The Rhymes of Our Lives

This is "Liberation" from OutKast's five-mic album Aquemini.

Since I have to be up at 7 a.m. tomorrow (again) I'll keep this short and sweet. I remember when I bought this album back in 1998. I had played OutKast's previous effort ATLiens like I was in search of the cure for cancer in Big Boi's lyrics, so I was primed for a new release from the dirty south duo. I eagerly slid this CD into the deck in my car and reveled in 'Kast's refreshing reinvention.

Everything was going just fine until I got to "Liberation". I was haunted by what I was hearing. Never had I witnessed a hip hop group take such risks on a record. It was impactful and mesmerizing in a whole new way.

And by the time they got to the end of Cee-lo's section, I was almost in tears. I love this song.

peace.

Emcee of the Month: Nas (Post-Hurricane Wrap-Up)

Allow me to briefly finish what I started.

As a fan of his work, I'll be the first to say Nas hasn't always secured the best production for his albums. He certainly has substantial highlights ("N.Y. State of Mind", "The Message", "Nas Is Like" to name a few), but there have definitely been moments of his career which suffered due to substandard instrumentation.

"Purple" is not one of those moments.

For me, the most unique element of this track is it's lack of a hook (or chorus to some). Hooks are the staple of hip hop songs, usually because they are the only words anyone can remember after a first listen. They are also the lyrics to which people outside of the culture tend to gravitate. I'll never forget a stroll I took on the campus of Louisiana State University through the tailgating festivities before a football games. I walked past one group of fans who were flying a purple and gold Confederate flag and listening to OutKast's Stankonia album. I watched with slacked jaw as they flailed and gyrated while singing along, chanting "I'm sorry Ms. Jackson!" Surreal.

I think it's actually quite daring for Nas to forego adding a hook on this track. The urge to "catchify" a hip hop song is significant, and many otherwise decent songs have been weakened with the addition of weak or unnecessary "hookage". With "Purple" Nas recognized the obvious density of what he's written and decided it was enough to carry the song. That type of commitment to one's message is difficult to play; ask any actor who has moments alone on stage. But because Nas has chosen to simplify this composition, his words become much clearer and more expressive.

I dig it.

peace.

The Rhymes of Our Lives

No, Stankonia wasn't OutKast's first album.



I've told the story before about how I stumbled across OutKast. This track was particularly influential in converting me to a fan of their music. Keep in mind, in 1996 I think I spent more time watching Star Trek: The Next Generation on Fox (Yes, I'm a nerd. Deal.) than checking out videos on B.E.T. or MTV, so I had no idea there was a video for this. All I knew was that I had moved into a brand new neighborhood with peers who were both very foreign and oddly familiar, and this was a sample of my life's new soundtrack. Omarr was especially taken by "Elevators" and we used to crank it over and over on his living room sound system, along with whatever Mobb Deep album he was playing at the time.

This song was a gateway on my journey towards the discovery of hip hop. OutKast is incredible.



peace.

Who You Callin' Hip Hop?

Last night as I was looking through tracks for Mariana's album, I came upon this KRS-One interview from outside the VH1 Hip Hop Honors. Check out what he says about Kanye's Graduation album from around 1:36 to 2:15.

You know, this is such a fine line. On the one hand, Kris has been rhyming since before I was born. His world view is acutely viewed through the lens of hip hop culture, perhaps with more purity and vigilance than anyone else. In many ways, he has acquired the privilege to profess the values, beliefs, and thoughts of the entire community.

But in many ways, he hasn't.

Even with as influential KRS has been in solidifying hip hop's foundations, he cannot determine the definition of hip hop for an entire community. No one can. That responsibility is solely the duty of the collective and not a select few individuals, no matter their importance. So when Kris says, "We don't wear white shades around here," my first response is, "Who's included in 'we'?"

In 1998 Lauryn Hill won five Grammy Awards for The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, including the top prize of Album of the Year. In her acceptance speech, Lauryn said, "This is crazy, because this is hip hop music." (I found it here!!!) And even though more than half her album was sung, she is absolutely right. That's the lens through which she views her world.

Six years later in the same category there were two hip hop albums nominated, Missy Elliot's Under Construction and OutKast's Speakerboxx/The Love Below. OutKast won the Grammy that year, with Dre's half of the project consisting of 95% singing, narration, and other types of musical explorations. In over two hours of music he only kicked two actual hip hop verses. But if I go to the record store to buy Speakerboxx/The Love Below, it's in the hip hop section. And that's right, because that's the lens through which they view their world.

So back to Kanye. If there could be any question of Kanye not having done a hip hop album it would most likely involve 808s and Heartbreaks, which was released in 2008. Kanye's almost exclusive use of the Roland TR-808 drum machine and Auto-Tune voice processing evolved into a minimalist and introspective journey of love, loneliness, and heartache. The sound was very electronica-inspired, Kanye sung on every track, and there was only one actual rap verse on the entire album (see "Amazing" feat Young Jeezy). Yet, even though this album is probably considered more of a crossover effort by most critics, at its core the heart of hip hop music still pulses. It won't be found in the "Pop" section of the Virgin Megastore. Kanye is hip hop through and through, and ultimately that's the lens through which he views his world. I think My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy has served to solidify this.

So, I humbly disagree with KRS-One. His opinion of what's hip hop is not a deciding factor. It's only his opinion, albeit an experienced and educated one. Nevertheless, the forces of hip hop are much, much greater than that.

"Hip hop started out in the heart." Lauryn Hill

"I met a critic. I made her shit her drawers/

She said she thought hip hop was only guns and alcohol/

I said, 'Oh, hell naw! But yet it's that too.'" Dre

"What the hell do I know/

I'm just a Chi-town nigga wit' a Nas flow." Kanye West

I think if KRS would have used "I" instead of "we", I wouldn't have had anything to write about tonight. Thanks Kris!

peace.

Holmes, smell ya' later!

Do you know the words to this?

I'm willing to bet you do.

In fact, I have a hypothesis about this. I wholeheartedly believe these are the most well-known rap lyrics in the history of hip hop. I've lived four states and two countries and spent significant time in many of the major cities in North America, and never have I come across someone who doesn't know at least half of this.

Now, before posting tonight, I had a wonderful debate with my homie Marcel (who also gave me some revisions for the No Wack Verses Club). He reckons that "Rapper's Delight" by Sugarhill Gang is more well known, especially the first chorus and verse of the song.

The conversation eventually shifted towards the significance of hip hop culture in the shaping of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air's narrative. But I think the jury is still out on the original premise as to which song is more well known.

I'll say this. "Rapper's Delight" came out at a time when hip hop wasn't really heard outside of a 50 miles radius of New York. And yes, it was the first hip hop track to get substantial airplay, but its entrance into the collective consciousness didn't really happen until about 10 years ago. In fact, it took an old white lady covering "Rapper's Delight" in the 1998 film The Wedding Singer before mainstream America realized how much they'd been affected by this song's success.

Conversely, The Fresh Prince theme was a much more immediate influence on how American pop culture viewed hip hop. Many people who had very little exposure to hip hop culture were able to tune in to this show and witness a relatively accurate (though extremely non-threatening) sample of the hip hop perspective. That peek into something new and unknown is one of the foundational aspects that allowed the show to be so successful. People who had never known any rap songs at least knew the words to The Fresh Prince theme. That was their way in.

One day I'll figure out a way to test this scientifically. How would I do that?

P.S. I think Ms. Jackson by OutKast and Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot are up there, too. People in Louisiana flying confederate flags play those at tailgating parties. Crazy.

peace.

Hip Hop is Fearless

Just when I thought I'd gotten a handle on the whole hip hop thing, here come these cats.

I remember when OutKast's Aquemini album came out back in 1998. I had been anxiously awaiting its release. When I bought it, I put it in the cd player of my car and began listening to it everyday on my way to school. I hated it for about two weeks.

But it wasn't Outkast's fault. It was mine.

You see, anytime an artist makes a significant and extensive leap forward in statement or aesthetic, the folks who consume their work have difficulty fully integrating the new information. We need time to catch up. These cats go into their studios, theatres, and writing rooms and devote hundreds of hours to advancing their work. The good ones are taking huge risks and making real progress, inevitably cruising right on by the artistic sensibility of their audience. So it can be a challenge for us observers and commentators to stay on the leading edge of the movement. It absolutely requires us to be completely open and witness the work with the mind of a beginner.

That's why I'm completely enraptured by this video. These cats scare me, in a good way; not because they have masks on or sound like death metal rap. But rather, they are hip hop artists that are taking an extraordinary risk in the type of music they chose to make. Their risk challenges me to envision an entirely new avenue down which hip hop may travel. I'm excited to see where their journey takes them. I'll be checkin' for 'em.

Because Aquemini is a classic.

peace.

Story Time with DJ Premier

from Complex magazine:

Without a doubt, DJ Premier is top-five dead-or-alive, one of the greatest hip hop producers ever, and your favorite producer's producer won't tell you any different. The Houston, Texas native's sound, which consists of chopped samples looped over crisply punched drums, and accented with a signature scratch chorus, hasn't changed much, but still fits as the perfect hip hop soundtrack for New York's Timberland-boots-certified street aesthetic.

Even after 22 years in the game, reports about his production credits possibly surfacing on the upcoming albums of everyone from Drake to Immortal Technique keep fans on their toes. His continuous relevance asserts that East Coast boom-bap sound is still beloved by many, and upcoming projects like the collaboration album with Pete Rock will only maintain the flame. With that said, to the jizzing joy of those who masturbate to MPC noises, we recently went to the legendary HeadQCourterz (formerly known as D&D Studios) in Manhattan to hear the master craftsman share anecdoetes behind some of his all-time classics...

More here.

I didn't know it at the time, but DJ Premier affected my perspective of hip hop in a way that made me feel validated in listening to street stories. Between the ages of 12 and 14, I didn't want anything to do with hip hop music. I thought it was too vulgar, too arrogant, or too violent, and I couldn't identify with the words I heard. I was also quite resistant to what was considered "popular". In some ways, I suppose I still am. Nevertheless, most of my musical taste then involved jazz and r&b, not hip hop.

Then came the summer before my junior year in high school. My brother was visiting home during his time stationed at Fort Benning in Georgia. And when he brought all his stuff in the house, I noticed this grey padded case he used for carrying his CD collection. I jumped on it, and I spent an entire night picking through his music in the hopes of something interesting. Two of the albums in that case claimed me, ATLiens by OutKast and The Score by The Fugees. I commandeered them for more scrutiny, and they were heavily rotated!

So here I am, I'm 16 years old and I'm thinking to myself, "Alright. I'm not really into hip hop, but I like this two albums. I'll just listen to them." And for a long while, that's what I did. Nothing else in hip hop mattered for me except The Fugees or OutKast. I listened to those two records over and over, and practically learned every single word on both. In fact, I'm pretty sure I could crank out 60-70% of either one on the spot. Those albums are ingrained in my body for the rest of time, I can assure you.

So this is where DJ Premier came in.

The year was 1997 and Jay-z's album In My Lifetime, Vol. 1 was released a few months into my OutKast/Fugees binge. EVERYBODY had it. The first single "Who You Wit" had already been spinning on the radio for some time by then and in September we got hit with the second one, "(Always Be My) Sunshine." So Jay was everywhere, all the time; I couldn't stand it. Like I mentioned earlier, I couldn't identify with much of what artists like Jay were saying. I was much more attracted to emcees who composed with a more cosmopolitan sense of the world; emcees like Dre or Lauryn.

But then I heard "...A Million and One Questions...""

I think I first heard this at my boy Omarr's crib. My first response was that I loved it. My second was how much I hated myself for loving it so much. Jay wasn't saying anything that was relevant to my life. He was promoting such misogyny and materialism. All I can remember thinking is how regressive his lyrics would be for black society and that he wasn't doing anyone any good. And I didn't care. It made a twisted sort of sense to me. There was something about the way this track moved that felt completely organic, completely embodied. I couldn't take my ears off of it.

It took many years for me to realize why I had this response. It had nothing to do with Jay's lyrics, but everything to do with DJ Premier's production. It felt as if he had awakened in me a musical experience that had been dormant for years; it had always been there, Premio just unveiled it for me to enjoy. I was instantly intoxicated, I just didn't know to what. At that time I had no interest to know who produced the song, so my addiction had no name.

For a long while after that, I had similar responses to other Premier-produced tracks like Mos Def's "Mathematics", Nas' "Nas Is Like", and D'angelo's "Devil's Pie." (Go youtubing!) I had no idea who it was making these beats, I just knew I loved these songs. So the first time I even saw his name was when I finally decided to check out the liner notes for Common's Like Water For Chocolate album to figure out why "The 6th Sense" had become my favorite song from my favorite emcee of all time. And there is was, "...produced by DJ Premier."

There he's been all along, making some of the best hip hop records of all time.

peace.

Emcee of the Month: Asher Roth

I was bouncing around youtube tonight looking for some performance footage of Asher Roth and happened upon this video of Ash doing a cover of "Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas for BBC Radio 1. It's good. Ash and his crew, The Roth Boys (hmmm...), seem to be having a good time and making things fun for the listeners.

But more than that, Asher has allowed someone to record him and his crew doing a cover of another hip hop song. That got me thinking. I've seen artists like The Roots, Common, and Talib Kweli do bits of other artists' tracks in their live performances, but rarely do I see those bits recorded. Why is that? Why is it hip hop artists don't do recorded covers? I mean, there's this video, the In Tha Beginning...There Was Rap compilation album, Snoop's "Paper'd Up" (which was Eric B and Rakim's "Paid in Full"), and that's about all I can think of.

Perhaps it's due to the fear in the hip hop community of being criticized for borrowing and re-imagining a new idea, which is ironic because that's what hip hop beat makers have been doing since around 1974.

Or maybe it's simply a case of hip hop not having enough historical source material from which to sufficiently revisit an idea. But honestly, that would be a really lame excuse. There are dozens of memorable artists and memorable tracks from hip hop's past that I would love to hear rediscovered and reworked. Imagine OutKast doing their take on "I Left My Wallet in El Segundo" or Kanye West taking on a new "Planet Rock" project. How incredible would that be?

Best of all, projects like these would allow younger generations in the culture to continually be exposed to hip hop history in way that's more digestible. They won't feel they're being scolded for "not knowing their roots". They would have the opportunity to enjoy these songs with the same sense of discovery and excitement as those who were so fortunate to experience them at their inception.

I vote more covers in hip hop!

peace.