Sunday, August 11, 2002 -- 09:37 p.m.

New routine: Call up my near-2000-MP3 collection, load every single one, put 'em on shuffle and review whatever comes up until I get bored. I may have stolen this from Jess though I'm not entirely sure.

Beck, unknown song: This is some live bootleg, possibly from September '94, of a song that hasn't actually made it on an album or single to the best of my knowledge. If it weren't from eight years ago I'd swear this is some underhanded, evil attack on rap-metal, as it lurches between gronky dirge-bass with mumbly vocals and feedback-'n'-guitar-fury plus crazed yelling. The file called this one "Maximum Potential" though a comparison of lyrics between this song and a transcript of the actual song are nowhere near the same. References abound to stereotypical rap catchphrases twisted and melted down into plastic goop ("Floatin' through the ghetto like a guillotine/waitin' to come down/down on the scene/second-guessing sleaze [something] feed the flatulating [something]/you're puffin' on a blunt/YELL YELL YELL BLARGH"). The skronk and screech is nearly Sonic Youthian and it's wondrous and marvelous. Beck is a wonderful blend of goofy and furious on this, and he needs to do a whole album or at least a three-song single filled with this sort of insanity one of these days.
Dr. Dre feat. Snoop Doggy Dogg, "Nuthin' But A 'G' Thang": I hope I got the punctuation right. Snoop rhymes "bubble" with "trouble" and does not invoke the name of Pop-O-Matic so immediately I am somewhat underwhelmed by his verses here; indie rap nerd that I am I always felt that Boots Riley did the Cali blunted drawl a lot better. But Snoop manages to advocate safe sex and name-drops Dolemite before it became a cliche so I ain't gonna complain any further. That and the FONK. The FONK has been done better but only recently (see: Noise, Organized) so while I can't condone the inevitable upsurge in suburban whiteboys calling themselves pimps that this song caused ten years ago I can not resist its pull. I think it's the percussion, actually -- the minimoog action pushes things all intense, but the drumbeat is straight-up slow jam and it's nice and subtle, just the slightest feeling of head-bob to it. "Funky on the mic like an old batch of collard greens" -- I like that, too.
Mountain Brothers, "Thoroughbred": These guys are Chinese American MCs which gives them opportunities to drop some ethnic smartassery; there's a line about "giving hella divas the yellow fevers" and I love the hell out of that De La "Stakes Is High" sample, wherein "brothers from the East" takes on a whole different level. This is another hip-hop track with the FONK, this time in the form of some fat-booty wah-wah of the type that could either be an electric piano or a heavily-distorted guitar; such is the sometimes malleable and confusing nature of '70s-style musical instrumentation (which in keeping with fellow Philly types the Roots is partially live). Well, confusing to me at least. "My tracks is like Jehovah's Witnesses, always knocking" is high on my Favorite Rap Punchlines list, and Styles' line "Brainless ignoramus, don't you know our name yet?/We're the greatest, most entertaining-est/Mountain Brothers, world motherfucking famous, biiiitch!" is one of those OK-on-paper/great-on-record moments that make or break an MC. This came out in '99 or something and they need to drop some new shit soon (which I think is gonna happen if their "RE-LAUNCHING SOON" website is any indication).
The Avengers, "Paint It Black": Proto-riot-grrl Stones covers -- shit yes. The substitution of Jagger's lovelorn angst with Penelope Houston's bitter fury makes "I see the girls go by dressed in their summer clothes..." sound more like seething jealousy than blue-balled loneliness, and for a late '70s punk cover there's a surprising lack of irony and canon-smashing. Musically the most interesting touch is a surf-rock undercurrent -- while there isn't the speedfinger blaze of a Dick Dale there is the Pipeline-style timbre to it that successfully transplants a song from a gloomy England to the bitter waterfronts of San Francisco. I'm trying to think of a better Stones cover than this but nothing's happening.
Kraftwerk, "Tour De France": I stated recently on ILM that the two greatest bands were Kraftwerk and the Clash. I'm not quite sure why I chose those two, but shit, they're both great. Kraftwerk spent most of the '80s trying to figure out what to do now that the music world had caught on to the stuff they'd been doing nearly ten years previous, and this early '80s offering is probably their last great single. There's the mechanical-sounding breathing at the beginning, a reaffirmation of the classic Kraftwerk theme of man as machine, and then a marvellously intricate electro-b-boy beat tailor-made for breakdancing that seems to portend some hardcore robot funk -- but then something odd happens, as there's this melody that comes in that's baroque and delicate and gleaming with harp-style glissandos, and along with it storms in this severely bottom-heavy Bootsy-worthy slap bass. It's a breathtaking juxtaposition, and probably one of their best moments ever.
The Roots, "Proceed": I have no idea why so many hip-hop songs are coming up, I'm guessing they constitute maybe 25% of my MP3s, maybe 40% at most. But I'm not complaining. People talk about "summer jams" or whatever, hip-hop cuts that seem to go hand-in-hand with block parties and long days and late nights and humidity and drinking lots of cold beverages, and this seems like one of them despite the vaguely autumnal-sounding jazzbo electric piano. Maybe it's some sort of vague dub undercurrent with the crazy echoes all over the place and shit. The chorus is deceptively simple ("I shall (2x)/proceed(2x)/and continue(2x)/to rock the mic(2x)") and with deceptive simplicity usually comes a terminal catchiness that is difficult to extricate from my easily-influenced skull. The chorus is so integral to the song's identity that I only vaguely remember most of the other lyrics -- there's stuff about "what if you could just blink yourself away" and a pretty swank line about "records from 125th to Japan" but it all seems to wash over me unless I listen really intently. It could just be that Black Thought's flow interests me more than his lyrics, and the instrumental interests me more than the flow, and everything interests me more than Malik B's verses ("I can make Metallica and Guns' N' Roses thrash" indeed. Gah).
Cameo, "Word Up": Never before has such a goofy-ass voice sounded so damn funky. And that Morricone whistle, and that "ALL YOU SUCKA DJS WHO THINK YOU'RE FLY" line, and that horn section... word the fuck up indeed.

-Nate

Friday, August 9, 2002 -- 09:48 a.m.

The Beck show last night was entertaining as hell, if a bit disorienting -- one moment he's goofing around onstage with a toy guitar that makes cartoon drum machine sounds and sending the audience into hysterics; the next he's crouching down next to a recorder on the floor performing a beautifully mournful rendition of "Nobody's Fault But My Own". I mentioned earlier about how the man careens between comedic and straightfaced, but I didn't know how much he'd actually exhibit that during the show. He did keep the Midnite Vultures falsetto goofiness by the wayside, though -- even during a solo piano cover of "Raspberry Beret". More later.

-Nate

Wednesday, August 7, 2002 -- 09:12 p.m.

HOLY SHIT. This coulda been like my generation's answer to the Journey video game. Maybe the emulation scene will come through and I'll be able to actually PLAY this thing someday.

-Nate

Tuesday, August 6, 2002 -- 04:45 p.m.

There was an entry here that was meant to start as a list of hip-hop songs I liked, but it looked pretty stupid right out the gate. Another casualty of my attempting to push myself when the creative well is dry, I guess. But salvation might come from Josh "hahahaha Nate i will hound you on ilm 'til you die" Kortbein of all people -- his "10 exercises for music writers" list looks worth checking out and I could try and break out of my stupor with it.

-Nate

Monday, August 5, 2002 -- 10:43 p.m.

Well, I didn't count on it happening this way, but somehow my name showed up in the Village Voice. Just not on a byline.

-Nate

Monday, August 5, 2002 -- 10:13 p.m.

Just an update to let everyone know three things:
1) "Sick" did not lead to "dead"
2) ILM: "Rockist! Rockist! Rockist!" Me: "Ugh."
3) I am in the process of concocting one of those big unwieldy "collection of subjective opinions thinly disguised as a 'Best Of' list" deals. It starts tomorrow and it involves hip-hop. This may be a very bad idea.

-Nate