You Down with O.P.P.?

Tonight was the fifth installment of Vh1’s Hip Hop Honors. Tracy Jordan a.k.a. Tracy Morgan (oh wait, it’s the other way around) hosted, and his jokes about family court and baby mamas kept Treach and company rolling in the aisles. Which was a good thing, because the Hip Hop Honors, and music induction ceremonies in general, rarely bring the funk. The hardest working band in show business, the Roots, played house band again, although combined with all the DJs on stage and the general jive turkey that is televised performances, their efforts went fairly unnoticed (which unfortunately, they are used to). This year gave nods to Cypress Hill (seriously), De la Soul, Slick Rick, Too $hort, Naughty by Nature and Isaac Hayes, whose contributions to hip-hop were vast to say the very least.

Highlights included Michael Rapaport, a.k.a. Mr. Hood Pass, introducing De la Soul and revealing that he had named his son Maseo, Vin from Naughty by Nature hollering “girl you look GOOD” to Eve while she paid homage to the Ruler, Slick Rick (he’s right though, girl is THICK) and Cee-Lo crooning “The Look of Love” as Mos Def rhymed, “who the fuck is this? Pagin’ me at 5:46 in the mornin’ crack a dawnin’…” over the Roots instrumentation. Major bummers included Kid Rock’s trashy ass paying respects to Too $hort, Flavor Flav being invited (Chris Rock is right, that fool needs to be taken OUT), Travis McCoy’s skanky mug in my face acting like he’s somebody and Wyclef Jean bringing out his guitar and strumming “No Woman, No Cry” during the Naughty by Nature finale (no wonder Lauryn went crazy). The night’s best wardrobe choice is top right. Obviously.

Never Go Pop

Madvillainy is one of the albums that really opened my eyes to how stale and unimaginative a lot of hip hop is. Now, that's not the point of the album, it's more of a side effect. The record is one of the strangest I've ever heard, in any genre. The beats still move, though, and the lyrics contain substance of a sort that I'm sorry to say is rare these days. It's a record that proves that it doesn't have to be the same old thing all the time in the genre of hip hop, even if that's what we're given most of the time.

Not only does this album have my favorite song of all time about getting high ("America's Most Blunted"), it also exposed me for the first time to two of my favorite artists of all time.
Madvillainy is the first and, up until now, only LP-length collaboration between producer Madlib and emcee MF Doom (he of the metal mask and Dr. Doom career motif). Since hearing Madvillainy, I've spent the better part of the last five years tracking down different Madlib projects, side and otherwise. There's his collection of albums of beats, released under the name Beat Konducta (Vol. 3-4, Beat Konducta in India, is particularly good). There's Quasimoto, Madlib's chipmunk-esque psychedelia project. And let's not forget Lootpack, Madlib's more straightforward hip hop group from the late 90's. This really just scratches the surface, and is to say nothing of all the production he does for other artists (Q-Tip and Erykah Badu released songs produced by Mad in the last year). Oh, and he finds time to run a label, Stones Throw, which can hook you up with almost all of this work.

Rumors have been swirling pretty much since Madvillainy came out of a followup collabo. Trying not to get my hopes up, I never really believed it. Doom and Madlib are both constantly dreaming up new, usually codenamed side projects (Doom's Dangerdoom with Dangermouse, or Mad's Jaylib with J. Dilla) to keep themselves busy. Plus, there's also what I'd call the "one album effect," where an album is so much more valuable for not having any others before or after it. Look at the Sex Pistols or Black Star.

Well, I still don't think a followup will ever arrive. But this summer Stones Throw released a sequel of sorts. Madvillainy 2: The Madlib Remixes envisions Madvillainy as it would sound if it were produced by... uh... Madlib. Okay, fine, that doesn't make sense, but it doesn't need to. Some people have been calling this a fans-only release, and that's exactly what it comes across as: a small thank you token from Mad to all his loyal fans. This album isn't essential like the original Madvillainy, but it succeeds by being even more nutso than the original and reflecting just what Madlib is into these days. If you want to see if Madlib's production is up your alley, grab Madvillainy, a Quasimoto album (they're all great) or one of his mixtapes. But if you enjoy what Madlib puts out there already, do yourself a favor and grab what amounts to a concept mixtape . You can look at it as a cynical move to sell copies of a throwaway recording, but you'd to much better to see it as Madlib letting the fans in on a private project of his own. Let's hope this starts a trend.

I'll leave you with a classic vid from the original Madvillainy. If you don't want to hear more after this, I don't think you're reading the right blog. "All Caps":

Hideout Block Party.

Here's my mini-review of Chicago's own 12th Annual Hideout Block Party, which went down this past weekend. Originally posted on TimeOut Chicago's Live Blog. Sorry to say my main man Rhymefest did not bring the noise, although the large population of children running around could have had something to do with that. He primarily rocked his "Man in the Mirror" mixtape, barely rhyming over MJ classics.

TOC Music intern Isabelle Davis reports on Sunday:

Jim DeRogatis hyped the Hideout’s 12th Annual Block Party as “the perfect ending to what has become Chicago’s long hot summer of over-hyped but underwhelming outdoor concerts and festivals” but the truth is, Sunday’s acts did little to fulfill DeRogatis’ prophecy. The crowd was a mellow mix of young families, yuppie-cum-hipsters and hipsters-cum-yuppies, enjoying an undeniably laid-back vibe, which was a definite plus, especially if one has little to no tolerance for drunk 16 year-olds. But those who got there early hoping for back-to-back face melting were severely um, underwhelmed. It wasn’t until 8:45pm, when Ratatat took control of the side stage that shit really became worth the $25. And that being said, going for the New York band alone was worth the time and money, because they packed their hour-long set and encore with exuberant and perfectly executed sonic punches to the face. The only act to have quality sound (and with the music they play, that is just non-negotiable), Ratatat drew the maximum crowd for Sunday and had everyone captivated. Electro and metal riffs over Tortoise-esque grooves, blended with Battles-like craftsmanship (minus the math) and epic synthesizers are a hard act to follow, and by the time Hercules and Love Affair’s Andy Butler took the stage for a closing DJ set, the party had already been busted.

Do You Believe in Rapture?

Disclaimer: It's hard to talk about Sonic Youth and not sling cliches or, on the other hand, sound like a pretentious wank. Cut me some slack if either of those happens here; I'm going to try to talk about them anyway.

Goodbye 20th Century, author David Browne's biography of Sonic Youth, is an epic tome about one of the most respected yet still unsung bands of alternative rock. Of all their contemporaries, few are still together, not counting reunited bands, and fewer still maintain the kind of integrity that Sonic Youth and each of its members does. Seriously, at this point it's basically them and R.E.M., and while the latter are one of my favorite bands, it hasn't been worth listening to one of their new albums since Monster. Their story is longer than you'd think (Kim Gordon is my mom's age!), and Browne tells it compellingly, getting great interviews out of the band, its various friends, family, and colleagues past and present. Anecdotes, stories, and 'huh?' moments abound (Gordon produced Hole's first record? What?). But this book contains more than the story of Sonic Youth and its so-cool-I-want-them-to-adopt-me members. I assumed, as is the case with many rock bios, that this was a fans-only book, and that may be true. But the true magic in G2C lies in the first 100 or so pages. Sonic Youth's story begins in the very late 70's/very early 80's, a time when punk had broken down, no-wave had stepped in to fill the gap, and all bets were off. New York City during these early days of post-punk was a fascinating place, and no one has set it up better on the page than David Browne has in the start of Goodbye 20th Century. We get to see Thurston Moore, Kim Gordon, and Lee Ranaldo (permanent drummer Steve Shelley joined the band a bit later on down the line) interact with downtown luminaries from Lydia Lunch to Glenn Branca to Fab Five Freddy to Jean-Michel Basquiat. I may be biased towards New York City, but this book is required reading for anyone interested in the history of American rock music.

I'm just now winding my way to the end of Goodbye 20th Century. I was never a huge fan of SY until I saw them play at McCarren Park Pool in the summer of 2006. They were opening for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (more on that later) but they completely blew that band out of the water. After seeing the calm collected Kim Gordon, lead YYY Karen O's set just smacked of overcompensation. That night, Sonic Youth made me a lifelong fan. I very slowly started listening to their albums, because for me that is the only way to listen to this band. Whether it is because of the conflicting personality types in the band, their writing and recording method, or a concerted effort on their part to really make complex recordings, listening to a SY record is more about unraveling than straightforward listening. It's hard to explain. But sit down with a copy of Goo, or Daydream Nation, or Sonic Nurse for that matter and just listen. It's not always pretty, in fact, it's rarely pretty. But after a while the noise will subside and your brain will be able to comb through the wreckage. Sonic Youth is more an exercise in listening than anything else; this makes their albums more rewarding than most.

The thing about Sonic Youth, though, is that even though their music is complex, challenging stuff, the band manages to remain real. Each of their four core members pursue side projects in and out of the music industry, from fashion to film to publishing, and yet pretension is never the air they give off. These are four down to earth individuals. Goodby 2oth Century makes the case that while Sonic Youth never scored a #1 hit, never had a best-selling album, never had a video in heavy rotation on MTV or even college radio, really, their influence and guidance on the alt-rock community from the 80's to today cannot be understated. Even beyond all the artists that Sonic Youth helped break, (Nirvana, Chloe Sevigny, Spike Jonze, Raymond Pettibon, Cat Power, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, just to name a few) Sonic Youth greatly influenced the world by throwing all expectations out the window. If you keep working on what you're doing, letting your artistic instincts guide you, you'll make strong work. This mindset has sustained the band. They never became the biggest band in the world, but you know what? That happened to Nirvana, and now Kurt Cobain is dead. Meanwhile Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon are still making music, working on side projects, supporting the community, raising a family, writing books, and just generally living out their dreams. It seems like more than a fair trade-off to me.

And if this sort of stuff really interests you, do yourself a favor and pick up a copy of Goodbye 20th Century.

Goodbye 20th Century [amazon]

Instant Vintage.

I haven't been this jazzed on an R&B album in a minute. From his Tony! Toni! Tone! days to Lucy Pearl (R.I.P., God damn that band folded too soon), to production/writing for D'Angelo, Kelis and Erykah Badu (to name just a few) plus his own critically acclaimed solo work...I mean the man breathes good music. But this, his latest, is his long awaited straight up Motown effort, and it takes the cake. If you don't know, now you know: Raphael Saadiq is the J Dilla of R&B. The man is no joke. He does it ALL. From a recent interview with Okayplayer:

"The multi-instrumentalist (guitar, bass guitar, keys) only enlisted the outside help of Greg Curtis (Yolanda Adams, Keyshia Cole) for some key piano portions, Paul Riser (arranger of Motown classics “My Girl,” “Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” “My Cherie Amour,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and more) to do all of the string arrangements and Funk Brother Jack Ashford to handle the percussion work on the vibes and bells for the album."

Oh, and in case you hadn't peed your pants enough, Mr. Innervisions himself guest stars on a track.

WOW NO BIG DEAL OR ANYTHING.

The Way I See It drops September 16th.

I Decided.

I decided that despite some serious mark missing (like the album's entire last half), I can't truly dislike Solange's new album. I really only like three songs (the Motown steeped first single "I Decided," the clever Cee-Lo co-penned "TONY" and the bittersweet and gorgeous "I Would've Been the 1"), but I still can't dismiss the effort. At it's best, this album is glossy, fresh and snappy, and at it's worst, it needs better arrangement and production.

She's the slightly left of center younger sister of a bonafied pop queen, and that's evident. But she is also her own artist, and that's evident on this album as well. And although she is only 22, the girl knows a thing or two about the ins and outs of relationships, and that comes across lyrically. She got pregnant, married and divorced all before she was old enough to drink, and this album is not just typical post-teenage warbling. It's all her. And I commend that. Not to mention she's somewhat of an underdog: she had a dream team of producers and collaborators (Pharell, Raphael Saadiq, Cee-Lo, Bilal and Mark Ronson to name a few) but she had to basically beg most of them to work with her. That sounds sad, but in a way, it's actually great. I guess being Beyonce's baby sister does not guarantee much in the way of star treatment.

Ultimately, Solange herself puts it best: "I was a little different/I didn't do what the fast girls do/Study my rhythm, you can speed me up when you want to." She's trying, she's branching out, and hopefully, her next release will perfectly execute this album's ambitious vision of a "'60s/70s vintage soul record with hints of electronica." I look forward to it.

Dr. Feelgood.

In the wake of Jerry Wexler's passing, I have been listening to lots of classic Atlantic Aretha. And I mean lots. I was fortunate enough to be sent a copy of Aretha Franklin: Rare & Unreleased Recordings From the Golden Reign of the Queen of Soul when I was a DJ back in Boston, and since the legendary producer passed, I have been giving it HEAVY play at home. Outtakes, demos, and previously unreleased sketches of her great stuff from the '60s and '70s ("Dr. Feelgood (Love Is A Serious Business)", her cover of "Fool On The Hill", "Spirit In The Dark") are presented as first recorded: bare bones, basic instrumentation, very little production and therefore, an unavoidable emphasis on Aretha's dynamite voice and skilled piano playing. The tracks aren't the greatest to listen to for jamming purposes, but if you want insight into the recording process, and the before and after treatment her songs received, this double disc is certainly on point. Every cough, "one more take" and foot tap is captured, and you get to hear the blueprint of what later became Franklin's, and Wexler's, masterpieces. So, in a belated tribute to the production god behind Ray, Aretha, Wilson, and uh, the birth of R&B (a phrase he is attributed with coining) here is a rather gorgeous and bluesy rendition of the Queen belting out a classic Wexler produced gem, live in 1968, in all her glory:

Hot Buttered Soul.

This weekend marks the passing of two remarkable entertainers, one a ground breaking comic, the other, a bonafied soul genius.

I first became familiar with Bernie Mac in Spike Lee's The Original Kings of Comedy. I still pee my pants when I think about the line "where's the cookies and shit?" and his routine about taking care of his drug addicted sister's children while he and his wife try to settle into retirement and their second honeymoon phase. A student of Richard Pryor, his raw, unapologetic and personal style of comedy made this Chicagoan truly special. He will be missed.

Isaac Hayes was one of the first artists that truly exposed me to soul as a kid. I would hear the "Theme from Shaft" on V103 and just light up: the "shut your mouth!" line, the booming build up...the song was epic, to say the very least. His cool and calm delivery, the fantastic deepness of his voice, was unlike anything I had heard before, or since. And as I got older, I realized that he was much more than the bald dude in the gold chains; he was responsible for the majority of Stax's greatness, and if Atlantic Records was the house that Ahmet built, then Stax was the house the Isaac built, hit by hit. A behind the scenes man with David Porter, Hayes came into his own with his landmark Hot Buttered Soul album, and his cover of "Walk On By" is by far and away one of my all time favorite songs. The intensity of his performance style is best captured in Wattstax, where he headlined, stopping the show with his outrageous entrance, removing his cloak to reveal gold genie pants, a glittering chain link shirt and a visceral and magnificent musical aura. He may be best remembered by my generation as Chef (and for his angry departure from "South Park" due to his Scientologist beliefs) but to me and the soul music world, he will always be known as a true innovator and the number one "Soul Man."

Telegram to Hip Hop

This was going to be a post all about how I'm mad about the state of hip hop. About how hip hop is dead. How its artists are pissing away its potential by not really giving their all, by half assing their records and doing even worse on stage. But somehow (I think Nas had a lot to do with this) "hip hop is dead" came to be code for "long live hip hop," employing in its defense the same subtle bricolage that makes the genre so powerful. So fine, my hip hop is dead post has been derailed. I guess that's a good sign. But hip hop is far from thriving. To use a completely unfair and perhaps even irresponsible analogy, it's like alt rock before the early-90's boom, except there's no Nirvana on the horizon and no Sonic Youth guiding the young'ns.

So: LONG LIVE HIP HOP. Certainly, the old guard is falling into pieces as more and more emcees we once respected and admired resort to releasing terrible, sprawling (not in the good way) records with no direction. Here's a hint for all you struggling-yet-established emcees: if you're feeling like your album doesn't flow right, and isn't running cohesively, adding more producers to it will NOT help the situation. In fact, it will do just the opposite, taking the album even further from its central point, whatever that may be. (Another thing: try to HAVE a central point every once in a while.)

Anyway, I can rant all day about the problems with hip hop, but I'm just going to call it like I see it: close mindedness is killing hip hop. Rappers, DJs, producers, even label execs need to be much more outgoing as far as trying new things and looking for new sounds. As it stands, all we're looking for is the new Jay-Z. This is not what we need, and besides, he's not coming, and nor is Hov himself going to brush himself off and start making great albums again. Blueprint 3 is going to let you down even harder than Blueprint 2, if you catch my drift. Take a risk every once in a while. I'm not saying that there's no one doing this right now, I'm just saying that more people should be.

Take us out, Saul.



Saul Williams - Telegram (acapella, live at the Boulder Theatre) [YouTube]

I'm Still In Love With You.

While it's too early to actually start believing that D'Angelo's new album is dropping this fall (readthisexcellentSpinpieceRIGHTNOW), it is definitely not too early to deem certain artists' efforts as the Best of 2008...so far. And unless you don't have a heart or working hammers, anvils and stirrups, then you know that the Rev. Al Green's Lay It Down is quite possibly the greatest "classic" soul album to emerge since well, the initial Soulquarian movement that spawned Voodoo. And that isn't surprising, considering ?uestlove was at the producer helm for both.

At least three years in the making, Green's "real" comeback hadn't really been executed to perfection until this Ahmir Thompson and James Poyser dream project came to fruition at Electric Lady: Dap-King horns, Anthony Hamilton, Corinne Bailey Rae, John Legend (even his black Liberace schtick can't taint his contribution on the lovely and twinkling duet "Stay With Me (By the Sea)"), Jaguar Wright and of course, the late and great Chalmers "Spanky" Alford flesh out what already was a promising and titillating concept: take the Rick Rubin/Jack White M.O. (retooling an icon's sound ever so slightly with the benefit of younger producers/younger working musicians aesthetics, while expanding on what made said icon so great in the first place, also known as not fucking with an already good thing and trying to make a legend play catch up with the Top 40 club) and apply it to the last working living soul legend. It had been ?uest's dream to do so (and he has previously turned down Stevie Wonder, citing too much pressure and personal anxiety over that hypothetical project) and he knew he could do it. It was just a matter of making Blue Note realize that they had dropped the ball, and kindly asking Willie Mitchell to stand back and let the youngsters take the reins.

The resulting sessions unfolded the same way the famed Voodoo recording sessions did: no pressure, a slow layering process, and a heavy editing hand. If a song worked, they came back to it a few months later just to make sure it still smacked of epicness. Jam sessions, writing while rehearsing, and of course, simplicity paved the way for the album I personally have been waiting for since I was a little kid. I grew up on Al and the other soul and R&B greats, but I grew up on what my mother and her generation experienced first hand. I could and did listen to Let's Stay Together a million times, but even as a child couldn't help but think, if he's still alive, why isn't he making music like this anymore? And despite his gospel era, the truth was, he wasn't making music like he did at Hi Records thirty years ago. He could, but he wasn't. And part of that is the unfortunate fate many of our Hall of Famers face: act like you're still 20 years-old to appeal to the 20 year-old set, or else you are a relic, or at best, starring in an awkward Victoria's Secret commercial.

Lay It Down combines the lush strings of Green's Memphis days with the sharp and full horns of his '70s reign (courtesy of the Dap-Kings), and lucky for us and Green, his voice has not changed one octave since he first started. Every single moan, squeal and emotive vocal arpeggio is there, matched by the basic organ styling of Poyser, crisp and simple drums of Thompson and the lilting and gorgeous guitar riffs of Alford. This record is Green's first Top 10 album since 1973. It is the most organic and natural sounding execution he has attempted since his beautiful and raw "farewell" to the secular world, 1977's The Belle Album. It is without any doubt, any hype, any bullshit, an immediate classic.