J Rocc and King Louis Reviews

I reviewed King Louis's Hits In My Sleep mixtape for RapReviews this week. I'm not a big fan of these kinds of mixtapes, but I liked King Louis well enough to write about him.

Here's "Yo":



I also reviewed J Rocc's Some Cold Rock Stuf. It's a great instrumental hip hop album, mixing elements of trip-hop, electronica, old school, and latin funk into the mix.

Eric Dolphy

Madlib titled one of the tracks on his Advanced Jazz mixtape "Dolphy," which got me investigating just who this Dolphy character is.

Turns out he was a multi-instrumentalist who worked with Coltrane (among others) before branching out as a leader, producing several amazing albums, and then dying tragically young.

I got Out There, which I really enjoy, but it's Out To Lunch which is his true masterpiece. Take "Hat and Beard."


It's starts off as standard bouncy sixties jazz, complete with vibraphone. But something is off: the drums seem to be keeping their own beat, and the whole thing is off kilter. When his sax comes in, it's doing the scree thing that Ayler and Coltrane and Coleman and Sanders were experimenting with. The whole thing is accessible yet  freaky. No wonder a lot of traditionalists dismissed his music.

I can't tell you how much I love this album. I have been listening to it incessantly for the past two weeks. I got it at the same time I got Miles Davis' Kind of Blue, and I like Out To Lunch more.Not that Kind of Blue isn't genius in its own right, but Dolphy's avant weirdness is much more interesting to me than Miles's restrained cool.

The picture, by the way, is stolen from here, which has a great bio of the man.

Animal Farm and Quanstar

I did two new reviews for RapReviews last week. The first was for Animal Farm's Culture Shock. They are a positive hip-hop crew from Portland doing music in the vein of Ugly Duckling and Jurassic 5. I wasn't totally feeling it, but fans of the aforementioned bands should check them out.

The other review was for Quanstar's 4/11 ep.He''s an indie rapper who self-produces his stuff, and raps grown man raps over quiet storm beats. Interesting.

Kyle Rapps Review

I reviewed Kyle Rapps Re-Edutainment EP on RapReviews two weeks ago.

Good positive hip-hop, modeled somewhat after BDP's Edutainment album. Which I owned but sold.
Like this video, the album is colorful and a little corny.


"Love's Gonna Get You" from Edutainment:

Charles Mingus Review

Originally posted on RapReviews.com at http://www.rapreviews.com/archive/2011_04_blacksaintand.html


Charles Mingus, Black Saint and the Sinner Lady

 I came of age when music was still purchased in physical form at brick and mortar stores, and my relationship with music is different because of it. I used to go to record stores and sift through the bins looking for an album I wanted or one I didn't know I wanted. There was a thrill in finding a rare CD in the bargain bin, or finding a new record used, or coming across something I didn't even know existed.

I used to buy maybe four albums a month - I couldn't afford more. I'd go home, reading the liner notes on the bus, and listen to the albums back to front multiple times. I'd listen to an album for a week straight, catching every nuance and change. Some of my favorite albums were those that required multiple listens to truly appreciate and discover: "Fear of a Black Planet" by Public Enemy, "Sandanista!" by the Clash, "Paul's Boutique" by the Beastie Boys. I knew every inch of every album. To this day I'm still discovering songs that were sampled and referenced on early Ice Cube and Public Enemy records.

Then high-speed internet became more widespread and we entered an age where you can find almost any album ever made simply by searching for its name and "download" (Madlib's "Blunted in the Bombshelter" being one exception). I went from listening to four albums a month to four albums a week, and sometimes as many as ten. The trickle of information became a flood, something this gig as a reviewer only exacerbates.

I no longer listen to an album for a week straight. I'm lucky if I listen to it twice in a row before moving on to something else. Instead, albums go on steady rotation, and it might take weeks or months or years before they begin to click with me. I burned a copy of Coltrane's "Giant Steps" two years ago and only now am giving it a real listen, and I just went back to Percee P's "Perseverance" after forgetting about it for four years. I also never listen to the end of a song - I know how all 2,000 songs on my iPod start, but I don't have the patience to get to the end of any of them.

In some ways I love the fact that I can hear so much music. In the past few years, I've been able to explore and delve deep into African music, reggae, jazz, and hip-hop. If I'm in the mood to experience any genre, I go to Pandora and set up a "Salsa" or "Dirty South" radio station and get my fix. There are few albums so obscure or so rare that they aren't available somewhere online, either legally or illegally. Indie artists that have a decent computer can record, mix, and post their music online for a fraction of the time and cost that it used to take. Small labels can sell digital copies of their catalogue long after they've lost the resources to maintain physical copies.

We are losing some things with the death of the album and the death of the record store. One is the social element of buying records. I had friends and acquaintances that worked and still work at record stores: Asa at Record Finder on Noe (now a dry cleaner), Gabe and Galen at Streetlight on Market, David at Amoeba on Haight. I'd talk to them about music in the store and over beers when I ran into them at a bar. They'd turn me on to things, I'd turn them on to things, and it made the process of shopping a social experience sorely missing from clicking "Buy" on iTunes or Amazon.

Another thing we've lost in the transition away from the album is the context and the power of an artists complete, fleshed-out thought. I listen to music in snippets now, and it is rare that I take the time to experience the breadth of what an artist has to say at a particular moment in time. I listen to track two then track three then track five of a totally different album. Any intentionality in the arrangement of songs on an album is totally lost.

Which brings me to Charles Mingus' 1963 masterpiece "The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady." I bought album five years ago, new, for $15,98 at the soon to be defunct Border's in downtown San Francisco. I had been told that it was a classic, a must-own record, so I decided to experience it first-hand. After an initial listen, I wasn't impressed. First of all, it's not an easy listen. It takes a while to build, and it is full of changes, contrasts, and discordant elements. It's not nice background music. No one will play it at their wedding reception, but then maybe that's the mark of good jazz. The album is four songs in about forty minutes, less music than I was used to paying so much money for. I later learned that the whole point of the Impulse label was to treat jazz as art and charge a premium for it. The records were expensive in the sixties and seventies when the label was active, and the reissues are expensive today.

Part of that money goes into the packaging, and for this reason you need to buy a physical copy vs. a download. It comes in a gatefold digipack like the original vinyl, with complete liner notes by Mingus himself and his psychologist. Mingus's liner notes set the context for the album: what he was trying to do, how he went about doing it, the fact that it is essentially a song cycle about himself. The notes open up the music in the same way that the description of a painting in a museum catalogue can open up a painting, giving you a sense of the time and place it was created, and why it matters. You wouldn't get the same experience from four lonely MP3s sitting in your iTunes playlist.

And the music? You need some time with that, too. This is an album that you can't enjoy in small bursts. You can't have this on shuffle. The songs all work together with themes and melodies and rhythms and ideas repeating themselves over the course of the disc. It's a symphony, albeit a funky, groovy symphony. There are wailing horns, flourishes of brass, even some Spanish guitar interludes. It is celebratory, mournful, angry, happy, and as complicated and conflicted as the man who composed it. For experienced jazz fans, the album contains a multitude of nuggets, gems, and unexpected compositional choices that have ensured its place among the canon of essential jazz albums. For the casual jazz fan like myself, it is just challenging enough to be interesting while still being enjoyable. It pushes the boundaries of what I am used to, but isn't so freaky or annoying or obtuse that I can't listen to it.

For hip-hop fans who are interested in exploring the background and back story of their favorite music, "Black Saint" is worth purchasing. This, along with Coltrane's "Love Supreme" and Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue," was the pinnacle of African-American music fifty years ago. The ambition, creativity, and talent that went into "Black Saint" can be seen in later hip-hop masterpieces like "Fear of A Black Planet," "Speakerboxx/Love Below," and "Liquid Swords." "Black Saint" is an album that pushes both the artist's and the listener's comfort levels, aiming for greatness and largely succeeding.

New York's Alright If You Like Saxaphones

I'm in New York, staying in the East Village. It's my first time here - I've spent most of my 36 years avoiding/hating/being envious of New York. It always seemed to crazy, too busy, too big, too harsh, too full of itself. It's all of those things, but it also the Ur-city, the city that all others are modeled after and aspire to be. I've only been here twenty four hours and already I am overwhelmed and half want to move here and half want to take the next plane home. It's an intense, crowded, exciting place.

And I've had that Fear song in my head. Fear wrote it in their asshole West Coast way, mocking New York for being full of arty gays. I think it's funny because it doesn't seem like that much of an insult. As my friend's friend said to us today, "welcome to Chelsea, one of nine gay districts in Manhattan.

My impressions of New York are mostly from music and film, and are mostly out of date. The Lower East Side when it was dangerous. Manhattan when it was more working class. South Bronx when it was an abandoned, bombed-out war zone. Things have changed. From my limited view, it seems a lot less sleazy than it used to be, and a lot safer and more homogeneous. I joked with my wife that we could easily spend the entire time eating at chain restaurants and shopping at chain stores. But in between all that are hundreds upon hundreds of unique stores and restaurants, and millions and millions of people. Another telling sign - i've seen a ton of DVD places, but no record stores.

So maybe this is a better theme song for my trip:

Nirvana

Kurt Cobain shot himself seventeen years ago. I heard about it when I was at my friend/bandmate Matt's parents house in Roseville. I was sad but not surprised. There was so much misery in his music that it was obvious that he was deeply unhappy.

Kurt Cobain meant a lot to my friends and I. In some ways he was an idol: a sensitive freak who had made good, shown up all the jocks and gone on to transform the record industry and our culture. I tried to drum like Dave Grohl, my bandmates tried to sing like Kurt Cobain, and everyone aped their loud-quiet-loud aesthetic. Before Nirvana broke in '91, the music industry was DIRE. The only interesting music was coming out of hip-hop - mainstream rock music was all hair bands and garbage, with the exception of Guns and Roses. Nirvana took the rawness and realness of punk and made it melodic and palatable to the masses. Cobain's lyrics were obtuse, but any teenage kid recognized some of their own frustration and confusion in his tortured yowls.

His death marked the end of the grunge movement, and the decline of music. Most of the bands that came up with Nirvana were actually good: Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, the Smashing Pumpkins. By 94, the second generation of grunge bands was coming, and they watered down the sound and turned it into generic rock. By 95 I had gotten totally bored of all of it - the dirty production, the downer vibe, the navel-gazing subject matter. I moved on to other things.

Luckily, Nirvana doesn't hit me the same way they did when I was 19. However, I still love many of their songs, and I think most of them hold up pretty well twenty years later.

Mobroder

Those wacky kids in Spank Rock have come up with a new side project, Mobroder. It's Italo-disco in the vein of Giorgio Moroder, who is perhaps best known for writing and producing Donna Summer's "Love To Love You Baby," Irene Cara's "Flashdance...What A Feeling," and Berlin's "Take My Breath Away."



And his epic mustache.



If you go to their website and give them your email address, they will send you an hour long mix. Some of it seems to be original, but a lot of it is older material. I recognize some songs from Miss Kittin's essential mix Radio Caroline. Man I love that album. I don't listen to very much electronica these days - partially because my partner doesn't like it and partially because it's not in tune with where I am at this moment, but I still like it in small doses.


Here's a video they did. It makes you either want to do coke with models in the bathroom of a neon lit club, or play Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. I'm opting for the latter.


Scion A/V Presents: Mobroder - Rush (Nile Delta Remix) from Scion A/V on Vimeo.

What's Wrong With Being Sexy?

In the two weeks since I wrote my Odd Future review, there has been several articles on the internet criticizing the crew's rampant misogyny. The Troy blog has a nice round-up. I've spent just about all the time I want to analyzing them, but I do want to say a couple things. One is something I learned too late in life: if you are an offensive asshole as a joke, you are still an offensive asshole. Just because you say you are joking doesn't mean it isn't funny, and if you have to have an elaborate explanation as to why you aren't really a total fuckhead, then it's not worth it. In short, if you are defending why it's ok to say you are a rapist, you've lost the argument already.

Second, it's ironic that as Odd Future was being lionized at SXSW while rapping about killing and raping women, Ben Weasel of Screeching Weasel saw his career basically end when he hit a woman who had thrown a beer at him (a description of the show and video can be found here). Sort of a double standard, although I suppose Odd Future haven't done anything to anyone (and there DJ is a woman, so it's all good, right?) .
I'm done.

Odd Future Rap About Rape, and I Don't Like It

I reviewed Tyler the Creator's Bastard for RapReviews this week. I was excited to hear it, given the rave reviews I had heard of Tyler and his crew, Odd Future. I had the title track on my iPod from someone's year-end list, and I enjoyed it. Tyler was creative, twisted, and dark, and his beats stood out.

And then the rape talk began. To quote my review quoting Tyler, he repeatedly brags about being a rapist, dropping lines like "When I rape a bitch, I hold her down and get my best nut" and "Leave a bitch breathless/ but what the bitch don't know /is that I'm a motherfucking sellout and a rapist" and "you call that shit rape but I think that rape's fun." Those are only three of many references.

In two words, fuck that. I'm not listening to that shit, I'm not giving it a pass, and I'm not signing off on it. I didn't fuck with Eminem when he was rapping about killing his baby momma, and I sure as fuck am not going to listen to a bunch of kids who grew up on Em and decided to go one worse.

It's ironic that the hipster community (coughPitchforkcough) have totally bought into Odd Future, with the standard disclaimer that, yah, it's disturbing, but isn't rap music, like, supposed to be shocking? It makes me question the relationship that us white fans have with hip-hop. What does it mean that we enjoy listening to young black men boast about being the worst stereotypes of their race? What does it mean that we will listen to a young black man rapping about subjects that we would find totally unacceptable if sung by a white artist? That we need the music to be gritty and grimey and ultraviolent in order to get off on it or feel that it is "real"?


And before people start saying, "it's a joke! Lighten up!" here's the deal: some things aren't funny, motherfucker. Imagine a male comedian coming on stage making jokes about raping women. It doesn't work. And it doesn't work because it is attached to a real threat, a real problem, real trauma, real pain. Women get raped all the time. According to the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network, there were 250,000 sexual assault victims in the U.S. in 2007. That means that someone you know has been sexually assaulted. So making music that makes light of that, that encourages it, that brags about it, is totally unacceptable. It's a line you can't cross.

I don't expect popular musicians to have the same beliefs, morals, and ethics as myself. I don't demand that all artists I listen to share my liberal beliefs. I can accept that a lot of artists I like are probably assholes.But I also draw the line somewhere, and rapping about rape is one of those lines.

For the record, I also can't bring myself to listen to "The Chronic" because all the songs that aren't pathologically misogynistic are about black people killing other black people. I don't listen to much gangsta rap at all. Reading the daily homicide bulletins about young men of color gunned down on a daily basis has made gangsta braggadocio seem pretty unappetizing. I've been listening to Big L a lot lately, and the fact that he was gunned down makes his violent raps seem less palatable. It's like knowing that the guy who is singing about drinking died of liver failure. Only much more tragic.

Tyler and the Odd Future make interesting music, but they need to realize that some things are taboo for a reason, and being an unconscionable asshole isn't the same as being edgy.

R.I.P. Cadence Review

I reviewed R.I.P. Cadence's The Next Shade of Grey on RapReviews last week.  They are a hybrid hip-hop/R&B/pop group from Nashville. I'm not a fan of this style of music,which showed in my score, but they do it well. I recommend going to their bandcamp page and seeing if it is your style.

I'm working on a review of Tyler the Creator's Bastard mixtape. He's part of the Odd Future crew, who do inventive and twisted hip-hop. I'll get to the twisted part in my review. They did a crazy performance on Fallon, equal parts hip-hop and punk rock. See how they are yelling in the face of the women dressed as an escape mental patient? Just one example of the disturbing mysogyny that are part of this crew's persona.

Fucked Up on Jessica Lea Mayfield and the Stooges.

I'm in a fancy Hyatt hotel room for a conference for the professional association I belong to. I ate dinner by myself at a Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, possibly the worst/most expensive meal I've had in some day. Thank God for expense accounts. Actually, let's leave him/her/it out of this - I'm sure the higher power has much, much better things to worry about than reimbursement policies.

All of which makes me feel old and square and like a tool. So here's a video of one of my favorite, most inspirational songs, complete with a shirtless fat guy singing. Yes, it's the magic of Fucked Up, who are releasing their follow up to 2008s The Chemistry of Modern Life this summer. I'm expecting nothing less than genius. And vocals by a guy who sounds like he is gargling gravel.



In an unrelated note, my new favorite song is Jessica Lea Mayfield's "Our Hearts Are Wrong." It's the single off of her latest album, produced by the Black Key's Dan Auerbach. Ima buy it when I get back to San Francisco. Here's a video of her playing it on Letterman. As a bonus, she is a pretty blonde instead of a fat guy with a beard. Although a fat guy with a beard is on keys.



And for something completely different, I've been listening to the Stooges' Fun House. It may be my favorite of their three albums. Raw, funky, and a walking just say no campaign.



They reformed a few years ago with one of my personal heroes, Mike Watt, on bass. I like clean Iggy better than so fucked up he's about to die Iggy, but I'm not convinced that they have the same fire forty years later.

Custom Made Review

I reviewed the latest album by Cali street rappers Custom Made this week on RapReviews. Solid, if not mind-blowing.

I've been listening to Open Mike Eagle's "Unapologetic Art Rap," which is one of the better albums from last year that I'm just now catching up with.

Live Music

My friend's band Winter's Fall played the Hotel Utah last night, and I didn't go. I also didn't attend a single night of the Noisepop 2011, even though I like a lot of the bands. RapReviews repeatedly sends me notices about hip-hop shows in the city, many with artists I'd love to see, but I never go. I'm realizing that I'm not that interested in seeing live music any more. 

There are a couple reasons for this. One is that I get up at six in the morning, which means I tend to go to bed by 11 every night, which is just about when a show starts popping. Week night shows are a total no-go, but even a Friday night show at Hotel Utah is pretty unrealistic. Winter's Fall were headlining, which meant a midnight start time, by which point I'd be totally done.

The other reason is that, since I got married, I don't have the same need to be out there and mingling with strangers as much. Not that I just want to hang out in my house with my wife, but I don't feel like I'm missing out on meeting somebody or being part of something by not being at a show. I also have different priorities now. I still love music, but it's not the main focus of my life. Work, school and spending time with my family are my big priorities, and I don't have much time or energy for other things.

That doesn't mean I don't still want to see live music, it just isn't the priority it used to be. And I'm ok with that. Part of me misses the days when I went out several times a week, but I was also broke and directionless during that part of my life. It seems like a fair trade off.

More Jazz

I'm still on a jazz kick, knee deep in an obsessive deep dive into it. I did the same thing with hip-hop five or six years ago and reggae two years ago: I'm trying to listen to and read about it as much as possible, discover every classic album, every hidden gem.

My one problem with jazz is that I don't have the musical background to really appreciate it. I can't tell the difference between different times or tones or chords or keys. I can appreciate technique somewhat, but since I've only ever played drums, it's hard for me to appreciate how skilled the musicians are. Still, you don't have to be a musician to know that John Coltrane was brilliant, or Charlie Parker, or Mingus.

I first got into jazz when I was in my teens, probably from reading Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man and some of the early beat stuff. I listened to old Duke Ellington, Dizzie Gillespie, Charlie Parker, and Billie Holiday, who remains a favorite. I dipped into more experimental jazz a few years ago, listening to Coltrane and Mingus. I like how different and envelope-pushing some of the music is: for example, Coltrane's "Ascension" is like nothing I've ever heard, forty solid minutes of cacaphony that is still going somewhere. It's like looking at abstract art: it challenges your perceptions, and takes the art in a totally new and unexpected direction.

Like all abstract or avant-garde art, things like "Ascension," Albert Aylers "Holy Spirit," or Ornette Coleman's "Free Jazz" are often more interesting conceptually than they are enjoyable. I'm listening to "Ascension" as I write it,and the shit is crazy and kind of annoying. No, really annoying. Yet it also fills the same niche for me that some of the noisier post-punk groups like Sonic Youth or Polvo fill - it's noisy and abrasive and beautiful in its chaotic, jagged ugliness.

Of course jazz, like rock, is a huge genre that encompasses a large range of different, many of which are incompatible. When you say you like jazz, you could mean the dance music that Ellington or Glenn Miller were turning out in the 30s and 40s, or the cool jazz of 50s Miles Davis, the swinging bachelor pad swing of a lot of sixties jazz, the freaky jazz-rock of 70s Miles, or smooth jazz artists like Kenny G (who plays the same instrument as Coltrane). Even Coltrane covered a lot of ground. Right after doing Ascension, he did an album of ballads, and also collaborated with Duke Ellington and Johnny Hartman.

Those are two of my favorite Coltrane records. "In A Sentimental Mood" is one of my favorite songs ever.
Ellington lays down a delicate and heartbreaking piano line, and Coltrane goes tastefully crazy over it. He pays homage to the earlier age of jazz while still adding an element of experimentation.


I bought Ascension this week at Amoeba, and I also downloaded both John Coltrane's albums with Ellington and Hartman. Clearly "Ascension" is more adventurous, but  I think I like the two albums of standards better. They are easier to listen to. I thought I wanted to explore the freakier side of jazz, but I'm thinking I might go in the opposite direction, looking at some of the more carefully composed pieces. What makes works like "Black Saint and the Sinner Lady" and "Love Supreme" so exciting and compelling isn't their experimental qualities, but the sheer ambition of them, the way that all the different pieces add up to one whole. That coherence is missing on free jazz pieces, and the free jazz pieces aren't nearly as fun to listen to because of it.

Incidentally, I stole the photo from a site called "Brilliant Corners," and they have a really good post on Coltrane. Many really good posts. With good comments from guys who clearly understand the music on a much deeper level than I ever will.

N.B.S. Review

I reviewed The Prelude, the debut by Boston duo N.B.S. (Natural Born Spitters) on RapReviews this week.

I wasn't really feeling it, but you might. Here's a video for "Ill Lyrical."

The Aztext and Generation Bass Reviews

I reviewed The Aztext second installment of their "Who Cares If We're Dope?" series this week at RapReviews. This time the group worked with with SF producer Touchphonics.


I also reviewed Generation Bass's Transnational Dubstep comp. It's a solid collection of dubstep containing elements of Indian, Latin American, and European folk music. I rated it a little low only because I have a limited capacity for dubstep.

What I'm Listening To

I've been studying a lot, which has changed the music I listen to. I can't study to hip-hop - it's too abrasive and distracting. Instead, I've been listening to a lot of jazz. A lot of jazz albums are cheap on Emusic, so I got a bunch recently, including Oliver Nelson's The Blues and The Abstract Truth.



I also got John Coltrane's A Love Supreme, which is brilliant. It's one of those amazing pieces of music that makes me feel alive. I just wish I knew more about music theory, because I'm sure Coltrane's work is a lot deeper than I'm able to digest.

I've also been listening to old hardcore punk. I put my old Minor Threat, Circle Jerks, and Germs records on my iPod so I can relive my adolescence on my bus ride home. I find 80s thrash oddly soothing.

I also found a Stitches album at Amoeba for five bucks. They were a trashy Heartbreakers-inspired band who I saw in the mid-nineties opening for the Workin' Stiffs at the Purple Onion. Their friend Dusty was sitting at our table with a box of seven inches to sell. He was drinking Old English from a can, ashing into it, and then taking swigs. They were a toxic, druggy band who had a decent song or two. The album is pretty terrible.


Finally, I've been listening to a lot of 70s deejay music. I went almost all of January without listening to any reggae, but the second school started up again I started listening to reggae again. It's soothing yet a little aggro. I found a used copy of Trinity's Shanty Town Determination at Amoeba, which I'm enjoying. He sounds a lot like Big Youth, but that's not a bad thing.

Serge Severe Review

I reviewed Serge Severe's new album Back On My Rhymes this week at RapReviews. He's a Portland MC whose sound is a throwback to the days when being a rapper meant having solid microphone skills and a dedicated DJ on the decks spinning vinyl. I liked it. A lot better than Busta Rhymes 2009 album Back On My Bullshit, which I bought last month, and which I don't like at all.

Here's "Can't Stop, Won't Stop, with Braille.

Maggot Mouf

I reviewed Maggot Mouf's You're All Ears this week on RapReviews.

It's Australian horror rap, using horror imagery to talk about the drama of everyday life. Much like a Burgermeister hamburger, it's done well, but not the kind of thing I'm into.