this ordinary joe has got beats

Joe Beats - Diverse Recourse review

Since Endtroducing forever set the bar for instrumental hip-hop albums, producers have continually looked to DJ Shadow’s 1996 debut for inspiration when crafting their own records. Most of the time, this has involved eschewing innovation in favour of rote emulation of that landmark release. And why not? If you’re going to ape something, might as well ape the best of that something. Before he thought he could make it as a singer-songwriter, Rjd2 came closest with Deadringer—which adheres more strictly to the Endtroducing blueprint than most still are willing to admit—and Scott Herren was able to reach Shadow-like heights as Prefuse 73 with One Word Extinguisher by traversing different terrain entirely. In many ways, One Word Extinguisher is the anti-Endtroducing; the former worked in monochromatic shades where the latter reveled in pastels of all hues, saturation, and opacity, which says less about the quality of said albums than their respective approaches. And while Diverse Recourse is naturally indebted to Shadow’s magnum opus, it’s without a doubt a Joe Beats album.

Anyone who has heard of Joe Beats knows he can craft one hell of a beat. In 2003, he teamed up with Sage Francis to release Hope as the Non-Prophets. His beats forced Sage from his apparent comfort zone into an arena few thought the heart-on-his-sleeve wordsmith could handle himself in, let alone excel at, and it coalesced into what is arguably Sage’s finest material to date. Unfettered from the restriction of beats needing to be ‘rappable,’ Diverse Recourse is the best instrumental hip-hop album of aught-seven.

The songs—and they are songs—borrow from Madlibian tactics in their brevity, with most hovering around the one-hundred-twenty-second mark. This theory of ‘hit them with an idea then move to the next one before they can get too comfortable’ is hardly a new concept, but it suits Beats’ moody, brooding instrumentals. It helps nudge the album along, just like his propulsive breaks. Where he finds all his drums would make a crate-digger cry, or should at least make other producers loosen their collars; intricately constructed but never the center of attention, they don’t just fill up empty space but give songs the illusion of being faster than they actually are, and any tracks that might feel like filler seem to depart that much quicker. Not that there are many misses on Diverse Recourse. And the rest of his samples he works with aren’t anything to scoff at either.

“ETA” could be the beat to an old Prince Paul-era De La Soul song with back-and-forth fast raps between Trugoy and Posdnuos. The California-punk bass of “Spikes for the Punch Bowl” could double as the menu music for the next SSX game (this is a compliment), and “Me Talk Pretty” is one of those thick, atmospheric beats that Jeezy would sound good over if he wasn’t bent on legitimizing ‘doom rap’ as a viable sub-genre of rap. “Friday Afternoon” might be a standout Ant production if he had any subtlety or restraint. Then there’s this unsettling tension to “Cutie Pie” which makes me wonder what exactly gets Joe twitterpated—or if I even want to know.

On the DVD of Alfonso Cuarón’s instant classic Children of Men, Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek discusses the relationship between the foreground and the background of the film. Žižek argues that Children of Men is able to capture the pathos of social oppression obliquely, through the background action—essentially, the background is the film. Diverse Recourse works much in the same way. The foreground/background dynamics add texture and emotion: hand-drums are buried in the corners of the mix, there are snippets of conversations just out of earshot, and other unidentifiable sounds fade in and out without intrusion. Perhaps the best example of this tension comes on the closer “Fade.” As the song begins to do just that, what sounds like footsteps appear from the shadows of the song before the beat kicks in again for once last swan song, and they lend real emotional resonance. By such simple means, such powerful feelings can be conjured, something both Alfonso Cuarón and Joe Beats seem to be aware of. All this makes Diverse Recourse a true iPod album, one meant for intimate listens through headphones. If DJ Shadow slapped his name on the cover, he’d be hailed a genius. With Joe Beats as its namesake, Diverse Recourse will probably remain overlooked and even ignored. But somehow I think Beats doesn’t mind; the background is where the real story is, anyways.

Rating: 8.1 (out of a possible 10.0)

Joe Beats - “Fade”
from Diverse Recourse (Bully Records, 2007)

Joe Beats - “Talk Me Pretty”
from Diverse Recourse (Bully Records, 2007)

what about big boi?

UGK - “International Players Anthem (feat OutKast)”
from UGK: Underground Kingz (Jive, 2007)

Rich Boy - “And I Love You (feat Pastor Troy and Big Boi)”
from Rich Boy (Interscope, 2007)

Diddy - “Wanna Move (feat Big Boi, Ciara, & Scar)”
from Press Play (Bad Boy, 2006)

Fantasia - “Hood Boy (feat Big Boi)”
from Fantasia (J Records, 2006)

So everyone has been losing their shit over recent guest spots from Andre Three Stacks, and thankfully for once most of the hyperbole is justified. His recent verses have been compared to his material on Aquemini, one of four OutKast albums routinely considered to be their best effort. I usually flip-flop between Stankonia and ATLiens as being my favourite ‘Kast album, and while that’s really neither here nor there, I think there’s more of a common thread between his recent verses and ATLiens than with Aquemini—especially in his disregard of riding the beat at times (no Talib Kweli), pushing his bars until they nearly keel under the weight of all the syllables he’s cramming in. It’s the result of an emcee still readjusting to rapping on a more regular basis. But 3000 isn’t a regular rapper, and he’s shaken that Idlewild rust quicker than most rappers jump the shark. So what about Big Boi?

If Andre’s guest verses as of late have been those of a rapper who has rediscovered the joy of rapping and fitting words together in novel ways, Big Boi’s have been those of a rapper at or near his artistic peak. And while everyone is busy dissecting Andre’s recent raps, Big Boi’s have been all but ignored. It’s a shame, too, because over the past few months Big Boi has quietly been putting together guest appearances rivaling those from any rapper in the last few hundred days, both on songs with fellow outkast Andre 3000 and on his own.

Take for example, the UGK song “International Players Anthem,” of which the general consensus is that Andre steals the song with his opening verse. Mr. Benjamin does probably have the song’s best sixteen, but without Big Boi present to keep his doe-eyed ass tethered to the ground, he might fly away in pre-marital myopia. Playing on the complementary nature of Andre and Big Boi’s musical relationship, their two verses are largely opposing forces which bookend the Willie Hutch-sampling track (second only to Cormega’s “Rap’s a Hustle” in the line of songs that sample “I Choose You”). Andre plays the blind romantic and Big Boi the realist, which their deliveries reflect; Andre’s is loose and unkempt, while Big Boi’s is as precise as the laser used to cut the diamonds on the dozen chains around Nigo’s neck on this month’s front cover of NYLON Guys. Andre might have a history of playing it straighter than his partner, but Big Boi’s verse is comedic while remaining good-natured, and is a nice contrast to Andre’s heartfelt sincerity. Rarely have common rapper jeremiads such as the misappropriation of (child support) funds, and less treaded waters like faulty contraception techniques, been handled with such grace and humour, but Big Boi manages to incite sympathy while acknowledging the ridiculousness of said situations that rappers often get themselves into.

As an emcee, Big Boi has always been a blend of conscious technique and fluent mack posturing, and this has been pushed to the forefront of his verses lately, especially on “And I Love You.” The collaboration is your typical why-I-love-you-shawty song, but Big Boi approaches it differently from Rich Boy and Pastor Troy. Beyond his inflections, the chopped and screwed vocals (which suit Big’s southern twang), and at least three different flows, he works in an extended metaphor likening his “impeccable timing” to the skill of “dual ejaculation,” and it’s a clever bit of wordplay—this sort of corporeal (and spiritual) fusion can only be achieved after years of practice, just like rapping. Except if we carry the metaphor, this makes us—the listener—the females that Big Boi is pleasing with his timing (only in audio form). Which is an interesting comment on music-making in general—even Andre’s wordplay hasn’t been this layered during his recent renaissance.

On Diddy’s “Wanna Move,” Big grabs a hold of Danja’s eurodance synths as they whiz by and jumps onto the song running, weaving an intricate flow around the drums and exposing Sean Combs as the dilettante he is. The difference between Big and Diddy on the track is so glaring you might be blinded by Big’s verse after Diddy’s amateur hour flows. Big is at home on these kinds of beats; he’s rapped over his fair share of space-rap beats in his day. It seems most southern rappers are better suited to the super-clean metallics of beats like “Wanna Move” than east coast rappers are—which the exception of Jay-Z—possibly because so many east coast rappers don’t work with beats so much as try to assert their dominance over them, at best using them as glorified metronomes.

Then there’s the Fantasia single “Hood Boy,” where again Big Boi turns up the charisma and tones down the complexity for a more-than-adequate guest verse on an otherwise boring song. It’s an important guest spot because Barrino (or more accurately, her managers) could have gone and enlisted any other rapper for the spot on the lead single from her sophomore album. Remember, this girl did win American Idol and comes with a pre-existing fanbase. They could have opted to get a typical of-the-moment rapper like a T.I.. Hell, they could have even gone with Andre, who is the bigger of the two names in OutKast, thanks to “Hey Ya,” his acting credits, and his newish vanity cartoon. “Hood Boy” stalled on the American Billboard charts at just north of the century mark (at 103 to be precise), but this is due more to the song being pretty shitty than anything to do with Big Boi’s verse. But Antwan Patton was picked for a reason—someone has noticed his string of stellar performances over the last year, even if the general public hasn’t. The prospect of a new OutKast album is music to my ears.

10 the Hard Way? Judging from their recent output, they aren’t fooling anyone.

he was right, you really can’t tell him nothing

Kanye West - “Stronger”
from Graduation (Roc-a-Fella/G.O.O.D. Music, 2007)

Daft Punk - “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger”
from Discovery (Virgin, 2001)

Edwin Birdsong - “Cola Bottle Baby”
from Edwin Birdsong (Philadelphia International, 1979)

Kanye West is the most relevant rap artist in popular music today. Well, Timothy Mosley might argue otherwise, but he transcended rap—i.e. got sick of it—a long time ago. Then again, I’m sure ‘Ye would be disillusioned with rap too if he was surrounded by rappers the likes of Magoo and Sebastien (familial ties or not). But forget Curtis “Interscope” Jackson, and forget President Carter. Definitely forget Weezy F. Baby (please say the Baby!), who for all his recent MF Doom-meets-French surrealism-meets-southern-fried-rap verses has yet to make a meaningful dent outside of rap (though this could well change with Tha Carter III). Kanye is the one working with pop artists—and making good music with them—and is probably the only rapper under the lens of the mainstream who can honestly claim to be making important music. So Kanye West Singles are important events, and lend themselves to be endlessly critiqued. Because it’s not just the forthcoming Graduation that’s riding on the success of his singles—hip-hop is too.

“Stronger” isn’t the first time electronic kingpins Daft Punk have been sampled for a rap song. Just last year, Swizz Beats culled from the song “Technologic” a chorus for Busta Rhymes’ “Touch It,” which turned into the most-remixed song of 2006. And in that same year, Daft Funk sampled themselves on “Human After All” for the Teriyaki Boyz song “HeartBreaker,” which they produced (and which appeared on the album BEEF or CHICKEN?). For “Stronger,” Kanye’s springboard is the French duo’s “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” from their 2001 release Discovery. Ironically enough, the song sampled funk musician Edwin Birdsong and his song “Cola Bottle Baby” from his 1979 self-titled album. A funk song becomes an electronic song and then comes full-circle and is re-imagined in the genre which began as an offshoot of funk. But “Stronger” is still totally electro. In fact, it’s the most electronic song Kanye has made yet.

But just as “Stronger” isn’t the first Daft Punk-sampled rap song, it’s not the first electronic song to appear on a Kanye West album either. The College Dropout had “The New Workout Plan,” a nod to Chicago’s house scene, and Late Registration saw Kanye transform the Shirley Bassey-performed James Bond theme “Diamonds Are Forever” into a thundering storm of electro swirls and drum programming that resonates like Gregorian chants. “Stronger” is more similar in sound to “Diamonds from Sierra Leone” than it is to “The New Workout Plan.” This is probably due to the fact “The New Workout Plan” is pre-Jon Brion, and it feels unfurnished when compared to the lived-in aesthetic of its brethren. “Stronger” in 2004 would’ve been an interesting beat for a Kanye song, but in 2007 it’s an fascinating song for a Kanye album.

In other words, “Stronger” might have been a looped, straight sample of “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” a few years ago or if attempted by a lesser producer. But in the hands of an able Kanye, “Stronger” is one of those epic-sounding songs Kanye’s been making since he started working with Brion. The song begins with the ubiquitous “Work it, make it, do it, makes us harder, better, faster, stronger” robotic vocals from the Daft Punk song, which start the song predictably enough, and Kanye follows an eight-count in with his chorus. It’s a typical Kanye chorus, meaning it’s one of those infectious, sing-along hooks that 50 Cent on a good day excels at. ‘Ye hits the ‘stronger’ and ‘longer’ of the Daft Punk vocals with the same words in his hook, and midway through the song there’s a extended segue where the vocals complete phrases Kanye begins. These are wonderful bits of interaction with the sample—on “Stronger,” the Daft Punk sample isn’t just a gimmick, it’s integral to the song’s concept. And it helps the song carve out its own identity outside of being a ‘rap song that samples a Daft Punk song,’ which the rest of the production does as well. Colorful synth stabs accentuate particular moments of the song; during ‘Ye’s first verse they build toward the cathartic release of the chorus and through the second verse they fill up the empty spaces between bars, which only makes Kanye sound more important. There are also flourishes you might not catch, like little digital glitches echoing certain lines and spots where chopped and screwed music rears its influence.

Not to be outdone by his nonpareil production, the Kanye on “Stronger” is best version of Kanye we could have hoped for on a song like this. He makes the same dumb jokes that we can’t help but quote like Borat lines (“Heard they’d do anything for a Klondike / Well, I’d do anything for a blonde dyke”) and he turns what was essentially a song about self-improvement into a song about both about haters (“Now that that don’t kill me, can only make me stronger”) and trying to get into a girl’s pants. His ego is barely contained by the song (“There’s a thousand of you and only one of me”) and he makes some apt observations about the sort of woman he’s trying to pull in the song (“She’d do anything for the limelight”), but just like the Kanye we know and love, he still goes along with things. But the best part is that through ‘Ye’s lyrics his plight is not resolved, but instead left to our imaginations as he lets the beat ride out before returning for its breathtaking climax. In that way, it’s a song about songwriting too. Kanye’s waiting for the release—the payoff—and in this situation it can only be achieved through his production and not his vocals. It’s perhaps the most humbling statement that West could make as an artist, and a pretty bold one at that.

I’ve heard Kanye West songs at the club before, but this is his first genuine attempt at a club banger. Yeah, it’s an electro song. And one of the best I’ve heard in a long time. But it’s without a doubt a Kanye song, just like his best interpretations of other sounds (see: “Drive Slow,” “These Walls,” “Throw Your Hands (In the Air)”). I was kind of worried about Graduation when “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” was first leaked to the intarwebs a few weeks ago, but “Stronger” has eased my trepidations. While it might not reach the admittedly towering heights of its two predecessors, with songs like “Stronger” we won’t have to be anticipating the worst for Graduation. Kanye has proven time and time again that he knows what he’s doing, and he’s given us no reason to doubt him yet. But he has given us a reason to dance. Song of the summer? Given the proper video treatment (it’s already confirmed to be Graduation’s second single), you bet yer ass. And just like other good dance songs, I can’t wait to hear the remixes of this.

5 STARS (out of 5 stars)

don’t call it a comeback

He was the rapper, Jeff’s still the DJ

DJ Jazzy Jeff - The Return of the Magnificent review

There are two kinds of producer-helmed rap albums. There are your Shock Values: Timothy Mosley might be the most sought-after man in pop music, but this doesn’t mean he can parlay the demand for his sonic muscle into a career as an artist himself. As that album made clear, Timbaland the Artist is best in short bursts, when the focus isn’t on him. In a supporting role, his hammy approximation of modern pop-stardom is much more interesting than a lot of ‘real’ artists’ portrayal of what a pop star should act like. When he’s not threatening to put Scott Storch in a body bog, he actually has some swagger. The same applies to Swizz Beats, even if his delusions of being a rap star translate into some truly singular and oddball moments such as his single “It’s Me, Bitches” and its head-scratching remix “It’s Me, Snitches.” What Timbo and Swizzy understand is that being famous and all that it entails is pretty ridiculous in the first place, and they use this to their advantage. There are also your The Return of the Magnificents: unlike a Timbaland or even a Kanye West, DJ Jazzy Jeff wants nothing to do with the fame game. The Fresh Prince’s sidekick of yore is content to stay in the background if it means good music. The Return of the Magnificent doesn’t necessarily refer to the album’s patron as much as an ideal that Jeff wants to see in practice again. The ideal is nothing new, but it’s as important an ideal as there can be when crafting music; just have fun and the rest will fall in place.

I envision recording with Jazzy Jeff as a very organic experience—he’s probably one of those low-pressure producers who rappers love working with. If he doesn’t have an unending supply of buddha and video games to spark recording sessions, I wouldn’t be surprised if his studio was on some new-age feng shui shit with yoga mats abound—either scenario seems equally plausible. Nothing on The Return of the Magnificent sounds forced; the rappers who stop by to rap over Jeff’s comfortable beats seem chosen more because they are friends with the veteran producer and DJ and less because they are marketable names. The biggest name is probably the half-out-of-his-element Method Man; “Hold It Down” floats above water thanks to his indelible charisma, even though we’ve heard these rhymes before in various shapes and sizes (bad fart jokes and all).

Usually on these kinds of albums, the bigger names will phone in their verses because they know no one will hear the songs—rarely do you hear a rapper of any calibre bring their ‘A’ game on a producer’s album. But these guys must really respect the Jazz man—or just love music period—because all parties involved sound enthused to be a part of the project. Posdnuos (De La Soul) continues his trend of consistent, workmanlike performances on “Let Me Hear U Clap.” With his pragmatic raps (“I’ll never be the king of New York”), he gives grown-ass man rap a good name. Big Daddy Kane lets his voice melt into the funk of “The Garden,” his deep baritone sounding particularly at home on the track fertilized with soul. CL Smooth hasn’t sounded this good since the last time he worked with old tango partner Pete Rock.

Those who grew up listening to these senior statesmen fare just as well. “Practice” finds J-Live running training sessions for all aspiring major-leaguers, and Jeff’s use of the infamous Allen Iverson press conference spiel concerning his practice regimen is a fresh take on the sampled chorus. The snippet mimics the mentality of newjacks unconvinced of the hard work it takes to become an elite emcee. It plays against J-Live’s fatherly advice—as if shrugging it off in adolescent arrogance—and it provides a nice bit of tension to the song’s otherwise conventional message. “She Was So Flyy” (yes, spelled with two Y’s) with Kardinal Offishall could be a minor hit if it was someone’s else song, which is kind of a sad thought, and “Jeff ‘n Fess” would’ve been a highlight on Rhymefest’s Blue Collar, thanks to Jeff’s calypso flourishes.

This applies to most of the songs on The Return of the Magnificent, besides a few missteps. “Supa Jean” (Jean Grae) isn’t able to shift out of first gear, and elsewhere “Touch Me With Ur Handz” relies on a lame aural pun on the words “master baby” (ahem) for its lyrical panache. Smartly, Jeff stays out of the way of the songs, appearing only in humorous skits about his own (insert air-quotes here) “fame.” Stuck with a rental car with only radio capabilities on his way to pick up his son from Atlanta (beginning the journey in his hometown of Philly), The Return of the Magnificent doubles as Jeff’s ideal radio station. With open, spacious sounds and his utilitarian beats, it’s the type of station you’d only get if you subscribed to XM or Sirius. And had a backpack kicking around somewhere. And I know you have one—even if its hidden in your closet.

Rating: 7.4 (out of a possible 10.0)

DJ Jazzy Jeff - “Let Me Hear U Clap (feat Posdnuos of De La Soul)”
from The Return of the Magnificent (BBE, 2007)

DJ Jazzy Jeff - “She Was So Flyy (feat Kardinal Offishall)”
From The Return of the Magnificent (BBE, 2007)

These rubies shine bright like diamonds

Dan Bejar interview

As a big fan of Dan Bejar’s music (Destroyer’s Rubies was my favourite record of last year), I was excited to get a chance to talk to the Vancouver native and part-time member of the indie power-pop group the New Pornographers, and more recently Swan Lake with Spencer Krug and Carey Mercer. Here’s what Bejar had to say about being considered a mystery among the media, his surreptitious songwriting, and the ambient fourth side of the Rubies re-release.

(Until the Train Stops) I don’t want to say your use of curse words on Rubies is liberal—perhaps strategic is the better word. But when you use them, they come across very natural, but placed for maximum effect (the ‘fuck’ on “European Oils” is cathartic). Is this a conscious aspect of your song writing, or are curse words just another set of words at your disposal when writing?

(Dan Bejar) I don’t consciously curse, though if the situation calls for it, I don’t see why not... just like life. I think the blue material on Rubies is actually quite reined in compared to other Destroyer records.

When putting together words does how they sound together sometimes become more important then them “meaning” anything? Are the phonetics of the words you choose and how they interact with each other important to you?

I don’t differentiate between the two things, to the point where I barely understand the question when people break down words into “sounds” and “meanings,” which is probably just a sign of how far gone I am in this mess. There is no gibberish in Destroyer songs, as I try hard to stick to words that exist in the English language. No Jabberwocky, no Finnegan's Wake bullshit, that I am aware of. Sound good equals meaning good. Sound bad equals meaning bad.

Rubies sounds to me like an old record. Not just “classic rock” old, which it certainly is, but like something that wouldn’t sound too out of place in the 1800s, in a pub somewhere on a harbour in Europe. In other words, the music seems to be influenced by ethnic sounds here more than any previous Destroyer record. Why decide to incorporate these sorts of sounds?

Well, I think the last few Destroyer albums have pulled in certain elements of that Sephardic vibe, though it’s funny cause I see Rubies really gunning for a classic rock feel, if by classic rock you mean 80s Van Morrison/catholic Dylan.

Being from Vancouver (and the west coast), do you think you have more in common with a European sound (and other baroque sounds) than you would if you were born anywhere else? Do you think that in Canada there is a closer tie to European ways than in the States, and does this affect the art (specifically music) that comes from Canada?

Vancouver’s got closer ties to punk bands really into 70s metal, by this I mean the Pacific Northwest sound that’s been brewing in these parts on and off for the last 20 years.. Not a lot of Paolo Conte or Serrat blasting at Strathcona keggers, not that I would know. Also, from what I’ve deduced, the sound of Europe is early 90s rave music.

Every Destroyer album has had a different sound thus far, probably because you’ve worked with different people on each of the albums. You’ve mentioned that the current Destroyer line up will likely remain the same for the foreseeable future. With a more permanent group of musicians, how will this affect the next Destroyer record?

I actually see many similarities between Rubies and This Night in some of the songs, and a bit of overlap with Streethawk: A Seduction in a couple others... the players have all been kicking around on the Destroyer scene for a while now, just in different configurations. I can’t really say what the next Destroyer record’s going to sound like, which is a little scary seeing as we’re supposed to start recording it in a couple months. As for the line-up, if I said it in an interview, it could easily have no bearing on the truth.

Rubies was recently re-released in double-LP form which includes something called Loscil’s Rubies, which claims that Rubies was chopped from its initial incarnation into what was eventually released. What’s the story behind this?

Loscil’s Rubies is the second in a continuing collaboration between Destroyer and Loscil, in an attempt to make the world see how much I truly dig ambient tones and how much he truly digs spoken-word.

This summer you only have a select number of dates across Canada where you are scheduled to play. Why is that?

I have no idea what moved me to play these shows. Normally, I take the summers off. Winters, too.

You used to be considered somewhat of a journalist’s nightmare, but that sees to have changed over the past few years. Why do you think you’re more open to interviews and the press in general nowadays?

All I did was say “no” to doing a couple New Pornographers interviews way the hell back, and all of a sudden I was difficult or mysterious. Then I said “no” to a couple ill-timed and pointless Canadian features, and things escalated from there. But the interviews I did always involved me being super-cordial, civil to a fault! Fact of the matter, not that many people had any interest in talking about Destroyer in-print until 2 or 3 years ago, even though the first Destroyer record came out in 1996, the second in ‘98, the third in 2000, the fourth in 2001, the fifth in 2002 (you probably see where I’m going with this). Not that I minded making room for yet another feature on Len or BranVan3000, and I still don’t mind.

Destroyer - “Farrar, Straus, and Giroux (Sea of Tears)”
from Streethawk: A Seduction (Misra/Talitres, 2001)

Destroyer - “From Oakland to Warsaw”
from Your Blues (Merge, 2004)