Identifying as a Southerner is sometimes problematic. The constant tug-of-war between pride and shame is often difficult to settle. The region is filled with wonder and contradiction. It is famed for both its civility and glaring intolerance, its tradition and its backwardness, its uniqueness and its isolation. It is seen as ignorant, but some of the best public (UNC) and private (Dook) universities in the country are here. My ambivalent feelings about the South probably come from living in a Southern town (Charleston, SC) that didn't have a whole lot going on. I had to expose myself to a busier world beyond the Mason-Dixon line to find culturally occupy my mind. That has made it difficult to enjoy what should be an enjoyable place. That is why I love OG Ron C's "Swang" remix so much.
Everything about the song is unapologetically Southern. Pimp C, Fat Pat, H.A.W.K.,Trae and OG Ron C himself all rep Houston, Texas, the biggest city in a state known for its fierce, Southern independence. They drive huge Cadillacs with wire wheels. Their drawls are thicker than the cough syrup in their cups. Even when I'm not sure how Southern I feel, this song reminds me of the good things that the word "Southern" entails. And then there's the song.
The song's most prominent feature is the chopped-and-screwed technique employed to remix it. The technique, named after its creator DJ Screw (he took a screw to records he disliked), is surprisingly complicated. It involves playing to versions of a song at the same time at a slowed-down tempo (it's sometimes referred to as slowed-and-throwed) on a set of turntables. One disc is delayed a bit. In addition to regular scratching, the DJ uses the mixer to switch between the two discs at intervals of his or her choosing. This is the chop. The resulting sound is slower, with lower vocals. The pitch is modified, taking the listener on a ride. It is music to be listened to in cars instead of clubs; it is relaxed with more emphasis on lyrical content.
The song's sample-Michael Jackson's "Lady in My Life"-is left largely intact and gives the tune a soulful feel that makes it the perfect candidate for the chopped-and-screwed treatment. The sample even sounds closer to its original with this treatment. It is as though the song was made to have that characteristic Southern slowness.
"Midnight in a Perfect World"-DJ Shadow
The sample that opens the song explains everything that I like about it.
Insight, foresight, more sight/
The clock on the wall reads a quarter past midnight
The song provides excellent background music for deep thoughts in the late hour. The keys are obtuse; the way DJ Shadow warps them allows them to slither their way around the pounding drums. The vocals he uses are angelic and rest up on high, framing the thoughts evoked by the song in positivity. It is a track designed to elicit Utopian visions. This is the song I played after a frustrating day at work or after a night out. Anything wrong with your situation can be partially cleared with this song. The drums hit hard and break up your troubles while the keys and vocals sweep them away. It's a mental massage.
It's a rather simple song. It appeals to the optimist in me. It tells me that my problems can all be fixed if I just sit in a quiet, dark room and think long enough to find solutions.
"Japanese Folk Song"-Thelonious Monk
In my Introduction to Jazz class, I learned a couple of things. One was to drop GPA-killers before it is too late. Of the other things I learned, one lesson focused on the structure of jazz songs. In jazz, there's a regular tune called the head. The song will start with and at times come back to the head. The rest of the song is usually focused on improvisation. When the professor told this to the class, the first song that came to mind was this one. "Japanese Folk Song," nearly 17-minute adventure, is the song that best illustrates this concept of a head. Monk starts with the tune "Kojo no Tsuki." After that, it is a long journey through improvisations of what seems like every instrument in his band. They drop in and out as they accompany one another and provide their own takes on the head. Each player stretches the tune to almost unrecognizable ends but always comes back from the brink.
I think that the reason I find this song so appealing is that it reminds me of my constant search for a more solid identity. It goes off on tangents and tries to rediscover itself only to come back to some sort of base. The tune "Kojo no Tsuki" is about an old castle as observed by the song's writer. I liken this song to a castle in its own way. The instruments find their ways down complex corridors and seem to get lost but are always within the context of the song as a whole. Similarly, I find that as I take on years, I have gone down paths I didn't like, just to end up where I started. These personal diversions are also within the context of a singular structure; everything done is done by me and is a part of the collective me.
"Dope Boys (Bird Peterson remix)"-Gucci Mane
The first line is misleading. When Gucci says
All I need is one mic
I thought I was going to be getting some sort of introspective, deep song, a la Nas. Fuck. No. It's Gucci Mane. He raps about his usual fare like selling drugs, money, cars and clothes. So why has this been a staple of my daily listening for nearly a month? It's the beat.
Gucci Mane songs, especially the ones on his mixtapes, usually feature uninspired production that eliminates any interest in what Gucci Mane has to say. This version, however, strikes a chord with me. Echoing squiggles and beeps combine with somber, pounding drums in a way that is eerie and melancholy. It's a perfect foil to Gucci's abundant confidence. It perfectly captures the ambivalence I feel whenever I enjoy a song by a Cam'ron or a Gucci Mane.
By no means is Gucci a premiere lyricist, nor is he simply trying to tell a story with what limited mic prowess he has. The ignorance, conspicuous consumption and arrogance he shows is second only to other members of his Brick Squad like Waka Flacka Flame and OJ da Juiceman. Something about his draws my interest anyway. I've never been poor enough to commiserate with his beginnings or rich enough to empathize with the trappings of his success. The beat, with its damp seriousness, provides the perfect frame to finally examine Gucci's words. Turns out that he doesn't have much to say.
Gucci like to drink/
And Gucci like to smoke/
And Gucci on the rise while you niggas going broke
The more I listen to the song, the more I begin to understand my fascination with with rappers like Gucci Mane. The lonely, awkward beat reminded me that download mixtapes, buy songs and attend concerts in order to live vicariously through gun-toting, drug-selling, womanizing rappers because they can't live that life.
It's not that I want to do those things, but being able to gather the money, strength and apathy necessary to live such hypermasculine lifestyle.He knows that he can get away with stealing your hypothetical girlfriend or shitting on your hypothetical ride. He knows that he can say, "We're the dope boys," because listeners like me will gladly trade in our boring lives at art school or work for almost five minutes to enjoy his for a little while.
"Better Git It In Your Soul"-Charles Mingus
I have a complicated relationship with religion. In my younger days, religion offered a bit of stability in world that heaved and whirled around me. God would talk to me when the other kids wouldn't. Or when they wouldn't do it nicely. Sometimes I would see contradiction or something amiss in church, but I didn't have a problem with it since it simply came with the package. As I got older, the kids got nicer and I began to step away from religion since the role it occupied was being filled in what I sometimes see as a more healthy way. Unfortunately for me, this change occurred during a time in which my mother was going in the opposite direction. Going to church became getting dragged to church. I became disillusioned with the whole institution. That is why this song strikes me so.
Something about it reminds me of the countless Sunday mornings I have spent half-awake in church. An old voice speaks to the Lord from the background. The drums are lively and crisp. There are hand claps. The saxophone, bass and piano are lively and almost joyous. The instrumentation, combined with the sassy title, just feel like church to me. I'm not sure if Mingus's intent was tribute or satire, but the song strikes me as a wonderful caricaturization of the institution that has put me off with its reactionary, homophobic rhetoric. Being an alienated, unwilling churchgoer has been a major part of life. The song reminds me not of the dismay and anger I sometimes feel from my pew, but the indifferent smiles I have worn as the entire congregation bursts into the ecstasy of praise. It's a fun song that reminds me of the fun and not-so-fun aspects of my dealings with religion and church.
"Attitude"-Bad Brains
I used to have a real thing for punk music. Not the fake Good Charlotte stuff. No way, Jose. The more I tried to distance myself from the popular kids I so desperately wanted to be like, the harder my taste in music became. I really got into hardcore punk like Minor Threat and GBH. Of course, if you're going to listen to hardcore punk, you have to listen to Bad Brains. They were an all-black band of Rastafarians who had started off playing jazz-rock fusion. And they played dub tunes on the side. As one of the few black kids at a largely white arts middle school, I identified with how unique they were in a genre not too different from the makeup of my school.
Their playing is incredible. The drums are tight, hard and fast. The bass thumps quickly. The guitar changes chords at speeds beyond my comprehension, let alone what I was able to follow in the eighth grade. JR's lyrics about resilience and PMA (positive mental attitude) are something that kept me going through my emotional toils then and doesn't hurt as a pick-me-up now. The sheer energy of the song almost forbids the listener from doing anything but get pumped and sneer triumphantly. From their musicianship to their energy to their novelty as a punk act, Bad Brains are those dudes and will continue to be those dudes for some time into my foreseeable future.
"Monkey Suite"-Madvillainy
Doom is simply my favorite rapper. Hands down. I relate more to what he represents than anything he actually has to say. He challenges rap's notions of identity. I struggle to find my own sense of identity. His rhyme style is always a little off-kilter. No matter what the definition of "normal" might be, I know that I ain't it. His identities are based on comic book characters and monster movie monsters. The majority of the personal books on my bookshelf may or may not be graphic novels. Something about Doom's aesthetic is just attractive to my tastes.
That said, I like this song. Madlib's beat is haunting; the drums are menacing yet light and sample is mysterious and teases the listener. Doom's lyrics don't help the reader feel any more comfortable. His raps are hard and clever. You're never sure if he is on beat or not, but it makes sense. Except when the lyrics don't.
Cunning live rats drive at your steaming greasy spoon
Because it's Doom, however, it is just taken as it is with the possibility that it might get figured out later. Doom is always off in a really on way. He rejects societal ideas with reckless abandon.
Being able to give society a big "fuck you" and do whatever you want always has an appeal. An American obsession with nihilistic rock stars has clearly proven that throughout the history of American pop culture. With middle finger to the man, Doom salutes the authentic, individualistic personalities in the world. The hope that I might be able to call myself authentic and individualistic keeps me attracted to Doom's music and his aesthetic.
Bloodstain, by UNKLE
UNKLE's Psyence Fiction is not happy music. It is an intense, passionate musical journey through the darkness of anger and despair. Listen to it on a rainy, cold night. You will get it.
Without a powerful video like "Rabbit in Your Headlights" or powerful lyrics like Kool G Rap's go on
"Guns Blazing," one song, "Bloodstain," still manages to reach into my heart and rip it in half with every fresh listen. The tune's chorus, which opens with "blood stain/on a blue vein," immediately conjures images of suicide. My affinity for the song comes not from some morbid fascination with my own death, but something deeper.To me, the song is a testament to fluidity and the beauty of escape. DJ Shadow paints a desolate landscape; he twists keyboards and morphs guitar riffs to create a strange, surreal environment in which Alice Temple's vocals slice especially deep. A strange, ghostlike bassline squirms in the background like the wind in a dark alley. The drums are hard and patterned with a hip hop sensibility what is otherwise a very weightless song. The drums themselves, however, maintain a certain air of unpredictability. They hesitate in spots. In others, they speed up or slow down almost without warning. The song is very alive and very bleak. It is the soundtrack to an escapist's melancholy.
"Bloodstain" taps something deep inside me. I often feel that my identity exists in some sort of fluid space between lots of other, more solid identities and constructs. Although centered on heartbreak, the lyrics somehow connect to the frequent anxiety and alienation that I feel trying to live life in-between. A sample in the song croons, "I'm alone/And dissatisfied/And someone else is alone/And dissatisfied." In that desperation, a quick escape is often ideal. Not necessarily something so dramatic as taking a blade to my wrists, but my need to occasionally isolate myself and find solace in my self-consciousness easily comes to mind when I hear this song.
-Melvin Backman
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