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.

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.