers for The Black Album, he included 9th Wonder.
At first, Danger Mouse wasn't even going to do his own remix, since he knew that so many other DJ's would be doing the same. He was busy working on other projects, including the follow-up to his stellar debut album with emcee Jemini, Ghetto Pop Life.
Then, the idea of taking samples exclusively from the Beatles' White Album dawned on him. "I did it real quick," Danger Mouse told The Heights in an interview, "because I was afraid someone else was going to have the same idea." After just two weeks and over 200 hours of studio time, Danger Mouse released his remix.
The Grey Album is awe-inspiring collage of Ringo's snare, Paul's bass, Lennon's voice, and Harrison's weeping guitar that demonstrates the delicate art of sample-based production. Some songs are immediately recognizable as looped samples, while DM rearranges some songs to an almost indecipherable effect.
"It was basically just an experiment for me, like an art project," DM said. "I'm actually surprised people like it because I really just did it for me. It was a test, like 'For this song I have two loops and that's it, so let's see what I can do with that.'"
On "What More Can I Say," when Jay-Z's first verse drops on top of a slowed down guitar riff from "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," the collaboration at first catches the listener off guard. Fortunately, the quality of Danger Mouse's production eclipses the gimmick that initially piques listener's interest.
Many will listen to the album simply for the concept's novelty value, but this is no generic mash-up. On "Dirt Off Your Shoulder," DM takes "Julia," speeds it up, slices it in half and throws some meat on the beat until it's an entirely new song.
As Nick Hornby writes in Songbook, to accuse an artist like Danger Mouse of plagiarism is ridiculous: "You may as well make the same case against a writer whose book contain words that other writers have used before."
Unfortunately, copyright law does not agree. Sampling has been a rich man's game ever since Biz Markie was sued for sampling in 1991. The judge ruled that the Biz had violated "not only the Seventh Commandment, but also the copyright laws of this country."
Danger Mouse knew there was an insurmountable sample clearance issue that prevented him from releasing the album commercially and instead made the album available to friends and fans on underground hip-hop sites on the Internet. Recently, the album has even disappeared from these non-traditional venues.
Danger Mouse suggests, "Go find it on the Internet and make copies for your friends. I knew I was never going to make money off this, that wasn't why I did it."
On "Encore," DM's production reaches its most impressive point, with a looped breakbeat from "Glass Onion." Halfway through the song, DM switches the beat to a short drum-based sample from 1:08 into "Savoy Truffle."
On some songs, such as "Moment of Clarity," Danger Mouse falters and fails to create an engaging beat from the scraps of "Happiness Is A Warm Gun." Similarly, The Beatles' "Cry Baby Cry" doesn't seems to be able to keep up with Jay-Z's double-time rhyme on "My 1st Song."
The Grey Album shows what Danger Mouse and sample-based production in general is capable of, if not for the financial limitation involved in clearing samples. Most likely this sort of art will continue to flourish in the underground, below the radar of record label lawyers but just perfect for true hip-hop fans.
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
When John Lennon said, "Music is everybody's possession. It's only publishers who think that people own it," clearly he failed to anticipate underground hip-hop producer DJ Danger Mouse.
Danger Mouse (DM) has taken the anarchy of musical intellectual property to a new level by remixing Jay-Z's Black Album, using nothing but samples from the Beatles' White Album, creating an impressive and entertaining new remix, The Grey Album.
When Jay-Z released the a capella version of his entire Black Album on vinyl, he seemed to be offering his tacit approval for DJs remixing his vocals onto their own beats. In just a few months, no less than six major producers have offered their own versions of Jay-Z's final album.
The remix fad began with 9th Wonder, when he remixed Nas' God's Son, layering Nas' vocals on top of his own signature fluid, old school beats. The remix project earned the unknown producer so much buzz that when Jay-Z was gathering his all-star list of producers for The Black Album, he included 9th Wonder.
At first, Danger Mouse wasn't even going to do his own remix, since he knew that so many other DJ's would be doing the same. He was busy working on other projects, including the follow-up to his stellar debut album with emcee Jemini, Ghetto Pop Life.
Then, the idea of taking samples exclusively from the Beatles' White Album dawned on him. "I did it real quick," Danger Mouse told The Heights in an interview, "because I was afraid someone else was going to have the same idea." After just two weeks and over 200 hours of studio time, Danger Mouse released his remix.
The Grey Album is awe-inspiring collage of Ringo's snare, Paul's bass, Lennon's voice, and Harrison's weeping guitar that demonstrates the delicate art of sample-based production. Some songs are immediately recognizable as looped samples, while DM rearranges some songs to an almost indecipherable effect.
"It was basically just an experiment for me, like an art project," DM said. "I'm actually surprised people like it because I really just did it for me. It was a test, like 'For this song I have two loops and that's it, so let's see what I can do with that.'"
On "What More Can I Say," when Jay-Z's first verse drops on top of a slowed down guitar riff from "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," the collaboration at first catches the listener off guard. Fortunately, the quality of Danger Mouse's production eclipses the gimmick that initially piques listener's interest.
Many will listen to the album simply for the concept's novelty value, but this is no generic mash-up. On "Dirt Off Your Shoulder," DM takes "Julia," speeds it up, slices it in half and throws some meat on the beat until it's an entirely new song.
As Nick Hornby writes in Songbook, to accuse an artist like Danger Mouse of plagiarism is ridiculous: "You may as well make the same case against a writer whose book contain words that other writers have used before."
Unfortunately, copyright law does not agree. Sampling has been a rich man's game ever since Biz Markie was sued for sampling in 1991. The judge ruled that the Biz had violated "not only the Seventh Commandment, but also the copyright laws of this country."
Danger Mouse knew there was an insurmountable sample clearance issue that prevented him from releasing the album commercially and instead made the album available to friends and fans on underground hip-hop sites on the Internet. Recently, the album has even disappeared from these non-traditional venues.
Danger Mouse suggests, "Go find it on the Internet and make copies for your friends. I knew I was never going to make money off this, that wasn't why I did it."
On "Encore," DM's production reaches its most impressive point, with a looped breakbeat from "Glass Onion." Halfway through the song, DM switches the beat to a short drum-based sample from 1:08 into "Savoy Truffle."
On some songs, such as "Moment of Clarity," Danger Mouse falters and fails to create an engaging beat from the scraps of "Happiness Is A Warm Gun." Similarly, The Beatles' "Cry Baby Cry" doesn't seems to be able to keep up with Jay-Z's double-time rhyme on "My 1st Song."
The Grey Album shows what Danger Mouse and sample-based production in general is capable of, if not for the financial limitation involved in clearing samples. Most likely this sort of art will continue to flourish in the underground, below the radar of record label lawyers but just perfect for true hip-hop fans.
Mixtape Friday - International Hip-Hop
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
Puff Daddy (I refuse to call him P. Diddy) once bragged, "I been around the world," but these emcees are from around the world. As technology increases the speed and ease with which music can traverse international borders, billions of ears around the world have fallen in love with hip-hop. By fusing regional style and international flavor, rappers from around the world have created some of the most innovate hip-hop in years. In the '80s, Slick Rick's British accent was a novelty; now KRS-One is rapping on a track with a teenage Japanese emcee, Lil Ai.
k-os "Call Me" Exit
Canadian rapper k-os (pronounced "chaos") raps in the tradition of fellow anti-Babylon revolutionaries Bob Marley and Lauryn Hill and combines large chunks of reggae, jazz, and funk. His debut album is quite simply one of the most impressive, beautiful pieces of music released in recent memory. Most notably, Exit is a complete album, with 11 diverse but thematically related tracks, with acoustic flamenco guitars, wailing vocals, and deep organic beats.
k-os explains the spiritual undertones of his tracks: "My parents are Jehovah's Witnesses so they go door-to-door with their messages. But for me, I've made a CD that has a chance to get into people's homes, and I don't have to knock on doors. People are taking me into their homes simply because they want to."
Lyrics Born "Callin' Out" Later That Day
When Rakim was rapping in New York in the '80s, he probably never imagined that people would be listening halfway around the world. Tokyo-born Tom Shimura moved to California and started making beats with friends at UC Davis. One of his friends, Josh Davis, is now better known as DJ Shadow, while another, Gift of Gab, later formed Blackalicious. On Later That Day, Shimura's debut under the moniker Lyrics Born, he proves UC Davis might be the next Berklee School of Music.
"Callin' Out," featuring pro-skateboarder Tommy Guerrero, offers a nasty beat for Lyrics Born to drop his breathless flow: "My life is the culmination of my past achievements/ with a lotta heavy liftin, a lotta deep breathin/ a lotta courage, a lotta doubt, a lotta mixed feelins/ a lotta love, a lotta luggage for a lotta reasons."
Orishas "537 CUBA" A Lo Cubano
"It's a goddamn hip-hop world, and now it has even invaded Cuba," complained Ry Cooder, producer of Cuba's most famous musical export, Buena Vista Social Club. For those excited by change and progress, rather then afraid of it, the Orishas are the future of hip-hop and world music in general. They rap in fluid Spanish over classic Cuban afro-jazz combined with contemporary hip-hop beats.
In their 2000 debut A Lo Cubano and follow-up Emigrante, the Orishas generally avoided sampling, but "537 CUBA" is a hip-hop remix of Compay Segundo's classic "Chan Chan." They also avoid the polemic issues of politics and communism in Cuba, preferring to focus on the personal experience of growing up on the island. Rapper Yotuel explains, "Adding a danceable rhythm to socially conscious lyrics is like the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down."
The Streets "Weak Becomes Heroes" Original Pirate Material
Mike Skinner, aka The Streets, recorded his debut album in his basement, while his mum screamed at him to turn the music down. His lyrics are filled with local lingo: Girls are "birds," guys are "geezers," and weak rhymes are "rhubarb and custard verses."
He doesn't even actually rap, but just kind of talks in some sort of syncopated rhythm, often apathetic to the beat. He is definitely not rapping about life in "the streets," but mostly about PlayStation 2 and ordering Chinese food with some serious munchies.
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
Puff Daddy (I refuse to call him P. Diddy) once bragged, "I been around the world," but these emcees are from around the world. As technology increases the speed and ease with which music can traverse international borders, billions of ears around the world have fallen in love with hip-hop. By fusing regional style and international flavor, rappers from around the world have created some of the most innovate hip-hop in years. In the '80s, Slick Rick's British accent was a novelty; now KRS-One is rapping on a track with a teenage Japanese emcee, Lil Ai.
k-os "Call Me" Exit
Canadian rapper k-os (pronounced "chaos") raps in the tradition of fellow anti-Babylon revolutionaries Bob Marley and Lauryn Hill and combines large chunks of reggae, jazz, and funk. His debut album is quite simply one of the most impressive, beautiful pieces of music released in recent memory. Most notably, Exit is a complete album, with 11 diverse but thematically related tracks, with acoustic flamenco guitars, wailing vocals, and deep organic beats.
k-os explains the spiritual undertones of his tracks: "My parents are Jehovah's Witnesses so they go door-to-door with their messages. But for me, I've made a CD that has a chance to get into people's homes, and I don't have to knock on doors. People are taking me into their homes simply because they want to."
Lyrics Born "Callin' Out" Later That Day
When Rakim was rapping in New York in the '80s, he probably never imagined that people would be listening halfway around the world. Tokyo-born Tom Shimura moved to California and started making beats with friends at UC Davis. One of his friends, Josh Davis, is now better known as DJ Shadow, while another, Gift of Gab, later formed Blackalicious. On Later That Day, Shimura's debut under the moniker Lyrics Born, he proves UC Davis might be the next Berklee School of Music.
"Callin' Out," featuring pro-skateboarder Tommy Guerrero, offers a nasty beat for Lyrics Born to drop his breathless flow: "My life is the culmination of my past achievements/ with a lotta heavy liftin, a lotta deep breathin/ a lotta courage, a lotta doubt, a lotta mixed feelins/ a lotta love, a lotta luggage for a lotta reasons."
Orishas "537 CUBA" A Lo Cubano
"It's a goddamn hip-hop world, and now it has even invaded Cuba," complained Ry Cooder, producer of Cuba's most famous musical export, Buena Vista Social Club. For those excited by change and progress, rather then afraid of it, the Orishas are the future of hip-hop and world music in general. They rap in fluid Spanish over classic Cuban afro-jazz combined with contemporary hip-hop beats.
In their 2000 debut A Lo Cubano and follow-up Emigrante, the Orishas generally avoided sampling, but "537 CUBA" is a hip-hop remix of Compay Segundo's classic "Chan Chan." They also avoid the polemic issues of politics and communism in Cuba, preferring to focus on the personal experience of growing up on the island. Rapper Yotuel explains, "Adding a danceable rhythm to socially conscious lyrics is like the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down."
The Streets "Weak Becomes Heroes" Original Pirate Material
Mike Skinner, aka The Streets, recorded his debut album in his basement, while his mum screamed at him to turn the music down. His lyrics are filled with local lingo: Girls are "birds," guys are "geezers," and weak rhymes are "rhubarb and custard verses."
He doesn't even actually rap, but just kind of talks in some sort of syncopated rhythm, often apathetic to the beat. He is definitely not rapping about life in "the streets," but mostly about PlayStation 2 and ordering Chinese food with some serious munchies.
February 3, 2004
KRS-One hosts annual Boston MC Battle
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
As 2,000 hip-hop fans waited for the Sixth Annual Superbowl MC Battle to begin, a circle opened up in the middle of the crowd. To everyone's surprise, the cipher wasn't started by local freestlyers or break-dancers, but the legendary KRS-One.
"We want to take it back to where it all started," KRS yelled. "With b-boys showing their skills in the cipher."
The scene was entirely different from last year's battle at The Middle East. Fans in the crowd said that last year's battle felt gritty and underground, whereas this year radio station Jam'n 94.5 advertised the event heavily. The inclusion of KRS-One guaranteed a huge showing.
The increased advertising clearly affected the appearance of the battle. Sponsored by MetroConcepts, Digizaar.com, Scion, and Vitamin Water, the stage was filled with advertisements for products. The contestants did not comment about whether the pink bottles of vitamin-enriched water helped their performance.
Many people complained that the battle felt corporate and that the organizers sold out by betraying the foundations of what an emcee battle should be.
Nevertheless, the increased exposure brought a more diverse crowd. KRS-One celebrated hip-hop's ability to bring people from different backgrounds together when a young white girl wearing Abercrombie & Fitch started break dancing on stage alongside an Asian man wearing Triple Five Soul.
"This is hip-hop, right here!" KRS-One said. "We got people here of every race, every social class, every gender."
The increased sponsorship also allowed the grand prize to be raised, from last year's $1,000 to $5,000 this year. Instead of giving the winner his prize in cash, as usually occurs in a battle, the winner was handed a big check, like he'd just won Ed McMahon's Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.
The annual Boston battle pits 16 contestants from around the country against each other in alternating one minute, one-on-one freestyles. Last year's winner, local rapper Jake the Snake, competed again, but lost before the finals.
The finals showcased Diabolic from Long Island, and Rhymefest from Indianapolis. To the disproval of much of the crowd, the celebrity panel, which included local rapper Akrobatik, awarded Diabolic the win.
Despite quite a few talented contestants, the highlight of the battle was still KRS-One's half-time show. The former Boogie Down Productions emcee performed most of his classics, like "South Bronx" and "My Philosophy," and some of his new songs such as "Let's Go."
Most of the contestants seemed to be in awe of KRS and referenced his presence and influence on hip-hop repeatedly in their lyrics. Other popular topics included Kobe Bryant's rape case, local rapper Benzino, and the New England Patriots.
The battle is known as the Superbowl Battle because it used to take place on Superbowl Sunday, yet it was changed three years ago when the Patriots were in the big game. Past contestants include Jin, Sage Francis, C Rayz Walz, and Mr. Lif, all of whom were unsigned hype at the time and have moved on to successful careers at major underground hip-hop labels.
"Rap is something you do. Hip-hop is something you live"
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
As 2,000 hip-hop fans waited for the Sixth Annual Superbowl MC Battle to begin, a circle opened up in the middle of the crowd. To everyone's surprise, the cipher wasn't started by local freestlyers or break-dancers, but the legendary KRS-One.
"We want to take it back to where it all started," KRS yelled. "With b-boys showing their skills in the cipher."
The scene was entirely different from last year's battle at The Middle East. Fans in the crowd said that last year's battle felt gritty and underground, whereas this year radio station Jam'n 94.5 advertised the event heavily. The inclusion of KRS-One guaranteed a huge showing.
The increased advertising clearly affected the appearance of the battle. Sponsored by MetroConcepts, Digizaar.com, Scion, and Vitamin Water, the stage was filled with advertisements for products. The contestants did not comment about whether the pink bottles of vitamin-enriched water helped their performance.
Many people complained that the battle felt corporate and that the organizers sold out by betraying the foundations of what an emcee battle should be.
Nevertheless, the increased exposure brought a more diverse crowd. KRS-One celebrated hip-hop's ability to bring people from different backgrounds together when a young white girl wearing Abercrombie & Fitch started break dancing on stage alongside an Asian man wearing Triple Five Soul.
"This is hip-hop, right here!" KRS-One said. "We got people here of every race, every social class, every gender."
The increased sponsorship also allowed the grand prize to be raised, from last year's $1,000 to $5,000 this year. Instead of giving the winner his prize in cash, as usually occurs in a battle, the winner was handed a big check, like he'd just won Ed McMahon's Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.
The annual Boston battle pits 16 contestants from around the country against each other in alternating one minute, one-on-one freestyles. Last year's winner, local rapper Jake the Snake, competed again, but lost before the finals.
The finals showcased Diabolic from Long Island, and Rhymefest from Indianapolis. To the disproval of much of the crowd, the celebrity panel, which included local rapper Akrobatik, awarded Diabolic the win.
Despite quite a few talented contestants, the highlight of the battle was still KRS-One's half-time show. The former Boogie Down Productions emcee performed most of his classics, like "South Bronx" and "My Philosophy," and some of his new songs such as "Let's Go."
Most of the contestants seemed to be in awe of KRS and referenced his presence and influence on hip-hop repeatedly in their lyrics. Other popular topics included Kobe Bryant's rape case, local rapper Benzino, and the New England Patriots.
The battle is known as the Superbowl Battle because it used to take place on Superbowl Sunday, yet it was changed three years ago when the Patriots were in the big game. Past contestants include Jin, Sage Francis, C Rayz Walz, and Mr. Lif, all of whom were unsigned hype at the time and have moved on to successful careers at major underground hip-hop labels.
"Rap is something you do. Hip-hop is something you live"
MixTape Friday: Game Recognize Game
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
Thank God '80s music sucked so bad. Future b-boys were so disgusted by the songs on the radio that they went searching for music in their pop's record collection. What they found was a treasure chest of soul that would supply hip-hop with samples for years to come. After pillaging Motown and sucking dry every last funky riff from the trinity of James Brown, Al Greene, and George Clinton, producers have been forced to dig deeper in those crates of LPs for that perfect sample.
A-Side
Mtume "Juicy Fruit" Juicy Fruit
Rappers capitalize on the musical public's poor memory. Songs that were over-played radio hits just 10 years prior are now all but forgotten, allowing hip-hop to remix, repackage, and resell old goods. Notorious BIG's classic "Juicy," the first single off Biggie's classic debut Ready To Die, was produced by beat maestro Pete Rock using considerable portions of Mtume's 1985 song "Juicy Fruit." Pete Rock took the light beat and rerecorded the hook with a chorus of women rather than paying Mtume for her vocal sample.
Michael McDonald "I Keep Forgetin" If That's What It Takes
Warren G's "Regulators" keeps the simple, minimalist melody from McDonald's 1982 love song, but changes the former Doobie Brother and Steely Dan background singer's sad, wimpy lyrics from "I keep forgettin' we're not in love anymore/ I keep forgettin' things will never be the same again" to "I got a car full of girls and it's going real swell/ The next stop is the Eastside Motel."
Freddie Scott "(You)Got What I Need" Cry To Me
Listening to Scott's beautiful voice sing his 1968 hit doesn't sound right. Biz Markie has the best horrible voice in hip-hop and his laughably bad singing on "Just A Friend" from The Diabolical Biz Markie is one of the best songs for drunk karaoke. His croon is endearingly off-tune, perfectly matching his cartoon personality with a ridiculous voice.
It was a sad day in hip-hop when Biz Markie sanctioned an R&B remix by teeny-bopper Mario. When given the choice between Freddie Scott and Biz Markie, Pepsi decided to use the Biz in their Super Bowl commercial. Like he said, nobody beats the Biz.
B-Side
David McCallum "The Edge" Music: A Bit More Of Me
How Dr. Dre ever came across David McCallum's music escapes me. McCallum is an obscure British actor who dabbled in some orchestral writing in the 1960s, producing mostly crappy lounge music, but "The Edge" is his masterpiece. It opens with a bang (the same bang that opens Dre's "Next Episode"), but whimpers off with a light melody. Dre threw some heavy bass on top of McCallum's, to give it the meat you hear on 2001. Ever-thrifty, Dr. Dre usually prefers to rerecord the entire sample in his studio, turning it into an "interpolation" rather than a sample. This allows him to pay only the writer of the song, and not the performer.
Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway "Be Real Black For Me"
No duet since Ella Fitzgerald and Louie Armstrong has produced such beautiful, soulful music as Roberta and Donny. From the pathos of "I (Who Have Nothing)" to the lush melody of "When Love Has Grown," the duet's only album was nearly perfect. Scarface looped the short piano intro to "Be Real Black For Me" for his song "On My Block" from The Fix, one of the most under-appreciated hip-hop albums of the last five years.
William Bell "I Forgot To Be Your Lover" Bound To Happen
This is one of the most over-sampled guitar licks in hip-hop. From Ludacris' "Growing Pains" to Dilated Peoples' "Worst Comes To Worst," the electric guitar melody and accompanying chorus of violins beg to be sampled.
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
Thank God '80s music sucked so bad. Future b-boys were so disgusted by the songs on the radio that they went searching for music in their pop's record collection. What they found was a treasure chest of soul that would supply hip-hop with samples for years to come. After pillaging Motown and sucking dry every last funky riff from the trinity of James Brown, Al Greene, and George Clinton, producers have been forced to dig deeper in those crates of LPs for that perfect sample.
A-Side
Mtume "Juicy Fruit" Juicy Fruit
Rappers capitalize on the musical public's poor memory. Songs that were over-played radio hits just 10 years prior are now all but forgotten, allowing hip-hop to remix, repackage, and resell old goods. Notorious BIG's classic "Juicy," the first single off Biggie's classic debut Ready To Die, was produced by beat maestro Pete Rock using considerable portions of Mtume's 1985 song "Juicy Fruit." Pete Rock took the light beat and rerecorded the hook with a chorus of women rather than paying Mtume for her vocal sample.
Michael McDonald "I Keep Forgetin" If That's What It Takes
Warren G's "Regulators" keeps the simple, minimalist melody from McDonald's 1982 love song, but changes the former Doobie Brother and Steely Dan background singer's sad, wimpy lyrics from "I keep forgettin' we're not in love anymore/ I keep forgettin' things will never be the same again" to "I got a car full of girls and it's going real swell/ The next stop is the Eastside Motel."
Freddie Scott "(You)Got What I Need" Cry To Me
Listening to Scott's beautiful voice sing his 1968 hit doesn't sound right. Biz Markie has the best horrible voice in hip-hop and his laughably bad singing on "Just A Friend" from The Diabolical Biz Markie is one of the best songs for drunk karaoke. His croon is endearingly off-tune, perfectly matching his cartoon personality with a ridiculous voice.
It was a sad day in hip-hop when Biz Markie sanctioned an R&B remix by teeny-bopper Mario. When given the choice between Freddie Scott and Biz Markie, Pepsi decided to use the Biz in their Super Bowl commercial. Like he said, nobody beats the Biz.
B-Side
David McCallum "The Edge" Music: A Bit More Of Me
How Dr. Dre ever came across David McCallum's music escapes me. McCallum is an obscure British actor who dabbled in some orchestral writing in the 1960s, producing mostly crappy lounge music, but "The Edge" is his masterpiece. It opens with a bang (the same bang that opens Dre's "Next Episode"), but whimpers off with a light melody. Dre threw some heavy bass on top of McCallum's, to give it the meat you hear on 2001. Ever-thrifty, Dr. Dre usually prefers to rerecord the entire sample in his studio, turning it into an "interpolation" rather than a sample. This allows him to pay only the writer of the song, and not the performer.
Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway "Be Real Black For Me"
No duet since Ella Fitzgerald and Louie Armstrong has produced such beautiful, soulful music as Roberta and Donny. From the pathos of "I (Who Have Nothing)" to the lush melody of "When Love Has Grown," the duet's only album was nearly perfect. Scarface looped the short piano intro to "Be Real Black For Me" for his song "On My Block" from The Fix, one of the most under-appreciated hip-hop albums of the last five years.
William Bell "I Forgot To Be Your Lover" Bound To Happen
This is one of the most over-sampled guitar licks in hip-hop. From Ludacris' "Growing Pains" to Dilated Peoples' "Worst Comes To Worst," the electric guitar melody and accompanying chorus of violins beg to be sampled.
Does the N-word stand for Never?
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
"I hate niggers."
The president of the University of Alabama's NAACP had to scrub those words off the organization's office just three weeks ago, proving that racism is still a very real part of America today.
"I love niggas! I love niggas, cuz niggas are me!" A group of white teenagers sing these words along with 50 Cent's rap from "Realest Niggas," proving that racism in America is a more complicated issue than it has ever been.
In the OJ Simpson case, prosecuting attorney Christopher Darden argued that the N-word, as he referred to it, is the "filthiest, dirtiest, nastiest word in the English language."
It is one of the very last truly taboo words in the contemporary culture. Most major newspapers refuse to publish the word, even when reporting legitimate news issues, preferring instead to write "n-," unless the word is in a direct quotation. Uttering its two syllables can cause severe ramifications, even if the speaker does not intend to be racist.
In fact, problems can arise even if the speaker is denouncing racism, as happened to a white employee at the University of Virginia, who was recently criticized by the school's president for a comment he made to coworkers regarding the name of the Washington Redskins. He said, "It is as derogatory to Indians as having a team called Niggers would be to blacks."
In a similar situation, David Howard, the white director of a Washington DC municipal agency, was forced to resign after he warned his staff that he would have to be "niggardly" with funds. An uproar followed that resulted in Howard's resignation, despite the fact that "niggardly" has no etymological relation to the racial epithet.
Experiences like these have taught white America that the N-word stands for "Never." Among many African-Americans, on the other hand, the word has become part of everyday conversation as a result of its proliferation in hip-hop.
In 1940, Langston Hughes wrote, "The word nigger to colored people of high and low degree is like a red rag to a bull. Used rightly or wrongly, ironically or seriously, of necessity for the sake of realism, or impishly for the sake of comedy, it doesn't matter."
To an extent, in 2003, this was no longer true. When Chris Rock can joke, "I love black people, but I hate niggers," and win an Emmy for his performance, clearly things have changed.
In the top-selling album of 2003, Get Rich or Die Tryin', 50 Cent raps "nigga" 131 times.
Though most hip-hop albums are recorded by black artists, the majority are purchased by white teenagers.
Ice Cube said, "When we call each other 'nigga,' it means no harm. But if a white person uses it, it's something different, it's a racist word." Many disagree with what they view as a racist double standard that allows some people to use the word, while prohibiting others.
In an interview with The Heights, John Kanka, news editor for The Observer, said, "You really shouldn't have some people use it and other people not use it because how are these kids supposed to figure out who is allowed to say it, and who is not allowed.
"If something is okay for some people to say, then it seems like it should be okay for everyone else to say," he said.
Justin McLean, president of the Boston College chapter of the NAACP, refuses to recognize this as a legitimate argument and feels that it is nothing more than an excuse to ignore the real issue of racism in America.
"The right-wing argues that the battle for equality is over and that since we're all equal now, then it's unfair that whites can't say nigga," McLean said.
"What they are actually doing is simply hiding behind the mask of equality and perpetuating false notions of victimization, rather than coming out with their true intention, which is to further their own notions of white privilege."
McLean said that he hears the word used at Boston College on a daily basis among blacks, a trend that Donald Brown, director of BC AHANA Student Programs, disparages.
Brown said, "For me, and for everyone else that grew up during the '60's, the word 'nigga' will never be a term of endearment, because when I heard 'nigger,' there was usually a cross burning somewhere nearby."
Brown disagrees with the distinction that many rappers make based on the spelling of the N-word, as articulated by 2Pac: "Niggers was the ones on the rope hanging out on the field. Niggas is the ones with gold ropes hanging out at clubs."
In fact, many in the hip-hop community argue that the definition of the N-word has evolved for the better as a result.
Rapper Mos Def says, "It's an act of empowerment. When we call each other 'nigga,' we take a word that has been historically used by whites to degrade and oppress us, a word that has so many negative connotations, and turn it into something beautiful, something we can call our own"
Last year, Harvard professor Randall Kennedy's book Nigger explored the tragic history and enduring legacy of racism in American as embodied by six letters.
He wrote, "I think we should take comfort from the idea that a word that has miserable, terrible, hurtful roots can be appropriated by folks and made into something entirely different, including an anti-racist word, including a term of endearment."
"There is much to be gained by allowing people of all backgrounds to yank nigger away from white supremacists to subvert its ugliest denotation, and to convert the N-word from a negative into a positive appellation," he continued.
When Dr. Dre calls Eminem his "nigga" in "What's The Difference" it demonstrates the difficulty of defining such an ambiguous word.
As a result, much of the difficulty of dealing with the N-word comes from its protean quality: historically the word means too many things and yet in much of hip-hop it means nothing at all.
Kennedy concludes his book by asking, "Can a relationship between a black person and a white one be such that the white person should properly feel authorized, at least within the confines of that relationship, to use the N-word? For me the answer is yes."
As for now, most leaders in the black community disagree. Burnell E. Holland III, president of BC AHANA Leadership Council, states simply: "There's no way that a white person can ever say 'nigga' and not offend a black person, no matter what his intention is. There is just too much painful history in that word."
By Canyon Cody
Published in The Heights
"I hate niggers."
The president of the University of Alabama's NAACP had to scrub those words off the organization's office just three weeks ago, proving that racism is still a very real part of America today.
"I love niggas! I love niggas, cuz niggas are me!" A group of white teenagers sing these words along with 50 Cent's rap from "Realest Niggas," proving that racism in America is a more complicated issue than it has ever been.
In the OJ Simpson case, prosecuting attorney Christopher Darden argued that the N-word, as he referred to it, is the "filthiest, dirtiest, nastiest word in the English language."
It is one of the very last truly taboo words in the contemporary culture. Most major newspapers refuse to publish the word, even when reporting legitimate news issues, preferring instead to write "n-," unless the word is in a direct quotation. Uttering its two syllables can cause severe ramifications, even if the speaker does not intend to be racist.
In fact, problems can arise even if the speaker is denouncing racism, as happened to a white employee at the University of Virginia, who was recently criticized by the school's president for a comment he made to coworkers regarding the name of the Washington Redskins. He said, "It is as derogatory to Indians as having a team called Niggers would be to blacks."
In a similar situation, David Howard, the white director of a Washington DC municipal agency, was forced to resign after he warned his staff that he would have to be "niggardly" with funds. An uproar followed that resulted in Howard's resignation, despite the fact that "niggardly" has no etymological relation to the racial epithet.
Experiences like these have taught white America that the N-word stands for "Never." Among many African-Americans, on the other hand, the word has become part of everyday conversation as a result of its proliferation in hip-hop.
In 1940, Langston Hughes wrote, "The word nigger to colored people of high and low degree is like a red rag to a bull. Used rightly or wrongly, ironically or seriously, of necessity for the sake of realism, or impishly for the sake of comedy, it doesn't matter."
To an extent, in 2003, this was no longer true. When Chris Rock can joke, "I love black people, but I hate niggers," and win an Emmy for his performance, clearly things have changed.
In the top-selling album of 2003, Get Rich or Die Tryin', 50 Cent raps "nigga" 131 times.
Though most hip-hop albums are recorded by black artists, the majority are purchased by white teenagers.
Ice Cube said, "When we call each other 'nigga,' it means no harm. But if a white person uses it, it's something different, it's a racist word." Many disagree with what they view as a racist double standard that allows some people to use the word, while prohibiting others.
In an interview with The Heights, John Kanka, news editor for The Observer, said, "You really shouldn't have some people use it and other people not use it because how are these kids supposed to figure out who is allowed to say it, and who is not allowed.
"If something is okay for some people to say, then it seems like it should be okay for everyone else to say," he said.
Justin McLean, president of the Boston College chapter of the NAACP, refuses to recognize this as a legitimate argument and feels that it is nothing more than an excuse to ignore the real issue of racism in America.
"The right-wing argues that the battle for equality is over and that since we're all equal now, then it's unfair that whites can't say nigga," McLean said.
"What they are actually doing is simply hiding behind the mask of equality and perpetuating false notions of victimization, rather than coming out with their true intention, which is to further their own notions of white privilege."
McLean said that he hears the word used at Boston College on a daily basis among blacks, a trend that Donald Brown, director of BC AHANA Student Programs, disparages.
Brown said, "For me, and for everyone else that grew up during the '60's, the word 'nigga' will never be a term of endearment, because when I heard 'nigger,' there was usually a cross burning somewhere nearby."
Brown disagrees with the distinction that many rappers make based on the spelling of the N-word, as articulated by 2Pac: "Niggers was the ones on the rope hanging out on the field. Niggas is the ones with gold ropes hanging out at clubs."
In fact, many in the hip-hop community argue that the definition of the N-word has evolved for the better as a result.
Rapper Mos Def says, "It's an act of empowerment. When we call each other 'nigga,' we take a word that has been historically used by whites to degrade and oppress us, a word that has so many negative connotations, and turn it into something beautiful, something we can call our own"
Last year, Harvard professor Randall Kennedy's book Nigger explored the tragic history and enduring legacy of racism in American as embodied by six letters.
He wrote, "I think we should take comfort from the idea that a word that has miserable, terrible, hurtful roots can be appropriated by folks and made into something entirely different, including an anti-racist word, including a term of endearment."
"There is much to be gained by allowing people of all backgrounds to yank nigger away from white supremacists to subvert its ugliest denotation, and to convert the N-word from a negative into a positive appellation," he continued.
When Dr. Dre calls Eminem his "nigga" in "What's The Difference" it demonstrates the difficulty of defining such an ambiguous word.
As a result, much of the difficulty of dealing with the N-word comes from its protean quality: historically the word means too many things and yet in much of hip-hop it means nothing at all.
Kennedy concludes his book by asking, "Can a relationship between a black person and a white one be such that the white person should properly feel authorized, at least within the confines of that relationship, to use the N-word? For me the answer is yes."
As for now, most leaders in the black community disagree. Burnell E. Holland III, president of BC AHANA Leadership Council, states simply: "There's no way that a white person can ever say 'nigga' and not offend a black person, no matter what his intention is. There is just too much painful history in that word."
January 27, 2004
MixTape Friday: Live Fast, Die Young
By Canyon Cody
Originally published at The Heights
2Pac rapped, "Marvin Gaye used to sing to me." All music fans can relate to Shakur's feeling that a musician was speaking directly to them. As a result, the premature deaths of Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, John Lennon, and Marvin Gaye were as painful to many fans as the death of a close friend. Unfortunately, the next generation of musicians failed to learn from the mistakes of their forefathers, and we have all suffered through the deaths of some of the most talented artists of the last decade.
Sublime "KRS-One" 40 Oz. to Freedom
Sublime recorded its debut album for under $1,000 and sold the first 30,000 copies out of the trunk of lead singer Bradley Nowell's car. After signing to MCA, Sublime's self-titled third album sent the band into superstardom and expanded its fan base beyond the beaches and half pipes of Southern California.
On 40 Oz. to Freedom, Nowell demonstrates his eclectic musical taste in his ode to rap pioneer KRS-One. Nowell's song shows how hip-hop can educate the masses by expressing the otherwise muffled voice of America's disenfranchised. KRS called it "edutainment." Nowell sings, "In school they never taught about hamburgers or steak/ Elijah Muhammed or the welfare state/ but I know/ and I know because of KRS-One."
Nowell died of a overdose on May 25, 1996.
2Pac "Keep Ya Head Up" Strictly For My N.I.G.G.A.Z.
2Pac, of course, doesn't deserve to be on this mix, because he isn't actually dead. Pac's keeping it real in Cuba with Elvis, just waiting for the perfect time to come back like Superman after his "death" to save rap from evil-doers Nelly and Ja Rule.
On "Keep Ya Head Up," 2Pac sings a ballad to oppressed women that sounds so sincere that one could almost forget his misogynistic raps and sexual assault conviction. 2Pac sang about the reproductive rights of woman at a time when Newt Gingrich was fighting against a woman's right to choose: "And since a man can't make one/ He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one."
Shakur was murdered on Sept. 6, 1996.
Nirvana "Stay Away" Nevermind
Listening to Nirvana again isn't the same as going back to listen to Sublime. Sublime conjures nostalgia; Nirvana smells of regret. Nirvana was the perfect band at the perfect moment, but listening to it again 10 years later isn't as fun as it should be.
On "Stay Away," Cobain sings some of the incomprehensible lyrics that typified Nirvana. Reading the actual lyrics tends to ruin Nirvana's songs; they are never as profound as Cobain's voice made them sound: "Monkey see, monkey do/ I'd rather be deal than cool/ Every line ends in rhyme."
Cobain died from a self-inflicted gun wound on April 8, 1994
Notorious BIG "Everyday Struggle" Ready To Die
Like 2Pac, Biggie eerily prophesized his own death on "Everyday Struggle." On the chorus, he sings, "I don't wanna live no more/ Sometimes I hear death knockin' at my front door." Biggie lacked the political philosophy of 2Pac, yet managed to tell his story in a poignant, personal way.
The song is also a good reminder that Rudolph Giuliani wasn't always as popular as he was after 9/11. Biggie expresses his opposition to the mayor's policies, which were viewed as racist and draconian by much of the New York black community. BIG was just trying to make a honest dollar selling crack, but "our mayor Guiliani/ ain't tryin to see no black man turn to John Gotti."
BIG was murdered on March 9, 1997.
By Canyon Cody
Originally published at The Heights
2Pac rapped, "Marvin Gaye used to sing to me." All music fans can relate to Shakur's feeling that a musician was speaking directly to them. As a result, the premature deaths of Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, John Lennon, and Marvin Gaye were as painful to many fans as the death of a close friend. Unfortunately, the next generation of musicians failed to learn from the mistakes of their forefathers, and we have all suffered through the deaths of some of the most talented artists of the last decade.
Sublime "KRS-One" 40 Oz. to Freedom
Sublime recorded its debut album for under $1,000 and sold the first 30,000 copies out of the trunk of lead singer Bradley Nowell's car. After signing to MCA, Sublime's self-titled third album sent the band into superstardom and expanded its fan base beyond the beaches and half pipes of Southern California.
On 40 Oz. to Freedom, Nowell demonstrates his eclectic musical taste in his ode to rap pioneer KRS-One. Nowell's song shows how hip-hop can educate the masses by expressing the otherwise muffled voice of America's disenfranchised. KRS called it "edutainment." Nowell sings, "In school they never taught about hamburgers or steak/ Elijah Muhammed or the welfare state/ but I know/ and I know because of KRS-One."
Nowell died of a overdose on May 25, 1996.
2Pac "Keep Ya Head Up" Strictly For My N.I.G.G.A.Z.
2Pac, of course, doesn't deserve to be on this mix, because he isn't actually dead. Pac's keeping it real in Cuba with Elvis, just waiting for the perfect time to come back like Superman after his "death" to save rap from evil-doers Nelly and Ja Rule.
On "Keep Ya Head Up," 2Pac sings a ballad to oppressed women that sounds so sincere that one could almost forget his misogynistic raps and sexual assault conviction. 2Pac sang about the reproductive rights of woman at a time when Newt Gingrich was fighting against a woman's right to choose: "And since a man can't make one/ He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one."
Shakur was murdered on Sept. 6, 1996.
Nirvana "Stay Away" Nevermind
Listening to Nirvana again isn't the same as going back to listen to Sublime. Sublime conjures nostalgia; Nirvana smells of regret. Nirvana was the perfect band at the perfect moment, but listening to it again 10 years later isn't as fun as it should be.
On "Stay Away," Cobain sings some of the incomprehensible lyrics that typified Nirvana. Reading the actual lyrics tends to ruin Nirvana's songs; they are never as profound as Cobain's voice made them sound: "Monkey see, monkey do/ I'd rather be deal than cool/ Every line ends in rhyme."
Cobain died from a self-inflicted gun wound on April 8, 1994
Notorious BIG "Everyday Struggle" Ready To Die
Like 2Pac, Biggie eerily prophesized his own death on "Everyday Struggle." On the chorus, he sings, "I don't wanna live no more/ Sometimes I hear death knockin' at my front door." Biggie lacked the political philosophy of 2Pac, yet managed to tell his story in a poignant, personal way.
The song is also a good reminder that Rudolph Giuliani wasn't always as popular as he was after 9/11. Biggie expresses his opposition to the mayor's policies, which were viewed as racist and draconian by much of the New York black community. BIG was just trying to make a honest dollar selling crack, but "our mayor Guiliani/ ain't tryin to see no black man turn to John Gotti."
BIG was murdered on March 9, 1997.
January 20, 2004
Sell Out With Me
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
Video killed the radio star, and soon mp3 will kill the video star. Globalization not only means a Starbucks at every corner, but a Beyonce song at every frequency. A healthy underground has grown out of an allergic reaction to all the bling, yet even the righteous ones can be tempted by the limelight. Loyal fans are quick to renounce allegiance to a band that sells out with an appearance on TRL. "I liked their older stuff better," is the unofficial mantra of music snobs everywhere. Music aficionados demonstrate their knowledge by celebrating unknown bands, while criticizing those with a record deal.
Though much of the music on MTV isn't worth my KaZaA download time, many of the so-called "sell-outs" are still the talented, innovative artists they were before they went platinum. Stuck on the radio, these are the best of the worst.
A-Side
The Roots "The Seed 2.0" Phrenology
The Roots have built themselves one of the most loyal fan bases in music by tirelessly touring the country, often playing colleges and small venues. Their fans chastised the band for their radio-friendly single, snickering at the song's popularity with hip-hop philistines, the sort of people that love Outkast's "Hey Ya" and misprounce ENYCE.
Nevertheless ... "The Seed 2.0" rocks, and that's exactly why some people criticize it. The song won heavy rotation on rock 'n' roll stations, exposing hip- hop to a greater audience, which threatens protective fans. Ironically, lead singer Black Thought admits his hip-hop infidelity, rapping metaphorically about cheating on his girl with another lover, who then gets pregnant: "Sit and watch it grow, standin' where I'm at / Fertilize another behind my lover's back." The Roots are amazing talented musicians with diverse musical interest, and though their allegiance will forever remain with hip-hop, other genres deserve their attention as well. If nothing else, the song deserves respect for introducing neo-soul singer Cody ChestnuTT, whose solo albums drips with sexy songs like "I Look Good In Leather."
Talib Kweli "Get By" Quality
Talib built his reputation as a true lyricist, recognized by the the underground and the industry as a true-school emcee. Jay-Z admitted, "If skills sold/ Truth be told/ I'd probably be/ Lyrically/ Talib Kweli." After two underground classics, Blackstar and Reflection Eternal, Talib decided he wanted to get paid dollars as well as respect, so he called Jay-Z's producer, made a video, and tried to sell his skills to the Carson Daly generation.
Nevertheless ... "Get By" fulfils Talib's promise that "it ain't commercial or underground/ it's true." Kanye's layered piano loops create an infectious chorus around a sample from the late Nina Simone's 1965 cover of "Sinner Man."
The Strokes "Someday" Is This It?
The Strokes sold out before they even sold an album, cursed by their own hype. The critics prophesized the second coming of Christ, and the buzz killed the band. Lead singer Julian Casablancas sings, "Promises they break before they're made/Sometimes, sometimes." The Strokes were too cool for school, until they were expelled from all the true hipster's stereos.
Nevertheless ... "Someday" is the best thing to come out of two guitars, a bass, a drum set, and a long-haired twentysomething lead singer since Nirvana sang "Here we are now, entertain us." The eight second breakbeat at 1:41 into "Someday" begs for a b-boy with two turntables and a mixer to loop the drum solo into a hip-hop beat.
B-Side
Jay-Z "Lucifer" The Black Album
After his debut classic Reasonable Doubt, Jay-Z sold his underground soul for "Money, Cash, Hoes." After big pimpin' for almost a decade, Jay-Z finally admitted on his last album, "I dumbed down for my audience/ to double my dollars."
Nevertheless ... "Lucifer" bounces with a sinfully catchy hook from Kanye West. Though the accelerated Max Romeo sample demonstrates Jay-Z's tendency to jump on a passing craze, he redeems himself by rhyming "Jesus" with "facetious."
The Cure "Love Cats" Strange Attraction
The Cure never, ever plays "The Lovecats" at its concerts. Lead singer Robert Smith always seems to resent the band's mainstream success and prefers its more dreary tunes. Just as Radiohead's fans despise "Creep," dedicated (aka snobby) Cure fans claim it's a silly little song for the radio.
Nevertheless ... "The Lovecats" bubbles with ebullient fun. Easily danceable for even the most rhythmically challenged, the jazzy piano melody seems as mischievous as the "cagey tigers" Smith sings about. Despite the upbeat tempo, the song's appeal is its rainy, sleepy Sunday lyrics: "Curl up by the fire/ And sleep for awhile/ It's the grooviest thing/ It's the perfect dream."
2Pac "Can't C Me" All Eyez On Me
Most rappers are criticized (rather foolishly) for abandoning the gully lifestyle of guns and drugs for the cushy suburban life. 2Pac, on the other hand, reversed the sequence and emerged from the 'burbs, only to begin a prolific career in crime to complement his equally prolific music career. In that sense, 2Pac never sold out, though in retrospect, he probably should have. 2Pac didn't sell his music to The Man, but instead sold his soul to the devil. Sentenced to four years for sexual abuse, 2Pac accepted a quid pro quo deal with notorious gangster Suge Knight: 2Pac signed to Knight's record label, Death Row, and Knight paid Shakur's $1.4 million bail. Pac immediately flew to LA and began recording All Eyez on Me with the man that would later drive the car in which 2Pac was shot and killed.
Nevertheless ... "Can't C Me" opens the first rap double LP with a bang. George Clinton sings the hook on top of Dr. Dre's bumping beat, both of which are overshadowed by 2Pac's angry verses, rapped with the violent passion of a man straight of out jail. In three lines, Pac proves that he's the real gangsta and that 50 Cent is nothing but a bad, redundant imitation: "Tell them tricks that shot me / that they missed / they ain't killed me."
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
Video killed the radio star, and soon mp3 will kill the video star. Globalization not only means a Starbucks at every corner, but a Beyonce song at every frequency. A healthy underground has grown out of an allergic reaction to all the bling, yet even the righteous ones can be tempted by the limelight. Loyal fans are quick to renounce allegiance to a band that sells out with an appearance on TRL. "I liked their older stuff better," is the unofficial mantra of music snobs everywhere. Music aficionados demonstrate their knowledge by celebrating unknown bands, while criticizing those with a record deal.
Though much of the music on MTV isn't worth my KaZaA download time, many of the so-called "sell-outs" are still the talented, innovative artists they were before they went platinum. Stuck on the radio, these are the best of the worst.
A-Side
The Roots "The Seed 2.0" Phrenology
The Roots have built themselves one of the most loyal fan bases in music by tirelessly touring the country, often playing colleges and small venues. Their fans chastised the band for their radio-friendly single, snickering at the song's popularity with hip-hop philistines, the sort of people that love Outkast's "Hey Ya" and misprounce ENYCE.
Nevertheless ... "The Seed 2.0" rocks, and that's exactly why some people criticize it. The song won heavy rotation on rock 'n' roll stations, exposing hip- hop to a greater audience, which threatens protective fans. Ironically, lead singer Black Thought admits his hip-hop infidelity, rapping metaphorically about cheating on his girl with another lover, who then gets pregnant: "Sit and watch it grow, standin' where I'm at / Fertilize another behind my lover's back." The Roots are amazing talented musicians with diverse musical interest, and though their allegiance will forever remain with hip-hop, other genres deserve their attention as well. If nothing else, the song deserves respect for introducing neo-soul singer Cody ChestnuTT, whose solo albums drips with sexy songs like "I Look Good In Leather."
Talib Kweli "Get By" Quality
Talib built his reputation as a true lyricist, recognized by the the underground and the industry as a true-school emcee. Jay-Z admitted, "If skills sold/ Truth be told/ I'd probably be/ Lyrically/ Talib Kweli." After two underground classics, Blackstar and Reflection Eternal, Talib decided he wanted to get paid dollars as well as respect, so he called Jay-Z's producer, made a video, and tried to sell his skills to the Carson Daly generation.
Nevertheless ... "Get By" fulfils Talib's promise that "it ain't commercial or underground/ it's true." Kanye's layered piano loops create an infectious chorus around a sample from the late Nina Simone's 1965 cover of "Sinner Man."
The Strokes "Someday" Is This It?
The Strokes sold out before they even sold an album, cursed by their own hype. The critics prophesized the second coming of Christ, and the buzz killed the band. Lead singer Julian Casablancas sings, "Promises they break before they're made/Sometimes, sometimes." The Strokes were too cool for school, until they were expelled from all the true hipster's stereos.
Nevertheless ... "Someday" is the best thing to come out of two guitars, a bass, a drum set, and a long-haired twentysomething lead singer since Nirvana sang "Here we are now, entertain us." The eight second breakbeat at 1:41 into "Someday" begs for a b-boy with two turntables and a mixer to loop the drum solo into a hip-hop beat.
B-Side
Jay-Z "Lucifer" The Black Album
After his debut classic Reasonable Doubt, Jay-Z sold his underground soul for "Money, Cash, Hoes." After big pimpin' for almost a decade, Jay-Z finally admitted on his last album, "I dumbed down for my audience/ to double my dollars."
Nevertheless ... "Lucifer" bounces with a sinfully catchy hook from Kanye West. Though the accelerated Max Romeo sample demonstrates Jay-Z's tendency to jump on a passing craze, he redeems himself by rhyming "Jesus" with "facetious."
The Cure "Love Cats" Strange Attraction
The Cure never, ever plays "The Lovecats" at its concerts. Lead singer Robert Smith always seems to resent the band's mainstream success and prefers its more dreary tunes. Just as Radiohead's fans despise "Creep," dedicated (aka snobby) Cure fans claim it's a silly little song for the radio.
Nevertheless ... "The Lovecats" bubbles with ebullient fun. Easily danceable for even the most rhythmically challenged, the jazzy piano melody seems as mischievous as the "cagey tigers" Smith sings about. Despite the upbeat tempo, the song's appeal is its rainy, sleepy Sunday lyrics: "Curl up by the fire/ And sleep for awhile/ It's the grooviest thing/ It's the perfect dream."
2Pac "Can't C Me" All Eyez On Me
Most rappers are criticized (rather foolishly) for abandoning the gully lifestyle of guns and drugs for the cushy suburban life. 2Pac, on the other hand, reversed the sequence and emerged from the 'burbs, only to begin a prolific career in crime to complement his equally prolific music career. In that sense, 2Pac never sold out, though in retrospect, he probably should have. 2Pac didn't sell his music to The Man, but instead sold his soul to the devil. Sentenced to four years for sexual abuse, 2Pac accepted a quid pro quo deal with notorious gangster Suge Knight: 2Pac signed to Knight's record label, Death Row, and Knight paid Shakur's $1.4 million bail. Pac immediately flew to LA and began recording All Eyez on Me with the man that would later drive the car in which 2Pac was shot and killed.
Nevertheless ... "Can't C Me" opens the first rap double LP with a bang. George Clinton sings the hook on top of Dr. Dre's bumping beat, both of which are overshadowed by 2Pac's angry verses, rapped with the violent passion of a man straight of out jail. In three lines, Pac proves that he's the real gangsta and that 50 Cent is nothing but a bad, redundant imitation: "Tell them tricks that shot me / that they missed / they ain't killed me."
December 9, 2003
Keys Strikes Again
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
When a British magazine recently asked Alicia Keys how her life had changed since her last album, she replied, "I'm definitely older." Fortunately, Keys proves herself more adept at songwriting than interviews on her impressive, soulful sophomore effort, The Diary of Alicia Keys.
Alicia Keys has quite a bit to live up to following her critically acclaimed debut, Songs in A Minor, which earned the 21-year-old singer more Grammys than she could carry. Not to be outdone by fellow mellow diva and reigning Grammy empress Norah Jones, Keys once again combines her amazing (though often self-referenced) talent as a classical pianist with her passionate voice and romantic lyrics to produce another beautiful album.
The first single on the album is the Kanye West-produced "You Don't Know My Name," which samples the Main Ingredient track "Let Me Prove My Love To You." The song's lush Motown sound explores the moment before speaking to someone that attracts your attention. The song features Keys as a waitress interested in one of her customers, played in the video by (former) rapper Mos Def, who has apparently abandoned hip-hop altogether in deference to his thespian career.
Keys takes it back to 1971 for a remake of Gladys Knight and the Pips' "If I Were Your Woman" and Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By" for the creatively titled "If I Was Your Woman (Walk on By)." The song, along with "Samsonite Man" and "Diary," allow Keys' rolling piano to compliment her soaring voice, which she at times exaggerates until it borders ridiculously orgiastic levels.
Keys deviates from her usual romantic R&B ballads on "Wake Up," an unexpected criticism of the War on Terror. Two days after September 11, Keys told a reporter that she "saw lies" in the American flag, yet she posed for a magazine in front of a large flag three months later. "Wake Up" is sung from the perspective of a soldier's wife, pleading, "Bring my baby back home."
Timbaland brings more old school flavor to the album on "Heartburn," which sounds like a theme song to a 1970s blaxpoitation film. By working with more hip-hop producers, Keys' album lacks the consistency of her previous pure neo-soul album, yet she demonstrates greater versatility as an artist. She will hopefully never turn into just another R&B/hip-hop cross-over singer such as Ashanti or Mariah Carey, but her undeniable musical talent seems to indicate this will not occur in the near future.
So far, her collaborations with hip-hop artists have produced wonderful results, such as "Streets of New York." Unfortunately, the song, which is currently exploding on the mixtape circuit, was inexplicably left off the album at the last second, though it might be included as a bonus track on a reissue. The song samples the DJ Premier-produced hip hop classic "NY State Of Mind" from Nas' 1994 debut Illmatic and features new verses from Rakim and Nas.
Keys takes a few limited risks with her music and succeeds in producing another listenable album that, at times, borders on the beautiful. She better bring a backpack with her to the Grammys this year, and Norah better be practicing.
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
When a British magazine recently asked Alicia Keys how her life had changed since her last album, she replied, "I'm definitely older." Fortunately, Keys proves herself more adept at songwriting than interviews on her impressive, soulful sophomore effort, The Diary of Alicia Keys.
Alicia Keys has quite a bit to live up to following her critically acclaimed debut, Songs in A Minor, which earned the 21-year-old singer more Grammys than she could carry. Not to be outdone by fellow mellow diva and reigning Grammy empress Norah Jones, Keys once again combines her amazing (though often self-referenced) talent as a classical pianist with her passionate voice and romantic lyrics to produce another beautiful album.
The first single on the album is the Kanye West-produced "You Don't Know My Name," which samples the Main Ingredient track "Let Me Prove My Love To You." The song's lush Motown sound explores the moment before speaking to someone that attracts your attention. The song features Keys as a waitress interested in one of her customers, played in the video by (former) rapper Mos Def, who has apparently abandoned hip-hop altogether in deference to his thespian career.
Keys takes it back to 1971 for a remake of Gladys Knight and the Pips' "If I Were Your Woman" and Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By" for the creatively titled "If I Was Your Woman (Walk on By)." The song, along with "Samsonite Man" and "Diary," allow Keys' rolling piano to compliment her soaring voice, which she at times exaggerates until it borders ridiculously orgiastic levels.
Keys deviates from her usual romantic R&B ballads on "Wake Up," an unexpected criticism of the War on Terror. Two days after September 11, Keys told a reporter that she "saw lies" in the American flag, yet she posed for a magazine in front of a large flag three months later. "Wake Up" is sung from the perspective of a soldier's wife, pleading, "Bring my baby back home."
Timbaland brings more old school flavor to the album on "Heartburn," which sounds like a theme song to a 1970s blaxpoitation film. By working with more hip-hop producers, Keys' album lacks the consistency of her previous pure neo-soul album, yet she demonstrates greater versatility as an artist. She will hopefully never turn into just another R&B/hip-hop cross-over singer such as Ashanti or Mariah Carey, but her undeniable musical talent seems to indicate this will not occur in the near future.
So far, her collaborations with hip-hop artists have produced wonderful results, such as "Streets of New York." Unfortunately, the song, which is currently exploding on the mixtape circuit, was inexplicably left off the album at the last second, though it might be included as a bonus track on a reissue. The song samples the DJ Premier-produced hip hop classic "NY State Of Mind" from Nas' 1994 debut Illmatic and features new verses from Rakim and Nas.
Keys takes a few limited risks with her music and succeeds in producing another listenable album that, at times, borders on the beautiful. She better bring a backpack with her to the Grammys this year, and Norah better be practicing.
Stone stumbles over top 500
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
I would love to say that Rolling Stone's "500 Greatest Albums of All Time," featured in the current issue, reflects the extreme musical bias of the magazine and mainstream media in general. Yet, the sneaky editors managed to absolve themselves of any responsibility by assembling the list through the votes of musicians, producers, critics, and record executives. As a result, my only conclusion is that even musically knowledgeable individuals have bad taste. Rolling Stone admits, "If you don't like some of the choices, blame Britney." Spears was one of the voters.
Most disappointingly, the list offers very few surprises. Once again, it's obvious that by relying exclusively on popular opinion, one inevitably arrives at insipid results that do not offend nor inspire (does anyone remember the last presidential election?).
The Top 10 is dominated by four Beatles albums (including Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band at No. 1), which is very difficult to argue against, yet I still would have been impressed to see a bit more creativity. As expected, the Beatles top the list with 11 albums, followed by Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones. I was surprised and impressed to see Rolling Stone recognize The Clash at No. 8 with London Calling and The Velvet Underground's self-titled debut at No. 13.
Many of my gripes with the list are based on personal taste and nothing more than sarcastic comments from the peanut gallery: Led Zeppelin's self-titled debut deserves to be much higher than #29 and much, much higher than John Lennon's first solo album, Plastic Ono Band, which is overrated at #22. Modern music was ignored in general, yet U2 gets the credit they deserve with The Joshua Tree at #26 and Achtung Baby at #62. Nonetheless, the three additional U2 albums on the list are superfluous and take up space that could be otherwise put to better use.
Still, these are entirely subjective personal preferences over which I entertain discussion and remain conscious of the fact that the polled voters very possibly understand more about the history of music than I do. These are disagreements of nuance; whether The Doors' eponymous debut or Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon is the better album is entirely up for debate, with either side capable of making a passionate and compelling case.
Some issues, on the other hand, are not up for debate. There are some mistakes and omissions that are so glaringly apparent that I can fathom no explanation other than drug-induced confusion or internal corruption (based on the sketchy polling method of tabulating votes "according to a weighted point system developed by the accounting firm of Ernst & Young"). Here, Rolling Stone, you reveal your fundamental misunderstanding of the last century of music:
Bruce Springsteen: The Boss undeniably commands a passionate following of devoted fans, and his music speaks profoundly to everyone raised in the fine state of New Jersey. Nevertheless, most of America is not from the Garden State and as a result does not suffer from the delusion that Springsteen deserves to be compared to actual musical geniuses such as Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix. Like other musicians with inexplicable cult followings, such as KISS and Jimmy Buffett, Springsteen brings undeniable energy to his live sets in order to compensate for his equally undeniable lack of substance. From the cheesy love ballads of Tunnel of Love to the easy-to-sell patriotism of Born in the USA, the eight Springsteen albums on the list prove that much of the self-described "eclectic and stellar panel of experts" must have allowed their 16-year-old daughters to answer the poll instead of bothering to do it themselves.
Rolling Stone's single worst decision was to allow Greatest Hits CDs to be considered on the list as albums. An album is an artistic creation with a specific identity, which ideally should result in an experience greater than the sum of its songs, and it deserves to devoured in its original form. Greatest Hits compilations, such as Bob Marley's Legend (No. 46), are for lazy fans who lack the energy and passion to listen to true albums such as Marley's Catch a Fire (No. 123) and Natty Dread (No. 182). From Buddy Holly's 20 Golden Hits (No. 92) to Hank Williams' 40 Greatest Hits, "Best Of" compilations are conceived in the boardroom of the record label, not the bedroom of the musician.
I expected hip-hop to remain disrespected and underrepresented on this list, which of course, it was. Despite 25 years of vibrant hip-hop culture, it remains largely misunderstood by mainstream media (as evident in Bill O'Reilly's absurd condemnation of rappers, rather than poverty or poor education, for causing violence in inner cities). Public Enemy earns the top hip-hop ranking at No. 48 with its their groundbreaking diatribe against the racist power structure in America, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.
Hip-hop subsequently disappears from the list again until No. 120: Run-DMC's Raising Hell. It was Run-DMC's collaboration with rock superstars Aerosmith for "Walk This Way" that established hip-hop's mainstream influence. The confluence of rock and rap ushered a large white fan base into hip-hop, as demonstrated by the two Beastie Boys albums and all three Eminem albums on the list. It's tempting to attribute the apparent preference for white emcees as an indication of America's racism, yet it is truly despite their race, and not because of it, that Eminem and the Beastie Boys have proven themselves deserving of their recognition.
And yet, the most deserving rapper in the history of hip-hop, recognized among his peers as one of the greatest of all time and respected as both a poet and revolutionary figure comparable to John Lennon, remains unrecognized. The absence of Tupac Shakur is not only conspicuous but bewildering. Both All Eyez on Me and Me Against the World deserve to replace any of the following insipid albums that inexplicable made the list:
No Doubt - No. 316 Rock Steady. Why would this made-for-TRL album rank higher than Tragic Kingdom? And why would No Doubt make the list instead of Sublime? Because Gwen is hot.
Madonna - No. 363 Ray of Light and No. 452 Music. At 40 years old, the Material Girl has better abs and a worse voice than she did at 20.
TLC - No. 377 CrazySexyCool. Just because "Waterfalls" will forever retain a place in your heart because it was playing at your favorite dance in junior high, it does not mean that TLC deserves to be anywhere near this list.
Red Hot Chili Peppers - No. 399 Californication. The band with the funkiest bassist in town gets dressed, sells out, and plays a few poppy radio hits for MTV.
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
I would love to say that Rolling Stone's "500 Greatest Albums of All Time," featured in the current issue, reflects the extreme musical bias of the magazine and mainstream media in general. Yet, the sneaky editors managed to absolve themselves of any responsibility by assembling the list through the votes of musicians, producers, critics, and record executives. As a result, my only conclusion is that even musically knowledgeable individuals have bad taste. Rolling Stone admits, "If you don't like some of the choices, blame Britney." Spears was one of the voters.
Most disappointingly, the list offers very few surprises. Once again, it's obvious that by relying exclusively on popular opinion, one inevitably arrives at insipid results that do not offend nor inspire (does anyone remember the last presidential election?).
The Top 10 is dominated by four Beatles albums (including Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band at No. 1), which is very difficult to argue against, yet I still would have been impressed to see a bit more creativity. As expected, the Beatles top the list with 11 albums, followed by Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones. I was surprised and impressed to see Rolling Stone recognize The Clash at No. 8 with London Calling and The Velvet Underground's self-titled debut at No. 13.
Many of my gripes with the list are based on personal taste and nothing more than sarcastic comments from the peanut gallery: Led Zeppelin's self-titled debut deserves to be much higher than #29 and much, much higher than John Lennon's first solo album, Plastic Ono Band, which is overrated at #22. Modern music was ignored in general, yet U2 gets the credit they deserve with The Joshua Tree at #26 and Achtung Baby at #62. Nonetheless, the three additional U2 albums on the list are superfluous and take up space that could be otherwise put to better use.
Still, these are entirely subjective personal preferences over which I entertain discussion and remain conscious of the fact that the polled voters very possibly understand more about the history of music than I do. These are disagreements of nuance; whether The Doors' eponymous debut or Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon is the better album is entirely up for debate, with either side capable of making a passionate and compelling case.
Some issues, on the other hand, are not up for debate. There are some mistakes and omissions that are so glaringly apparent that I can fathom no explanation other than drug-induced confusion or internal corruption (based on the sketchy polling method of tabulating votes "according to a weighted point system developed by the accounting firm of Ernst & Young"). Here, Rolling Stone, you reveal your fundamental misunderstanding of the last century of music:
Bruce Springsteen: The Boss undeniably commands a passionate following of devoted fans, and his music speaks profoundly to everyone raised in the fine state of New Jersey. Nevertheless, most of America is not from the Garden State and as a result does not suffer from the delusion that Springsteen deserves to be compared to actual musical geniuses such as Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix. Like other musicians with inexplicable cult followings, such as KISS and Jimmy Buffett, Springsteen brings undeniable energy to his live sets in order to compensate for his equally undeniable lack of substance. From the cheesy love ballads of Tunnel of Love to the easy-to-sell patriotism of Born in the USA, the eight Springsteen albums on the list prove that much of the self-described "eclectic and stellar panel of experts" must have allowed their 16-year-old daughters to answer the poll instead of bothering to do it themselves.
Rolling Stone's single worst decision was to allow Greatest Hits CDs to be considered on the list as albums. An album is an artistic creation with a specific identity, which ideally should result in an experience greater than the sum of its songs, and it deserves to devoured in its original form. Greatest Hits compilations, such as Bob Marley's Legend (No. 46), are for lazy fans who lack the energy and passion to listen to true albums such as Marley's Catch a Fire (No. 123) and Natty Dread (No. 182). From Buddy Holly's 20 Golden Hits (No. 92) to Hank Williams' 40 Greatest Hits, "Best Of" compilations are conceived in the boardroom of the record label, not the bedroom of the musician.
I expected hip-hop to remain disrespected and underrepresented on this list, which of course, it was. Despite 25 years of vibrant hip-hop culture, it remains largely misunderstood by mainstream media (as evident in Bill O'Reilly's absurd condemnation of rappers, rather than poverty or poor education, for causing violence in inner cities). Public Enemy earns the top hip-hop ranking at No. 48 with its their groundbreaking diatribe against the racist power structure in America, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.
Hip-hop subsequently disappears from the list again until No. 120: Run-DMC's Raising Hell. It was Run-DMC's collaboration with rock superstars Aerosmith for "Walk This Way" that established hip-hop's mainstream influence. The confluence of rock and rap ushered a large white fan base into hip-hop, as demonstrated by the two Beastie Boys albums and all three Eminem albums on the list. It's tempting to attribute the apparent preference for white emcees as an indication of America's racism, yet it is truly despite their race, and not because of it, that Eminem and the Beastie Boys have proven themselves deserving of their recognition.
And yet, the most deserving rapper in the history of hip-hop, recognized among his peers as one of the greatest of all time and respected as both a poet and revolutionary figure comparable to John Lennon, remains unrecognized. The absence of Tupac Shakur is not only conspicuous but bewildering. Both All Eyez on Me and Me Against the World deserve to replace any of the following insipid albums that inexplicable made the list:
No Doubt - No. 316 Rock Steady. Why would this made-for-TRL album rank higher than Tragic Kingdom? And why would No Doubt make the list instead of Sublime? Because Gwen is hot.
Madonna - No. 363 Ray of Light and No. 452 Music. At 40 years old, the Material Girl has better abs and a worse voice than she did at 20.
TLC - No. 377 CrazySexyCool. Just because "Waterfalls" will forever retain a place in your heart because it was playing at your favorite dance in junior high, it does not mean that TLC deserves to be anywhere near this list.
Red Hot Chili Peppers - No. 399 Californication. The band with the funkiest bassist in town gets dressed, sells out, and plays a few poppy radio hits for MTV.
November 18, 2003
Tupac Shakur narrates thug life from the grave
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
Las Vegas. Sept. 7, 1996. One dead. No suspects.
While the rest of the world argues over Tupac Shakur's life and death, a new film by director Lauren Lazin allows Tupac himself to explain the tragedy. Uncharacteristically, he apparently has little to say.
"I got shot."
Tupac's unsettling tendency to speak about himself in the past tense, along with his disposition towards self-prophesy, allowed Lazin to use the deceased artist as the narrator in her film Tupac: Resurrection. "This is my story, a story about ambition, violence, redemption, and love," Tupac explains.
Viewed as a documentary, the film has many flaws. The cut and paste method of putting together audio snippets in an effort to make a cohesive narration fails at certain points and begs serious questions about journalistic integrity. The film should instead be enjoyed as another opportunity to appreciate firsthand Tupac's charismatic presence and surprising humor.
The movie follows the chronological path of Tupac's surreal development from a dorky teenager enrolled in the Baltimore School of the Performing Arts, where he studied acting and ballet, to a homeless street hustler with a mother addicted to crack, to the best selling rap artist of all time involved in a deadly feud with another hip-hop legend, to getting shot five times and then convicted of sexual abuse the next day.
Both socially conscious and unabashedly irreverent, Tupac's legacy will forever be defined by contradiction. Nowhere is his hypocrisy more acute than in his depiction of women; he defines himself as a feminist yet demonstrates himself as a misogynist, often in the same breath. The film affords Tupac the opportunity to explain himself, often first admitting his own weaknesses and then going on to prove himself not a contradiction, but a paradox.
The film does not shy away from Tupac's many flaws and offers a relatively balanced portrayal that avoids the expected hagiography. Surprisingly, Tupac seems to be the only one who managed to avoid exaggerating his own importance. He accepted his own limitations and admitted his weakness, yet also realized his profound influence. "I may not change the world," he said, "but I will set the spark off in the mind that does."
At its best, the movie offers Tupac the chance to speak uninterruptedly to the audience. His greatest gift was his profound insight into the plight of the poor in America. He narrates, "I did not create thug life; I diagnosed it ... I don't understand why America doesn't understand thug life. What makes my freedom less worth fighting for than Bosnians or whoever [America] wants to fight for this year?"
Tupac carried the torch of the Black Panthers into the new century, teaching young black men to be proud and proactive after being frustrated with begging for an illusionary equality that white America, from Tupac's perspective, never intended to grant.
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
Las Vegas. Sept. 7, 1996. One dead. No suspects.
While the rest of the world argues over Tupac Shakur's life and death, a new film by director Lauren Lazin allows Tupac himself to explain the tragedy. Uncharacteristically, he apparently has little to say.
"I got shot."
Tupac's unsettling tendency to speak about himself in the past tense, along with his disposition towards self-prophesy, allowed Lazin to use the deceased artist as the narrator in her film Tupac: Resurrection. "This is my story, a story about ambition, violence, redemption, and love," Tupac explains.
Viewed as a documentary, the film has many flaws. The cut and paste method of putting together audio snippets in an effort to make a cohesive narration fails at certain points and begs serious questions about journalistic integrity. The film should instead be enjoyed as another opportunity to appreciate firsthand Tupac's charismatic presence and surprising humor.
The movie follows the chronological path of Tupac's surreal development from a dorky teenager enrolled in the Baltimore School of the Performing Arts, where he studied acting and ballet, to a homeless street hustler with a mother addicted to crack, to the best selling rap artist of all time involved in a deadly feud with another hip-hop legend, to getting shot five times and then convicted of sexual abuse the next day.
Both socially conscious and unabashedly irreverent, Tupac's legacy will forever be defined by contradiction. Nowhere is his hypocrisy more acute than in his depiction of women; he defines himself as a feminist yet demonstrates himself as a misogynist, often in the same breath. The film affords Tupac the opportunity to explain himself, often first admitting his own weaknesses and then going on to prove himself not a contradiction, but a paradox.
The film does not shy away from Tupac's many flaws and offers a relatively balanced portrayal that avoids the expected hagiography. Surprisingly, Tupac seems to be the only one who managed to avoid exaggerating his own importance. He accepted his own limitations and admitted his weakness, yet also realized his profound influence. "I may not change the world," he said, "but I will set the spark off in the mind that does."
At its best, the movie offers Tupac the chance to speak uninterruptedly to the audience. His greatest gift was his profound insight into the plight of the poor in America. He narrates, "I did not create thug life; I diagnosed it ... I don't understand why America doesn't understand thug life. What makes my freedom less worth fighting for than Bosnians or whoever [America] wants to fight for this year?"
Tupac carried the torch of the Black Panthers into the new century, teaching young black men to be proud and proactive after being frustrated with begging for an illusionary equality that white America, from Tupac's perspective, never intended to grant.
October 21, 2003
Ludacris serves soggy Chicken, warm Beer
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
Ludacris is known to get freaky from time to time with his lady friends, drink inordinate amounts of expensive alcohol, and even partake in some smoking of marijuana, but he has never allowed his rapper lifestyle to distract him from his true priorities, which he explains on "Hip Hop Quotables" from his new album: "It's the chicken and the beer that makes Luda keep rappin'." In homage to the loves of his life, Ludacris has named the new album Chicken and Beer, which says quite a bit about the quality of his new effort.
On his first two albums, Ludacris remained faithful to a simple, though thoroughly enjoyable, recipe of party songs with surprisingly witty and often hilarious lyrics. His music was never inspiring, but it bounced with enough frivolity that it convinced the listener to just enjoy it. Music does not always need to be a dissertation on contemporary social conditions or a profound musing of artistic expression. Luda is about simple fun and he admirably doesn't pretend to be anything else. Sure, chicken can cause heart disease and beer is full of empty calories, but they are oh-so-good. Unfortunately, the musical production on this project is so poor that listening to it is like eating soggy fried chicken with bitter, cheap beer.
The first problem is that Ludacris chose too many producers to work with, and as a result, the album lacks any semblance of cohesion. Kanye West, DJ Nasty, and Medicine Men all share producing responsibility, and the collage of each artist's unique sound creates a choppy effect. Unfortunately, Ludacris' album not only lacks a consistent vibe, it's an assortment of songs that have nothing in common other than the fact that they are really bad. Lots of hip-hop albums suffer from musical schizophrenia as a result of rappers' apparent lack of interest in creating full albums instead of mixtape compilations of hit singles. At least those albums have some good songs, even if they lack a soul. Ludacris has gotten away with his musical immaturity in the past partly because it was oddly endearing, but mostly because his songs were undeniably hot. Like beer left out of the fridge, Ludacris' music doesn't taste as good as it did.
Following Pepsi's decision to terminate Ludacris' endorsement contract, Fox News commentator Bill O'Reilly voiced his opinion of support, arguing that a rapper such as Ludacris is an inappropriate role model for young kids. Instead, Pepsi hired the Osbournes, without any resulting criticism from O'Reilly. Ludacris and many others were infuriated about the apparent double standard and called Pepsi's decision hypocritical and O'Reilly a racist. Some of the more eloquent/serious members of the hip-hop community (such as Russell Simmons) came onto the O'Reilly Factor to defend Ludacris' lyrics as a legitimate form of self-expression and also to attack O'Reilly's prejudice against black musicians.
On the album, Ludacris throws in his two cents, clearly unbothered with his own immaturity, by calling O'Reilly some unsavory names. O'Reilly proves entirely ignorant of hip hop every time he opens his mouth on the subject, and it's unfortunate that Ludacris is vindicating O'Reilly's narrow-minded position by embracing negative stereotypes. Nevertheless, Ludacris' job isn't to justify hip-hop to the world, but he needs to make good albums. If this album was as good as his last one, no one would be complaining.
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
Ludacris is known to get freaky from time to time with his lady friends, drink inordinate amounts of expensive alcohol, and even partake in some smoking of marijuana, but he has never allowed his rapper lifestyle to distract him from his true priorities, which he explains on "Hip Hop Quotables" from his new album: "It's the chicken and the beer that makes Luda keep rappin'." In homage to the loves of his life, Ludacris has named the new album Chicken and Beer, which says quite a bit about the quality of his new effort.
On his first two albums, Ludacris remained faithful to a simple, though thoroughly enjoyable, recipe of party songs with surprisingly witty and often hilarious lyrics. His music was never inspiring, but it bounced with enough frivolity that it convinced the listener to just enjoy it. Music does not always need to be a dissertation on contemporary social conditions or a profound musing of artistic expression. Luda is about simple fun and he admirably doesn't pretend to be anything else. Sure, chicken can cause heart disease and beer is full of empty calories, but they are oh-so-good. Unfortunately, the musical production on this project is so poor that listening to it is like eating soggy fried chicken with bitter, cheap beer.
The first problem is that Ludacris chose too many producers to work with, and as a result, the album lacks any semblance of cohesion. Kanye West, DJ Nasty, and Medicine Men all share producing responsibility, and the collage of each artist's unique sound creates a choppy effect. Unfortunately, Ludacris' album not only lacks a consistent vibe, it's an assortment of songs that have nothing in common other than the fact that they are really bad. Lots of hip-hop albums suffer from musical schizophrenia as a result of rappers' apparent lack of interest in creating full albums instead of mixtape compilations of hit singles. At least those albums have some good songs, even if they lack a soul. Ludacris has gotten away with his musical immaturity in the past partly because it was oddly endearing, but mostly because his songs were undeniably hot. Like beer left out of the fridge, Ludacris' music doesn't taste as good as it did.
Following Pepsi's decision to terminate Ludacris' endorsement contract, Fox News commentator Bill O'Reilly voiced his opinion of support, arguing that a rapper such as Ludacris is an inappropriate role model for young kids. Instead, Pepsi hired the Osbournes, without any resulting criticism from O'Reilly. Ludacris and many others were infuriated about the apparent double standard and called Pepsi's decision hypocritical and O'Reilly a racist. Some of the more eloquent/serious members of the hip-hop community (such as Russell Simmons) came onto the O'Reilly Factor to defend Ludacris' lyrics as a legitimate form of self-expression and also to attack O'Reilly's prejudice against black musicians.
On the album, Ludacris throws in his two cents, clearly unbothered with his own immaturity, by calling O'Reilly some unsavory names. O'Reilly proves entirely ignorant of hip hop every time he opens his mouth on the subject, and it's unfortunate that Ludacris is vindicating O'Reilly's narrow-minded position by embracing negative stereotypes. Nevertheless, Ludacris' job isn't to justify hip-hop to the world, but he needs to make good albums. If this album was as good as his last one, no one would be complaining.
October 7, 2003
Def Jux rappers grab mic
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
What if Salvador Dali gave up painting and fell in love with two turntables and a microphone? Why weren't there any Dada rappers? Aesop Rock, with his stream of unconscious flow and abstract, almost incomprehensible lyrics, answered questions that have been nagging mankind for years on Wednesday at the Paradise Rock Club for the release party for his new album Bazooka Tooth.
The concert was a gathering of independent record label Def Jux musicians and a homecoming for some of Boston's most talented emcees. Locals Mr. Lif and Akrobatik, who opened along with DJ Fakts One, have dominated the local hip-hop scene for almost a decade. Their set was the most inspired of the night, even upstaging headliners Aesop Rock and El-P.
Akrobatik commanded quite a presence onstage with his linebacker physique and heavy bass voice, while Mr. Lif is famous for his intellectually stimulating, politically conscious content and faux-nerdy delivery.
Fakts One cut the beat during "Home of the Brave" and let Lif spit his most famous verse a cappella: "This further demonizes Afghanis/ So Americans cheer while we kill their innocent families/ And what better place to start a war/ To build a pipeline to get the oil that they had wanted before."
The crowd roared with support for the post-9/11 tirade against the Bush Administration, which says a lot about the performers' demographic: liberal, educated, and politically aware with a priority on lyricism and non-commercial production. It became unmistakably clear that this was not a typical Jammin' 94.5 rap concert when the loudest crowd response came after one of El-P's raps about domestic repression of free speech and dissent. He yelled, "Who's read their Orwell?" and the crowd went wild with affirmation.
Officially, the night belonged to Aesop Rock, the poetically erratic rapper known for his complicated, abstract lyrical content. It's not that he fails to enunciate his words or rhymes too fast; he is actually speaking gibberish at times and yet it sounds brilliant. Aesop's high-energy delivery borders on psychosis and, on stage, his eyes scream with schizophrenic energy that complements his spastic rhyme style (like Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys, Aesop looks as though he should be locked up somewhere).
Of course, the very nature of underground hip-hop is responsible for the crowd's enthusiasm: unlike at mainstream performances, a show like this draws a small group of very dedicated, knowledgeable fans who eat, drink, and breathe hip-hop. The energy level mounted all night and exploded in climax during Aesop's last song "Daylight." Aesop is a very talented rapper, yet by no means one of the best. Yet, he has produced one of the most captivating songs in hip-hop history. Melodically tantalizing and lyrically bewitching, the song floats, flutters, and disappears.
Aesop's purely abstract lyrical aesthicism can be frustrating and a bit draining, yet during his performance he led the delighted crowd in dizzying circles, leaving it bewitched and bewildered by the eccentric emcee. The crowd screamed along with every nonsensical bit of Aesop's jabberwocky as he finished, "Stomach full of halo kibbles/ Wingsspan cast black of porn visuals hear the duck hunt ticker tape/ Vision and pick apart the pixels."
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
What if Salvador Dali gave up painting and fell in love with two turntables and a microphone? Why weren't there any Dada rappers? Aesop Rock, with his stream of unconscious flow and abstract, almost incomprehensible lyrics, answered questions that have been nagging mankind for years on Wednesday at the Paradise Rock Club for the release party for his new album Bazooka Tooth.
The concert was a gathering of independent record label Def Jux musicians and a homecoming for some of Boston's most talented emcees. Locals Mr. Lif and Akrobatik, who opened along with DJ Fakts One, have dominated the local hip-hop scene for almost a decade. Their set was the most inspired of the night, even upstaging headliners Aesop Rock and El-P.
Akrobatik commanded quite a presence onstage with his linebacker physique and heavy bass voice, while Mr. Lif is famous for his intellectually stimulating, politically conscious content and faux-nerdy delivery.
Fakts One cut the beat during "Home of the Brave" and let Lif spit his most famous verse a cappella: "This further demonizes Afghanis/ So Americans cheer while we kill their innocent families/ And what better place to start a war/ To build a pipeline to get the oil that they had wanted before."
The crowd roared with support for the post-9/11 tirade against the Bush Administration, which says a lot about the performers' demographic: liberal, educated, and politically aware with a priority on lyricism and non-commercial production. It became unmistakably clear that this was not a typical Jammin' 94.5 rap concert when the loudest crowd response came after one of El-P's raps about domestic repression of free speech and dissent. He yelled, "Who's read their Orwell?" and the crowd went wild with affirmation.
Officially, the night belonged to Aesop Rock, the poetically erratic rapper known for his complicated, abstract lyrical content. It's not that he fails to enunciate his words or rhymes too fast; he is actually speaking gibberish at times and yet it sounds brilliant. Aesop's high-energy delivery borders on psychosis and, on stage, his eyes scream with schizophrenic energy that complements his spastic rhyme style (like Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys, Aesop looks as though he should be locked up somewhere).
Of course, the very nature of underground hip-hop is responsible for the crowd's enthusiasm: unlike at mainstream performances, a show like this draws a small group of very dedicated, knowledgeable fans who eat, drink, and breathe hip-hop. The energy level mounted all night and exploded in climax during Aesop's last song "Daylight." Aesop is a very talented rapper, yet by no means one of the best. Yet, he has produced one of the most captivating songs in hip-hop history. Melodically tantalizing and lyrically bewitching, the song floats, flutters, and disappears.
Aesop's purely abstract lyrical aesthicism can be frustrating and a bit draining, yet during his performance he led the delighted crowd in dizzying circles, leaving it bewitched and bewildered by the eccentric emcee. The crowd screamed along with every nonsensical bit of Aesop's jabberwocky as he finished, "Stomach full of halo kibbles/ Wingsspan cast black of porn visuals hear the duck hunt ticker tape/ Vision and pick apart the pixels."
September 23, 2003
OutKast divides and conquers on new album
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
After three years of studio experimentation, one of the world's most-anticipated album quickly became one of the world's most difficult to grasp. Overflowing with groundbreaking music, the double album could not entirely hold itself together and nearly burst at its seams. Divergent artistic visions and individual aspirations were pulling the band apart, and the resulting music, hitherto augmented by the juxtaposition of different styles, could now no longer survive the tension.
The year is 1968 and the album is the Beatles' White Album, yet the story might as well refer to OutKast and its new release Speakerboxxx / The Love Below. Coming off the overwhelming success of 2000's Stankonia, which sent critics fleeing to their thesauruses to find more hyperbolic ways to express admiration, the Atlanta duo ran into difficulty producing their follow-up. What do you do when everyone is expecting the unexpected?
The interaction between OutKast members Big Boi and Andre 3000 has always distinguished the group by exploiting their unique skills and creating something greater than the sum of their parts. Dre, the quixotic Gemini, propelled them into the funkiest layers of the stratosphere, while Big Boi, the gritty Aquarius, kept their feet firmly planted in the hood.
The apparent contradiction finally revealed itself as unsustainable when OutKast confirmed rumors that they were working on solo efforts to be packed as a double album. Rumors fluttered about that Andre instigated the separation and that he was tired of being limited by rapping and wanted to pursue other genres of music.
"OutKast, cell therapy, to cell division/ We just split it down the middle so you see both the visions," promises Big Boi. The two albums offer each artist the opportunity to explore his own personal agenda and result in two diametrically different sounds. As expected, Big Boi's half, Speakerboxxx, embraces the deep-fried, Deep South sound of classic OutKast. The album deserves praise for its consistent strength and would be considered progressive if it hadn't been packaged in the same case as Andre 3000's The Love Below.
Andre eschews rapping altogether and prefers to croon his way through an 80-minute meditation on the nature of love and relationships. The infectious joie de vivre with which he sings justifies his imperfect falsetto (though still superior to Pharrell Williams' high-pitched whine), yet his lyrical abilities are so impressive that it's truly a shame to lose such a great emcee.
But this album isn't about hip-hop; it's about mesmerizing music without boundaries. It's full of dizzying, incandescent explosions of brilliance that lead the enthralled listener in every unexpected direction. At times Dre seems over-ambitious and distracted by what amounts to musical masturbation, such as his obnoxious techno cover of "My Favorite Things." Andre flutters without hesitation from each of his creative impulses, apparently apathetic to the listener.
In one of the least likely and most successful collaboration in recent music, Andre and Norah Jones come together for a beautiful, simple duet in which Jones sings, "Baby, take off your cool/ I want to get to know you." Perhaps Dre should heed her advice and abandon his "too cool for rap" attitude so that OutKast can reachieve its yin-yang balance.
By Canyon Cody
Originally published in The Heights
After three years of studio experimentation, one of the world's most-anticipated album quickly became one of the world's most difficult to grasp. Overflowing with groundbreaking music, the double album could not entirely hold itself together and nearly burst at its seams. Divergent artistic visions and individual aspirations were pulling the band apart, and the resulting music, hitherto augmented by the juxtaposition of different styles, could now no longer survive the tension.
The year is 1968 and the album is the Beatles' White Album, yet the story might as well refer to OutKast and its new release Speakerboxxx / The Love Below. Coming off the overwhelming success of 2000's Stankonia, which sent critics fleeing to their thesauruses to find more hyperbolic ways to express admiration, the Atlanta duo ran into difficulty producing their follow-up. What do you do when everyone is expecting the unexpected?
The interaction between OutKast members Big Boi and Andre 3000 has always distinguished the group by exploiting their unique skills and creating something greater than the sum of their parts. Dre, the quixotic Gemini, propelled them into the funkiest layers of the stratosphere, while Big Boi, the gritty Aquarius, kept their feet firmly planted in the hood.
The apparent contradiction finally revealed itself as unsustainable when OutKast confirmed rumors that they were working on solo efforts to be packed as a double album. Rumors fluttered about that Andre instigated the separation and that he was tired of being limited by rapping and wanted to pursue other genres of music.
"OutKast, cell therapy, to cell division/ We just split it down the middle so you see both the visions," promises Big Boi. The two albums offer each artist the opportunity to explore his own personal agenda and result in two diametrically different sounds. As expected, Big Boi's half, Speakerboxxx, embraces the deep-fried, Deep South sound of classic OutKast. The album deserves praise for its consistent strength and would be considered progressive if it hadn't been packaged in the same case as Andre 3000's The Love Below.
Andre eschews rapping altogether and prefers to croon his way through an 80-minute meditation on the nature of love and relationships. The infectious joie de vivre with which he sings justifies his imperfect falsetto (though still superior to Pharrell Williams' high-pitched whine), yet his lyrical abilities are so impressive that it's truly a shame to lose such a great emcee.
But this album isn't about hip-hop; it's about mesmerizing music without boundaries. It's full of dizzying, incandescent explosions of brilliance that lead the enthralled listener in every unexpected direction. At times Dre seems over-ambitious and distracted by what amounts to musical masturbation, such as his obnoxious techno cover of "My Favorite Things." Andre flutters without hesitation from each of his creative impulses, apparently apathetic to the listener.
In one of the least likely and most successful collaboration in recent music, Andre and Norah Jones come together for a beautiful, simple duet in which Jones sings, "Baby, take off your cool/ I want to get to know you." Perhaps Dre should heed her advice and abandon his "too cool for rap" attitude so that OutKast can reachieve its yin-yang balance.
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