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Jason Crawford
A three-pronged guitar attack featuring Rob Malone who I’d come to know casually by showing up to an obnoxious amount of the band’s shows in multiple far flung locations throughout the Southeast. But Malone was nowhere to be found that night. A pudgy, clearly very young, very accomplished guitarist blazed solos in his stead. I left that night not quite knowing how to feel about all of it (or how to get home, or where my pants were, or what happened to all my cash), but the presence of Jason Isbell turned out to be a high water mark for a band that has had so many high water marks since. Then, the guy wrote the title track for the band’s next record. “Decoration Day” is still a visceral sonic experience for fans of True Rock ’n Roll any time Isbell plays it live today. And it served notice to many of us that we had a new voice to account for on the chitlin’ circuit. Isbell ain’t on the chitlin’ circuit any more. He’s notoriously sober these days after a bout with the bottle. He’s married. They’ve got one in the oven. They collaborate on each other’s releases and performances. And Something More Than Free debuted at the top of multiple charts (whatever counts for a chart these days) a few weeks back. He’s toting an aura of invincibility around right this second. This is his time.
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And quite rightfully so, I might add. I caught his act (sans his wife) in Oakland on August 11. He’s svelte. He’s endorsing Martin guitars and strumming the hell out of them onstage with his bandmates in the 400 Unit. He’s still blazing electric solos too, but his material has been noticeably less rocking since he got sober. But, man, it’s the kind of non-rocking that I like. He’s still singing about family, the working class, inner demons, and ghosts, but with less fuzz and pomp. It’s a more personal experience, I guess. His catalog has expanded to the point to where he can hold a crowd the size of the Fox Theater in his flaming hand over the course of two hours while reeling off well-crafted tunes that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable listening to with your mom. It might sound kinda square in writing, but it’s inspiring to see in person. His last one, Southeastern, took a second to grow on me. Something More Than Free jumped on me out of the gate and hasn’t let go yet. “Children of Children” seems to find him wrestling with a little guilt around robbing his mom of her youth. Just by being born. Isbell’s subject matter isn’t always too airy, but we seem to be in an era where folks can actually sing about substantive topics without getting laughed out of the room. Or maybe we’re just getting old. Beats the alternative, I guess, and it makes for good listening. I’m pretty okay with where I am at 41, and I hope Isbell is as proud of himself as I suspect his young mom is. He deserves all the accolades that he’s getting. Believe me.
Southeastern was pressed in Nashville. It appears that Something More was not. It’s silent in the right spots with a hearty dynamic range and lots of depth. Wide grooves with plenty of dead wax on each side and a download code too. Get it now. Wear it out. Wait for what comes next from one of today’s premier songwriters/gunslingers. That’s what I’m doing.
I was on the campus of San Jose State University for the first week of grad school a few days ago. All the kids were too. They were in the main campus concourse, recruiting fellow students for their various clubs and organizations. And blasting Hip-Hop music. From everywhere. It’s a Hip-Hop campus in a Hip-Hop world. I’m okay with it. Hip-Hop was my original Rock ’n Roll in a sense because it was the first genre that I assimilated into my life that my parents absolutely could not understand. They were scared of Public Enemy in the way that their parents were scared of Elvis. But I was all in, fat laces too. Last week, I was struck by the blatant inferiority of what’s passed off as Hip-Hop now. It’s kind of an amalgam of everything else that’s wrong with popular American culture today. All flash, no substance, basically. The beats are frenetic, the voices loud, and no one is saying anything. And no one below a certain age is bothered by this at all, perhaps because it’s all they’ve ever known. But I had Run DMC and Rakim to terrorize my parents with, and I’ll still play their records today. In general, Hip-Hop does not seem concerned with honoring forefathers or “elder” female rappers. The artists themselves might, but I imagine an undergrad at SJSU getting laughed off campus for listening to such outdated faire. That’s too bad because that means that they’ll live their lives without realizing the magic of Illmatic, for example. I almost did too, but I picked up the Twentieth Anniversary reissue recently. I once was blind, but now I see.
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Nas busted onto the scene in 1994 which was right at the height of my hippy band heyday. I spent more time at live shows and traveling to live shows than I did studying, sleeping, eating, or working. Hip-Hop and radio generally, was no longer on my radar although there were some heady releases around that time. Illmatic may be the Big Chief among them. Golly, this guy is a gifted lyricist and MC. I never heard him rap until his cameo on the Beastie Boys’ Hot Sauce record. At that point, I knew I should dig deeper. But I didn’t until watched his documentary, Nas: Time Is Illmatic. It’s a fun film, but all of the information is in the album already, really. Nas has a way of painting a picture of the New York streets that he escaped without glamorizing the violence or the drugs or the lifestyle somehow. But it’s in there. The guns, the weed, the racial epithet that our media childishly refers to by its first letter with “word” tagged onto the end. (This forum is not an appropriate one for delving into race issues, but if it were, I would feel compelled to use the actual word rather than the embarrassing work around that we’ve developed. You can’t have a dialog about something without saying it, but we pretend to try, don’t we?) The beats are sparser on this record, which gives Nas the space required to fill our heads with his dazzling lyrical wizardry. He uses a lot of syllables (not to the extent that Outkast does, say), but never rushes. He flows in the truest sense of the word.
We’re not in the traditional realm of the audiophile here. Lots of bass, dry snares, and even some cutting and scratching which I miss like I miss the blissful ignorance of my youth. If you don’t know what was going on in Queens circa 1994, Nas can fix that. Now, if he’d only fix Hip-Hop in 2015. Maybe later…
…Or maybe run the Jewels will fix it for him. We looked at a 12-inch EP that the duo released for Record Store Day earlier this year, and it was compelling enough that I scooped up their second full-length release, Run The Jewels 2, just to see if they were for real. They were. True to form, I’d never heard of the group until Jack White hired them as his opening act at Madison Square Garden in January. This record had been out for around three months at that time. I wish I’d have found it sooner. I wouldn’t feel so sorry for the kids on campus if they were fogging everyone out with this stuff.
There’s so much going on in these grooves that I kinda don’t know where to start. The duo is made up of El-P (from New York) and Killer Mike (from Atlanta). I remember when Killer Mike was doing his thing as a guest on Outkast’s Stankonia (a no fooling around, genuine Hip-Hop classic) in 2000. He fits right in with those guys as he can rap with such fierce speed and dexterity that I seriously can’t even keep up with him while reading along from the lyric sheet. I’m unfamiliar with El-P beyond the fact that I’ve been peripherally aware of him for years now. He produced Run the Jewels 2, but I’m not exactly sure what that means in this context. I can’t tell that he’s doing any DJ’ing, but I imagine he’s mostly responsible for the beats and the textures that make this record something special. Generally, these tracks are what I’d call “heavy.” Lots of bass for your trunk, but without the hyperkinetic, spasticity that’s so popular now. When these guys deliver their “hook,” it’s got some grit behind it. They’re not the types of hooks that require the MC to just stand there repeating him/herself ad nauseam. If these guys repeat themselves, the listener should pay attention. There is likely something being said. Meaning that there is an element of “Message Rap” on this record which makes me happy as a pig in slop. Killer Mike is a renowned activist and voice for marginalized folks of all stripes, and he seems especially concerned about police brutality and systemic racism. Take a look at any news feed you choose right now, and you’ll find that he’s in no danger of running out of source material. Zach de la Rocha gets involved on “Close Your Eyes (And Count To F**k)” so you know things are going to get political and deep. If you’re averse to either, you may want to check out the new Justin Bieber record instead. The rappers make room for plenty of humor too though. Their boasts are hilarious (think Beastie Boys before thinking DMX) and revolve mostly around their skills on the mic rather than cars and gold chains. I’m gonna get tons of mileage out of this release. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for, in fact. I suspect it will be regarded as a classic in short order. If there’s any justice in the world. Hard to tell at this point…
I wasn’t thrilled to see that these discs were pressed on marbled green vinyl, but they play great. They included a lyric sheet with its own artwork as well as a sheet of stickers too. I haven’t been this excited about a Hip-Hop release for as long as I can remember. There’s hope for us yet. I just hope that the kiddos are paying attention. For their sake.
Now, to complete our little Hip-Hop hat trick for the month. We looked at the debut from Shabazz Palaces a few years back, and they’ve followed up that confounding effort with another one. It’s called Lese Majesty. I know what it sounds like. That’s about it. This duo seems determined to cultivate an air of mystery or, at the very least, to inspire their audience to dig a little deeper for their information. As best I can tell, there’s not a whole lot of it out there. I’ll do the best I can with the hand I’ve been dealt. Let’s see…
Shabazz Palaces found me late one night via a documentary about Seattle’s music scene. My interest was piqued enough to give Black Up a listen. It was confusing. Then, I saw them open for My Morning Jacket in Berkeley and I didn’t learn much more. I couldn’t understand what was being said and the sounds were muddied by a proliferation of bass. These are not uncommon complaints in the world of Hip-Hop. It’s been that way forever. I thought someone would have cracked the code by now, but the Beastie Boys are no longer working, and they had the best live Hip-Hop sound that I’ve ever encountered in person. Here’s the thing: I don’t think the members of Shabazz Palaces care if I can understand them or not. Just based on what I’ve seen and heard so far, I think they get off on spurning convention. I think they are deliberately obtuse. I believe they willfully turn a deaf ear to the expectations of their Hip-Hop community. It sounds like we’re talking about the rap version of Bob Dylan, but I don’t give Shabazz Palaces that amount of gravitas. I played their first record for a young Hip-Hop fiend that I worked with at a body shop once. He was unimpressed. Said that he could do better himself. And I kinda get it. I mean, I didn’t believe him, but the beats and the music don’t seem otherworldly. Nor do they seem to have been planned out in advance. The entirety of this album sounds like they stumbled onto some sounds as they were in the studio and just went with it. The vocals are often buried under layers of reverb to the point of unintelligibility. You wouldn’t even be able to tell you were looking at a Shabazz Palaces album without being told. Nor would you be able to discern the name of the record. The album sleeve has the “soft touch” feel that the folks at Third Man Records (where Shabazz Palaces recorded a live set recently) have been using for a while now. The artwork is black on black with a couple of foil embossed red dots thrown on top, but no words. Not on the front and not on the spine. A fold out liner sheet is included. It says stuff like this: “Produced by knife knights a shadow gov’t with under faculty of phantasy recorded…” On and on like this with these guys. The two records are pressed well enough; the fourth side is an etching. There’s a download card so that you can bewilder your friends or yourself on the go. This album is pleasant enough to listen to, but I don’t feel obligated to sit down and focus on it necessarily. It makes for nice enough background or driving music at low volumes. It has not inspired me to stand up and take notice of a brave new Hip-Hop world though. I like it well enough. That’s more than I can say for most new music.
Alright, enough of that Jazz. Let’s listen to some… Jazz. Miles Davis recorded enough material for four albums on May 11 and October 26, 1956. It probably didn’t hurt that he used players with names like Red Garland, Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones. And John Coltrane. For crying out loud. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, gang, and they certainly aren’t as prolific in this day and age. Steamin’ With The Miles Davis Quintet didn’t see the light of day until 1961 so it sat in the can for around five years. Seems like it was one of those deals wherein Davis was leaving the Prestige label and needed to fulfill contractual obligations. Based on the results, I wish that had happened another thirty times throughout his career.
Gosh, these records are good. The other titles from the two sessions are Relaxin’, Cookin’, and Workin’. I do not have a copy of the latter, but I have all of the others as done by Analogue Productions. I’ve been so caught up with what’s happening over at Music Matters that I sort of forgot about all the other labels that are turning out some quality Jazz titles today. AP certainly counts, but I maintain that there is still a degree of separation between the players and the listener that simply isn’t there on the MM releases. But that’s probably like picking between the Beatles and the Stones for a lot of fans. The Beatles (standing in for Music Matters in this analogy) were obviously more technically proficient than the Stones (i.e. Analogue Productions), but the quality of their work could be seen as intimidating to some musicians. I mean, I’ve stood on stage and played Rolling Stones songs until I was blue in the lips, but I’ve never once attempted a Beatles song outside the confines of my apartment. Similarly, the Music Matters titles that I’ve explored are disquieting in their quietude. I was seriously unnerved when I first heard their version of Blue Train. It was too close to the bone. These AP records sound wonderful. They’re pressed at Quality Record Pressings and are almost always dead silent. They’re just not quite as transparent as the MM titles which are apparently pressed in heaven by angels on high. AP has stepped up their cover game too. I have a copy of Cookin’ from a while back and the cover is flimsy with their branding all over it. My copies of Relaxin’ and this version of Steamin’ are firmer without the overt AP branding on the front cover. The sleeves are of the high gloss, tip-on variety, and the most recent batch, at least, was mastered by Kevin Gray. He’s the guy over at MM too so I reckon he’s the one to call when you have Jazz reissues on your agenda. I’d love to complete my collection of records recorded during these two sessions with a high quality take on Workin’, but the AP version is out of print and copies are pricey. Looks like they did it on double vinyl at 45rpm too and I would much prefer a standard 33rpm version as those are less labor intensive. The Quintet also did Miles: The New Miles Davis Quintet and ‘Round About Midnight. I have two versions of the latter (MoFi and Speakers Corner), but I don’t own the former in any format. If I could get a good take on that one and Workin’, I could do a little relaxin’ of my own. I’m hoping AP gets around to those again soon.