A blog about hip-hop, jazz, punk, psychedelic rock, funk, and whatever other kinds of music I get inspired to write about. There are too many good sounds out there for me to get to them all, but I'm doing my best.
Are we all tired of talking about Kendrick’s “Control” verse
yet? It’s a great verse, to be sure, but it’s no “Hit ‘Em Up,” to cite one
classic diss from a rapper name-checked in the song. Unfortunately, among all
of the lackluster responses (I’m looking at you, Papoose and Lupe Fiasco), one
truly great response got lost in the muck. Breeze Brewin, of the legendary New
York underground rap group Juggaknots, quietly released the most mature,
intelligent and dope response recently.
Kendrick called out a lot of people by name and claimed that
he was the king of New York, and a lot of people responded with anger, but
Breeze Brewin’ remembers what happened the last time the coasts went to war. Fighting
words on wax led to dead bodies, and hip-hop culture recoiled. Kendrick’s right
that an element of competition has been lost in the mainstream since the days
of “Hit ‘Em Up,” and if the response to his “Control” verse is any indication,
some of that might be coming back in the near future. But Breeze knows he
should tone it down a little. He knows that some people are too dumb, they don’t
understand the culture enough, and they might take this verse the wrong way. He
takes issue with Kendrick disrespecting the hip-hop Mecca, New York. And he
knows we should “get mediation for media moist from the name droppin.’” The
media tends to highlight the negative responses over the positive, fomenting clashes
in the name of page views.
This is going to come off as contrarian, but I’m still not
sold on Chance the Rapper’s Acid Rap
mixtape and I actually think his debut 10Day
is better. The problem for me is that I’m still struggling with both his
beat selection, which often leaves me unimpressed, and his vocal delivery, in
which he seems to be emphasizing the more grating aspects of his voice in a way
that he never did before. Still, the hype surrounding Acid Rap has surpassed that of nearly every other rap record of the
year,[1]
so I’m still trying my best to get into it. I thought Chance would never
resonate fully for me, but right now I’m on my fourteenth listen of “Good Ass
Intro” in a row and it’s finally starting to come together. “Good Ass Intro” is
a hubristic title in two respects: first, most songs don’t declare how good
they are in the fucking title; and second, it’s a subtle[2]
nod to fellow Chicagoan Kanye West’s intended title for his follow-up to Graduation, Good Ass Job, that was scrapped when some ex-girlfriend made him
all weepy and he made 808s &
Heartbreak instead. The cockiness it takes to compare himself to an artist
of Kanye’s stature and embrace his own high self-image simultaneously should be
infuriating, but the song is so incredible that concerns about cockiness are
rendered invalid. This is the kind of song that makes careers. Call it his “Bonita
Applebaum” or his “I Used to Love H.E.R.” or his “Universal Magnetic” or his “Fuck
Your Ethnicity” (if you’re into the ‘Chance the Rapper is Chicago’s Kendrick’
argument), but regardless of what you call it, this is the sound of a
potentially great artist arriving.
Acid Rap can only
go downhill from here since “Good Ass Intro” is one of the best rap songs of
the year so far. Not only is it amazing, but it has given me faith in Chance as
an artist that has made me willing to overlook my reservations about him as a rapper
and songwriter. He’s still only twenty years old, and he’s got a long way he
can come to live into his hype, but I’m finally willing to admit I was wrong
about him.
[1] I
really hope I’m not the only one still listening to Indigoism, but damn if that hype didn't die down quickly. It sometimes feels like I'm the only one left.
[2] It’s
subtle, but I doubt it’s unintentional since he repeatedly references getting a
good ass job near the end of the song.
After playing most of the instruments himself on his solo
albums, Ty Segall had to assemble a band to bring that material into a live
setting.It took a couple of years, but
that band has finally recorded an album together, and it’s the heaviest album
of Segall’s career.Opening track “Death”
begins with about a minute of feedback before transforming into a Stooges-esque
guitar attack with lyrics about eyes.The album mostly sticks to this heavy proto-metal/space garage vibe for
its runtime, with a few detours, such as “Tell Me What’s Inside Your Heart,”
which is the least noisy track on the album but maintains a tempo fast enough
that the rhythm section begins falling apart to the point where the whole band
has to switch gears and return to a space rock vibe near the end of the song. The album also sports the best cover of “Diddy
Wah Diddy” ever recorded by anyone other than Captain Beefheart.In spite of the general heaviness and the
fuzz drenching the entire album, Segall’s melodic gifts and his skill at
crafting memorable hooks shines through the grit and grime, especially on songs
like the short and punchy “Muscle Man” and the album standout “I Bought My Eyes.”Fittingly, the album ends with the ten minute
“Fuzz War,” which is exactly what the title implies: a battle of feedback,
heavy guitar distortion, and machine gun drums.It’s a fitting way to end an album that seems constantly in danger of going
off the rails.
At this point, it’s impossible to talk about Channel Orange without talking about the
letter he put online right before the album came out.Outing himself as having a sexual orientation
that isn’t straight was incredibly brave in a hip hop/R&B world that’s
known for having problems with hypermasculinity and homophobia.It’s a testament to how great this album is that
it didn’t get completely swallowed up by the subsequent publicity and
hype.
There isn’t really much to say about this album that hasn’t
already been said.It’s been labeled the
most ambitious major label hip hop record in years (which is true), an instant
classic (nope, sorry, that’s an absurd contradiction), and overstuffed with
skits that ruin the momentum of the album (yeah, a little bit).When his previous album Section.80 came out last year, I wasn’t sold on Kendrick or the
rest of his Black Hippy crew.I didn’t
like the beats or the whiny rock hooks very much, and I thought his voice was
obnoxious.Black Hippy has steadily
improved since, with standout releases like Schoolboy Q’s Habits & Contradictions and Ab-Soul’s Control System, and good kid,
m.A.A.d. city is the most consistently great project to come out of Black
Hippy.The album isn’t perfect by any
stretch.“Backseat Freestyle” works
within the context of the album, but it sounds ridiculous and a little stupid
when taken on its own. That Drake verse
on “Poetic Justice” is weak (that Janet Jackson sample must have been about
half of the album’s budget too).Kendrick seems like he’s trying a bit too hard to make a Classic Album.All of these are minor problems, however, and
good kid, m.A.A.d. city positions
Kendrick as one of the most exciting and interesting young rappers of this
era.If nothing else, the huge jump in
quality from Section.80 to this album
would indicate that his next album will be insane if he improves even a little
bit more.
In the fifteen years since Jason Pierce’s masterpiece Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in
Space was released the Spiritualized project has been marked by uneven
albums that don’t match his previous highs (although 2008’s Songs in A&E came closest), and the
band has been frequently derailed by a series of serious illnesses that has
left Pierce hospitalized for much of the last five years.Sweet
Heart Sweet Light, recorded while Pierce was undergoing experimental
chemotherapy for a life-threatening liver disease, finds him in a more positive
and peaceful place than he’s ever been.The themes of death, drugs, God, and redemption remain ever-present, but
the usual Spiritualized subject matter is colored with brighter sonic textures
and more optimistic and uplifting songwriting.
El-P’s first solo album Fantastic
Damage, released in 2002, tapped into the uncertainty and fear of the
immediate aftermath of 9/11 better than nearly any other record, with its
claustrophobic beats and urgent, paranoid lyrics. Ten years later, the United
States is in many ways even worse. Privacy rights have been systematically
dismantled, the economy is in shambles, and spectacularly horrifying acts of
violence have become frequent occurrences. In the midst of all of this, El-P
released his third and possibly best solo album, Cancer 4 Cure, which taps into the tenor of the times just as
effectively as his previous albums have. The world of Cancer 4 Cure is a darker, scarier reflection of our current times,
where there are drones flying over New York City, anyone could be an agent for
some nefarious shadow organization, and each key is tapped to the BPM of the
sirens in the war zone that was once New York. El-P’s beats have become more
robust since his solo debut, with layers upon layers of synths, drum machines,
and samples coming together in a dystopian futuristic soundscape for his
rhymes.
"Request Denied"
"Tougher Colder Killer" (feat. Killer Mike & Despot)
