Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Sorry...
Sorry, I've been missing in action for about a month. Here's three reviews...I hope you forgive me.
::Madvillain - Madvillainy::
Back when Ornette Coleman practically invented free-jazz in the late 50’s, early 60’s, it resulted in a huge shift in the world of music. In the years following his most commercially successful album, The Shape of Jazz to Come, the more musically outlandish followers of Coleman (and Thelonius Monk, among other innovators) fell further and further below the radar, while the more accessible, traditional players found continued mainstream acceptance.
Looking at the state of hip-hop, one gets the sense that the same thing seems to be happening. The underground is deservedly receiving a huge amount of critical acclaim, but still cannot find a stronghold in the mainstream.
MF Doom and Madlib, the two men comprising Madvillain, have, for years, been part of this underground. But rather than attempting to water-down their sound to increase record sales and public approval (Black Eyed Peas or Jurassic 5, anyone?), Doom and Madlib have followed in their jazz torchbearers’ steps and have made their music more exciting and experimental with each record. This is expertly proven with Madvillainy, a record of incredible depth and artistic integrity.
Madlib, as usual, handles most of the production and uses his comprehensive knowledge of jazz to his advantage, laying down unrecognizable yet great jazz and soul records to sound somewhere in between Sun Ra to Philly Soul, as strange as that may sound. As Doom says on “Money Folder”, “He flipped it like Madlib did an old jazz standard.” Tracks like “Meat Grinder” and “Sickfit” have the power to prove to any doubter that, yes, sampling can be incredibly dense and captivating stuff.
But as good as Madlib’s production is (and if we’re comparing them to their peers) Doom’s rhyming truly destroys any competition. He’s funny, surreal, aware, poetic, and any other number of praising adjectives you can think of.
More than anything, Doom is extremely entertaining to listen to. He uses words to their full effect, playing with their sound, meaning, and rhythm to make him, quite possibly, one of the most original MCs ever. Take “Rhinestone Cowboy”, for example, where Doom exclaims, “We rock the house like rock n’ roll/Got more soul/Than a sock with a hole.”
While this may not seem too impressive on paper, hearing the spoken rhythm allows Doom’s rhymes to take off over top of Lib’s production that perfectly complements Doom’s dry attack.
Although MF Doom takes the microphone for most of the record, Madlib’s split-persona does show itself as the helium-voiced Quasimoto. His appearance on “America’s Most Blunted” is amazing—schizophrenic and hilarious, even if the subject matter is dumb, making the track to be one of Madvillainy’s best.
Even though some of the tracks on Madvillainy may be better than others, you’d be really hard pressed to find a bad track. As a whole, the record is unstoppable and, quite possibly, better than any other hip-hop record released this decade.
Madvillainy has potential. It can make a commercial splash and have some of the same influence that Coleman’s Shape had. If it does, we can look forward to an incredible future of progressive underground hip-hop.
Looking at the state of hip-hop, one gets the sense that the same thing seems to be happening. The underground is deservedly receiving a huge amount of critical acclaim, but still cannot find a stronghold in the mainstream.
MF Doom and Madlib, the two men comprising Madvillain, have, for years, been part of this underground. But rather than attempting to water-down their sound to increase record sales and public approval (Black Eyed Peas or Jurassic 5, anyone?), Doom and Madlib have followed in their jazz torchbearers’ steps and have made their music more exciting and experimental with each record. This is expertly proven with Madvillainy, a record of incredible depth and artistic integrity.
Madlib, as usual, handles most of the production and uses his comprehensive knowledge of jazz to his advantage, laying down unrecognizable yet great jazz and soul records to sound somewhere in between Sun Ra to Philly Soul, as strange as that may sound. As Doom says on “Money Folder”, “He flipped it like Madlib did an old jazz standard.” Tracks like “Meat Grinder” and “Sickfit” have the power to prove to any doubter that, yes, sampling can be incredibly dense and captivating stuff.
But as good as Madlib’s production is (and if we’re comparing them to their peers) Doom’s rhyming truly destroys any competition. He’s funny, surreal, aware, poetic, and any other number of praising adjectives you can think of.
More than anything, Doom is extremely entertaining to listen to. He uses words to their full effect, playing with their sound, meaning, and rhythm to make him, quite possibly, one of the most original MCs ever. Take “Rhinestone Cowboy”, for example, where Doom exclaims, “We rock the house like rock n’ roll/Got more soul/Than a sock with a hole.”
While this may not seem too impressive on paper, hearing the spoken rhythm allows Doom’s rhymes to take off over top of Lib’s production that perfectly complements Doom’s dry attack.
Although MF Doom takes the microphone for most of the record, Madlib’s split-persona does show itself as the helium-voiced Quasimoto. His appearance on “America’s Most Blunted” is amazing—schizophrenic and hilarious, even if the subject matter is dumb, making the track to be one of Madvillainy’s best.
Even though some of the tracks on Madvillainy may be better than others, you’d be really hard pressed to find a bad track. As a whole, the record is unstoppable and, quite possibly, better than any other hip-hop record released this decade.
Madvillainy has potential. It can make a commercial splash and have some of the same influence that Coleman’s Shape had. If it does, we can look forward to an incredible future of progressive underground hip-hop.
::Kanye West - College Dropout::
The American Dream.
Kanye (pronounced Khan-yay) West, producer and rapper from Chicago, pretty much has this one thing on his mind. Only, it’s not the American Dream most people have of money, success, and happiness. While West’s idea does encompass these three touchstones of the American Dream, it dives a bit deeper into the fray surrounding this abstract notion.
When immigrants first arrived on ships into Ellis Island, being successful in the United States was not something that had to be achieved through education. Gradually, as the 20th century began to wear on, education almost became a necessity for anyone seeking class movement. Especially in today’s world, one must attend college to become successful as evidenced by our enrollment in Wake Forest.
Kanye West wants to eliminate this preconception. Even before you listen to the record, you kind of know what you’re getting yourself into. After all, you are buying a CD in a record store called College Dropout. This guy is letting you know “even though I didn’t go to college, I’ve made myself successful. Eff the system.”
Once the record hits the needle, it’s a bit different than the uninitiated listener might expect. He’s not a cocksure or brash in proclaiming “I’m #1”, because he constantly checks himself by confessing his weaknesses. It’s incredibly exciting to listen to College Dropout because Kanye is a man who is arrogant yet mindful. In other words, he’s someone the listener can relate to.
The best tracks are the ones that illustrate this duality. “All Falls Down” is the first track we see this, when he says, “Man I promise I’m so self-conscious/That’s why you always see me with one of my watches”. “Jesus Walks”, on the other hand, is a view of an actual cry for help, something almost unprecedented in the hip-hop world and one of Dropout’s best songs. Pair this subject matter with West’s smooth, simplistic (but not half-baked) flow, and the record becomes almost unstoppable.
Unfortunately, as a whole, the record does lose steam at some points. Most of the skits are unnecessary and truly boring. They serve no purpose to the record. Just keep that finger on top of the fast forward button when they come up.
Thankfully, this lull in quality throughout is more than made up for with West’s dominant production. West was a producer before he decided to step up to the mic, having helped on Jay-Z’s “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)”, Ludacris’ “Stand Up”, and Talib Kweli’s “Get By” (all three appear on Dropout). His studio experience is mesmerizing as he easily weaves 70’s soul and jazz reminiscent of A Tribe Called Quest into soon-to-be (or already, like “Slow Jamz” with Twista & Jamie Foxx) club tracks.
Kanye West’s debut is an incredible one. He, with a few missteps, has created an incredibly successful album bridging the underground and the mainstream. West is living the American Dream, but he still remains insatiated, wanting to conquer even more real-estate. He’s there, but not yet.
Kanye (pronounced Khan-yay) West, producer and rapper from Chicago, pretty much has this one thing on his mind. Only, it’s not the American Dream most people have of money, success, and happiness. While West’s idea does encompass these three touchstones of the American Dream, it dives a bit deeper into the fray surrounding this abstract notion.
When immigrants first arrived on ships into Ellis Island, being successful in the United States was not something that had to be achieved through education. Gradually, as the 20th century began to wear on, education almost became a necessity for anyone seeking class movement. Especially in today’s world, one must attend college to become successful as evidenced by our enrollment in Wake Forest.
Kanye West wants to eliminate this preconception. Even before you listen to the record, you kind of know what you’re getting yourself into. After all, you are buying a CD in a record store called College Dropout. This guy is letting you know “even though I didn’t go to college, I’ve made myself successful. Eff the system.”
Once the record hits the needle, it’s a bit different than the uninitiated listener might expect. He’s not a cocksure or brash in proclaiming “I’m #1”, because he constantly checks himself by confessing his weaknesses. It’s incredibly exciting to listen to College Dropout because Kanye is a man who is arrogant yet mindful. In other words, he’s someone the listener can relate to.
The best tracks are the ones that illustrate this duality. “All Falls Down” is the first track we see this, when he says, “Man I promise I’m so self-conscious/That’s why you always see me with one of my watches”. “Jesus Walks”, on the other hand, is a view of an actual cry for help, something almost unprecedented in the hip-hop world and one of Dropout’s best songs. Pair this subject matter with West’s smooth, simplistic (but not half-baked) flow, and the record becomes almost unstoppable.
Unfortunately, as a whole, the record does lose steam at some points. Most of the skits are unnecessary and truly boring. They serve no purpose to the record. Just keep that finger on top of the fast forward button when they come up.
Thankfully, this lull in quality throughout is more than made up for with West’s dominant production. West was a producer before he decided to step up to the mic, having helped on Jay-Z’s “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)”, Ludacris’ “Stand Up”, and Talib Kweli’s “Get By” (all three appear on Dropout). His studio experience is mesmerizing as he easily weaves 70’s soul and jazz reminiscent of A Tribe Called Quest into soon-to-be (or already, like “Slow Jamz” with Twista & Jamie Foxx) club tracks.
Kanye West’s debut is an incredible one. He, with a few missteps, has created an incredibly successful album bridging the underground and the mainstream. West is living the American Dream, but he still remains insatiated, wanting to conquer even more real-estate. He’s there, but not yet.
::Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand::
As soon as I saw Franz Ferdinand’s press kit, I knew I would hate them.
I mean, look at these nerds, dressed up like Interpol without ties, trying to be all cool and hip.
These guys haven’t got a chance in hell.
But my job is to review music, not wardrobe and image.
I put the record on and immediately, I thought, “You’ve got be kidding me with this post-punk crap. That garbage was sooo 2002.”
Of course I wasn’t really listening. I was still thinking about how much I hated that one dude’s moustache. It wasn’t ironic or good-looking. What was he thinking?
Music, not wardrobe.
Focus, okay?
All right.
I let a few days pass and eventually I sat down with the record, attempting to divorce myself from my preconceptions.
And, hell, I was wrong.
I heard one of the best records I’ve heard in a long while.
The thing about Franz Ferdinand is that they’re not really that new.
Rather, they tend to be a synthesis of everything that draws one into an addiction with rock music.
They keep their head in the future and their feet in the past.
Franz Ferdinand’s all-encompassing knowledge of worthy music is impressive, but their tightness is even more astounding. Every song is so securely wound that it feels like it could unravel at any moment and leave the listener with an incredible sense of urgency.
While each member plays perfectly in time with one another, they, at the same time, aren’t afraid of going in four different directions, which they almost always do.
Franz Ferdinand’s urgency can’t be simply measured by how fragile they sound. One needs to, of course, mention those damn disco beats.
It sounds like they’re playing at Studio 54 where someone lit them on fire and told them the only way they could put it out was by playing with a greater sense of urgency and by making everyone dance faster and weirder.
Not only would Franz Ferdinand make a great Studio 54 house band, but they’d probably fit in there as well.
All over their record they make an effort to sound creepily androgynous like early Bowie or Suede, especially on “Michael.” Singer Alex Kapranos blurs sexual lines allowing everyone except the homophobes to come along.
While Franz Ferdinand do sound kind of disco, they more frequently tend to stick to the rock end of the spectrum.
They find a comfortable niche in between Interpol and Hot Hot Heat (see “Take Me Out,” “Cheating On You,” or “This Fire”) but thankfully sound nothing like either.
Other times, like on “Tell Her Tonight,” they sound like Wire or even the Pixies.
In the end though, Franz Ferdinand doesn’t sound like a conglomeration of these torchbearers but a completely new band - and a fantastic one at that.
So I learned a valuable lesson. Don’t judge a book by its cover, or its press kit, because you might lose out on the content.
Unless that book looks like Good Charlotte. In which case you should discard of it immediately because there is nothing redeemable to be found in those pages.
I mean, look at these nerds, dressed up like Interpol without ties, trying to be all cool and hip.
These guys haven’t got a chance in hell.
But my job is to review music, not wardrobe and image.
I put the record on and immediately, I thought, “You’ve got be kidding me with this post-punk crap. That garbage was sooo 2002.”
Of course I wasn’t really listening. I was still thinking about how much I hated that one dude’s moustache. It wasn’t ironic or good-looking. What was he thinking?
Music, not wardrobe.
Focus, okay?
All right.
I let a few days pass and eventually I sat down with the record, attempting to divorce myself from my preconceptions.
And, hell, I was wrong.
I heard one of the best records I’ve heard in a long while.
The thing about Franz Ferdinand is that they’re not really that new.
Rather, they tend to be a synthesis of everything that draws one into an addiction with rock music.
They keep their head in the future and their feet in the past.
Franz Ferdinand’s all-encompassing knowledge of worthy music is impressive, but their tightness is even more astounding. Every song is so securely wound that it feels like it could unravel at any moment and leave the listener with an incredible sense of urgency.
While each member plays perfectly in time with one another, they, at the same time, aren’t afraid of going in four different directions, which they almost always do.
Franz Ferdinand’s urgency can’t be simply measured by how fragile they sound. One needs to, of course, mention those damn disco beats.
It sounds like they’re playing at Studio 54 where someone lit them on fire and told them the only way they could put it out was by playing with a greater sense of urgency and by making everyone dance faster and weirder.
Not only would Franz Ferdinand make a great Studio 54 house band, but they’d probably fit in there as well.
All over their record they make an effort to sound creepily androgynous like early Bowie or Suede, especially on “Michael.” Singer Alex Kapranos blurs sexual lines allowing everyone except the homophobes to come along.
While Franz Ferdinand do sound kind of disco, they more frequently tend to stick to the rock end of the spectrum.
They find a comfortable niche in between Interpol and Hot Hot Heat (see “Take Me Out,” “Cheating On You,” or “This Fire”) but thankfully sound nothing like either.
Other times, like on “Tell Her Tonight,” they sound like Wire or even the Pixies.
In the end though, Franz Ferdinand doesn’t sound like a conglomeration of these torchbearers but a completely new band - and a fantastic one at that.
So I learned a valuable lesson. Don’t judge a book by its cover, or its press kit, because you might lose out on the content.
Unless that book looks like Good Charlotte. In which case you should discard of it immediately because there is nothing redeemable to be found in those pages.
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