My Lauryn Hill Rant: A Quick Thought

Alright. I'll make this brief.

For context of this post, see here.

Let me begin by stating that I am an absolute fan of Lauryn Hill's music, work, and energy. She moves with more honesty and passion than just about any other artist in my catalog.

Lauryn's withdraw from visible performance and recording soon after the release of The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is a well documented event. The clamor for a sophomore solo effort was deafening, especially after her record-breaking five Grammy wins back in 1999 (the most in a single ceremony for a female artist). Much to her distaste, she was quickly becoming an incredibly valued musical commodity and in 2000 retracted from the public eye in self-imposed exile.

Since her resurfacing in 2001 on MTV: Unplugged and the short-lived Fugees reunion soon after their performance on Dave Chappelle's Block Party in 2004, Lauryn has taken the stage in a number of venues across the globe to begin the rediscovery of her life as a performer. However, there have been several accounts of bizzare and unprofessional behavior from Ms. Hill that have begun to alienate even her most die-hard supporters.

A close friend of mine attended one of her shows in Michigan shortly after the release of her Unplugged album. Apparently, she appeared on stage 90 minutes late and played her guitar as if she wanted to strangle it while belting the lyrics of her set for about 40 minutes. When she was done, she tossed the instrument away from her and snorted, "There!" as she plodded off stage. The crowd was left with a feeling of complete befuddlement. This type of instability and inconsistency has been Lauryn's modus operandi for the last decade of her musical career (see the San Francisco Chronicle here, and this article from OnTheRedCarpet.com) and there doesn't seem to be any sign of change on the horizon.

Furthermore, let's consider the new interpretations we've witnessed of her established work, namely the Miseducation... playlist. Now, I'm all for artistic experimentation. There would be no truly good art if we didn't continuously dance on the boundary of what's brilliant and what's utter cow dung. In fact, many times when I see Lauryn do these funk/rock/soul re-imaginings of her work, I really do get down with some of it. But at best they feel like fleeting strokes brilliance; stars burning brightly with short lifespan. They have nowhere near the sense of spine, grounding, and stability of her late 1990s stuff.

And no, she should definitely not be performing "Ex-Factor" in 2011 the same way she did in 1999. She's a different person now, and the music should be different. However, there is a very acute and palpable abrasive/combative quality to her performances now that seems to have no balance; no converse. So I can understand why people sometimes boo her at shows nowadays. They feel they're being attacked, and I would venture to say they are.

As I've watched and listened to Lauryn these past eight or nine years, I can't help but believe that she doesn't really want to be performing anymore. It's difficult for me to find an instance in which I can be certain Lauryn is having fun on stage. She still seems like a person in exile, as if exile could be a public experience. If that's true, and Lauryn isn't really enjoying her career as a performer, she should simply stop doing it immediately. Seriously. I know I wouldn't be upset, nor would any of her fans who actually cared about her psychological and spiritual health. Before everything else, she should consider exactly what she needs to take care of herself.

Of course we would miss her and talk about where we were when we first heard Miseducation... and how it changed our lives. But our memories would last a lifetime, and there's nothing anyone could say or do to taint our love for Lauryn. I hope she knows that.

peace.

My Lauryn Hill Rant: The Set-Up

So, you know Lauryn Hill is one of the headliners for Rock the Bells this year, right? Here's a quick video of her discussing her defining solo effort The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.

About a year ago I was watching videos of live Lauryn shows that have occurred in the last three or four years. What I saw wasn't adding up, so I tracked down some word-of-mouth from people who had seen her live recently for some context. Everything I saw and heard led me to a conclusion about Lauryn's work that was incredibly difficult. While we take in this video, I'll compose my conclusion for your reading pleasure over the next couple of days.

Some of you won't like what I have to say.

peace.

The Rhymes of Our Lives

Yes. This track came out 15 years ago. If this song were a child, it'd be taking driver's education this year.

The Fugees album The Score, along with OutKast's ATLiens album, was one of the gateways through which I discovered a modern sense of my taste in hip hop. I've told the story here before a few times now.

This track was almost magical for me. The rhymes sounded like nothing I'd heard before. The instrumental sounded like nothing I'd heard before. And everyone was talking about this chick named Lauryn and how they thought she was so much better than the other two cats. Personally, I felt they complemented each other remarkably well. Even Pras (whose sense of rhyme could be best described as unorthodox, even for The Fugees) seemed to fit comfortably within the overall aesthetic. It really is a shame, at least for us humble fans, that Clef and Co. decided to go their separate ways in the late 1990s.

They were super-dope.

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.

A Journey to the Broken Angel

As it progresses, any developing cultural or social movement invariably discovers its own identity through a variety of unique and distinguishing characteristics. Most of these developments include inventions and evolutions in apparel and fashion, language and lexicon, dietary patterns, musical styles, and so on. For me however, the most enduring, most compelling, and most tangible cultural symbols involve the landmarks and locations of pivotal and momentous events in a culture’s history.

There's nothing like being there; and it's just that. Being. There.

If you're a rock n' roll junkie, then it's The Dakota or the Riot House. If it's jazz that turns you on, there's nothing like the Cotton Club. For the gearheads of the world, the Bonneville Salt Flats or the Nürburgring is your Mecca. And political aficionados should never turn down a trip to The Watergate Hotel or Dealey Plaza. It's about seeing, touching, feeling it for ourselves or else it will only exist in theory.

Hip hop culture has a few of these places as well, like D&D Studios (although you ain't NEVER gettin' in there) or Rucker Park. And a few months ago I took the chance to visit what I feel is arguably the newest on the list of hip hop cultural landmarks, The Broken Angel.

It is one erie place.

The Broken Angel was the home of Cynthia and Arthur Wood from 1972 through 2006. It's located at the intersection of Downing Street and Quincy Street in the Clinton Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, NY. Its legacy in hip hop history was cemented in 2004 when it became the backdrop of a concert/block party that was organized and hosted by Dave Chappelle, and documented by Michel Gondry in the 2006 film Dave Chappelle's Block Party. In the film, Cynthia and Arthur invite Dave and his camera crew into their home to show them the inner workings of the building. It's one of the most entertaining parts of the film as we witness the couple's compassionate, albeit slightly eccentric, quality and demeanor. Towards the end of the film, there's even a shot of Cynthia in the window of the Broken Angel waving a peace sign to the crowd, which I've always felt was one of the indelible images of solidarity in the movie.

So I'll leave it to you to look up more on Cynthia, Arthur, and the Broken Angel. This is the story of how I got there.

Mariana had to leave. The needle on her record player had broken and we needed to head over to J&R Audio by the WTC because that was the only place she thought we could pick up a new one. So by the time I reached her brownstone in Bedford-Stuyvesant she was perched on the stoop, demanding me to hurry my a$$ up because the bank was about to close. So I shuffled into her place to set down my bag, she locked the door, and we hustled our way to Fulton Street.

After handling her business at the bank and "politely" assisting a young lady find her destination on Fulton St., we got on the C train to Manhattan. We got off at Chambers Street a few blocks north of Ground Zero and made our way down to J&R, which is situated at what's essentially Park Row and Broadway.

Everything is huge in New York, including this audio store. It took us two or three tries to enter the correct section of the building, and even then we really didn't find it without help. And one would think an audio store in New York would and SHOULD have everything under the sun, but alas Mariana's needle was not in stock. So dejectedly, we exited the store and decided it was time to eat.

Now, Mari had a pregnant-woman's craving for cheese fries right about now, even though she hasn't had a boyfriend in a while. However, I would assume this is purely by choice because a woman as beautiful as Mariana can be in a relationship almost anytime she wants. I can only deduce all the men she's encountered recently have been woefully sub-par. C'mon NY...

She suggested we head to Madison Square Park to get burgers and cheese fries at a well-known spot called The Shake Shack. While standing in the quarter-mile long line (it moved fairly quickly, so don't be discouraged) we continued our usual discussions on all things hip hop. We're both huge fans of artists like The Roots, Black Star, Common, J Dilla, and Kanye West. And as we sat to enjoy our slightly overpriced but incredibly delicious burgers, our conversation shifted to Block Party. As is the nature of these exchanges, one thing led to another and we mutually agreed to seek out the location of this magnificent day in hip hop history. We finished our food, scared off the giant attack squirrels, and hopped back onto the subway.

We got off at the N/Q/R stop at DeKalb Avenue and opted to take the bus down Fulton towards Downing Street. It seemed we were on the bus for an unreasonably long time and we worried that we had missed our stop. So we got off somewhere between St. James Place and Grand Avenue to hoof it from there. We approached a huge laundromat with some cool-a$$ middle-aged cats hangin' outside and asked them if they knew the way to Downing Street. Personally, I was hoping we didn't get the same "politeness" that Mari had offered the young lady from earlier in the day. But they were truly friendly and pointed us in the right direction. We got to the block about 10 minutes later.

There are very few places in New York as quiet as the corner of Quincy and Downing in Brooklyn. It's one of those spots that seems to exist solely on its own; as if arriving there means departing the rest of the city. We walked up to the impressive red door of the Broken Angel, with the name of the building and the address adorning it in a grayish-white hue. There was very little traffic. I don't think we saw one car round the corner the whole time we were there. We read the sign on the bulletin board just to the right of the Angel's door and discovered Cynthia Wood had unfortunately passed away due to complications with cancer. We stood by the daycare center where Dave and the others had visited, using the roof as an observation area. We took turns imagining the stage and quoting unforgettable lines and verses from the documentary. We made sure to take some time making fun of Common's role in the show, because we've always been puzzled as to why he seemed only to serve as everybody's hype man. Weird...

I've often wondered if the people that live on that block are getting tired of folks showing up and doing that type of stuff. But in the moment, we didn't care about any of that. We were just a little late to the party, that's all. We wanted to have our fun, too.

We left just before the streetlights starting coming on and walked the almost-two miles back to Mari's apartment in Bed-Sty. We were glowing. We touched the history of our own culture, and it was a really good feeling. Somehow, we felt more firmly connected to the inspirations that have been fueling our lives for quite some time now. When we got back, we threw in Block Party and watched a bit of the concert footage. I suppose it was our way of "double-checking."

But really, there wasn't any need. We knew what it looked like.

Due to the fading light, these were the only pictures that were decent. We took these with Mari's iPhone.

peace.