My review of Ariana Grande's latest is up at RapReviews. Why am I reviewing a pop/R&B album? Partially because me and my kid sort of like "Bang Bang" and "Problem." Partially because I feel like I should review more high-profile stuff. And partially because Ariana Grande doesn't totally make sense to me. So there you have it. Originally posted at RapReviews.
At 21, Grande is already eight years deep into a career that has spanned singing on cruise ships to singing in a Broadway musical to staring in a Nickelodeon show to releasing a debut album and touring with Justin Bieber in 2013. "My Everything" is her second album. Grande's main attribute is her voice, which is somewhere between Christina Aguilera and Mariah Carey. (The fact that she is good-looking doesn't hurt either - there aren't any plain female pop stars, after all.)
I get the sense from the music and marketing for Ariana Grande's "My Everything" that she and her handlers don't quite know what to do with her. Is she a teen pop idol or a dance diva or an R&B singer? Is she the squeaky clean Nickelodeon star or is she a sexy sexy grown up? Does she let the focus be on her singing chops, or does she hide her range with layers of Auto-Tune and EDM? ÊThe approach seems to be to try and maintain multiple conflicting images at once, even when they are contradictory. It seems to be working for her, but it's confusing.
To start off with, Grande is old enough to drink but doesn't look old enough to vote. Her barely-legal looks give a creepy sheen to her sexed up image. She's posing in lingerie and heels on the album cover and she's wearing a miniskirt and high-heeled boots in most of her marketing material and videos. Yes, Grande is a grown-ass woman and can dress however she wants to dress and get as sexy as she wants to get, and no, she's not nearly as trashy as Miley Cyrus or "Dirrty"-era Christina Aguilera. However, while it seemed like Miley and Xtina's hyper-sexualized image was driven by the artists themselves, with Grande it just feels like a management-imposed marketing strategy. They are trying to get her to land somewhere between girl next door and high class call girl. Sexy enough to differentiate her from her Nick days, but not sexy enough to scare any of those fans (or their parents) off. Her sly, coquettish looks to the camera in "Problem" are stiff. Her hip-grinding is desultory and phoned in. It all feels as scripted and test-marketed as a Hollywood blockbuster starring an actress who is fulfilling a contractual obligation. Her visual presentation doesn't seems to be connected with who she actually is.
Grande's voice is ostensibly why she is famous, and to their credit the producers give her room to show off her impressive chops. She gets to do some full-on belting on ballads like "Just A Little Bit of Your Heart" and "Why Try." They don't trust her enough to actually let her voice carry the songs though; the metallic fingerprint of Auto-Tune is all over "My Everything," even the vocal trills that start off the album. I understand correcting the pitch of an artist who isn't a strong singer, but why mess with the vocals of someone who can actually sing?
Speaking of producers, "My Everything" assemble a huge international crew. All the songs but the intro have more than one producer, and "One Last Time" has five. No song has less than three songwriters listed, and "Break Your Heart Right Back" has six. That's a whole lot of chefs to craft a three minute pop song. The benefit of having so many people involved is that the end product is well-position to acquire maximum market share across multiple platforms with significant cross-promotional potential. A song like the A$AP Ferg track "Hands On Me" has the snaps and whistles of club rap with some big EDM synths to smooth it out and prevent it from appealing only to the Urban market. "Love Me Harder" has the indie R&B/chillwave thing going courtesy of the Weeknd, but given a pop makeover so that it isn't too weird for the Walmart crowd (who get exclusive bonus tracks when they buy the album from the mega-retailer). This song-by-committee approach pays off, to a certain extent. As much as I might dis "My Everything" for its lack of sincerity, it's not a bad album. In fact, I kind of like some of it. "Problem" is a perfect combination of hip-hop sass and Mariah Carey worship, "One Last Time" and "Break Free" are big dumb dance songs done with style and class, "Bang Bang," which is available on some deluxe versions of the album, is a great song, although Jessie J. and Nikki Minaj are the ones responsible for its greatness. Ariana Grande's music may not be my cup of tea, but it doesn't suck.
The same can't be said for the rappers who accompany Grande on the mic. Iggy Azalea, Childish Gambino, A$AP Ferg and Big Sean all share verses with Grande, and they all fall on their faces. They fail in a few different ways. Azalea's verse would almost be good if it wasn't her rapping them. I've always admired how Australian rappers adapted the music to their own idiom and slang, so it's a shame to see that the most well-known Australian rapper sounds like she's doing an impression of someone from Brooklyn. Big Sean's verses on "Best You Ever Had" aren't bad, but he's having to deliver them as ballad rap which makes them clumsy. Childish Gambino and A$AP Ferg both sound neutered by having to give PG-rated raps. Listening to them is like watching an episode of the Brady Bunch directed by Quentin Tarantino. They are playing far outside their strengths and most of their standard vocabulary and subject matter are off-limits. You can tell Ferg would really, really like to clearly state where he wants Ariana's hands on him, and if the song was just aimed at hip-hop radio he would.
There's a couple of well-worn paths ahead of Grande. Since we love to tear down artists, and especially female artists, a backlash is inevitable. At some point she is going to have to shed her teeny bop image for once and for all. I don't think she could pull of Taylor Swift's whole "every girl's best friend" thing, which even Taylor is having trouble maintaining. She could go full slut like Christina and Miley and Brittany, start dry humping things, make out with Madonna, maybe date a woman for a minute, but that doesn't seem like Grande's style either. She could have a public meltdown like her idol Mariah, then try and make a comeback, maybe in an unflattering acting role. Personally, I see her having a hit with a big anthem from a Disney movie and then going back to Broadway, which is where her voice seems most suited.
I was at a wedding recently where a twelve-year-old girl jumped up onstage when "Bang Bang" came on. She danced and lip-synched to the entire song, putting her hand on her ear when Grande's part came on, like a singer checking her monitor. I may not love Grande's music, and I am definitely not her target audience, but seeing a young girl connect with it was a heartwarming experience. Grande's music and image may make no sense to me, but it's connecting with millions of people to whom the lines between R&B, hip-hop and dance aren't as rigid. That is no small feat.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Live Like You're Dead Review
Castle and Has-Lo
Live Like You're Dead
Live Like You're Dead
“Live Like You’re Dead” is a collaboration between South Carolina MC/producer Castle and Philly MC/producer Has-Lo. Their previous collaboration, “Return of the Gasface,” was Has-Lo remixing Castle’s music. “Live Like You’re Dead” has both MCs on the mic. It is in the vein of “Run the Jewels,” only with more loops and less cartoon violence and drug use. You may remember Castle from his solid 2013 album “Gasface,” which walked the line between being goofy and serious. Has-Lo’s “In Case I Don’t Make It” is a heavy album full of suicidal thoughts and rumination on life, loss, and God. Has-Lo and Castle aren’t the most likely collaboration, but “Live Like You’re Dying” is an excellent album.
The album has a looseness, like the two went into the studio and knocked this out in a few days. You can hear them having fun with their rhymes, but also pushing each other to go harder. In my review of Gasface, I described Castle as “Redman if Redman had gone to college instead of doing hallucinogens.” After listening to this album, I’m revising that statement to say he’s like if Redman combined with Aesop Rock. He’s got some of the just-don’t-give-a-fuck sense of humor as Red, but some of the tangled lyricism of Aesop. His verse on “Good Feelings” illustrates what I’m talking about:
“Question: Can you call it morning wood when you wake up post meridian?
Afternoon wood doesn't have a ring to it
Dumb questions that are posed ad infinitum
It's the mary jane iron and the wrankles in my brainum”
Has-Lo can be too subdued as an MC at times. Castle livens him up, and he sounds energized on this album. Whether he is rapping about big booties in general on “The Big Ole Ass” or big booties in yoga pants on “Yoga Pants,” Has-Lo shows a sense of humor that I didn’t catch on “In Case I Don’t Make It.”
That isn’t to accuse “Live Like You’re Dead” of being frivolous. Sure, there is some lusting and shit-talking, but the title of the album comes from a Malcom X quote that starts off the album. Much like Open Mike Eagle’s “Dark Comedy,” “Live Like You’re Dying” is all about laughing to keep from crying. On “My Uncle,” Castle raps about losing faith and advice he’d give his younger self:
“Check, lost my faith on the path to enlightenment
That was feeling confused and feeling vexed
I hear that socially awkward's the new sexy
Goddamn, I was born in the wrong decade
My high school years might have been less of a headache
Ill, but I try not to let that shit perplex me
If I could travel time I would cheat the system
Leave my young self lotto numbers and some wisdom”
Has-Lo combines manages to work through his issues while bragging on “Stubborn Vice”:
“I don't work how I should, work like I ought to
They say to be a novelist you should read a lot of authors
I really don't
I kinda think I know it all
I'm cold
I'd much rather never be involved
I'm not selfish, I don't aim to hurt a person”
Production is handled by Has-Lo and Castle. The one guest is Arcka, who riffs off of “Bring Tha Pain” for “D.L.S., “ one of the album’s stand-out tracks. The beats are mostly built around sample loops, although “The Big Ole Ass” has some dirty synths as well. It’s a little Madlib, a little Dilla, a little A Tribe Calle Quest. Those are pretty solid influences to have, and the album has a soulful, low-key feel.
Much like Run the Jewels, there aren’t a lot of stakes with “Live Like You’re Dead.” It feels like the product of two friends who got together to make some music. Like Killer Mike and El-P, Has-Lo and Castle’s rap and production styles compliment one another. Has-Lo brings gravitas and introspection, and Castle brings the humor and head-nodders. The resulting album showcases the best of what both artists have to offer, which makes it well worth listening to.
Big Freedia Review
Big Freedia
Just Be Free
Originally reviewed on RapReviews
I found out about Big Freedia the way most white people found out about her: through her connection to the LGBTQ community. A few years ago I typed in "is there any gay hip-hop" in a search engine and the first hit was a 2010 article in the New York Times about gay bounce artists in New Orleans with Freedia and transgender artist Katey Red at the core. The fact that Freedia and Katey Red were not only queers in hip-hop, but gender-bending AND making women-friendly ass-shaking music made a lot of people outside of New Orleans take notice. In just a few short years Freedia's gone from playing grimy clubs with all-black audiences in sketchy parts of town to festivals teeming with white hipsters. She has toured with indie pop acts Matt and Kim and the Postal Service, she's played at New York's Museum of Modern Art, and she's played the late-night talk show circuit. She's been written about the Times and Vanity Fair. She has a reality show on Fuse. She's writing a memoir. And she's finally released her first proper album, "Just Be Free." The album is a reminder that what makes Freedia worthy of attention is not her sexual orientation or her gender identity, but the fact that she can make asses move.
For those not familiar with bounce, it's a New Orleans take on hip-hop that is frenetic, bass-heavy, and usually centered around the Triggerman beat and raunchy call-and-response lyrics. The music got a little mainstream love fifteen years ago when Cash Money was blowing up, but for the most part has been an underground, regional phenomenon. Then Freddie "Big Freedia" Ross, the 6'2" self-proclaimed "Queen of Bounce" set out to bring it to the world. (According to her Wikipedia page, Freedia isn't transgender, and considers herself a gay male who answers to he or she. I've only seen her referred to as a she, so I'm sticking with that.)
It may seem a little unexpected that the person to make bounce music mainstream would be a queer artist, given that there are very few queer mainstream artists, but it makes a kind of sense. Freedia makes the sexual aggression and raunchiness of bounce safe for women. Her shows provide women with a safe place to get freaky and shake their asses without feeling like they are going to be groped or judged. The music becomes more celebratory than predatory or demeaning. There isn't the edge of misogyny or loaded heterosexual politics in her shows or her lyrics. It's more like "We're all ladies here, now bend over and start shaking that ass." I'm not saying that lots of women don't love music with an edge of misogyny and loaded sexual politics (just watch a dance floor blow up to "Blurred Lines" or "Low" or "Ain't No Fun"). But there is also an audience out there that is hungry for music that is sexy and raunchy without all the bullshit. That's where Freedia comes in.
"Just Be Free" also improves on the sound of bounce, or at least what I've heard coming out of the scene Freedia was part of. If you listen to the mixtapes by Katey Red or Freedia, you'll hear a lot of enthusiasm but not a lot of technological know-how. A lot of it sounds kind of janky, and most of it works with sampled beats, and I don't see the Jackson estate okaying "ABC" being used in Katey Red's "Punk Under Pressure." Freedia worked with her longtime producer BlaqNmilD as well as a guy who had worked with Madonna to craft beats that would avoid sample issues, and also evolved Freedia's dabbling in house and EDM.
The beats hit hard, there is none of the tinniness that often accompanies the genre, and she expands on the sound. To a point. The songs are still built around hyper beats and chanted, repetitive lyrics. If you want lyricism or depth, look elsewhere. This is party music, pure and simple. Freedia also tones down the subject matter, keeping things relatively profanity-free and avoiding sexually explicit references. I mean, sure there is a song titled "Mo Azz," and "Explode" could be read to have a sexual meaning, but there are no lyrics along the line of "jump on that dick and ride it like a bicycle." Also, if you are looking for gay anthems, you are going to be disappointed. With the exception of "Where My Queens At," there aren't many references to Freedia's sexuality or gender identity. She's not here to make message music, she's here to have a good time.
The album is ten songs and a little over thirty minutes, and that is enough. There are only so many relentless booty-shakers with barked lyrics that a person needs. "Just Be Free" never drags and doesn't wear out its welcome. Freedia gets in, goes hard, and leaves you wanting more.
Whenever women/gays/trans/disabled/non-white people demand a bigger voice in culture, the old white males complain that including those voices will be the death of sci-fi/video games/hip-hop/etc. I'm here to tell you: relax. Big Freedia is not going to kill hip-hop. Having a big gay dude with a purse making rap music is not going to ruin rap music. People making shitty rap music will kill rap music, and Freedia does not make shitty music. "Just Be Free" is not hipster music, and it's not gay music. It's music for a good time, no matter what gender your partner is or what pronoun you use.
Just Be Free
Originally reviewed on RapReviews
I found out about Big Freedia the way most white people found out about her: through her connection to the LGBTQ community. A few years ago I typed in "is there any gay hip-hop" in a search engine and the first hit was a 2010 article in the New York Times about gay bounce artists in New Orleans with Freedia and transgender artist Katey Red at the core. The fact that Freedia and Katey Red were not only queers in hip-hop, but gender-bending AND making women-friendly ass-shaking music made a lot of people outside of New Orleans take notice. In just a few short years Freedia's gone from playing grimy clubs with all-black audiences in sketchy parts of town to festivals teeming with white hipsters. She has toured with indie pop acts Matt and Kim and the Postal Service, she's played at New York's Museum of Modern Art, and she's played the late-night talk show circuit. She's been written about the Times and Vanity Fair. She has a reality show on Fuse. She's writing a memoir. And she's finally released her first proper album, "Just Be Free." The album is a reminder that what makes Freedia worthy of attention is not her sexual orientation or her gender identity, but the fact that she can make asses move.
For those not familiar with bounce, it's a New Orleans take on hip-hop that is frenetic, bass-heavy, and usually centered around the Triggerman beat and raunchy call-and-response lyrics. The music got a little mainstream love fifteen years ago when Cash Money was blowing up, but for the most part has been an underground, regional phenomenon. Then Freddie "Big Freedia" Ross, the 6'2" self-proclaimed "Queen of Bounce" set out to bring it to the world. (According to her Wikipedia page, Freedia isn't transgender, and considers herself a gay male who answers to he or she. I've only seen her referred to as a she, so I'm sticking with that.)
It may seem a little unexpected that the person to make bounce music mainstream would be a queer artist, given that there are very few queer mainstream artists, but it makes a kind of sense. Freedia makes the sexual aggression and raunchiness of bounce safe for women. Her shows provide women with a safe place to get freaky and shake their asses without feeling like they are going to be groped or judged. The music becomes more celebratory than predatory or demeaning. There isn't the edge of misogyny or loaded heterosexual politics in her shows or her lyrics. It's more like "We're all ladies here, now bend over and start shaking that ass." I'm not saying that lots of women don't love music with an edge of misogyny and loaded sexual politics (just watch a dance floor blow up to "Blurred Lines" or "Low" or "Ain't No Fun"). But there is also an audience out there that is hungry for music that is sexy and raunchy without all the bullshit. That's where Freedia comes in.
"Just Be Free" also improves on the sound of bounce, or at least what I've heard coming out of the scene Freedia was part of. If you listen to the mixtapes by Katey Red or Freedia, you'll hear a lot of enthusiasm but not a lot of technological know-how. A lot of it sounds kind of janky, and most of it works with sampled beats, and I don't see the Jackson estate okaying "ABC" being used in Katey Red's "Punk Under Pressure." Freedia worked with her longtime producer BlaqNmilD as well as a guy who had worked with Madonna to craft beats that would avoid sample issues, and also evolved Freedia's dabbling in house and EDM.
The beats hit hard, there is none of the tinniness that often accompanies the genre, and she expands on the sound. To a point. The songs are still built around hyper beats and chanted, repetitive lyrics. If you want lyricism or depth, look elsewhere. This is party music, pure and simple. Freedia also tones down the subject matter, keeping things relatively profanity-free and avoiding sexually explicit references. I mean, sure there is a song titled "Mo Azz," and "Explode" could be read to have a sexual meaning, but there are no lyrics along the line of "jump on that dick and ride it like a bicycle." Also, if you are looking for gay anthems, you are going to be disappointed. With the exception of "Where My Queens At," there aren't many references to Freedia's sexuality or gender identity. She's not here to make message music, she's here to have a good time.
The album is ten songs and a little over thirty minutes, and that is enough. There are only so many relentless booty-shakers with barked lyrics that a person needs. "Just Be Free" never drags and doesn't wear out its welcome. Freedia gets in, goes hard, and leaves you wanting more.
Whenever women/gays/trans/disabled/non-white people demand a bigger voice in culture, the old white males complain that including those voices will be the death of sci-fi/video games/hip-hop/etc. I'm here to tell you: relax. Big Freedia is not going to kill hip-hop. Having a big gay dude with a purse making rap music is not going to ruin rap music. People making shitty rap music will kill rap music, and Freedia does not make shitty music. "Just Be Free" is not hipster music, and it's not gay music. It's music for a good time, no matter what gender your partner is or what pronoun you use.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Death to Hipster Metal
I've been listening to a lot of metal lately. Maybe it's because I just realized I live a mile from Metallica's old house in El Cerrito, or maybe it is to balance out all the kid's folk music I've been listening to with my daughter.
For one thing, I have been revisiting Liturgy's 2011 album Aesthethica. I've listened to the album but not really given it my full attention. It's pretty amazing. It's mostly built around lightening fast riffs, executed with math rock precision. Look at the drummer playing live - shit's crazy. Also, the lead singer is kind of dreamy. Do black metal dudes get chicks?
I've also been listening to Tombs, who are a New York hardcore/metal band that remind me of Doom but with better production values and darker. Their new album Savage Gold is awesome in a super heavy way. Their lyrics can get a little goofy because they are all about DARKNESS and DEATH but they have the right combination of melody, brutality, and heaviness.
For one thing, I have been revisiting Liturgy's 2011 album Aesthethica. I've listened to the album but not really given it my full attention. It's pretty amazing. It's mostly built around lightening fast riffs, executed with math rock precision. Look at the drummer playing live - shit's crazy. Also, the lead singer is kind of dreamy. Do black metal dudes get chicks?
I've also been listening to Tombs, who are a New York hardcore/metal band that remind me of Doom but with better production values and darker. Their new album Savage Gold is awesome in a super heavy way. Their lyrics can get a little goofy because they are all about DARKNESS and DEATH but they have the right combination of melody, brutality, and heaviness.
Vince Staples Review
Originally Posted at RapReviews.com
Vince Staples
Shyne Coldchain Vol 2.
Public Enemy's Chuck D. once said that hip-hop was Black America's CNN. That may have been true 20 years ago, but it doesn't hold up as well today. For one thing, rappers aren't writing songs with endless speculation about missing airplanes, which is what CNN seems to have been reduced to in 2014. For another thing, if hip-hop is Black America's CNN, then evidently the 1% is made up entirely of African-Americans, and the biggest issue facing them is which brand of alcohol to drink, which club to go to, and which woman to sleep with. Hip-hop has gone mainstream, and it has to cater to mainstream subject matter, namely partying. Then again, hip-hop started as party music so maybe we've come full circle.
Just when I start lamenting how shallow and nihilistic so much of hip-hop seems to be, along comes Vince Staples to remind me why I started listening to this music in the first place. Although affiliated with the Odd Future crew, Staples is more street than his fellow Wolfpack. That comes with growing up surrounded by gangs in Long Beach and Compton and having a father who dealt drugs, which he describes in heart-wrenching detail on "Nate":
"As a kid all I wanted was to kill a man
Be like my daddy's friends hopping out that minivan
Chrom 38s spinning like a ceiling fan
Crying on my momma's phone swearing he's a different man
Talkint to me monotone hardly ever coming home
Knew he was the villain never been a fan of Superman
[...]
My daddy was the man that would be suicide
Picked me up from visitation in the newest ride
Always told me that he loved me, fuck his foolish pride
As a kid all I wanted was to kill a man
Cuz my daddy did it
Eyes bloodshot
[...]
Black bandana on his arm
Needle in his hand
Momma trying to wake him up
Young so I ain't understand"
There's your story on the cycle of crime and poverty, and how growing up in a dysfunctional home screws with kids. Do you want to know why the murder rate for young black men is so high? He explains that on "45":
"What do you believe in? Die to have respect
I believe that the world got black neglect
Living broke, liquor stores where we cashing checks
Flipping dope, pimping hoes just to make ends meet
County blues, counting days till you get set free
Broke the rules so they shoot now we R.I.P.
Live and learn what you earn when you cross them streets
Caught a case cause he wouldn't catch a fade
Living pedal to the metal cause he couldn't catch a break
Couldn't see the stakes, couldn't see the trouble come his way
I'm still waiting for the day that we black and we proud
Till then we'll be shooting niggas down to the ground"
Staples is 21, but he sounds mature beyond his years. Throughout "Shyne Coldchain Vol. 2," he manages to both speak as a young gangbanger and as someone outside of the life criticizing it. He knows why his friends have been attracted to the lifestyle and the price you pay to be involved in it. It doesn't come off as preachy or as irresponsible glamorizing. It just sounds as real and harsh and accurate as the noose made out of bandanas on the cover.
Production is provided by No ID, Evidence from Dialated Peoples, Scoop DeVille, and Childish Major. The beats have an old school feel to them, full of hard-hitting drums and sample loops. It's a modern take on boom-bap which pairs nicely with his vocals and sets his music apart from the electronica and synth-based production that is predominant today. Staples keeps things lean; the mixtape clock in at 10 tracks with zero filler. The only features are singers James Fauntleroy and Jhene Aiko. There are no skits, no freesyles, no interludes, no intros. He ends things with "Earth Science," a song about high school love that is a little more intense than your typcal teen love song:
"As for you I always think about our kids that you killed
Understanding at the time you didn't think we was real
But as a man I felt I let you down
We was on our second child
That you seen as a mistake before I got to reconcile"
"Shyne Coldchain Vol. 2" is an impressive album that shows a young man caring about his craft and growing as an artist. It reminded me a lot of the music of Public Enemy and Ice Cube that got me excited about hip-hop in the first place, but it doesn't sound retro or nostalgic. There aren't that many artists out there telling it like it is and reporting on life as they see it. Vince Staples is one of them.
Vince Staples
Shyne Coldchain Vol 2.
Public Enemy's Chuck D. once said that hip-hop was Black America's CNN. That may have been true 20 years ago, but it doesn't hold up as well today. For one thing, rappers aren't writing songs with endless speculation about missing airplanes, which is what CNN seems to have been reduced to in 2014. For another thing, if hip-hop is Black America's CNN, then evidently the 1% is made up entirely of African-Americans, and the biggest issue facing them is which brand of alcohol to drink, which club to go to, and which woman to sleep with. Hip-hop has gone mainstream, and it has to cater to mainstream subject matter, namely partying. Then again, hip-hop started as party music so maybe we've come full circle.
Just when I start lamenting how shallow and nihilistic so much of hip-hop seems to be, along comes Vince Staples to remind me why I started listening to this music in the first place. Although affiliated with the Odd Future crew, Staples is more street than his fellow Wolfpack. That comes with growing up surrounded by gangs in Long Beach and Compton and having a father who dealt drugs, which he describes in heart-wrenching detail on "Nate":
"As a kid all I wanted was to kill a man
Be like my daddy's friends hopping out that minivan
Chrom 38s spinning like a ceiling fan
Crying on my momma's phone swearing he's a different man
Talkint to me monotone hardly ever coming home
Knew he was the villain never been a fan of Superman
[...]
My daddy was the man that would be suicide
Picked me up from visitation in the newest ride
Always told me that he loved me, fuck his foolish pride
As a kid all I wanted was to kill a man
Cuz my daddy did it
Eyes bloodshot
[...]
Black bandana on his arm
Needle in his hand
Momma trying to wake him up
Young so I ain't understand"
There's your story on the cycle of crime and poverty, and how growing up in a dysfunctional home screws with kids. Do you want to know why the murder rate for young black men is so high? He explains that on "45":
"What do you believe in? Die to have respect
I believe that the world got black neglect
Living broke, liquor stores where we cashing checks
Flipping dope, pimping hoes just to make ends meet
County blues, counting days till you get set free
Broke the rules so they shoot now we R.I.P.
Live and learn what you earn when you cross them streets
Caught a case cause he wouldn't catch a fade
Living pedal to the metal cause he couldn't catch a break
Couldn't see the stakes, couldn't see the trouble come his way
I'm still waiting for the day that we black and we proud
Till then we'll be shooting niggas down to the ground"
Staples is 21, but he sounds mature beyond his years. Throughout "Shyne Coldchain Vol. 2," he manages to both speak as a young gangbanger and as someone outside of the life criticizing it. He knows why his friends have been attracted to the lifestyle and the price you pay to be involved in it. It doesn't come off as preachy or as irresponsible glamorizing. It just sounds as real and harsh and accurate as the noose made out of bandanas on the cover.
Production is provided by No ID, Evidence from Dialated Peoples, Scoop DeVille, and Childish Major. The beats have an old school feel to them, full of hard-hitting drums and sample loops. It's a modern take on boom-bap which pairs nicely with his vocals and sets his music apart from the electronica and synth-based production that is predominant today. Staples keeps things lean; the mixtape clock in at 10 tracks with zero filler. The only features are singers James Fauntleroy and Jhene Aiko. There are no skits, no freesyles, no interludes, no intros. He ends things with "Earth Science," a song about high school love that is a little more intense than your typcal teen love song:
"As for you I always think about our kids that you killed
Understanding at the time you didn't think we was real
But as a man I felt I let you down
We was on our second child
That you seen as a mistake before I got to reconcile"
"Shyne Coldchain Vol. 2" is an impressive album that shows a young man caring about his craft and growing as an artist. It reminded me a lot of the music of Public Enemy and Ice Cube that got me excited about hip-hop in the first place, but it doesn't sound retro or nostalgic. There aren't that many artists out there telling it like it is and reporting on life as they see it. Vince Staples is one of them.
Friday, August 15, 2014
I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got
I downloaded Sinead O'Connor's 1990 album I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got last week. The CD I have of it, which I bought when it came out, has been played so much it doesn't work anymore. Listening to it again after almost twenty years I was reminded that it was one of my favorite albums, and that O'Connor was one of our generation's geniuses and missed opportunities.
Her first album, 1987's The Lion and the Cobra, got a lot of buzz and went gold. It's a good album, but her sophomore album I Do Not Want is a masterpiece. It balances folk, rock, traditional Irish music hip-hop and R&B, all centered around O'Connor's amazing voice and confessional lyrics.
It's saying something that the Prince song "Nothing Compares 2 U," the biggest hit on the album, is also one of its weaker tracks.
"Black Boys On Mopeds" is one of my favorite songs on the album. It's just an acoustic guitar and O'Connor's quiet voice as she criticizes England. "Margaret Thatcher on TV, struck by the deaths that took place in Beijing," she starts. "It seems strange she should be offended - the same orders are given by her." One of the most haunting lines is her description of a poor mother begging for food in London's Smithfield market. "In her arms she holds three cold babies/And the first words that they learned was 'Please.'" It's an amazingly cutting humanization of poverty.
I also love "I Am Stretched On Your Grave," which combines a traditional Irish fiddle with the Funky Drummer sample that backed countless hip-hop songs of the day. Then there is "The Las Day of Our Acquaintance," the ultimate fuck-you to an ex lover, that was sung with ferocity live:
O'Connor was young and outspoken and female and sensitive, and she suffered mightily for it. She wasn't shy about expressing her opinions about the Pope, religion, the IRA, etc., and she was punished for it. There is nothing people hate more than an uppity woman, and so she was mocked and booed of stages and basically made a pariah. Her response was to basically fall off the radar and disappear from public view. Which is a fucking shame because she was and continues to be a tremendous talent who deserved far more respect than she got.
I was happy to see that she came out with a new album recently, I'm Not Bossy I'm the Boss. I'm not sure I'm in love with it, or that I'll even end up buying it, but at least she's still making music and still speaking her mind.
Her first album, 1987's The Lion and the Cobra, got a lot of buzz and went gold. It's a good album, but her sophomore album I Do Not Want is a masterpiece. It balances folk, rock, traditional Irish music hip-hop and R&B, all centered around O'Connor's amazing voice and confessional lyrics.
It's saying something that the Prince song "Nothing Compares 2 U," the biggest hit on the album, is also one of its weaker tracks.
"Black Boys On Mopeds" is one of my favorite songs on the album. It's just an acoustic guitar and O'Connor's quiet voice as she criticizes England. "Margaret Thatcher on TV, struck by the deaths that took place in Beijing," she starts. "It seems strange she should be offended - the same orders are given by her." One of the most haunting lines is her description of a poor mother begging for food in London's Smithfield market. "In her arms she holds three cold babies/And the first words that they learned was 'Please.'" It's an amazingly cutting humanization of poverty.
I also love "I Am Stretched On Your Grave," which combines a traditional Irish fiddle with the Funky Drummer sample that backed countless hip-hop songs of the day. Then there is "The Las Day of Our Acquaintance," the ultimate fuck-you to an ex lover, that was sung with ferocity live:
O'Connor was young and outspoken and female and sensitive, and she suffered mightily for it. She wasn't shy about expressing her opinions about the Pope, religion, the IRA, etc., and she was punished for it. There is nothing people hate more than an uppity woman, and so she was mocked and booed of stages and basically made a pariah. Her response was to basically fall off the radar and disappear from public view. Which is a fucking shame because she was and continues to be a tremendous talent who deserved far more respect than she got.
I was happy to see that she came out with a new album recently, I'm Not Bossy I'm the Boss. I'm not sure I'm in love with it, or that I'll even end up buying it, but at least she's still making music and still speaking her mind.
Saturday, August 09, 2014
Shabazz Palaces Review
Originally published in RapReviews
Shabazz Palaces,
Lese Majesty
Sub Pop Records
It’s a cliche but it is true: hip-hop is a young man’s game. Rappers rarely age gracefully, and the most successful rappers either fade out of the game or fall off. It is the rare rapper who is able to maintain artistic relevance decades into their careers. Ishmael Butler is one of this rare breed. After being part of the successful New York jazz-rap crew Digable Planets in the 1990s, Butler released an album as Cherrywine in 2003, and then re-emerged in Seattle alongside Tendai Maraire in Shabazz Palaces. “Lese Majesty,” their second full-length, sees them continuing to develop their dense and psychedelic sound.
Butler has managed to stay relevant because he has not trying to compete with younger rappers. He’s not trying to get features from YG or 2 Chainz, he’s not teaming up with Zaytoven or DJ Mustard, and he is not trying to kick it old school over funk loops. He’s not even trying to make rap albums. He’s on some other level ish, getting cryptic, trippy, and interstellar. Shabazz Palaces’ music is heavy and weird, existing at the intersection between rap, jazz, funk, and electronic music. Butler’s lyrics are obtuse, equal parts metaphysical and revolutionary.
It’s not always easy to understand or decipher what Butler is rapping about on “Lese Majesty.” There are a lot of trippy lines that make you think that Butler and company have been on Mars in between albums. The effects his voice is often filtered through don’t make him any easier to understand.The album opens with Butler intoning, “The light hath names/Just like the heavens and the stars/Reclaim us to further along the spaceways.” They must have some good legal weed up there in Washington.
The spaciness is all well and good, but it is when Butler gets more down to earth that “Lese Majesty” really takes off. A lot of the album seems to be about Butler contemplating hip-hop and Black Americans’ history and future.”We was escaping the bleak, pursuing a feeling,” he raps on “...Down 155th in the MCM Snorkel.” “Pressure pushed them towards the instinct of brilliance/Capture then scraping the breaks off to build songs.” On “Forerunner’s Foray,” he raps:
“Crack baker super real just like '88 was
'92 and '92, in '92 we grinded thru
I was there, you're a square
These do not compare”
“Motion Sickness” seems to be about a minor-league hustler recently released from prison:
“Crime related
Activated
Trap located
Strap to spray it
If you face the case
You faded
Player you’d have never made it
And although the state delayed it
And been equated
Sent you back up on the pavement
This one here is dedicated
The mistakes you’ve made
Is seasons grown
Castles raided
Fortunes blown”
Like “Black Up,” “Lese Majesty” is meant to be listened to as one piece, rather than a collections of songs. The tracks bleed into one another, and half of the 18 tracks are interludes that last less than two minutes, offering ideas of songs that fade in and out. There is a hazy, dreamy vibe to the album, all waves of sound and croaked lyrics. Occasionally it shows bursts of energy, like on “#CAKE,” but mostly it is dank and foggy. Album centerpiece “Ishmael,” for example, starts with Butler’s reverberated voice saying “mimicking gods” before he starts whisper-rapping about sinister minds and sinister motives over pulsating keyboards. It’s like the kind of dream you might have when under anesthesia, peaceful but also a little sinister. That describes the entire album.
A lot of “Lese Majesty” is funky ambient weirdness that is comforting despite being pretty strange. The album gets more dissonant in its last third. “MindGlitch Keytar ™ Theme” has a driving beat with squalls of synth noise. “New Black Wave” has an off-key, off-tempo theme running through it that makes the whole song feel off and unsettling. It ends with the interstellar “Sonic MythMap for the Trip Back,” which sounds as weird as its title suggests. These dissonant sonic elements make “Lese Majesty” a somewhat challenging listen because they mess with the peaceful vibe of the album. I played “Lese Majesty” late at night several times and found that it freaked me out. It’s like a drug trip that is starting to go south on you.
“Lese Majesty” doesn’t sound like any other hip-hop albums out there, but it does have some precedents. For one thing, Shabazz Palace’s previous work has had a similar spacey feel. The album can also be seen as the spiritual successor to the Digable Planets great “Blowout Comb,” which also went for blunted-out textures rather than radio singles. D’Angelo’s “Voodoo” also came to mind while I listened to “Lese Majesty,” especially in the heavy production and sense of something worrying lurking underneath all the pretty melodies.
As a rap album, “Lese Majesty” isn’t that successful. There are no hooks or singles, and half the time you can’t understand what the hell Butler is rapping about. As a capital-A Album, however, it’s pretty great. It’s accessible enough to be listenable, challenging enough to be interesting, and has many layers for the listener to unfold and decipher. It’s an album made by people steeped in music and music history who are trying to push themselves and their listeners. It also sounds really good, which makes it an album to seek out and spend some time with.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Iamsu! Review
Iamsu!
Sincerely Yours
First posted at RapReviews.
There has been a quiet revolution going on within hip-hop over the past few years: good kid rap. Chance the Rapper, Kendrick Lamar, Sage the Gemini and Iamsu! are part of a new breed of rapper who may have grown up surrounded by gang bangers and drug dealers but didn't participate in the lifestyle. They don't celebrate self-destruction in their raps, but they also aren't as explicitly conscious as Talib Kweli or Common were back in the proverbial day. They aren't as nihilistic as the rappers coming out of Chicago's drill scene or the Odd Future gang (although Earl Sweatshirt could be called a good kid rapper), and they don't celebrate ridiculous excess like the Migos or Rick Ross or Jay Z or most mainstream rappers. These are kids rapping about what kids care about: friends, girls, and trying to make sense of the world.
Sudan Ameer Williams, better known as Iamsu! embodies this new breed of rapper that's not gangsta, backpack, macho, or overly materialistic. He was born and raised in Richmond, California, a city of 100,000 wedged between the aging hippies and university students in Berkeley and a Chevron oil refinery. Richmond has a reputation in the San Francisco Bay Area as a dangerous place, a reputation which isn't totally unearned, since it was once the 12th most dangerous city in America. (When I moved to nearby El Cerrito, two different burglar alarm salesman showed up on my door, and El Cerrito's proximity to Richmond was the basis of both their sales pitches.) Despite coming from a city best known by outsiders for its murder rate, Iamsu!'s music is dreamy and mellow. If you only knew about Richmond from "Sincerely Yours," you'd get the feeling it was some idyllic town where the only problem young men faced was having too many girls to choose from and too much money. On "No Secret" he raps:
"I see the Forbes List like this where I need to be
I was a youngun on his grind, mind on money
With his side kick thirsty trying to aim young honeys
Now I aim is to the top, never change, never stop
I was a good kid, never had to hang on the block
But the hood still cheering for him, burb still cheering for him
Made it out the Bay, overcame let's hear it for him
But never forgetting where I came from"
"Sincerely Yours" is a low-key album. Iamsu! sings most of his rhymes over a series of melodic, dreamy beats. It's what I ended up liking most about the album, but it was also what made me sleep on this album and his mixtapes. He doesn't make the most banging music in the world. It doesn't have the flash of a lot of stuff on the radio, even songs that feature him. Half the songs are slow. Things don't really take off until the last third of the album when the familiar pulsing hyphy beat kicks in and people like Too $hort and Two Chainz show up.
Ironically, those more uptempo, club-worthy tracks are also the least interesting songs on the album. They tread the same musical and lyrical territory as a hundred other songs on the radio. "Back On Your Mind," "What You ÔBout" and "T.W.D.Y." are all basically different versions of the same song, which also happens to be the same song DJ Mustard has been constantly rewriting for the past twenty-four months. It's a good sound, but every other song on hip-hop radio has that same minimalist beat, the same chanting "yeahs," the same farting bass. The prettier, more contemplative beats by The Bizness ("No Secret," "Girls," "Stop Signs") are far more interesting, and see Iamsu! rapping about less played out subject matter.
Iamsu!'s music has something lacking from a lot of recent hip-hop: Fun, and not the fun of being in the VIP section of a club none of the listeners could afford to be in even if their outfits made it past the dress code. Iamsu! is all about meeting cute girls at swap meets, hanging out with friends, getting high, and basically living like most late teens and early twenty-somethings live. While "Sincerely Yours" offers some decent club hits, it excels when Iamsu! is being sincere. Maybe good guys do win sometimes.
Sincerely Yours
First posted at RapReviews.
There has been a quiet revolution going on within hip-hop over the past few years: good kid rap. Chance the Rapper, Kendrick Lamar, Sage the Gemini and Iamsu! are part of a new breed of rapper who may have grown up surrounded by gang bangers and drug dealers but didn't participate in the lifestyle. They don't celebrate self-destruction in their raps, but they also aren't as explicitly conscious as Talib Kweli or Common were back in the proverbial day. They aren't as nihilistic as the rappers coming out of Chicago's drill scene or the Odd Future gang (although Earl Sweatshirt could be called a good kid rapper), and they don't celebrate ridiculous excess like the Migos or Rick Ross or Jay Z or most mainstream rappers. These are kids rapping about what kids care about: friends, girls, and trying to make sense of the world.
Sudan Ameer Williams, better known as Iamsu! embodies this new breed of rapper that's not gangsta, backpack, macho, or overly materialistic. He was born and raised in Richmond, California, a city of 100,000 wedged between the aging hippies and university students in Berkeley and a Chevron oil refinery. Richmond has a reputation in the San Francisco Bay Area as a dangerous place, a reputation which isn't totally unearned, since it was once the 12th most dangerous city in America. (When I moved to nearby El Cerrito, two different burglar alarm salesman showed up on my door, and El Cerrito's proximity to Richmond was the basis of both their sales pitches.) Despite coming from a city best known by outsiders for its murder rate, Iamsu!'s music is dreamy and mellow. If you only knew about Richmond from "Sincerely Yours," you'd get the feeling it was some idyllic town where the only problem young men faced was having too many girls to choose from and too much money. On "No Secret" he raps:
"I see the Forbes List like this where I need to be
I was a youngun on his grind, mind on money
With his side kick thirsty trying to aim young honeys
Now I aim is to the top, never change, never stop
I was a good kid, never had to hang on the block
But the hood still cheering for him, burb still cheering for him
Made it out the Bay, overcame let's hear it for him
But never forgetting where I came from"
"Sincerely Yours" is a low-key album. Iamsu! sings most of his rhymes over a series of melodic, dreamy beats. It's what I ended up liking most about the album, but it was also what made me sleep on this album and his mixtapes. He doesn't make the most banging music in the world. It doesn't have the flash of a lot of stuff on the radio, even songs that feature him. Half the songs are slow. Things don't really take off until the last third of the album when the familiar pulsing hyphy beat kicks in and people like Too $hort and Two Chainz show up.
Ironically, those more uptempo, club-worthy tracks are also the least interesting songs on the album. They tread the same musical and lyrical territory as a hundred other songs on the radio. "Back On Your Mind," "What You ÔBout" and "T.W.D.Y." are all basically different versions of the same song, which also happens to be the same song DJ Mustard has been constantly rewriting for the past twenty-four months. It's a good sound, but every other song on hip-hop radio has that same minimalist beat, the same chanting "yeahs," the same farting bass. The prettier, more contemplative beats by The Bizness ("No Secret," "Girls," "Stop Signs") are far more interesting, and see Iamsu! rapping about less played out subject matter.
Iamsu!'s music has something lacking from a lot of recent hip-hop: Fun, and not the fun of being in the VIP section of a club none of the listeners could afford to be in even if their outfits made it past the dress code. Iamsu! is all about meeting cute girls at swap meets, hanging out with friends, getting high, and basically living like most late teens and early twenty-somethings live. While "Sincerely Yours" offers some decent club hits, it excels when Iamsu! is being sincere. Maybe good guys do win sometimes.
Saturday, July 12, 2014
The Punk Singer
I watched The Punk Singer last night, the documentary about Bikini Kill/Le Tigre singer and riot grrrl co-founder Kathleen Hannah. I wasn't in love with it - it reminded me of the Minuteman doc We Jam Econo in its overly-laudatory tone and slightly amateurish style. It would have been a better film if it hadn't been so hyperbolic in its praise of its subject. Not that Kathleen Hannah and Bikini Kill don't deserve praise, but when you have lines like 'They weren't just the best girl band, they were the best band PERIOD," it's a little much. It painted her as a hero/martyr, especially when discussing her struggles with Lyme disease.
There was a particularly tone-deaf moment when someone was saying how feminism was equality for all races and classes and for the disabled, and then it went into how Hannah had gotten so sick she's been unable to work for the past nine years. Not that her illness hasn't been debilitating, but to somehow compare her struggle with the disease with the struggle for the poor and women of color was a bad look. There's a point in the film where Hannah discusses her father, and says she calls him sexually inappropriate rather than sexually abusive because she knows people who have been sexually abused and her story isn't anywhere near as horrific. That's what framing her illness with the struggles of other marginalized people made me think of - terrible and traumatic and worthy of sympathy and exploration, but maybe not as horrific as the stories of people experiencing institutionalized racism or generational poverty. Given the frequent accusations by feminists of color that white feminists ignore issues of race and their own privilege, it struck me as a particularly unskillful way to introduce her illness.
There was also very little mention of the criticism Hannah received in the 90s from the feminist and punk communities. They mention the awful media attention they got, and the hateful letters they got from guys threatening to kill or rape them, but there wasn't much in way of feminist criticisms of Hannah or riot grrrl. I knew a Latina woman who was involved in riot grrrl and ended up being very disillusioned by how much of it came from a position of white privilege, and how it's format (punk rock and zines) almost by design excluded people of color, who were less likely to be into that culture.
Also, Hannah's voice. She speaks in a valley girl accent, full of "likes," and "you knows." It makes her sound so trivial and dumb, and she's not. The film addresses this, the contradiction between the way she talks and the ideas she's expressing, but Hannah's expiation is that she adopted the accent in jr. high to sound rich. That was 30 years ago - why has she kept it? As someone who is plagued with a surfer accent of my own, I especially sensitive to it. I think it is one of the biggest issues of my generation and the ones younger than me: we, like, you know, sound like fucking dumbasses or whatever.
Still, it was an inspiring film in many ways. It was great to relive the early days of riot grrrl and be reminded of what a powerful movement it was. They had input by people from Tribe 8, Sleater-Kinney, Bratmobile, and Sonic Youth, although why none of those bands were really profiled is a mystery. They also could have spent more time discussing other female punk bands that came before Bikini Kill - the women that inspired them. I would also love to hear what Hannah thinks about feminism in the 21st century, but maybe I should just find some interviews she's done.
So see it if you want to, but I would take the many positive reviews it has gotten with a grain of salt.
There was a particularly tone-deaf moment when someone was saying how feminism was equality for all races and classes and for the disabled, and then it went into how Hannah had gotten so sick she's been unable to work for the past nine years. Not that her illness hasn't been debilitating, but to somehow compare her struggle with the disease with the struggle for the poor and women of color was a bad look. There's a point in the film where Hannah discusses her father, and says she calls him sexually inappropriate rather than sexually abusive because she knows people who have been sexually abused and her story isn't anywhere near as horrific. That's what framing her illness with the struggles of other marginalized people made me think of - terrible and traumatic and worthy of sympathy and exploration, but maybe not as horrific as the stories of people experiencing institutionalized racism or generational poverty. Given the frequent accusations by feminists of color that white feminists ignore issues of race and their own privilege, it struck me as a particularly unskillful way to introduce her illness.
There was also very little mention of the criticism Hannah received in the 90s from the feminist and punk communities. They mention the awful media attention they got, and the hateful letters they got from guys threatening to kill or rape them, but there wasn't much in way of feminist criticisms of Hannah or riot grrrl. I knew a Latina woman who was involved in riot grrrl and ended up being very disillusioned by how much of it came from a position of white privilege, and how it's format (punk rock and zines) almost by design excluded people of color, who were less likely to be into that culture.
Also, Hannah's voice. She speaks in a valley girl accent, full of "likes," and "you knows." It makes her sound so trivial and dumb, and she's not. The film addresses this, the contradiction between the way she talks and the ideas she's expressing, but Hannah's expiation is that she adopted the accent in jr. high to sound rich. That was 30 years ago - why has she kept it? As someone who is plagued with a surfer accent of my own, I especially sensitive to it. I think it is one of the biggest issues of my generation and the ones younger than me: we, like, you know, sound like fucking dumbasses or whatever.
Still, it was an inspiring film in many ways. It was great to relive the early days of riot grrrl and be reminded of what a powerful movement it was. They had input by people from Tribe 8, Sleater-Kinney, Bratmobile, and Sonic Youth, although why none of those bands were really profiled is a mystery. They also could have spent more time discussing other female punk bands that came before Bikini Kill - the women that inspired them. I would also love to hear what Hannah thinks about feminism in the 21st century, but maybe I should just find some interviews she's done.
So see it if you want to, but I would take the many positive reviews it has gotten with a grain of salt.
Friday, July 04, 2014
Nomeansno
I had some extra credits this month, so I downloaded a few Nomeansno songs from Emusic. I loved the Canadian band in the late 80s when I used to listen to The Day Everything Became Isolated and Destroyed and Wrong over and over. I first heard of them when the local college radio station played "Dad."
It's a three chord punk song about an abusive father with a sick sense of humor (the last line is "I'm seriously considering leaving home"). What I liked about Nomeansno was that their songs were more intelligent and interesting than your average hardcore band. They have serious musical chops, and would swing between jazz, blues, punk, and prog, sometimes in the same song. There is something nerdy about them as well - they are in the same camp as Primus and Rush, in a way. Virtuoso musicians whose music is probably better appreciated if you know some music theory and/or are high. Neither of those descriptions fit me, but I still like Nomeansno.
Open Mike Eagle Review
Open Mike Eagle
Dark Comedy
Mello Music Group, 2014
Originally posted on RapReviews.com
L.A. transplant Open Mike Eagle is often called a smart rapper. While it is an accurate description of his brainy rhymes, it's also a backhanded compliment to both Mike and other rappers. Calling Mike a smart rapper implies that his intellect is the most interesting aspect of his music. It also implies that other rappers are dumb, or that Mike is the only person in hip-hop with a college degree. It's hard to be stupid and make a living spitting complex rhymes, and most rappers have more going on upstairs than their songs about sex, drugs, and violence let on.
As to the label "smart rapper," while Open Mike Eagle's literate rhymes and obscure references may be his most obvious trait, the "rapper" part is more important. Being smart only matters if you can rap, and Mike's biggest gift is his ability to translate his intellect into compelling rhymes. He's been working on his craft for the better part of a decade. "Dark Comedy," his fourth solo album, is his best work to date.
As on his previous albums, he works with electronica-influenced beats, avoiding boom-bap or club rap. There are eleven different producers on "Dark Comedy," unlike his last album, where Awkward produced all the beats. Most of the tracks are melodic and pretty, with the exception of Jeremiah Jae's abrasive beat on "A History of Modern Dance," and Alpha MC's menacing beat on "Doug Stamper." Mike adds to the melodicism by singing most of his rhymes. He experimented with singing rhymes on "4NML HSPTL," but he perfects it here. The sung vocals add emotion to the songs and offset Mike's sometimes monotone delivery.
There is a definite nerdy vibe to Open Mike Eagle. He quotes nerd icons They Might Be Giants, raps about role playing games, and uses ten dollar words like "synesthesia" (which is where you perceive sounds as colors). The combination of high-brow lyrics, muted vibe and indie pop sensibilities on "Dark Comedy" also mean that it will probably appeal to many of the college-educated, left-leaning intellectual types that tune in to "This American Life" on a weekly basis (a description which includes myself). However, it would be unfairly reductive and inaccurate to label Mike's music "NPR rap" or "Nerdcore." As brainy and nerdy as he gets at points, there is bite to his songs. He's said in interviews that each of his song is based on something that bothers him, and he tackles a host of problems on "Dark Comedy." Things like racism, sexism, depression, addiction, and trying to make it as an artist in a genre where people use $1,500 laptops and $800 phones to illegally download an $8 album. "And nobody ever has to pay for anything," he raps on "Golden Age Raps," "Which is pretty cool 'cause everybody's unemployed." "My friends are superheroes," he raps on "Very Much Money (Ice King Raps)," "None of us have very much money though." He takes on his detractors and freeloaders on at the chorus. "That shit's not valuable/Come say it to my face/It's all disposable/Come say it to my face." On "Qualifiers," Mike twists rap braggadocio on its head, claiming "We're the best, mostly/Sometimes the freshest rhymers/We the tightest kinda/Respect my qualifiers."
He supposedly had an album worth of songs ready to go a while back, but realized they were all downers and so decided to make a less depressing album. Hence "Dark Comedy," with Mike "on that to keep from crying tip." There is a sadness to the album that comes through in the rhymes and in the subdued beats. In that sense it is a good companion to Atmosphere's recent "Southsiders," another album of somber, contemplative rap. Also like "Southsiders," "Dark Comedy" takes a while to truly appreciate. When you are dealing with four-minute songs with whispered rapping and a beat that isn't much more than a piano ("Idaho"), you can't just put it on in the car and hope to immediately get it. It's only after a few listens that you realize it is a song that is either about driving late at night drunk and high, or a metaphor about feeling out of control in life.
"Damn near fucking blind, don't know why you trust me to drive
I guess cause everytime you trust, we survive, but it's time
Is a motherfucking gamble
Eventually lady luck will call and say she cancels
You betting on my confidence when I was extra high, now I'm extra high
We'll pull over just to rest my eyes
And the only thing, fueling me is that I'm scared to die
And I'm scared for you cause you could die and never said goodbye
Why you trust me so? Why'd you let me lead
When I don't know where I'm going and I speed?
And this vehicle's the jankiest
Feel this coffee ruining my stomach and my pancreas
Sounds make me the angriest
So foggy the words, seem to be turning in different languages"
There are a lot of rappers who complain about the state of rap music: how it is full of sex and violence, how there is a lack of lyricism, how it is full of crass pop crossovers. Open Mike Eagle does one better and shows a path forward for hip-hop. His music isn't stuck in golden age worship, it isn't trying to be street, and it is more concerned with being good than with calling out other rappers for being bad. Sure he's a smart rapper, but he's a good rapper who infuses his music with melodies and meaning. "Dark Comedy" may not be the most banging album of the year, but it is one of the better ones.
Dark Comedy
Mello Music Group, 2014
Originally posted on RapReviews.com
L.A. transplant Open Mike Eagle is often called a smart rapper. While it is an accurate description of his brainy rhymes, it's also a backhanded compliment to both Mike and other rappers. Calling Mike a smart rapper implies that his intellect is the most interesting aspect of his music. It also implies that other rappers are dumb, or that Mike is the only person in hip-hop with a college degree. It's hard to be stupid and make a living spitting complex rhymes, and most rappers have more going on upstairs than their songs about sex, drugs, and violence let on.
As to the label "smart rapper," while Open Mike Eagle's literate rhymes and obscure references may be his most obvious trait, the "rapper" part is more important. Being smart only matters if you can rap, and Mike's biggest gift is his ability to translate his intellect into compelling rhymes. He's been working on his craft for the better part of a decade. "Dark Comedy," his fourth solo album, is his best work to date.
As on his previous albums, he works with electronica-influenced beats, avoiding boom-bap or club rap. There are eleven different producers on "Dark Comedy," unlike his last album, where Awkward produced all the beats. Most of the tracks are melodic and pretty, with the exception of Jeremiah Jae's abrasive beat on "A History of Modern Dance," and Alpha MC's menacing beat on "Doug Stamper." Mike adds to the melodicism by singing most of his rhymes. He experimented with singing rhymes on "4NML HSPTL," but he perfects it here. The sung vocals add emotion to the songs and offset Mike's sometimes monotone delivery.
There is a definite nerdy vibe to Open Mike Eagle. He quotes nerd icons They Might Be Giants, raps about role playing games, and uses ten dollar words like "synesthesia" (which is where you perceive sounds as colors). The combination of high-brow lyrics, muted vibe and indie pop sensibilities on "Dark Comedy" also mean that it will probably appeal to many of the college-educated, left-leaning intellectual types that tune in to "This American Life" on a weekly basis (a description which includes myself). However, it would be unfairly reductive and inaccurate to label Mike's music "NPR rap" or "Nerdcore." As brainy and nerdy as he gets at points, there is bite to his songs. He's said in interviews that each of his song is based on something that bothers him, and he tackles a host of problems on "Dark Comedy." Things like racism, sexism, depression, addiction, and trying to make it as an artist in a genre where people use $1,500 laptops and $800 phones to illegally download an $8 album. "And nobody ever has to pay for anything," he raps on "Golden Age Raps," "Which is pretty cool 'cause everybody's unemployed." "My friends are superheroes," he raps on "Very Much Money (Ice King Raps)," "None of us have very much money though." He takes on his detractors and freeloaders on at the chorus. "That shit's not valuable/Come say it to my face/It's all disposable/Come say it to my face." On "Qualifiers," Mike twists rap braggadocio on its head, claiming "We're the best, mostly/Sometimes the freshest rhymers/We the tightest kinda/Respect my qualifiers."
He supposedly had an album worth of songs ready to go a while back, but realized they were all downers and so decided to make a less depressing album. Hence "Dark Comedy," with Mike "on that to keep from crying tip." There is a sadness to the album that comes through in the rhymes and in the subdued beats. In that sense it is a good companion to Atmosphere's recent "Southsiders," another album of somber, contemplative rap. Also like "Southsiders," "Dark Comedy" takes a while to truly appreciate. When you are dealing with four-minute songs with whispered rapping and a beat that isn't much more than a piano ("Idaho"), you can't just put it on in the car and hope to immediately get it. It's only after a few listens that you realize it is a song that is either about driving late at night drunk and high, or a metaphor about feeling out of control in life.
"Damn near fucking blind, don't know why you trust me to drive
I guess cause everytime you trust, we survive, but it's time
Is a motherfucking gamble
Eventually lady luck will call and say she cancels
You betting on my confidence when I was extra high, now I'm extra high
We'll pull over just to rest my eyes
And the only thing, fueling me is that I'm scared to die
And I'm scared for you cause you could die and never said goodbye
Why you trust me so? Why'd you let me lead
When I don't know where I'm going and I speed?
And this vehicle's the jankiest
Feel this coffee ruining my stomach and my pancreas
Sounds make me the angriest
So foggy the words, seem to be turning in different languages"
There are a lot of rappers who complain about the state of rap music: how it is full of sex and violence, how there is a lack of lyricism, how it is full of crass pop crossovers. Open Mike Eagle does one better and shows a path forward for hip-hop. His music isn't stuck in golden age worship, it isn't trying to be street, and it is more concerned with being good than with calling out other rappers for being bad. Sure he's a smart rapper, but he's a good rapper who infuses his music with melodies and meaning. "Dark Comedy" may not be the most banging album of the year, but it is one of the better ones.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Death Grips Review
Originally posted on RapReviews.com
Death Grips
Niggas On the Moon
Self-Released (http://thirdworlds.net)
Niggas On the Moon is the fourth album in three years by Sacramento group Death Grips. Their early work sampled Pink Floyd and Black Flag, and their later work has gone in different but equally loud direction. After last year’s cacophonous “Government Plates,” I was ready to write the trio of MC Ride and producers Zach Hill and Andy Morin off. I figured they had taken the group’s template as far as it could go, and I had heard all I need of Ride screaming about sex and drugs over clattering industrial beats. Their latest album, which is supposed to be the first half of a double album, proves me wrong. It’s more interesting and more listenable than “Government Plates,” and sees Ride maturing as an MC. (I realize it’s unfair to review a double album based on only half the album, but it’s the length of the album and was released first, so it seems like fair game).
All of the songs on “Niggas On the Moon” are built around samples of Icelandic avant-garde pop star Bjork. Death Grips did some remixes for Bjork, and she returned the favor by appearing on this album. That doesn’t mean that she is singing hooks, or that Death Grips are sampling “Big Time Sexuality” or “Oh So Quiet.” Instead, they take a snippet of her voice and give it the Death Grips treatment: filtering it almost beyond recognition and repeating it at 120 BPM. It’s a similar thing that they did with synthesizers and sirens and drums on “Government Plates.” The big difference is that Bjork’s voice filtered and worked over still maintains its soothing, ethereal quality. The result is beats that have an almost ambient feel even as they hammer and hiccup and stutter.
This kindler, gentler backdrop gives Ride room to do something besides scream. His vocals are sometimes quiet and calm, which gives a nice contrast to his explosions of aggression.
On earlier releases Ride came off as a crazed, drugged-out lunatic who seemed minutes away from an overdose or serious bodily harm. The incarnation of Ride on “Niggas On the Moon” is more sustainable, with less focus on drugs and being aggro and an overall more psychedelic feel.
He still raps about sex and drugs, but the real focus is on trippy stream-of-consciousness, like “Xerox man dressed in gauze spiders silk in menopause.” Take the lyrics to “Voila;” they seem to indicate that the title has more to do with getting really out there than anything NASA is up to:
“Voila
Maybe I belong to you
I'm sure you want me to
My shadow's onto you
Voila, voila
I can't make you like voila
I'll make you love voila
Make you make love to voila
Hole
Make you place your faith with voila
Hotel
Enough with what your temple knew
Help
I don't talk to the help
Help
Whose voila suits you too well?
Don't talk to the help
Help”
As on “Government Plates,” Rides vocals are not always front and center in the songs. Death Grips seems to be moving away from the rapper/producer mold and moving towards something different. There are a couple almost instrumental songs where Ride is barely present. Even on the songs where he’s featured, he’s just another element in the mix rather than the star of the show. And also like “Government Plates,” “Niggas On the Moon” is eschewing traditional song structures. “Viola” is the most vivid example, whiplashing between minimalism and complete insanity in an instant. There’s not a lot of verse-chorus-verse going on here.
“Niggas On the Moon” is a return to form for Death Grips, but it isn’t perfect. For one thing, the songs feel more like eight variations on the same concept than eight distinct tracks. That’s neither surprising nor unforgivable given the experimental bent of the band, but you can’t help but notice the sameness when you listen to the album. The album also doesn’t solve the quintessential Death Grips dilemma, which is the fact that their music is kind of annoying. If you aren’t in the mood for noise, then this is not the record for you. What it has going for it is that it doesn’t sound like anything else anyone has going right now, and it shows artistic growth. Plus, it’s available for free, so you’ll only be out time and hard drive space. If you are in the mood for hip-hop that pushes the envelope, or music that manages to be soothing and aggro at the same time, “Niggas On the Moon” has you covered.
Saturday, June 07, 2014
Halftime
The year is almost half over, so I thought I'd make a list of my favorite records of the year so far. They are:
Bleeding Rainbow, Interrupt for its use of textures and its nice blend of shoegaze guitars, melodies, and male/female vocals.
The Solids, Blame Confusion for its chunky, melodic riffs that sound straight out of 1994
Atmosphere, Southsiders for the handful of great songs on the album that combine soulful, hard-hitting beats with introspective rhymes
Unwound, Rat Conspiracy, for collecting two of the best records of the 1990s plus some good b-sides.
One thing that's not really on this list is much hip-hop. That's because I haven't been listening to much hip-hop lately. I listen to the stuff I review, but that's about it. I'm turned off by the vulgarity and misogyny of mainstream and street rap, and there hasn't been much underground stuff that's moved me. If I listen to rap it is mostly old De La Soul records with my kid. At home with my kid I listen to kid's music, old jazz and old reggae. On my own, I listen to Grouper and Unwound. Almost exclusively. It's a little disturbing to me that I've been so into Unwound, given that I am 39. What I realized is that in some ways I'm at a similar point in my life as I was when I was into Unwound in my early twenties. Not really sure who I am supposed to be or what I am supposed to be doing, not totally satisfied with work, and feeling a little lost. That's a selfish way to be given that I have an amazing family and an amazing job and am incredibly lucky, but the transition to being a parent has given me a bit of an identity crisis, and working a mid-level job can be just as confusing and dissatisfying as working an entry-level job. What am I supposed to be doing, is this the career I want, have I overstayed my welcome, etc. etc. It's a similar sense of ennui and angst that the thrashings and wailings of Unwound help to soothe. Of course, when I was 19, I had a lot of freedom but no means to take advantage of it. Now I am more comfortable materially, but I have a lot more responsibilities. I worry all the time. What if I lose my job? What if I can't pay my mortgage? What if my wife or kid gets sick? The scenarios are constantly playing in my head. At 19 my girl problems were trying to get a girlfriend or get over a broken heart. Now my girl problems are hoping that my ladies stay healthy and I continue to be able to provide for them. Responsibility, man, it's a total buzzkill.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Man Enough to Care
I recognized at an early age that the masculine roles being offered me were nothing I was interested in. As a boy I was allowed to be feel angry or horny but not much else. Sadness and empathy were for faggots. Showing the world you gave a shit about anyone or anything was verboten. My friends and I at school spent our time picking on each other and the weak. The roles the older generation had-stoic provider-seemed to leave them helpless when left alone and on a path to be dead by 65. By the time I was in Jr. high I was demanding that my mother teach me how to cook. When I was 17 I decided I needed to move to San Francisco. Though I wasn’t gay, I figured any city full of queers would have space for a wimpy dude who didn’t know the first thing about sports and was more interested in hanging out with girls than dudes.
Most of my male role models growing up were punks who challenged traditional male roles while providing a trajectory for a redefined and more functional masculinity. Ian MacKaye, who was tough yet sensitive, criticizing the sexist macho thug culture while presenting an image of self-reliance and take-no-shit-ness. Joe Strummer whose lyrics showed an empathy for the underdog, and who managed to embody 50s cool without the sexist trappings of that image. The Subhumans, Crass, 7 Seconds, and Operation Ivy, who all wrote songs that challenged traditional male roles. Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, Hole, X, even the Go-Gos and Blondie, who all modeled strong female figures. Even Jawbreaker and Green Day, who were sensitive but cool guys who managed to attract cute girls to their shows and show that punk didn’t have to be about macho aggression.
Last week I downloaded an old 7 Seconds song called "Man Enough to Care." It’s from their New Wind album, which is when they were moving away from melodic hardcore and trying to be U2. (Before you laugh, remember that this was when U2 were an alternative band, and one of the reasons Minor Threat broke up is because half the band wanted to be U2 as well - just listen to “Salad Days”). New Wind isn’t an amazing album, but it has some great songs including “Man Enough to Care.” It’s a little punk, a little Bob Dylan, and details the way in which boys are indoctrinated to not have feelings.
Daddy always told you, do it like a man
Never get too friendly,
Some won't understand
[…]
'Cause boys don't crave affection,
Boys ain't got no fear
But did they ever show you how to shut those feelings on then off again
The tear-jerker for me is the end of the song, where it talks about how this cycle continues:
Handshake show you're friendly, but don't get caught,
You gotta fight to prove you're not afraid
Fuck just to prove you're not,
And all your life you play this game and it goes on and on and on and on
Now you've grown into a man, proud as hell to be,
It's now your turn to raise a son, don't let him be one
And you can teach him all the things you were taught yourself
And now you gotta hide yourself, hide yourself away,
Show you care and you might show the world that you're only gay,
Crying is for babies, for boys is it a sin,
To be a caring, sharing, loving, human one”
That song is 30 years old, but it still rings true today. Even in the liberal Bay Area I hear parents tell their young sons not to cry, or that pink is for girls, or any number of things that reinforce the idea that they have to suppress emotion and focus on being physical. I hear it in the rap songs I listen to that call anyone that isn’t out making illegitimate children they aren’t going to support or killing other young men of color a faggot. And I saw it in the toxic and confused misogyny that led to the murder of seven people in Isla Vista this weekend. (I’m not reprinting that fuckers name. He’s got too much attention already. Fuck him.)
Another punk song that helped me define my conception of masculinity is Crass’s “Big M.A.N.” It’s a more caustic and polemic take on the traditional male role of violent, stupid, womanizing wife-beater. Maybe an overgeneralization, but I’ve always loved the lines:
“If you're a man, you'd better act like one,
Develop your muscles, use your prick like a gun.
Fuck anything that moves, but never pay the price,
Steal, fuck, slaughter, that's their advice.
Are you man enough? Ask the posters on the walls,
Have you got what it takes? Guts and balls?
Keep your myth of manhood, it's been going on too long,
A history of slaughter is the proof that it is wrong.”
Finally there is Operation Ivy’s “Here We Go Again,” which was the most direct call to action in terms of redefining masculinity:
Analyzed the world I was born into
But I could never understand
Knew I never wanted to grow up if that meant being a "man"
Dominating strict competition is the meaning of our lives
Stomping on the weak keeps us the winner of the battle in our minds
Tensions in our lives that are destroying our minds
Unite themselves together to make our consciousness blind
Conditioned to self-interest with emotions locked away
If that's what they call normal I'd rather be insane
Relax yourself from giving what you want to do with your life
Ease up from giving up things like control of your own mind
If you never ask any question
Then you're never gonna get no answer
Always be wondering what do you want
While you keep getting older faster
Here we go again
Another test of manhood just when you thought you'd won
The more we keep competing
The more the battle has just begun
Of all the things that music, and especially punk music, gave me, one of the most important was the knowledge that there could be another definition of what it meant to be a man that didn't fit in with the stereotype. Fathers, don't raise your babies to grow up to be assholes. Let them know that real men aren't violent. Real men don't intimidate. Real men have feelings. Real men don't rape. Real men treat their mothers, sisters, coworkers, girlfriends, wives, and the women they are trying to pick up with respect. Which means like human beings. It's not actually that hard.
Never get too friendly,
Some won't understand
[…]
'Cause boys don't crave affection,
Boys ain't got no fear
But did they ever show you how to shut those feelings on then off again
You gotta fight to prove you're not afraid
Fuck just to prove you're not,
And all your life you play this game and it goes on and on and on and on
Now you've grown into a man, proud as hell to be,
It's now your turn to raise a son, don't let him be one
And you can teach him all the things you were taught yourself
Show you care and you might show the world that you're only gay,
Crying is for babies, for boys is it a sin,
To be a caring, sharing, loving, human one”
Develop your muscles, use your prick like a gun.
Fuck anything that moves, but never pay the price,
Steal, fuck, slaughter, that's their advice.
Are you man enough? Ask the posters on the walls,
Have you got what it takes? Guts and balls?
Keep your myth of manhood, it's been going on too long,
A history of slaughter is the proof that it is wrong.”
But I could never understand
Knew I never wanted to grow up if that meant being a "man"
Dominating strict competition is the meaning of our lives
Stomping on the weak keeps us the winner of the battle in our minds
Tensions in our lives that are destroying our minds
Unite themselves together to make our consciousness blind
Conditioned to self-interest with emotions locked away
If that's what they call normal I'd rather be insane
Relax yourself from giving what you want to do with your life
Ease up from giving up things like control of your own mind
If you never ask any question
Then you're never gonna get no answer
Always be wondering what do you want
While you keep getting older faster
Here we go again
Another test of manhood just when you thought you'd won
The more we keep competing
The more the battle has just begun
Of all the things that music, and especially punk music, gave me, one of the most important was the knowledge that there could be another definition of what it meant to be a man that didn't fit in with the stereotype. Fathers, don't raise your babies to grow up to be assholes. Let them know that real men aren't violent. Real men don't intimidate. Real men have feelings. Real men don't rape. Real men treat their mothers, sisters, coworkers, girlfriends, wives, and the women they are trying to pick up with respect. Which means like human beings. It's not actually that hard.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Survival Knife
I've been really enjoying the Unwound reissues, and I was intrigued to see that Unwound singer/guitarist Justin Troper had a new band, Survival Knife. I was even more intrigued to see that they rocked. There is the angularity you'd expect from the guy from Unwound, but Survival Knife's music is rooted in hard rock and metal as much as post-punk. There is a little Fucking Champs, a little Loose Nut-era Black Flag, and a whole lot of chunky riffs. Who says you have to mellow with age?
And for comparison....
:
Jessica Lee Mayfield
Jessica Lee Mayfield's 2011 album Tell Me remains one of my favorite albums of the past decade, so I was excited to hear her follow up, Make My Head Sing. Unfortunately, she's ditched producer Dan Auerbach, opting to self-produce this one. The difference shows. There was a warmth and complexity to the production on Tell Me, which added weight to Mayfield's airy vocals and nicely balanced her rock, country, and folk influences.
Make My Head Sing has strong songs, but too often they get lost in the production. Songs like "Oblivious" "Pure Stuff," and "Anything You Want" work the best. They are grounded in chunky, grungy guitars, and sound like she's being backed by the surviving members of Nirvana. It's the quieter songs that suffer the most from Auerbach's absence. As a result, Make My Head Sing is not a bad album, but it's also not as amazing as Tell Me.
Atmosphere Review
Originally posted at RapReviews.com
Atmosphere
Southsiders
Rhymsayers, 2014
Atmosphere
Southsiders
Rhymsayers, 2014
Atmosphere have mellowed since the days that Slug used to rap about his romantic troubles, sexual escapades, and tendencies towards over-consumption of booze, cigarettes, and drugs. This mellowing has happened over time. After a 2003 incident in which a young woman was raped and killed by a janitor at an Atmosphere show in New Mexico, Slug’s lyrics got more serious and less sexually irresponsible. A series of copyright lawsuits convinced Ant to stop digging crates for beats and start working with live musicians. Turning 40, getting married, and having kids was the final nail in the coffin of Atmosphere’s younger, smart-ass persona. There’s nothing worse than an aging hipster and you don’t want to be the 40 year old who still parties like he lives in a fraternity.
Atmosphere have put aside childish things as they’ve matured, and their sound reflects that. 2008’s “When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold” was their first foray into Grown Man Rap. It was a collection of downtempo, muted explorations of poverty, abuse, and other studies of imperfect characters. 2011’s “The Family Sign” kept the somber tone and focused on families, including good relationships, abusive relationships, and bad daddies.
They continue on the same trajectory with their seventh album, “Southsiders.” Those hoping that the duo would return to the more uptempo feel of “Bam” or “We Love the Things That Hate Us” are in for disappointment. Most of “Southsiders” is as grey and depressing as the neighborhood it is named after (at least if liner photos are accurate).
“Bitter,” the first single from “Southsiders,”. “Bitter” is also the album’s weakest track. Slug’s sing/rapping sounds like Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, another group who have mellowed with age. The chorus is terrible, the lyrics aren’t great, and it sounds like an outtake from “Lemons” or “The Family Sign.” On hearing it I had to wonder if Atmosphere destined to keep writing the same ballad over and over again like the Red Hot Chili Peppers have been doing since “Under the Bridge?” Second single “Kanye West,” is better, but not great. It also points to the two biggest weaknesses of “Southsiders” as a whole.
The first is the beat. “Kanye West,” like “Bitter,” like almost all of the songs on their last three albums, is downtempo and dour. It is the opposite of a banger. It is not the song you put on when you want to get pumped up or feel like you can conquer the world. It is not meant for the club. It will not start a street dance craze. Of the fifteen songs on the proper album, only two of them (the title track and “The World Might End Tonight”) could be said to be uptempo. Everything else is either mid- or downtempo, which gives the album a subdued feel. That’s not to say they are bad (more on that later), but they aren’t exactly energetic.
The second issue with “Southsiders” that is evident in “Kanye West” is that Slug is struggling lyrically. Too often on the album he relies on irony (saying “put your hands up if you DO give a fuck” on “Kanye West,” rather than the more common “put your hands in the air if you just don’t care”), cliche, or making no sense. “Star Shaped Heart” has a line “The handprints are bloody/Because the puppy outran the bunny” which almost ruins what is otherwise a good song. Even “Flicker,” a powerful song about the rapper Eyedea, who committed suicide in 2010, has some seriously dubious lines like “When I hear your smile it’s outlined in sadness/You poked holes in the magic.” There are many adjectives I’d use to describe Slug’s lyrics - self-punishing, insightful, sincere, nakedly honest, cynical, poetic - but cheesy is not one I’d normally use. Yet there are several moments on “Southsiders” where Slug is downright cheesy.
Those criticism aside, “Southsiders” is still an Atmosphere record, which means it ultimately redeems itself. Slug always manages to kick you in the guts with his rhymes. Even when he’s depressing, Ant still maintains an old-school feel in his beats even when he’s working with guitars and synthesizers. He might build a track entirely around reverbing guitar, but you better believe it is going to have banging drums. His beats hit hard even when they are mellow. The bluesy wail and handclaps of “Arthur’s Song” might not work well for dancing on a pole, but they hit you where it counts. The piano and synthesizers of “Fortunate” manage to convey a sense of hope and promise that matches Slug’s lyrics. By sampling live instruments, Ant manages to capture both the homey feel of analog instruments and the percussive repetition that comes from flipping breaks. “Southsiders” may not be the most exciting album, but it sounds good.
And then there is Slug. Slug is a consistently interesting rapper, and one of the few MCs who are willing and able to tackle such personal subject matter. His domestic bliss may have dulled his edge, but he still manages to offer biting insights into the human condition with serious microphone skills. He can be neurotic: on “Fortunate” he raps, “I highly doubt y’all think about sex anywhere near as often as I think about death.” He spends a lot of the album analyzing friendship, what it means to get older, romantic relationships, and how to keep moving forward when the whole world seems like it is going to shit. When he’s flossing, he’s dropping knowledge with his daggers. “Southsiders” is a takedown/love letter to the neighborhood he came up in, and Slug sounds like an OG calling out all the young kids:
“Whole Southside been up in your guts
Don’t even know how to describe how much you suck
And it’s not just you but everyone of your plus
Follow each other around like a bunch of ducks
Just turn the music up and get dumb
Stretch your skin around the biggest drum
Born from a neighborhood of click and run
And already gave away my last stick of gum”
I pre-ordered a physical copy of “Southsiders” even after I had spent a week streaming it for free. I rarely buy CDs anymore, but I knew I needed a hard copy of this album. For one thing, Rhymesayers always puts a lot of care into their physical product, making it worth the purchase price. For another thing, while Atmosphere may stumble at times, they get it right enough to make anything they do worth listening to and worth paying attention to. While the line in “Flicker” about poking holes in the magic is a misstep, Slug closes strong:
And now I’m trying to write a song for a dead songwriter
That wrote they own songs about life and death
And every breath is full of self-awareness
Don't ever be afraid to be embarrassed
So I wrote these words to describe what I cry about
But I’m certain if you were here right now you’d ridicule these lyrics
You’d hate this chorus
You’d probably tell me that the concept is too straight forward”
It’s lines like that that keep me coming back to Atmosphere’s music, and make “Southsiders” another solid entry into the Atmosphere catalogue, warts and all.
Friday, May 09, 2014
Sage the Gemini Review
I reviewed Sage the Gemini's Remember Me this week at RapReviews.
If you listen to the one of the local hip-hop stations in the San Francisco Bay Area, nine times out of ten the song playing is either Sage the Gemini’s “Gas Pedal” or “Red Nose.” Those songs are so ubiquitous that Sage has admitted in interviews that he’s sick of hearing them. He worked hard to be at a point where his songs are driving people nuts. The 21-year old dropped out of high school in Fairfield, California to focus on music full time, and it took five long years before “Gas Pedal” and “Red Nose” finally took off in 2013.
“Remember Me,” which dropped in March, collects several songs that were on 2013’s “Gas Pedal EP” plus nine new tracks (thirteen if you buy the deluxe version). Sage uses the album to prove that there is more to him than making songs to get girls shaking their asses.
Musically, the songs on “Remember Me” stick close to the template that has earned him a spot in the Top 40: stripped-down, pulsing beats with a keyboard providing melody. It’s a sound that can trace its roots to hyphy staples like “Vans” and “Blow The Whistle,” as while as the Neptunes minimalist classic “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” He also throws in some hi-hats, snare snaps and synthesizers. He favors ambient elements over dance elements, which gives his compositions a dreamy feel. Sage the Gemini’s music mirrors his lyrical persona: laid-back, a little street and a little romantic. P-Lo, League of Starz, the Exclusives, and Jay Ant also take the boards. The wistful beat on “Mad At Me,” the punishing 808s of “Down On Your Luck,” and the whining gangsta lean of “Second Hand Smoke” show that Sage is as adept at choosing beats as he is at making them.
“Remember Me” delivers somewhat on its promise to show that there is more to Sage than booty anthems. There are several songs where Sage flexes his newfound money and fame at the people who ignored him when he was coming up. The title track is Sage the high school dropout saying nyah nyah to the people at his school, bragging about his success and proclaiming ‘“Cool bro, bitch I’m a nerd!”“Second Hand Smoke” is about how he has tried to avoid the streets, proclaiming “I can’t handle the pen unless it’s a record deal.” “Go Somewhere” is a surprisingly romantic song from a guy whose biggest hit asks women to dance like dogs:
“Excuse me? I know you don’t care
But I saw you from across the room
And I just want to say I like your hair
Maybe some time we can go somewhere?”
His range only goes so far, however. Sage has said in interviews that he doesn’t really drink, smoke, or hang out in the club. That’s odd considering that many of the songs on this album reference drinking and smoking in the VIP section of clubs. Sage and his HBK crew fall into the same trap a lot of younger rappers fall into, dropping the same twenty references to luxury goods, smoking blunts, drinking champagne, and getting with bad bitches in the club. There is a rigidity and conservativeness to the subject matter that is at odds with how expansive the music is. Maybe it’s a product of being 21. At that age, what more to life is there but girls, partying, and hanging out with your friends? And do we really want to hear songs about hungover Mondays and working shit jobs to pay the rent?
It’s frustrating that so many of the songs stick to the same cliched themes because Sage can actually rap. He’s got a low-key charm, spitting his rhymes effortlessly. He sounds like a dude who knows what he is doing, not some kid who is barely old enough to buy his own liquor. “Remember Me” isn’t a perfect album, but it has some great songs and a lot of promise. Sage the Gemini has established himself as an artist worth remembering.
Tuesday, May 06, 2014
A Child and His Lawnmower
I got into two separate online debates with gun enthusiasts in the comments sections this week. The first was in an article on ProPublica about a guy who is trying to study gun violence. My point was:
... to me, killing people is wrong, and guns are far more likely to be used in crimes, suicides, or accidents than in self-defense. If you feel so unsafe that you can't go to Starbucks without packing heat, the answer isn't more guns.
The second was in an NPR article about a shooting at a FedEx facility in Georgia. Several people noted that this was a gun-free zone, to which I commented sarcastically that clearly the answer to gun violence is always more guns.
I'm not uniformly anti-gun. I'm anti-gun for my family, but I understand that the 2nd amendment guarantees Americans the right to bear arms, and that most gun owners are responsible and hopefully not nut jobs who are preparing for the race war when Obama tries to put everyone in FEMA death camps (if you think I'm joking, look up "preppers"). There are even a few pro-gun commenters who point out some of the mistakes and errors in the gun control crowd's arguments (i.e. not knowing an assault rifle from a shotgun). And they aren't wrong when they say that many more people are accidentally killed by cars than accidentally killed by guns. For the most part, however, the pro-gun commenters in any online article about guns, no matter how moderate and reasonable, scream and howl about how they can't protect themselves unless they have a mini nuke in their back yard and are allowed to have a bead on people with their AK-47 AT ALL TIMES.
The answer to the gun problem in America is not more guns. It is not to make it so that everyone everywhere at all times can be fully strapped. It's ironic that the gun lobby makes fun of how gun control advocates "sensationalize" mass shootings to call for stricter gun regulations, while using those same mass shootings as evidence that we need looser gun laws so everyone can be "safe." And that statistic the NRA loves to throw around that 2.5 million defensive gun uses by citizens? It's based on extrapolating a 225 person survey from 20 years ago. In other words, utter bullshit.
But enough ranting. All this gun talk has me thinking of two songs that address the matter. The first is the Dead Kennedys "A Child and His Lawnmower," from the Not So Quiet In the Western Front Maximum Rock n Roll Comp and their Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death collection. It's a short blast from their hardcore phase, and the lyrics describe the kind of weird news story that singer Jello Biafra used to collect for his Fuck Facts collages.
"Some clown in Sacramento was dragged into court
He shot his lawnmower
It disobeyed
It wouldn't start
Might makes right
It's the American Way
Judge fined him 50 dollars
And sent him on his way"
It was the chorus that has stuck with me to my adulthood:
"You know some people
Don't take no shit
Maybe if they did
They'd have half a brain left"
It's a similar sentiment from what Ice Cube raps at the end of "Dead Homiez"
"So I take everything slow
Go with the flow
Shut my muthafuckin' mouth if I don't know"
As I got older I realized it was a variation both on the Christian idea of turning the other cheek, and the Buddhist idea of being generous with people and not giving in to hate and anger. There's also an element of that business maxim "if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail." The point isn't to be passive and let people walk all over you, but that if you constantly walk around with your dick out looking for a fight, you'll probably find one. And not live that long or happy an existence,
Secondly, there's the video to El-P's "Deep Space 9mm." When every people salivate over concealed carry laws and call for armed guards in schools, I imagine that this is the future they want.
"So I take everything slow
Go with the flow
Shut my muthafuckin' mouth if I don't know"
As I got older I realized it was a variation both on the Christian idea of turning the other cheek, and the Buddhist idea of being generous with people and not giving in to hate and anger. There's also an element of that business maxim "if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail." The point isn't to be passive and let people walk all over you, but that if you constantly walk around with your dick out looking for a fight, you'll probably find one. And not live that long or happy an existence,
Secondly, there's the video to El-P's "Deep Space 9mm." When every people salivate over concealed carry laws and call for armed guards in schools, I imagine that this is the future they want.
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