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.
October 21, 2003
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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