The Beef with Hip-hop

I used to think hip-hop wasn't music.

That's a strange thing to consider for a person who is now seriously contemplating a career as a "hip-hop scholar" (the fact that such a career path even exists is baffling to some, including myself).

My reasons weren't anything original, I hear the same things from people today. It doesn't have melody or harmony (even though it really does, sometimes in very interesting ways). It's poetry said to a beat, not music. But mostly, I think the younger me was just troubled by the bad hip-hop that of course is what gets the most airplay.

I shared my opinion on hip-hop with my friends in high school. Because I had smart friends, they disagreed with me. It became a common topic of conversation between my friend Dan and I. Dan was, and still is, a much smarter person than I, and he pretty much tore my argument apart. Though I never conceded the point to him, I'm very glad that he pushed the issue and planted the firsts seeds of doubt.

I could excuse my ignorance by saying that I hadn't yet heard of John Cage or any of the other major composers of the "real music" tradition who challenged everything we thought we knew about what constituted music. I was not yet operating under the "humanly organized sound" definition of music that seems to be the norm now (and which still isn't perhaps entirely adequate).

But I won't make any such excuses except to say that I hadn't heard any hip-hop that I thought was of any merit (and frankly, I think growing up white in South Dakota didn't make it any easier for me to appreciate hip-hop either).

I'm not entirely sure when I first started liking hip-hop, probably sometime in college. But I do remember quite vividly the first time a hip-hop song completely floored me. Of all things it was a musical guest appearance on "Chappelle's Show." Mos Def and Talib Kweli were performing as Blackstar. They did a song called "What Beef Is," a track they never commercially released. I remember just being completely blown away by it. It was the first time I understood how powerful hip-hop could be and what a sublime experience a truly great hip-hop performance is. The song had all the in-your-face vitriol that first drew me to punk some five years earlier.

I would say it was probably that experience that first made me really pay attention to hip-hop, to seek out hip-hop that was better than what I could hear on the radio. Of course, what I discovered is that there was so much great music to listen to that I am embarrassed now to think that I ever questioned it at all.

And that's why I cringe whenever I hear somebody say that they like any music except "country and rap." I'd venture to guess that most people who say that haven't sought out anything in either of those two genres beyond what makes top forty radio. I'm not going to pull out the "all the good hip-hop is underground" cliche because it's every bit as wrong as it is tired. It's just that the point of top forty radio is that you aren't expected to actually listen to the music. And that's where I think that people go wrong with hip-hop. They don't actually pay attention to what's going on in the music, they just sort of ignore it and tune in when all the naughty words and misogyny kick in. If people did pay attention, and if they sought out the kind of hip-hop that's intelligent, thoughtful, clever or poignant, they'd be surprised.

I know that not everybody is going to fall in love with hip-hop the way I did. We all have our personal hang ups about music, and some people will never really be able to get into hip-hop. I completely understand, I feel the same way about jam bands. But I do think that just about anybody could find a hip-hop song or artist that they could appreciate on some level if they gave it half a chance.

I could start name dropping here, start a laundry list of all the socially conscious MC's that I love, but the list is too long and people need to discover these things on their own. I'll just say that hip-hop can be extremely powerful. I am constantly reminded of just how powerful it is every time I hear a verse that makes me think, gets me angry or brings a tear to my eye. And if it can do that for me, a white kid with absolutely no idea what life on the streets is like, then I think it can do it for anybody who is willing to sit down and listen for even a moment.

The Band I Hate to Love

Seeing Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist a couple weeks ago made me remember my conflicted relationship with the band Vampire Weekend (for those of you who aren't total scenesters or don't ever read Pitchfork, Vampire Weekend contributed a song to the movie soundtrack). Vampire Weekend are for me one of those rare bands that you can't quite bring yourself to hate even though you know full well you should.

And, let's be straight here, there are plenty of reasons for me not to like this band. To begin with, there is the unabashedly pretentious ivy league image (the members of the band got together while in school at Columbia, dress for the most part like trust fund babies and have a nasty habit of name dropping in their lyrics). I won't pull a Sarah Palin and go so far as to call them elitist, but they pull off snob chic extremely well, seemingly without the slightest whiff of irony. To be blunt, they seem like total assholes.

Next, there's the sound. Vampire Weekend aren't about to win any awards for originality. Their entire debut album sounds like a shameless ripoff of Paul Simon's Graceland album, which itself was a ripoff of every Afro-pop record ever.

And yet, when I bought Vampire Weekend last Spring, it stayed in my car's cd player for close to a month. Something about its saccharine drenched sweetness appeals to some hidden part of my psyche. I cannot fully explain it.

Sure, it's catchy. And there is the occasional wit to be found in lyrics like "first the windows, then it's to the walls/ Lil' Jon, he always tells the truth." Yet none of that can seem to override my conscious desire to hate their music.

And that to me, is what makes it all so infuriating. Every inch of my being wants this music to be bad, and the fact that I like it just makes me sick. There are fewer things more frustrating than seeing someone you want to fall on their face succeed. It's like watching the bully who beat you up on the playground get into a better school than you and then get elected president. No matter how much you hate them, and how much of an asshole they may be, you can't ignore it when they do something worthwhile.

The Agony of Laffitte

Spoon
"The Agony of Laffitte"/"Laffitte Don't Fail me Now."

For a brief period of time in the 90's, indie rock had its moment in the spotlight. Bands like Nirvana had proven that the right underground music act could flirt with legitimate mainstream success. Major label's were quick to gobble up bands they were convinced would be the "next big thing." The problem was, not every band can write a Nevermind.

Spoon were one of the bands swept up in the madness. In 1998 they were signed to Elektra by a man named Ron Laffitte. The members of Spoon were smart enough to be wary of the deal, knowing what could happen to up and coming artists signed to major record labels if things didn't go right. But Laffitte reassured the band that they wouldn't simply be forgotten by Elektra. He promised them that their new record A Series of Sneaks would get the promotional funding it so desperately needed to stay alive in a mainstream market.

The money, of course, never came. Unsurprisingly, the record sales didn't live up to Elektra's expectations, Lafitte was fired and Spoon was dropped from the label a mere three months after A Series of Sneaks was released. The band responded by releasing the single "The Agony of Laffitte" and its b-side "Laffitte Don't Fail me Now" on Saddle Creek records. The record took aim at both Laffitte and Elektra CEO Sylvia Rhone.

What's great about the single is not that it's an indictment of the music industry, nor that it's a record about the perils of being on a major label, that's been done before by bands full of vitriol (see the Clash's "Capital Radio" EP or "Complete Control"). What's great about Spoon's tale of woe is how non specific they made it sound. Despite the fact that both Laffitte and Rhone are mentioned by name, there's only the slightest of hints as to what is being lamented. A casual listening to either track without any background knowledge would lead you to believe that lines like "and keep telling yourself there's more to you than her/
but you're no better than Sylvia" are about the betrayal of a lover, not a Chief Executive Officer. In fact, the only reason I know the story behind these two songs at all is because I came across an old Village Voice article by Camden Joy called "Total Systems Failure." The article, like anything Joy has ever written, is well worth reading.

What Spoon manage to pull off on "The Agony of Laffitte" is nothing short of amazing. The musical equivalent to a punch in the gut so convincing that even Laffitte and Rhone would be embarrassed were they ever to hear it. All this done with nary a "fuck you" uttered, at least not verbally. But the feeling of betrayal and anger is all there in the lead singer's voice, a sentiment not screamed or even growled, but hissed, almost whispered.

It's like I knew two of you man
the one before and after we shook hands.

But the act of betrayal is never described, there's no need for it to be rehashed. The accused know exactly where they stand. All that remains is for Spoon to ask the pointed question:

All that I, I want to know
Are you ever honest with anyone?
And I say, no no
Are you honest with anyone?
How does it feel to go home
And not be honest with anyone?

What results is an emotionally wrought gut check for anyone who hears it. Its simply one of the most damning songs of betrayal ever put on wax.

Beck - Modern Guilt

Beck
Modern Guilt

I've had a few weeks now to digest the new Danger Mouse produced Beck album, and after letting things ruminate a bit I think the album has grown on me. The standard boilerplate response to any new Beck album usually states something to effect that it is unique and innovative but pales in comparison to earlier efforts like Odelay or Mellow Gold.

Well I'm here to call bullshit on that nonsense. As blasphemous as it might sound (I promise to tear up my hipster club card as soon as I finish writing this) I honestly believe that Beck has been matured greatly over the years since Odelay and has become a better songwriter. This is not to say that I think any of his last three albums are necessarily superior to his early work, Beck's "mature songwriter" hat didn't fit him overnight, but it seems clear to me that he has come more into his own now than he had when "Loser" first hit on MTV.

What made Odelay and Mellow Gold so popular was not mature and thoughtful songwriting but a highly developed sense of the absurd and novel. Here was a nerdy white scientologist rapping over delta blues beats with the kind of cockeyed exuberance only a younger Beck could possibly pull off. The novelty of it all could not be denied and it was all very catchy to boot (I still know nearly every ridiculous line of "Loser" by heart). But simply by virtue of his fast growing popularity, Beck knew that he couldn't possibly write five or ten more albums worth of "Where It's At" caliber radio hits and stay relevant.

So the mature songwriter Beck killed the younger funnier Beck, but what he brought with him was a more fully developed sense of melody. Nowhere is this more clear than the haunting "Chemtrails" from the new album. The high breathy vocals display the best thought out melodic arc Beck has ever written. Just like with the previous two albums Guero and the Information, nothing here rocks as hard as a track from the canonized Beck albums. Instead, Beck opts to intersperse soft flowing melodies with driving funk and hip-hop beats. He also seems to have learned from Guero and the Information that if all the slow songs were at the end of the album, the album would seem to drag on and be too front-heavy. Modern Guilt instead alternates between slower and faster songs and seems to end quite quickly.

It's impossible to overlook the amazing production by Danger Mouse. The midas touch of the brilliant producer is in top form here with his trademark dreamy echoes and soul/r&b flourishes. The more I hear from Danger Mouse, the more excited I get to hear who he chooses to work with next. Perhaps Beck and Danger Mouse on the same album is more star power than one could possibly hope for, but I still can't help but imagine the awesomeness that would be a Danger Mouse / Jack White collaboration.

If only we could be so lucky.

Truckasaurus Synaesthesia

While browsing the sometimes interesting, sometimes infuriating pitchfork site, I came across the following video for the song "Fak!!!" by the electronic music group Truckasaurus:


The stock footage used in the video is of course from the golden era of WWF professional wrestling, an era I remember vividly from my childhood. It shows a match between Hulk Hogan and the Ultimate Warrior, two of my favorite wrestlers from that time period. I am certain that this footage was intended simply to be humorous by virtue of its juxtaposition to the music and its overwhelming homoeroticism (a fact that I can honestly say I was completely oblivious to when I was seven years old). For me though, the video isn't simply humorous nostalgia, it is a pretty good encapsulation of my childhood.

You see, from about 1990 until about 1995 my young life was consumed primarily by two things, professional wrestling and the Nintendo Entertainment System. In those days when free time seemed like a never ending resource, Sunday mornings were spent in front of the television watching WWF and the rest of the week was spent playing Super Mario Bros. 3. If you are my same age, you will no doubt remember the 8-bit digital soundtracks on NES video games, the kind that offered a wide array of synthesized bleeps and bloops as the closest possible approximation of real instruments.

And so, of course, when I heard the l0-fi sythesizer sounds of "Fak!!!" my mind immediately jumped to video games. Which immediately caused a synaesthetic mind fuck explosion when coupled with the oiled Hulkster in all muscled mustachioed glory, a visual already inextricably linked with video games in my mind. Such is the way with music, a techno song by a band I don't know or care to know anything about causes me to get all drippy nosed and nostalgic....and makes me want to play some Excite Bike.

Is this how it really begins?

Random thought:

I refuse to believe that anybody ever actually intends to start a country cover band. I think they actually start as real bands who can't book any gigs so they give up on everything good and right with the world in order to play Garth Brooks songs for drunk assholes in midwestern sports bars. That, or the lead singer desperately wants to be on CMT but he/she can't write songs so they hire some musicians who probably would rather be in a punk band and teach them to turn their amps down and make that twangy noise with their guitars.

I of course have no statistics or facts to back this up, but my overriding faith in humanity will not let me accept that there is any other way for such a thing to occur.