Ernie Smith - The Best Original Masters Review

Article first published as Music Review: Ernie Smith, The Best Original Masters on Blogcritics.

Ernie Smith was a Jamaican artist who had a string of hits in the early seventies, including “I Can’t Take It,itta Patta,” “Bend Down,” and “Life Is Just For Living.” He recorded for the Federal Records label, who is know for their polished take on reggae. The production on this best-of collection owes more to the countrypolitan sound coming out of Nashville in the same time period as reggae.

There is none of the deep bass or colly-fueled skank of contemporary reggae producers like Joe Gibbs, Niney the Observer, Bunny Lee, or Lee Perry. Instead, there is a pop sheen to the songs, from Smith’s restrained baritone to the inclusion of non-reggae elements like strings and piano. Many of the songs sound like country-western, but for the mild reggae lilt. “I Can’t Take It” even includes a spoken word interlude at the end of the song, in clear, American English, without any of the patois or slang that makes reggae so distinctive. He also experiments with pop on “Footprints on the Ceiling.”

Even the more “reggae” songs on this disc are produced in a way that make them sound country. In the hands of Joe Gibbs or Bunny Lee, “Bend Down” could be a mellow, post-rocksteady reggae song. Smith makes it sound like George Jones with some dreadlocks on bass and guitar. The same is true with “One Dream,” “Ride On Sammy,” and “Pitta Patta.” Smith tries out some patois on “Duppy Gun Man,” but it sounds staged and insincere. His patois on “Key Card” and “Nice Time” sound more natural.

I’m not trying to write him off as a posh, fake Rasta. His pop approach to reggae may not have jibed with what was going on in the dancehall at the time, but forty years later his material sounds like other pop artists of the time, including Johnny Nash and George Jones. Smith’s take on “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is on par with Johnny Cash’s version. The pop production techniques add novel elements to the reggae sound palette, and it’s old enough to sound cool and retro rather than cheesy and watered down. As non-traditional as Ernie Smith’s music is, I found myself really enjoying this album.

There is an upbeat vibe to the songs that acknowledges the hardships in the world without being overwhelmed by them. There’s a story in the liner notes about how Smith decided to return the Jamaica in the late '80s after years of living in Florida. There had been a hurricane, and on the U.S. news, Americans were complaining about how they lost everything. This was contrasted with the Jamaican news, where poor villagers who lost everything were happy to still be alive. Smith realized he was living in the wrong country, and moved back to Jamaica, where he continues to record today. The Best Original Masters is worth investigating for any fan of early seventies pop and country, and anyone who appreciates the pop songwriting from that era.

Madlib Medicine Show #7: High Jazz

Stones Throw, 2010

First published on RapReviews.com

There's an ice cream shop in San Francisco called Humphrey Slocombe that specializes in "unique" flavors. So unique that they got written up in the New York Times about a month ago. Their most famous flavor is Secret Breakfast, which is vanilla with bourbon and cornflakes. Some of their flavors, like Secret Breakfast, offer a unique take on old standards, and end up being really good. However, a lot of them are just weird. I've tried their Peanut Butter Curry, which was edible but wacky, their Salt and Pepper, which was kinda gross, and their Balsamic Caramel, which was fucking nasty. My problem with Humphrey Slocombe is that their ice cream is interesting, but not particularly enjoyable.



Which brings me to Madlib's latest installment of his monthly Medicine Show, "High Jazz." This disc contains thirteen songs of Madlib's various avant-jazz incarnations. It includes tracks by Generation Match, Jahara Massamba Unit, the Kenny Cook Octet, Yesterday's New Quintet, and R.M.C. What are these different incarnations? I don't know. Are there other actual people in the groups, or is Madlib playing all the instruments? I don't know, except that Karim Riggins played drums on some of the tracks.
Before I get too deep in my criticism, I should disclose that I don't know a lot about avant-garde jazz, seventies or eighties jazz, or music theory. I own a lot of 50s and 60s jazz, but not much beyond that, and my collection doesn't get much more far out than a few Sun Ra albums that I enjoy but don't totally understand. I like jazz on an aesthetic, not intellectual level, appreciating how it sounds versus the theory and thought behind the composition. In short, I'm a lay person, so my observations and criticisms should be taken with a grain of salt. I've also not delved too far into Madlib's jazz persona. The only album I own is his jazz-funk "Sound Directions," which I liked. I've stayed away from his Yesterday's New Quintet material, mostly because I was pretty sure I'd feel the same way I felt about it as I felt about "High Jazz."

That said, I like what I like, and I wasn't liking a lot of "High Jazz." Partially because I don't "get" what he's doing musically, and don't have a refined enough ear to appreciate it. Mostly, though, I didn't get into "High Jazz" because many of the songs sounded half-baked and half-finished. "Reality or Dream" by the Big Black Foot Band featuring Black Spirit sounded like someone reciting poetry while the band warmed up. Generation Match's "Electronic Dimensions" was a series of electronic blurbs and bloops that meandered around without any since of direction or purpose, like two stoned robots talking to each other.  Russel Jenkins Jazz Express's "Drunk Again" sounds like three different bands playing three different songs at once. Jahari Massamba Unit's "Pretty Eyes" and "Wanderin'/Nighttime" are pretty enough, but underwhelming, more background music than something that commands your attention.
I'm fully aware that as someone who is not a big avant-garde jazz fan, I could be missing the genius of these songs. To the extent that I'm not enjoying this album because I'm not smart enough to get what's going on, so be it. My real complaint, however, is how half-assed and tossed off the above songs feel. Madlib has been churning music out like a madman this year, and I'm noticing a disturbing lack of finish to some of his output. It's like he's so concentrated on getting shit out the door that he doesn't spend enough time editing what he's doing, and the result is a noticeable sacrifice in quality as he increases his quantity. Madlib is a talented dude, and he should let his prolificness get in the way of making quality music.

Not that "High Jazz" is terrible. Things get more interesting on the deep spaciness of "Space and Time" by R.M.C., with its tinkling piano and heavy acoustic bass. Yesterday's New Quintet's "Conquistador" and the Big Black Foot Band's "Tarzan's Theme" also pick up the pace, providing a groove you can hold on to and sounding more recognizably like songs. Poysner, Riggins, and Jackson's "Funky Butt, Part 1" offers up some funky latin jazz, and the disc closes with "Kimo," a song by the Joe McDuphrey Experience that sounds like a jazz version of house music.

If you are a jazzhead, you might appreciate "High Jazz" on a level that I am unable to. Maybe I'm totally missing the point of this album. To me, it sounds like a lot of half-finished ideas that were rushed out to meet a deadline rather than a well-constructed, well-thought out album. Too much of it is like vinegar ice cream: interesting, but not very enjoyable.

The Intelligence

Article first published as Music Review: The Intelligence - Males on Blogcritics.

Seattle’s The Intelligence started as a side project by A Frames’ drummer Lars Finberg. From humble beginnings as scrungy cassette tape recordings, The Intelligence has become a real band with real production values on their sixth full-length, Males. It’s a trajectory the band started on 2007’s Deuteronomy, but their latest could possibly be their best.

Like the A-Frames and Thee Oh Sees, The Intelligence mix post punk and art rock elements into their clattering garage soup. They aren’t faux mods in Beatle boots pretending that it’s 1966 all over again. Instead, they meld raw, primitive rock with more complex ideas and songwriting. The garage rock elements give the music vitality and danger, but the artier elements give it weight.

The weirdness factor has been toned down from previous releases to the point where every song here feels like a song. It’s not weird for weird’s sake, and the artiness doesn’t make the music unpalatable. Rather, like a good Sonic Youth song, The Intelligence have a je ne sais quoi that makes Males more than just another garage album. Speaking of Sonic Youth, Lars is a dead ringer, vocal-wise, for Youth pinch singer Lee Renaldo, and “Sailor Itch” sounds like Daydream Nation gone surf rock.

Let’s not oversell the art rock thing, though. This is rock n’ roll, not conceptual art. Song titles like “Bong Life,” “Tuned to Puke,” and “Mom or A Parking Lot” make it clear that The Intelligence leans more towards so-dumb-it’s-brilliant rather than book smart.  

Lead single “Like Like Like Like Like Like” is a short-but-sweet blast that is in and out before you have time to defend yourself. “Mom or A Parking Lot” is a nightmarish piece of psychedelia with chipper but creepy keyboard. My favorite song on the album was “White Corvette,” a punky new wave song that rides the same notes for most of it’s three minute running time until finally giving you relief in the chorus, “It’s no fun/No no fun!”

At eleven tracks in under 26 minutes, Males is over almost as quickly as it begins. Most of the songs clock in at around two minutes, ending before they wear out their welcome. The result is a joyride that maintains it's brainy energy without ever sagging or getting boring.

Gappy Ranks

Article first published as Music Review: Gappy Ranks, Put The Stereo On on Blogcritics.

This is the debut solo album by London reggae artist Gappy Ranks, who first made a name for himself as part of the dancehall group Suncycle. On his solo album, he veers away from the hip hop-influenced dancehall of Suncycle, looking instead to rocksteady and early reggae.

Retro is the name of the game: the cover of the album evokes mid-sixties British ska, Gappy covers songs by Bob Marley and Tenor Saw, and recycles Treasure Isle riddims on several tracks. Just as many contemporary R&B singers are referencing and reworking classic sixties soul, Gappy is referencing and reworking reggae and rocksteady from the late sixties and early seventies.

The key to the sound of Put The Stereo On are the producers, the Peckings. The Peckings are Chris, Duke and Trevor Price, sons of British reggae pioneer George Price, aka Peckings. The Peckings contemporary take on old school sounds shows that they share a love for the music that their father so tirelessly promoted.

The songs range from the mellow skank and cultural lyrics of “Mountain Top” and the serious dread of “So Lost” to the more modern sounds of “A Little Understanding.” The mix of classic reggae sounds and riddims with modern production techniques and lyrics works perfectly on “Pumpkin Belly” and the title track. The analog riddims are beefed up with modern bass and drums, and Gappy’s commanding voice reminds you that this is the 2010s, not the 1970s.

Unfortunately, the Peckings try to make Gappy sound too contemporary, often running his voice through Auto-Tune. The robotic effect clashes with the classic riddims, and killed a couple of the songs for me. “Happiest Day of My Life” would be a much, much stronger song if Gappy didn’t sound like an underwater Cylon over the bright rocksteady riddim. His voice sounds better when the Auto-Tune is either not used or used sparingly.

Even with the unfortunate overuse of vocal effects, Put The Stereo On is a strong album. I loved the mix of old and new sounds, and the way Gappy and the Peckings put a fresh spin on 60s and 70s reggae and rocksteady. Not all of the songs worked, but those that did were pretty brilliant.

1977

I reviewed Ana Tijoux's 1977 for RapReviews this week. She's a French/Chilean rapper who at her best moments sounds like a female mixture of Mos Def and Manu Chao. A little too mellow on the second half of the album for my tastes, but I still enjoyed it. It reminded me of parties in Italy when I was a student there. Ten years ago. Christ I'm old. I love the title track.



Also, I finally downloaded Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers L.A.M.F. on Emusic last week. It was a long lost album by the former New York Dolls guitarist. I heard about it back when I was obsessed with the Sex Pistols in the late 80s. Sid Vicious covers "Born to Lose" and "Chinese Rocks" on Sid Sings. L.A.M.F. was released on a label that went under in the seventies, and was really hard to find until it was rereleased in the 90s. Scrungy, dirty rock n' roll that makes me want to take a bath.

Loose Change Review

I did a review of Loose Change's album on RapReviews a coupla weeks back.

Dillinger Review

Originally published on RapReviews

Dillinger, CB200 + Bionic Dread 
Hip O Select/Island Def Jam 1977/2004

Jamaican music has always been dominated by the dancehall.  They were controlled by the soundmen with the biggest, most powerful systems, many of whom became successful producers. They were ruled by selectors with the rarest 45s and their chatty deejays keeping the crowd pumped up. The key to the success of any any Jamaican sound system in the sixties and seventies was having the newest, rarest tracks. That often involved working with labels to get a steady stream of unmarked 45 containing exclusive songs. Soon the Jamaican engineers were experimenting with versioning songs, which began as simple instrumentals, and eventually became the weird and wonderful world of dub. These exclusive versions were a must for any successful sound system.

The deejay was another key to a successful system. Early deejays like King Stitt and Dennis Alcapone would chatter over records, often commenting on the tracks, and keeping the party going. This would be adapted in the Bronx as rapping, with funk and disco 45s replacing reggae.

The instrumental versions gave the deejays plenty of space to do their thing, and the crowd ate it up. Pretty soon deejays were releasing records of their own. The spontaneous nature of deejaying meant that the lyrics could be much more conversational and current than the lyrics to song, and labels got to re-release the same backing track as an entirely new song.

For a hip hop fan looking to explore reggae, dancehall, as deejay music came to be called, is a good place to start. It's essentially Jamaican rapping, with deejays sing/talking over a riddim, ie bass and drums. As with early hip hop, there is a lot of crate digging going on, with producers unearthing forgotten riddims and giving them new life. Dillinger's "CB200 + BIonic Dread" is a great introduction to the genre. This 2004 re-issue presents remastered versions of two classic dancehall albums, complete with extensive liner notes.

Dillinger's "CB200" and "Bionic Dread" were released in January and March of 1977. All the songs were recorded in Studio One, with Sly Dunbar (of Sly and Robbie) and Ossie Hibbert overseeing production. Most of the backing tracks were newly recorded versions of popular Studio One songs, with Dillinger rapping over instrumentals of songs by Gregory Isaacs, Delroy Wilson, and the Mighty Diamonds among others.

The first ten songs are from "CB200" while the second ten are from "Bionic Dread." The album covers show the development that took place in Dillinger within the three months that they were released. "CB200' is a folk art painting of an unimpressive motorbike; "Bionic Dread" is a stylized painting of a bionic rasta on a futuristic motorcycle speeding past a country family with all their possessions piled on their Woody. It looks like a Journey or Boston cover from that era, showing how much more successful and sophisticated Dillinger had become. Musically, "Bionic Dread" is similar to "CB200," although arguably a little less impressive.

Part of the success of "CB200" is the fact that the music sounds amazing. Studio One had just updated their gear, so the sound is crisp and clean, but not tainted by the digital instruments or recording styles that would come into vogue in the 80s. The bass, drums, and horns all shine through, without any of the muddiness that is so prevalent on some deejay albums. The main reason why these albums have remained classics, of course, is Dillinger himself.

Born Lester Bullock, this Kingston native hung around sound systems with deejays like Dennis Alcapone as a kid, trying to make a name for himself. He cut some tracks with Lee Perry that didn't go anywhere, and released an underrated debut in 1975, "Ready Nattie Dreadie." "CB200" was his masterpiece, the success of which was largely due to the single "Cokane In My Brain," a big hit outside of Jamaica. The song was inspired by the drug use of white tourists to the island, and built upon a version of BT Express's "Do It (Till You're Satisfied)." Dillinger presents the song as a conversation between two guys named Jim and John. John asks Jim to spell New York, and after Jim spells "N-E-W-Y-O-R-K," John tells him he's wrong:

"A knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork
That's the way we spell New York, Jim - yeah
You see I'm a dynamite
So all you got to do is hold me tight
Because I'm out a sight, you know
'Cause I'm a dynamite
But everytime I walk in the rain
Man, oh man, I feel a pain, I feel a burning pain
Keep on burning in my bloody brain
I've got cocaine running around my brain"

It's a funny, classic song, and it's not hard to see why it was such a hit with European and American stoners. For most of the album, however, Dillinger abandons the jokey, funky style of "Cokane" for something dreader and more melodic. The only drug he raps about is collie herb, and he's more interested in escaping Babylon than laughing at their drug choice. "Plantation Heights" is arguably the best song on the album, and a good indicator of the real Dillinger. Over a version of the Mighty Diamonds' gorgeous "I Need A Roof," Dillinger sing/raps about the "ital bud" and marijuana agriculture. American listeners might have a hard time decifering his accent, slang, and cultural references, but lines like "I smoke marijuana" ring through loud and clear.

While Dillinger's thick patois isn't the easiest thing for a gringo to decipher, it's not hard to get the jist of what he's talking about. "CB200" is an ode to his motor bike, and "Race Day" and "Natty Kick Like Lightening" also explore Dillinger's love of going fast. "No Chuck It," with it's references to motorslaughter and "Davey vs. Goliath" riots references the turbulent times that Jamaica was experiencing in the late 70s.

The nature of dancehall deejaying as a spontaneous act means that not everything Dillingeris saying makes sense or is supposed to. On "The General," he explains "Natty dread don't shiver because he don't eat liver" a few lines before advising listeners, "You've got to live the life you love/and love the life you live," and saying Ethiopians should get out of Babylon. Much of the lyrics are seemingly stream-of-conscious, and a lot of the songs fade out mid-verse. The profound mixes with the inane, social criticisms and religious affirmations are juxtaposed with bragging and talking about riding motorbikes.

The point, though, isn't WHAT he is saying, it's HOW he's saying it. For this reason, Dillinger is one of the best of the 70s deejays, and a good entry point for a novice to the genre. He sing/talks to the melody, riding the riddim, and inserting vocal tics and flourishes every so often. He melds with the track even more perfectly than a singer would, actually becoming part of the rhythm and melody. The barking, aggressive style that deejays took on in the 80s and 90s isn't apparent here.

The end result is an album that meshes the mellow riddims of reggae with the wordplay and syncopated rhyming of hip hop. In other words, its the best of both worlds. For newbies to reggae and dancehall, it's an excellent starting point. For fans of the genre, it is a must-own.

Dub-stravaganza

I just got the four-disc Evolution of Dub Volume One: Origin of the Species. It's a box set released by VP records last year that consists of Joe Gibbs Dub Serial, King Tubby's Dub from the Roots and The Roots of Dub, and Niney the Observer's Dubbing With the Observer. All of the discs come in sleeves that reproduce the original artwork. I stumbled upon in at Amoeba today when I was looking for Niney's Dubbing with the Observer, which is super hard to find, even illegally. It's meant to be a classic of the genre. The point of the collection is to put four early dub albums together to show how the art form evolved. Joe Gibbs Dub Serial, which had a retail price of $50 in the early seventies (which is probably several hundred dollars in today's cash), was one of the first dub albums, and is less messed-with than Tubby and Niney's albums. This is probably all the dub I'll have use for for a long, long time, but it was a score to find four classic albums for about six bucks each.  I'm sure it would be much more meaningful if I smoked pot.

Purify Review

I reviewed Purify's Remixes Felt album this week at RapReviews. Purify is a Midwestern producer who does mellower, sample-based beats. Felt is a project with Murs and Slug. I was into it.

I have  a few more reviews I'm working on, but most likely will be on a hiatus for a bit, or at least posting sporadically. I'm going back to school, and working full time, which seems like a lot of work. Hopefully I'll still have time to do some reviews every couple weeks or so. How else am I going to get new music? All my record-buying money is going into books and school.

I've decided my study music for school this time around will be dub and jazz. I always need non-vocal study music. Last time around it was mostly ambient electronica and opera (which has words but still does the trick).

Common People

I studied in Florence, Italy in 1995. It was one of the best years of my life (to date), but at the time, I wasn't ready for it. I had moved to San Francisco in the Fall of 1993, and spent the next two years getting immersed in the burgeoning SF punk scene, seeing Green Day, Jawbreaker, and a lot of other smaller bands Before They Were Big (although Cake and Rage Against the Machine were probably the only bands I actually saw Before They Were Famous-Schlong, Skanking Pickle, Strawman, Pounded Clown, Tilt, Fluf, etc. never had such a big impact).

What was I talking about?

Oh, so I arrive in Italy as a twenty-year old who is really into country, rockabilly, Kiss, gangsta rap, and punk rock. My roommate in SF had been into the blossoming Brit Pop scene, but it seemed like fey, wimpy, affected garbage to me. I wanted to hear American music, dammit! I hated the idea of sucking up the Brits, and the snobbery and utter wimpiness that I associated with it.

Half a year in Europe changed my mind. We would go to the Scorpione bar (between the Ufizzi and Santa Croce, for anyone who knows Florence, and they would play videos that we would dance to. One of the videos on constant rotation was Pulp's "Common People." It was, and remains, one of my favorite dance songs of all time.




Musically, it references synth pop, glam rock, and British pop, but gave it a (then) contemporary sheen. More importantly, it had a level of musical sophistication that was sorely lacking among the deteriorating grunge scene. By 1995 grunge was sold out and played out. True innovators like Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam had given way to shitty imitators like Candlebox and Creed. The music was muddy, dreary, and no fun at all. I was sick of distorted guitars, and sick of white kids from comfortable backgrounds whining about how miserable they were (see emo). Worse, American music had gotten insular and navel-gazing. I was over it, and looking for something that was more fun and had something to say.

"Common People" is a fun dance song, but it is a fun dance song that dissects how the rich see the poor as a font of authenticity and realness, romanticizing the suffering and squalor of the lower classes. Singer Jarvis Cocker calls out the girl in the song (based on a Greek woman he met at university), but also calls out the hopelessness and meaninglessness of the lives of the "common people."

"You'll never fail like common people," he sings. "You'll never watch your life slide out of view/And then dance and drink and screw/Because there's nothing else to do."

When I got back to SF in summer of 1996, I started going to Popscene, then at the Black Cat Club. Every Thursday me and my roommate Matt would dress in our most mod gear, drink guiness and dance. Every week this song came on, and it was always a cathartic experience, naming how meaningless and inconsequential we were feeling, and making it seem ok. I still love the song, and whenever I hear it, it makes me smile.

So I got into Brit Pop for a while until eventually, the artifice and foreign-ness of it got on my nerves again, and I gravitated towards other types of music. When I went back to Italy in 2000, I was listening mostly to hardcore punk. That year my biggest musical discovery was Bob Dylan. Sometimes you have to go away to come home.

Arcade Fire and albums

I bought the new Arcade Fire, The Suburbs, last week. I coulda downloaded it on Emusic, but I went in and paid my $13 for a physical cd at Ameoba, because that's how the band meant it to be digested. I do a lot of digital downloads, and there is a positive side to it, but there is something to be said for the permanence and physicality of an actual album.

I believe in albums. I believe in listening to 40-60 minutes of what an artist has to say, to hear how their songs interconnect, what the different songs have to say about an artist, and the mood that is struck over the course of an album. Mostly I listen to music on shuffle on my iPod, but I'm fucking sick of it. I'm tired of hearing a reggae song after a punk song after a hip hop song after a jazz song. I'm tired of how it doesn't make sense, how there's no rhyme or reason, how I skip ahead before I reach the end. I used to know how all of the songs bled together on the albums I loved, how the end of one song fed into the beginning of another, the mood shift as a slow song is followed by an uptempo song. Now it's just a hot mess, 1000+ songs on shuffle with no rhyme or reason. I want to go back to listening to albums. I want artists to keep making them. I realize it began with the technical limitations of records, but it makes sense. And I think 45 minutes is a perfect time frame, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. In the 90s, every album became a double album, all of them pushed to their 75-minute capacity. This meant that albums were bloated, full of filler, and not enjoyable to listen to as a whole. Less is more. Give us your good shit, leave the detritus for a mixtape or box set.

I haven't listened much to The Suburbs, but when I do it's as a whole, not on shuffle, as an album, like Win and fam meant it. Dammit.

Busy Signal and Capleton Review

Two recent dance hall releases highlight two very different approaches to the genre. Busy Signal’s D.O.B. is full of high-energy songs about partying, while Capleton’s I-Ternal Fire offers a more mature and reflective perspective.

Busy Signal’s third album, D.O.B., is full of raucous riddims, hyperactive rapping, and many odes to partying and getting it on. Much of the success of the album is owed to the producers, who include DJ Karim, Kalonji D’Aguilar, Stephen “Di Genius” McGregor, Shane Brown, T’Jean Bennett, and Andrew Myrie. They show some of the same risk-taking and experimentation that made turn of the century hip hop so exciting. There are latin riddims on "Picane" and "Busy Latino," and classical flourishes on "Opera." "Nuh Fraid" sounds like Southern club rap, and "Hair Dresser Shop" draws from American R&B. Several tracks offer up the distilled essence of dancehall, including "Summn' A Guh Gwaan," with Bounty Killer, and "My Money (Money Tree)." The latter is little more than a snapping beat with Busy Signal's Auto-Tuned voice filling up the empty space, minimalism at its best.

Busy Signal rounds out his dancefloor movers with a handful of slower tracks. "Sweet Love (Night Shift)" is an update on the Commodores' 80s hit "Night Shift," and despite the cheese factor, Busy makes it work. He tries the trick again on "One More NIght," but this time around the source material (Phil Collins) isn't worth resurrecting. He picks a better song to rework on "Hi Grade," which references Tenor Saw's "Ring The Alarm" to praise the herb. The album ends with the ballad "Peace Reign," which proves that there is more to Busy than nightclubbing. Still, Busy Signal is at his best when he's getting asses to move, and the finest moments on D.O.B. are the uptempo ones.

There's not much geared towards the club on Capleton's I-Ternal Fire. The dancehall veteran has put out over twenty albums, and his slack days are far behind him. His latest album sees him examining what is right and wrong with the world, offering up 15 tracks of reggae that draws from roots artists like Bob Marley.

At his best, Capleton channels the righteous anger and soulful riddim of roots reggae. "Global War" criticizes Western countries for their wars; "Acres" celebrates marijuana agriculture; and "Same Old Story" is a moving ballad. The production throughout is lush, drawing heavily on acoustic instrumentation to create an organic feel. However, while the album sounds great and I appreciate the conscious lyrics, I-Ternal Fire is too mellow for my tastes. It's adult contemporary reggae, which isn't my cup of tea. While I may not put I-Ternal Fire on heavy rotation, it is still a solid album that fans of mellower reggae will enjoy. Personally, I'll stick with the more energetic if less morally defensible Busy Signal.

Article first published as Music Review: Busy Signal and Capleton on Blogcritics.

Gotham Green Review

I reviewed Gotham Green and Quickie Mart's Haze Diaries Volume 3 on RapReviews this week. Decent stoner rap, with enough solid tracks to make it at least worth a perusal on their bandcamp site. They have some stuff for free, if you are feeling cheap. Here's the song they did with Freddie Gibbs.



There's a music marketing site I read sometimes called Audible Hype, and they said that there has been a 300% increase in albums released this decade. Here's a quote from their post on how oversaturated hip hop was last year:
According to SoundScan, 105,000 new full-length albums were released in 2008, up almost 300% from earlier in the decade. The number that sold over 1000 units in the first year? Only 6,000.


Crazy.


Also, I'm loving the new Roots album, How I Got Over.  Maybe because there are so many indie rocker guest spots. It's mellow, grown-man hip hop, but I love it.

Thee Oh Sees, Yellow Fever and the Bare Wires at the Independent

I went and saw Thee Oh Sees, Yellow Fever, and Bare Wires play at the Independent on August 7, 2010.
I was excited to see Yellow Fever, whose debut last year has stayed in heavy rotation on my stereo.

Bare Wires from Oakland opened up. I know nothing about them, except that they are from Oakland, are named after a John Mayall album, have a lead singer who looks like Wierd Al, a bassist that looks like Joey Ramone, and sound like the Sweet meet the Kinks. Here they are playing at SXSW this year.


Yellow Fever were good, but a little mellow for the crowd. It was a woman with a Buddy Holly look on guitar and vocals, and a guy who looks like my friend Chad on drums and keyboards. Dude was multitasking.

The highlight was the Oh Sees. I don't know anything about them, either. Evidently their singer, John Dwyer, is an SF garage punk legend, having been in the Coachwhips.

Their sound is a mix of rockabilly, punk, and garage rock, distilled like a fine bourbon into the purest essence. They were ROCKING. It was probably the most rock n roll experience I've had in a while. Dwyer played his guitar like it was trying to escape from him, the drummer pounded away on his drums, and the bassist (petey dammit) banged his head like a possessed mod. So, so good. HIPSTERS DANCED. For real.


I think his wikipedia entry says the difference between the Oh Sees and Coachwhips is less drugs. Goddamn.



Anyways, I was really into the show, even if I did leave before midnight.

Mac Truc and Reggae Gold Reviews

I have two reviews for RapReviews up now.  The first is Mac Truc's II Be Heard.
He's a rapper out of the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virgina) who does grown man rap - jazz-influenced beats and rhymes with perspective. He reached out to me because I had reviewed TruBless's album a few years back. It's a solid album, worth a listen.

I also reviewed the Reggae Gold 2010 compilation. I'm still not totally sold on contemporary reggae, but there is some good stuff on the comp, including "As We Enter," with Nas and Damien Marley, that samples one of my favorite Ethiopian reggae songs.


Hey, hold these flashlights and look tough. Sweet, that's our video right dere.

I just got the new Roots, which is great, and the new Arcade Fire, which I haven't listened to. It seems good though.

What I'm Listening To

I just found a copy of Sly and the Family Stone's trippy masterpiece There's a Riot Goin' On.  It's a claustrophobic, intimate record. Drugs may have been involved.



I also bought a two-disc compilation of producer/singer Linval Thompson's stuff. He was somewhere in the Horace Andy/Dennis Brown/Bob Marley vein. I just got his Six Babylon Recently, which is pretty great. The one downside to his groovy, heavy, dready music is that ever single song is about loving Jah and/or having natty dreads. Except for this song, about how much he likes weed.


Finally, I loaded my iPod up with Iron Maiden so that I could listen to the sweet, sweet sounds of Bruce Dickenson wailing away on "Run to the Hills" while packed like a sardine can on Muni on my way home.
Rock the fuck out.

Giano Review

I reviewed Giano's Beautiful World for RapReviews this week. Backpack Christian rap. Liked the backpack, wasn't feeling the Christian, but if you are a hip hop head who is at church every Sunday, cop this.

The Definitive Collection of Federal Records Review

This two-disc compilation covers the output of Federal Records from the mid-sixties through the early eighties. The label was founded by Kenneth Khouri in the early sixties. Khouri got his start in the 1950s cutting singles of mento records, and was on the front lines as ska exploded and then evolved into rocksteady, eventually settling into reggae.
The songs are arranged chronologically. Disc one starts out with the bright, raw sound of ska, including the Maytals' “My Daily Food” and Eric “Monty” Morris’s “In the Garden.” They are upbeat, energetic, and infectious, but they pale in comparison to the more sophisticated rocksteady songs. One of the first rocksteady songs recorded is included, Hopeton Lewis’s “Take It Easy.” One listen to that track and you’ll understand why a generation of Jamaicans abandoned the energetic but simple pulse of ska for the cooler, smoother rocksteady groove. Hopeton Lewis’s “Sounds and Pressure” is also on the disc, along with tracks by the Paragons and the Gaylettes.
One of the hallmarks of the Federal label was reggae remakes of pop tunes. There is a range of covers on this compilation, from Englebert Humperdink's “Talking Love,” to the Monkees’ “Its Nice To Be With You” to Dusty Springfield’s “Son of A Preacher Man.” Some of these covers, like the Gaylettes’ version of “Preacher Man,” are brilliant, but there are examples of pop songs that would have been better left alone. Gilbert O’Sullivan’s weepy “Alone Again Naturally” was anything but a natural fit for a reggae remake, as The Now Generations muzak version attests.
As the music changed from rocksteady to reggae, Federal’s output acquired a pop, cosmopolitan sheen. Disc two, which spans 1973-1982, is far from sufferah music. The polished production strips the songs of any danger, edge, or dread. This is reggae for dinner parties with polite society, music for red wine rather than spliffs. It’s still enjoyable, but is a marked contrast from other reggae producers of the era. This is definitely not the Black Ark.
High points include Ken Boothe and B.B. Seaton’s soul scorcher “(It’s the Way) Nature Planned It,” Delroy Wilson’s “I’m Still Waiting,” and Bob Andy’s “Fire Burning.” Other notable artists include Ernie Smith, Johnny Nash, and Marcia Griffiths. The album comes with excellent liner notes written by reggae historian Steve Barrow, and lots of photos from the era. All in all it’s a nice overview of a very fertile 18-year period of Jamaican musical history, and a good documentation of the Federal label’s contribution to that history.

Read more: http://blogcritics.org/music/article/music-review-the-definitive-collection-of/#ixzz0v86EOvea

Article first published as Music Review: The Definitive Collection of Federal Records (1964-1982) on Blogcritics.

Romain Virgo and Gyptian Reviews

Romain Virgo - Romain Virgo
Romain Virgo is a twenty-year-old Jamaican singer who has just released a stellar self-titled debut album. I’ve seen YouTube videos of him covering Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing,” on Digicel’s Rising Stars show, which he won in 2007. It is a tribute to his soulful voice that he does the original proud. Simply put, Romain has a gorgeous voice, one of the best I’ve heard in a while. It is smooth as silk, warm as a Jamaican summer, and rich with emotion. He conveys longing, joy, sadness, and heartbreak, often in the same song.

The album starts off with “Mi Caan’ Sleep,” a deceptively upbeat track. Over the bouncy “Feel Good” riddim, Romain sings about stress-induced insomnia. The verses are all about the violence and problems in the world, but the chorus sounds like a celebration. He acknowledges the bad in the world, but refuses to let it get him down. He’s less joyful on “Murderer,” an angry condemnation of violent youth, warning them “Jah Jah gonna school ya.”

Romain doesn’t spend too much of his time worrying about trouble and strife. Much of the album is R&B influenced slow jams, complete with the occasional (and totally unnecessary) Auto-Tune. It is a testament to his talent that he makes cheesy songs like “Love Doctor” palatable. While I wasn’t as impressed with the numerous love ballads, the uptempo tracks like “Customer Care” and “Live Mi Life” were enough to win me over. This is an excellent album and a must-hear for anyone into contemporary reggae.


Gyptian - Hold You
If Romain Virgo is an artist you need to hear, Gyptian is an artist you can’t escape from. His hit “Hold You” has been ubiquitous, most recently appearing as a remix with Nikki Minaj. Gyptian specializes in slick love songs, and comes off like a Jamaican Usher. He has a good voice, although like Romain Virgo, dabbles unnecessarily in Auto-Tune.

Most of this was too polished for my tastes, although I did enjoy “Leave Us Alone,” and I have to admit that Gyptian does what he does very well. Hold You is tasteful, well-done babymaking music, pure and simple. This is sure to be the soundtrack for countless late night romantic encounters. If you can’t get enough of “Hold You” the song, then Hold You the album should be more than enough to give you your Gyptian fix.

Article first published as Music Review: Romain Virgo and Gyptian on Blogcritics.

Althea and Donna

Tell me that's not a somewhat unfortunate cover. Althea and Donna had a big hit in 1977 with "Uptown Top Ranking," which in turn reworked a riddim that had been used numerous times, including songs by Anton Ellis, Marica Atkins, and Trinity. It's an amazing song. The album, not so much.

Side Effect

I reviewed Side Effect's Grown Man Grizzly mixtape this week on RapReviews. I'm working on about six or seven different reggae reviews for albums that were sent to me, some of which are pretty good, some not so much.

I also downloaded the English Beat's second album, 1981's Wha'ppen?. I had it on cassette, and I have a crappy vinyl version, but now I can listen to it on my iPod. The Beat were part of the 2-tone movement that included the Specials and Madness. Their first album was ska, but their second album was more reggae, and their final album, Special Beat Service, is a pretty good pop album. After the Specials, they were the best part of that movement, and Dave Wakeling still tours with a new band as the English Beat. They are ok in their new incarnation, a decent nostalgia act. I passed him on Polk Street a few years ago, which gave me a thrill.

Homeboy Sandman Review/What I'm Listening To

I reviewed Homeboy Sandman's The Good Sun on RapReviews this week.  I compared him to DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, but by way of a compliment. I'm loving it. The verbal dexterity of Eminem, only not a dick.

I've been meaning to listen to Sun Ra for a while, ever since he was mentioned on Quasimoto's 2005 album The Further Adventures of Lord Quas. Trippy, spacy jazz? Yes, please.

The new M.I.A. came out today. I'm sure I'll end up picking it up, but I'm not excited about it. I'm over her schtick - revolutionary posturing without really saying much, all from a woman who is neither a good rapper nor a singer. I still love Kala, but I feel like I've moved on. Maybe I'll change my mind.

Die Antwoord are playing in SF this Friday at a tiny club. I didn't buy tickets. I did buy tickets to see Thao Nguyen and some other mellow dudes next Friday, and Thee Oh Sees and Yellow Fever in August. Debating if I want to go to Treasure Island this year. Great line up, shitty logistics. The Outside Lands festival, a twenty minute walk from my house, has a pretty uninspiring line up this year.

Polvo, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, and the new Wavves are all on rotation in my iPod. And a bunch of reggae. This week it's Linval Thompson. Plus I've been listening to Gregory Isaacs in the morning. Nothing better than lovers rock at six am.


I was busy writing a statement of purpose for grad school and debating if I really wanted to spend the money and time to get a second degree. If I went back to school it would probably mean less time devoted to writing about music. Although that would be replaced by more time writing about how a nonprofit organization should run. Hm.

Also, Joy Division. One of my favorite bands ever. If you don't like them, you're wrong. Or better adjusted than I.

O.J. Simpson Review

Article originally published on Rapreviews
Guilty Simpson :: O.J. Simpson :: Stones Throw Records 

I first saw Guilty Simpson about four years ago at a Stones Throw show, opening for Madlib. That show, along with his verses on "Watch Your Step" off of Percee P's "Perseverance," and "Take Notice" on Dilla's "Ruff Draft," made Guilty seem like the next big thing: a rapper who could be grimy as hell and still hang with the backpack crowd. Guilty was a Dilla protege, and  Dilla was supposed to be handling production on Guilty's debut. Then Dilla died,  and by the time "Ode to the Ghetto" appeared in March of 2008, there were hardly any Dilla joints on it.
Having Madlib, Black Milk, and Oh No pick up the slack was a nice consolation prize. While I enjoyed "Ode to the Ghetto", I respectfully disagree with this website's perfect rating of that album. It's a good album, but Guilty's rhyming sometimes resorted to gangster rap cliches, and I had trouble understanding what songs like "Getting Riches/Getting Bitches" were supposed to be the antidote for. Did we really need more thuggish gangsta rap? Aren't there about 100 street rap albums released each month that fill that niche? Rather than feeling like the Next Big Thing, "Ode to the Ghetto" was just more of the same.
I was hopeful when I learned that Madlib and Guilty were going to be collaborating on an album. Whatever his flaws, Guilty is still a solid rapper, and the combination of his straightforward gangsta rap over Madlib's wacked-out beats is brilliant. Madlib adds some variety and experimentation to Guilty's no-nonsense flow, and Guilty in turn grounds Madlib, keeping him from going off into the deep end. It's a perfect partnership, with one major problem: the skits.
I'm not a big skit person. Even skits that are funny get old the tenth time you hear them. They generally drag down an album, screwing up its momentum. That's especially the case with the skits on "O.J. Simpson." See, the collaboration between Madlib and Guilty goes beyond Madlib supplying the beats. He also does TWELVE skits on the album, which means that exactly half of the songs on "O.J. Simpson" are skits. You know it's bad when it starts off with a prelude and then an intro. You have to listen to two skits before you even get into the actual music. The skits are mostly made up of what appears to be Melvin Van Peebles routines set to music. Some of them are pretty funny, but not twelve, and not on repeated listens. Madlib got the mix right on the last Quasimoto album, mixing in a few soundbites in with the rest of the songs. On "O.J. Simpson, " it's total overload and would be a deal breaker except for the fact that you can delete his tracks from your playlist.
Let me be clear: Madlib's beats on this disc are top notch, and includes some of his better work. It's the skits that are half-assed, stoned experimentations that should have been left on the cutting room floor. Madlib is doing an album a month through his "Medicine Shop" series, along with a lot of other projects, and I'm sensing some fatigue. He'd be better off focusing on quality over quantity, waiting until he had something truly great to put out rather than selling all of his ideas at a premium.
Even with the skit overkill, "O.J. Simpson" is a great album. Guilty continues to come off like this generation's Ice Cube, an angry yet thoughtful rapper who can be surprisingly reflective underneath his tough exterior. "Cali Hills" is a nice recounting of his relationship with the late J Dilla. "Karma of a Kingpin" is about how he admired the gangsters in his Detroit neighborhood as a kid. "Back On the Road Again" is about the grind of touring, and the pressures it puts on his relationship. The centerpiece of the album is "Coroner's Music." I've been listening to it nonstop since it was released as a single at the beginning of the year, and I'm still not sick of it. Madlib delivers one of his nastiest, evilest beats, and Guilty is absolutely on fire:
"Coroners must love my shit for certain
I keep 'em working
[...]
In this rap tug-of-war I yank the cord and watch them fall down
My report is lethal
No equal
No survivors
No sequel
None compare
They crumble when the monster stares
I see through you
My heat do to you
What they shoulda did"
Guilty is joined by Strong Arm Steady on "Outside," (where he threatens "to turn your little house party into UFC"). and Frank on "Scratch Warning," but for the most part, this is Guilty's show. He's still not the most dexterous rapper, wielding his rhymes like blunt instruments. What he does offer is old-fashioned gangsta rap, hard as hell and with a sense of humor underneath all the posturing and scowling.
"O.J. Simpson" continues to deliver on the promise that Guilty Simpson showed on his early work, and sees him continuing to develop and hone his craft. Madlib's beats are an excellent foil to his rhymes, and the two compliment one another. The real weak point is Madlib's skits, which show that the Beatkonducta is overextended, and has lost the ability to self-edit. While I admire Madlib's work ethic, he should explore the less is more philosophy. In the meantime, "O.J. Simpson" is best enjoyed with the skits cut out of it.
Music Vibes: 7 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 8 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 7.5 of 10

Wavves Review

Wavves
King of the Beach

We all lose our shit sometimes. Hopefully we do it in the privacy of our own homes, far away from mobile phone cameras. Occasionally it’s in front of coworkers or family members, and we have to mumble an awkward apology later. Unfortunately, Wavves frontman Nathan Williams had the misfortune of losing his shit while playing a show at a festival in Spain curated by Pitchfork, the very website that had helped catapult him into fame. The site took special glee in tearing down the man they had been so overeager to promote in the months prior. It was a spectacular, embarrassing, and very public meltdown, indie rock’s own version of Britney Spears (although much less insane, and with less schadenfreude).

So here’s the deal. Nathan made a bunch of songs by himself as Wavves at his parents' house. His poppy, fuzzed out punk generated a lot of critical adoration, perhaps in greater measure than they deserved. Wavves became the Next Thing in a media landscape that is obsessed with the new. I listened to about five seconds of Wavves' first two albums, decided they were too noisy, and moved on to my own personal Next Thing. It was clear in the five seconds I spent with Wavves that they were on to something, but I couldn’t hang with their shitty production values.

So when I heard that their new album was recorded in an actual studio (Sweet Tea Recordings in Oxford, Mississippi) by a guy who had worked with Modest Mouse (Dennis Herring), I was immediately intrigued. What could Wavves do working with good equipment and a guy who knew how to record music? The results prove that Wavves is much more than a flash in the pan, and that Pitchfork’s championing of the band was spot on.

Opening track “King of the Beach” is a blast of wistful pop punk, with Nathan singing “Let the sun burn my eyes.” It’s still fuzzy, but the sound has been cleaned up considerably since his last record, and the result is that you can actually hear what he’s playing and singing. It’s like the band has had Lasik surgery, and all the fuzzy shapes are clear now.

I was totally sold on Wavves by the second song, “Super Soaker,” which demonstrates the strength of Williams’ songwriting. It also shows elements of psychedelic music. In fact, this album is like a mash-up of Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd, the Beach Boys, and early '90s punk. There are harmonies inherited from Brian Wilson, whimsical trippiness handed down from early Floyd, and the cynicism and ennui of '90s alterna-rock ranging from Smashing Pumpkins to the Pixies to the Dead Milkmen.

Wavves is also an actual band this time around. Williams met drummer Billy Hayes and bassist Stephen Pope after his disastrous Spanish show. The two were playing with the late, volatile Jay Reatard, and must have figured that Williams would be a saner bandmate than Reatard. The addition of a drummer and bassist on two of the tracks rounds out the sound, making Wavves fuller while maintaining a garage punk rawness.

Still, Wavves is Williams’ show, and his personality dominates. There’s a combination of snottiness and self-hatred that is winning rather than off-putting. Williams never sounds pathetic or whiny, always balancing his smart-assness with enough humility to make it palatable. “I won’t ever die/I’ll go surfing in my mind,” Williams wails on “Idiot,” before confessing, “I’d say I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t mean shit.”

Forget what you think you know about Wavves. King of the Beach is a stellar album, and proves that they are the real deal. It’s a hazy, punky, psychedelic blast of sun, surf, and self-loathing, perfect for your next barbecue.

Article first published as Music Review: Wavves - King of the Beach on Blogcritics.

Beres Hammond Review

Article first published as Music Review: Beres Hammond - Just A Man on Blogcritics.

While he might be best known for his nineties hits, Beres Hammond has been recording music for over thirty years. He got his start in the early seventies with reggae group Zap Pow, and cut two solo records before officially leaving the group in 1979. Just A Man is his second album, recorded in 1979 at Joe Gibbs studio, and newly rereleased on VP Records.

While I generally associate Joe Gibbs with dancehall and roots reggae, Just A Man is closer to disco soul. It starts off with the uptempo song “Music Is A Positive Vibration,” which sounds a lot more like Barry White than Bob Marley. The song has a four-on-the-floor beat, funky bass, horns, and strings; think Studio 54 not a Kingston sound system. The only hint of Jamaica is Hammond’s slight accent.

“Do This World A Favour” and “Keep My Wheel Turning” are the other disco tracks on the album. While the disco elements are dated, the songs still work, mainly because the songwriting is strong. “Do This World A Favour” is an impassioned plea to live right, and “Keep My Wheel Turning” is scorching R&B.

It’s not all disco, though. Many of the songs could easily be lovers rock if they had a reggae riddim. “John Crazy” is a slower track that uses reggae instrumentation and intonations to create a slow-burning soul song. “Just A Man” is a powerful ballad, followed by the pining “I’m Lonely.” It could give Al Green a run for his money, as could “Let Me Love You Tonight.” The disc is rounded out with two tracks not included on the original album: “Seasons,” which was released as a single, and “Set Me Free,” which Hammond recorded with Zap Pow.

Just A Man ‘s soulful disco is not what you might expect from Joe Gibbs Studio, but it’s done well. This album is considered an under appreciated gem by many reggae fans. This reissue gives you the chance to hear it yourself.