Loop Guru - Duniya (The Intrinsic Passion Of Mysterious Joy)

Waveform Records: 1995

Well of course I’m gonna buy more than just one act’s collection of music from Waveform this past week - it’s not called ‘splurging’ for nothing. Loop Guru’s another in a long list of acts I mean to gather more of, but never get around to doing so. Their relationship with Waveform isn’t as extensive as others, however, this here Duniya album their only offering. It’s also a re-release of the album of the same name that came out a year prior on Nation Records, a tidbit of info not so surprising since most of Waveform’s early artist albums were primarily Stateside re-releases.

Also not so surprising – at least where the ‘90s are concerned – is how this version of Duniya is quite different from the original. Whether due to licensing issues, copyright claims, or oddball label marketing, European and American copies of albums seldom matched each other, and it seems Loop Guru were no less a victim (benefactor?) of this business. Tunes Hymn and Senseless are gone, though we get a new cut, Shrine Of Sringar, in their place. Also, aside from the final run of three tracks, everything’s been re-arranged. Whether this makes for stronger album flow, I haven’t a clue, since I’ve never heard the Nation Records version of Duniya.

But to be fair, this is the first time I’ve heard the Waveform one too, so I've no basis of comparison. That said, Duniya sure reminds me of the Guru's follow-up album Amrita. Since they came out within a year of each other, some similarities would be inevitable, but this is almost down to a t', in song arrangements and track sequencing (at least the Waveform version).

This being the earlier album though, Duniya's rougher around the edges. The whole endless world-beat loop production is if full effect, but many of the beats used sound directly lifted from early '90s UK acid house, unfortunately rather dated for a '94/'95 collection of ethno-fusion tuneage. I know Loop Guru's whole shtick in those days was to invoke a tribal, meditative trance with all the repetition, but it’s difficult getting into the chakra flow with beats reminding me of EMF instead. Whatever. It's only a problem for the first few tracks anyway, after which the songcraft does get better (or sucks you in despite itself), so I guess Waveform were smart in getting the duff cuts out of the way early.

Another similarity between the two is the inclusion of an extended dub jam at the end (did Loop Guru do this for every album?). On here, it lasts whopping twenty-one-plus minutes, putting your patience for such music to its ultimate test. Geez, even Bill Laswell isn’t that indulgent. No wonder Part 4 isn’t on the original Third Chamber CD – there's no damned room for it! Tune's fine for what it is though, as is the rest of Duniya. Some of the world-beat attributes will definitely come off dated, but that’s never stopped folks from enjoying Deep Forest’s early work either.

Sounds From The Ground - Brightwhitelight

Waveform Records: 2008

I’ve been buying music from Waveform Records since the label’s earliest years, but not everything they’ve ever put out – such is life when you’re younger and without ample income or ability for online shopping. These days, however, it’s no big to splurge, and while taking a look at their latest offerings, I came to a stunning conclusion: I’ve never picked up anything by Sounds From The Ground. The London duo’s been a core act of Waveform since its earliest years, having released over half-a-dozen albums through the label along with frequent compilation duty. Why have I ignored them for so long? That’d be like buying from Ultimae Records, but bypassing everything Solar Fields related. Damn, time to rectify that oversight. I should pick up a couple- no, wait, I can afford all the albums now! Well, the ones on Waveform anyway (holy cow, have they released a lot of music).

So I'm properly all caught up on Sounds From The Ground, but due to my alphabetical restrictions, ya'll only get to read about a portion of my listening labour for now. And, unlike a proper 'chronological' retrospective, we're starting way up in the currentsies, their 2008 (and seventh) album Brightwhitelight. Huh, with a title like that, maybe it's a nod to the Moontribe parties.

Oh wait, I should explain these GroundSound guys. Comprised of Elliot Jones and Nick Woolfson, they've essentially continued the ambient dub banner seminal label Beyond pioneered, so it makes sense they'd find a home on Waveform for Stateside distribution. By the time this album came out, the duo were primarily releasing exclusive material through Waveform, which given the global reach labels could achieve in the '00s, makes good sense, keeping one's discography tidy. I guess.

Not that they haven’t done other music. Just last year they released a mostly ambient LP on their own imprint called Ready Steady Slow. Going through their Waveform output, however, I’ve noticed they haven’t changed their sound much or explored other genres beyond typical dubby downtempo and chill. Brightwhitelight’s no exception, playing about as straight your ambient dub as you’re likely to find. It’s certainly well produced and pleasing to the ears, with occasional variations (psy, lounge, etc.) keeping things from getting repetitive. It’s just… there’s nothing on this album that I haven’t heard before executed with similar competence, either from similar artists or Sounds From The Ground on previous albums. I admit I’m not giving Brightwhitelight much of an opportunity to warm itself to me, but stellar albums will always stand out no matter how many others you’re plowing through, and this one unfortunately passed by my ears with little fanfare compared to the rest of the batch I picked up.

Not the best way to warm you up to this duo, I know. Any group with a large discography has at least a couple middling albums, and this blog’s silly stipulation simply brought up one such from Sounds From The Ground’s first. Better luck on the next one, then.

Tiësto - In Search Of Sunrise 6: Ibiza (Original TC Review)

Songbird: 2007

(2013 Update:
In hindsight, writing such an overlong intro detailing my opinions of Tiësto's DJing was pointless, at least where TranceCritic was concerned. The website had been up for over two-and-a-half years and, through the other writers, our piece had pretty much been said. Of course, I couldn't resist getting in my 'official' say of the matter, but if it'd been that important, why hadn't I just done a review of a Tiësto mix CD long before this one? On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be so good an idea, considering the quality of those early-early reviews.

Most of the time I find myself enjoying these sorts of mixes more than before, but I can't say the same here. I gave CD1 pretty high praise in this review, but it didn't grab me the same way this time. Not sure why. Maybe the surprise of a strong mix from Tijs is no longer so novel? CD2's still dross though.)

IN BRIEF: The sun keeps rising.

When I mentioned a long while ago that I’d eventually have my stab Tiësto, I never thought it’d be all at once. It seems this is the year I finally have to deal with everything the Dutch icon offers the music industry. First it was his studio work, the result of which was Elements Of Life. Now it’s his DJing, courtesy of the kind-of annual In Search Of Sunrise series.

As a DJ, Mr. Verwest’s skill isn’t exactly stellar, though hardly the disgrace some would have you believe. For the most part, he is an above-average jock, with typically good track selection in his chosen field and just enough competence on the technical end to keep things grooving. However, it must be said he has an infuriating tendency to force some of his mixes, which makes him appear amateurish when compared to the technical geniuses of the profession. (I’ve heard him describe this as ‘on the edge mixing’, a term that is incredibly laughable - if this is stellar DJing, then I could have been a DMC champion when making mix tapes with CD players lacking pitch control) Mind, it isn’t a completely damning trait, but certainly enough to raise the eyebrows of those who aren’t swept up by his ultra-hype machine.

Anyhow, let’s not dwell on this. Rather, let us look at what his latest attempt to find that ever-elusive sunrise offers us.

In choosing the location to be featured for this edition, Tiësto has scoured the globe for potential sunny lands. After much deliberation and thought, he settled on the completely unpredictable island of Kerguelen. No, just kidding. It’s Ibiza, which while a cliché choice is nonetheless a suitable one for an end-of-summer mix. You can’t beat tapping into the blissful Mediterranean atmosphere to re-capture warmth as the long cold of winter sets in. Rumor has it he specifically chose the vacation island as a means to rekindle his inspiration for DJ mixes. Has it, then? Let’s stick them CDs into the player to find out.

As usual, we start with the first disc. Straight-up, I’ll say this is the best commercial set I’ve heard from Mr. Verwest in quite some time, easily since Nyana’s Indoor CD. Tijs nails the Ibizan atmosphere right out of the gate, with gentle waves lapping at the beach while calming tones and pleasant synths emerge. From there, a nifty sequence of Balearic grooves, melodies, and vocals create an upward climb of dance music delights. And the mixing? Well, he telegraphs a number of them, but they hardly hinder from the overall atmosphere created. As for the actual tracks themselves, they’re a classy bunch, mostly on a housey tip with sprinklings of prog for good measure.

And worry not about all the lyrics, as none of them come loaded with the sentimental pap his peers seem to inject their sets with. Yes, they’re mostly about love, and the last bunch are unapologetically girly, but they are delivered in such a manner that is nonetheless pleasing to the ear. In fact, some of them are quite exhilarating; Ohmna’s The Sun’ll Shine, for instance. With a rhythm that could carry the track on its own (that bassline!), the energy in this tune is cranked further with a vocal that completely steals the show. Throw in a properly utilized breakdown at the climax of the song, and you have a clear highlight of this disc.

A point of contention though: Tiësto seems at a loss on how to segue his mix into the final sequence of mellow vocal tunes. Granted, Moonbeam’s offering is relatively subdued coming off of The Sun’ll Shine, but it’s still a rather bumping track, and makes for a questionable choice to lead into Somewhere Inside Of Me. The two don’t match at all, and the transition is jarringly abrupt.

Nitpicks aside, Mr. Verwest’s first disc is a definite keeper. Wish I could say the same about the second disc though.

Somewhere in there is half a CD’s worth of a decent prog trance set. Marzenit, Cloud, and Levi bring solid offerings, while Rio, Deadmau5, and Schössow deliver intriguing quirkiness with their tracks. And Tiësto’s own Dancing Water (as Jedidja) is a fun bit of nostalgia despite a cornball melody towards the end. Unfortunately, it also seems Tiësto had a bunch of tracks he really wanted to use for the first disc but couldn’t fit, so he hodge-podges them into here as best he can. The result is a mix that is quite erratic compared to the first.

And frankly, some of them aren’t even any good. Chief among these culprits are the inclusions of trite vocal cuts Falling and Imagination (is it just me, or is the industry trying to groom JES to be the next Jan Johnston?) and plodding nu-electro numbers Don’t Speak and Falling (yes, again; it really is an awful track). And then there is Nic Chagall, once again bringing the worst habits of his hard trance past (ridiculously long breakdowns and builds; grating siren-like hooks), slowing it down, and trying to pass it off as prog. Yeesh.

There’s been some debate over whether the In Search Of Sunrise series would benefit more by returning to a single-disc format, as the previous double-disc efforts have had a feeling of unnecessary bloated excess. I find this to be the case once again, although for a different reason: the inclusion of the second set diminishes the presentation of the whole. As a stand-alone, the first is a winner, and would have made for a lovely release under the Tiësto banner. However, it has this unruly messy sibling tagging along that, while at times entertaining, is lacking the kind of charisma that makes you want to hear it again (save for the generous use of a ‘track skip’ feature on your player).

Despite this, I still give Mr. Verwest’s excursion to Ibiza a strong recommendation. Eh? You find this surprising? Is it because of the more venomous things I’ve said about him in the past? True, I may not have much regard for the traveling circus he calls a concert, but that’s beside the point. I’m here to judge this here product, and by gum it’s pretty good. In Search Of Sunrise 6 probably won’t convert his staunchest critics, but those yearning for a return to form after the disappointing Elements Of Life will certainly enjoy.

Tiësto - In Search Of Sunrise 2

Songbird: 2000

I knew almost nothing about Tiësto way back in 2004, beyond a few class remixes and that he was ridiculously popular among the trancecrackers of the world. I’d moved on from trance as the new millennium took form, so all his accolades didn’t matter much to yours truly. Unfortunately, that’s an incredibly ignorant stance to take when you’ve been brought on as a writer and editor for a burgeoning website called TranceCritic. Shit, son, ya’ll better get caught up to speed on this Tijs Verwest fella’ in a hurry, and what better way than to buy the DJ mix CD that tends to top fans’ favorites lists. Alright, fine, it can’t be all that bad. I mean, it was released in the year 2000, when the genre still had good material being cranked out along all the Dutch cheddar. There… won’t be much of the cheese here, will there…?

Nope. The In Search Of Sunrise series was meant to showcase a mellower, Balearic side to Tiësto’s DJing, and this second volume has that in spades, so no room for über-anthems here. The opening run of tracks are about as fine a collection of summery, breezy tunes as one could hope for, including Summerbreeze from the Tijs and Benno de Goeij pairing of Kamaya Painters. Rui da Silva’s overplayed Touch Me follows it, but it wasn’t overplayed when ISOS2 came out, so, um, fair play?

Things go wonk after that, the mix from Touch Me into Salt Tank’s Eugina just abysmal, a horrible clashing of genres despite keeping the Balearic tone. Whatever, the tune’s mint and such a rough transition’s easily forgotten. After that though… God, it’s that stupid, pointless vocal mix of Cass & Slide’s Perception. I’ll admit I’m hopelessly biased against it since I heard the original instrumental on Sasha’s GU13, and by slapping some useless singing from Naimee Coleman overtop, it reeks of desperate commercial pandering (doesn’t help matters it was done without Cass & Slide’s consent). Oddly, I don’t hate the vocal version either, as I find the singing easy to ignore, my brain almost subconsciously tricking me into thinking it’s the original version. Funny how that lump o’ gray matter can do that.

From there the mix goes through various offerings of progressive trance – including more vocals that at least aren’t so useless as the ones in Perception - that anyone familiar Oakenfold’s output of the same time will have heard. Tracks like Mekka’s Diamondback, Fortress’ An Angel Saved My Life, Breeder’s Tyrantanic, and Max Graham’s Airtight all make the cut, and while undoubtedly sounded great brand new, most have seen duty elsewhere plenty times since, and ISOS2 doesn’t do much to elevate them from the glut.

In fact, wait a moment… *checks previous reviews* Well I’ll be damned, Max Graham literally used three of the same tracks for his Cream CD2, in almost the same order! Both mixes also came out around the same time too. Quite a coincidence, if you believe in such things.

Various - Impulsive! Revolutionary Jazz Reworked

Verve Records: 2005

It’s been one year since I started this blog up again, and I've ducked, dodged, and weaved away from this beast of a genre. Now, I must deal with one of the most daunting scenes of music for any rookie to delve into: jazz. Not acid jazz or dance-jazz or nu-jazz or sampled-jazz; no, nothing so easily tied to the forms of music I'm most familiar with. This is full-blooded, one-hundred percent, straight from the smokey recesses of inner-city habitats jazz. John Coltrane's here! Dizzy Gillespe's here! Chico Hamilton's here! Pharoa Sanders is here! Archie Shepp's here! Still with me on this? 'Cause I'm already lost on some of these names.

I don't mind jazz, but I can't claim to knowing more than the cliff's notes version of its long, long, long history. It's a scene where you're either all-in, or barely dipping your toes. To do that, I'd have to become a Jazz Guy, but I'm not ready for that kind of commitment. I'd have to dress different, act different (all other music's inferior); I'd have to grow a moustache and get all kinds of fedoras and wines. I'd have to get new furniture and 'art' for the walls and mood lighting. I'd have to get new friends, new Jazz Friends. No, I'm not ready for it.

Fortunately, we have handy bluffer’s compilations to get a taste of that action without going all the way in. This here Impulsive! Revolutionary Jazz Reworked is one such collection, several contemporary electronic acts having their chance at remixing classic cuts from the groundbreaking label, Impulse! Records. Establishing itself in the early ‘60s, and with John Coltrane leading the charge, it was instrumental in popularizing the free jazz movement from which I shall stop talking about its history because I really, really don’t know more than what Wikipedia tells me nor do I care and is this freeform method writing cool-daddy enough for ya’? Argh, all this jazz, man, it gets in the head.

So we have Kid Koala, Chief Xcel of Blackalicious, RZA, and others giving modern takes on classic urban stylee jazz numbers. For the most part, it puts the music closer to the acid jazz camp clubbers will be familiar with. Others go more for the hip-hop flavour (Prefuse 73’s go on Gabor Szabo’s Mizrab is almost glitch) and Teflon Tel-Aviv turn Oliver Nelson’s Stolen Moments into something out of a Hybrid interlude. A solid gathering of reworkings all round, and perfectly safe listening for those who feel Ninja Tune’s the extent they’re willing to indulge jazz music in.

But, if you’re feeling more daring, this here 2CD copy has the original cuts on the second disc, all in the same order as their remixed counterparts on disc one. Now you can compare and see if these updates do the classics justice. Let’s hear how first track, George Russell’s A Helluva Town, sounded. *couple minutes pass* Oh my God, that drum solo! That’s awesome! No, must... resist... becoming... Jazz... Guy...

Solieb - Impersonator

Maschine: 2006

Screw all those trance pansies, ignoring a great album like The Hive in favour of the latest Dutch monstrosity. Time to take your work back underground, Lieb, away from the limelight and expectation of the mainstream clubbing consciousness. New label, strictly vinyl, no hype. Or, y'know, just hop on the trendy minimalist techno bandwagon, since it's a style of music you've yet to explore much of. Yeah, challenge the muse! Whatever excuse for this change of direction you want to go with.

The Solieb project was more than just a departure in music for ol’ Oliver: it also marked the start of going into business for himself, establishing his own Maschine imprint through which he released music under the new moniker. It was a bold step, in that he no longer could rely on larger labels to do the heavy promotions for him. Judging by how much the Solieb stuff got licensed out compared to L.S.G. or Spicelab, it doesn’t appear he was as concerned with that aspect of label running. Surely the good graces of name recognition alone would propel him to success. Eh...

Look, I can’t blame Lieb for wanting to make serious techno musics after so long of wading through the oceans of trance, but everyone was making serious techno musics in the mid-‘00s (yay hypberbole!). Why not try house music? Or jungle? Maybe even acid jazz! Could that German heritage of his just not help it, eager to show all these new producers what real machine music was capable of, from a native of the nation that invented machine music? Fair enough, but man, this better be some next-level shit if you’re gonna stand out from all the Hawtin wannabes.

Oh, wait, the Solieb stuff was only released on vinyl. I don’t collect vinyl. Dammit, Oliver, you’re not only challenging my dedicated consumption of your craft, but now forcing me down the internet backroads to procure it? Why are you making it so difficult for me to like this new project? How about some sort of ‘collected works’ CD option? If even that wacky Ricky D. James guy did it for his Analord series, surely something similar can be done for the Solieb stuff. Okay, enough grumbling over catering to my selfish needs. It’s time to listen to a bunch of your serious techno musics.

As chance would have it, a pair of tracks I ‘acquired’ made up the Impersonator EP, released when Solieb was gaining enough steam for folks to finally take notice (“Wait, it’s that Netherworld guy?” “Uh, yeah, name’s a dead giveaway.”). The titular A-side is quite a bangin’ bit of techno, with plenty of polyrhythmic percussion, noisy synths, and messy sound effects that has ‘peak hour’ square in its sights. I likes. The B-side, Stay High, plays up the trendier side of techno in ’06, with a shufflin’ tech-house groove and random squelchy noises. It’s... not so interesting. Wow, who’d have thought all that ‘forward-thinking minimal techno’ would sound dated already?

Raekwon - Immobilarity

Sony Music Entertainment (Canada): 1999

It all starts somewhere, and for yours truly, Raekwon’s Immobilarity was the one that got me taking hip-hop seriously. For sure stronger albums that could have done the trick existed (including, of course, Raekwon’s first album, Only Built For Cuban Linx), but by and large I regarded the world of rap music as something rather gimmicky. The biggest hits were typically crossover party jams, and the stuff my peers played to piss off our parents over-glamorized gangsta tropes and sexual misogyny to the point of ridiculousness. Thank God The RZA Hits came along when it did, shoving some musical knowledge into my ears in the process. While it clued me into the ‘musical’ potential of the genre, soon I wised onto the ‘intellectual’ potential too.

Raekwon’s sophomore effort dropped about the same time as The RZA Hits, and, eager to quickly consume more Wu, I checked it out, promptly blown away yet again. This wasn’t some cliché ridden gangsta bullshit; rather, something far more mature in tone and concept was going on, painting an elaborate story of established criminals trying to survive in an ever-changing game. Immobilarity was hardly the first hip-hop album to do this, but it was the first that I properly heard.

Raekwon’s debut had the benefit of the Wu still being something of the streets, thus their tales of criminology still had a degree of honesty to them. In the four years following it, however, the group had conquered the globe, and it just didn’t make sense to still rap about roughin’ it to get by. They were made-men now, so to take the concept of ‘criminology raps’ to the next level (not to mention distance themselves from all the copy-cats), Raekwon changed the concept of Wu-gambinos to reflect that. They’re at the top now (or very near it), and they have to protect what’s theirs from all the up-and-coming hustlers. Maybe even find a way out of the game altogether, if the opportunity arises. If Cuban Linx could be considered a Scarface tribute, then Immobilarity is Godfather.

That could have made for an incredible album, if not for weighty expectations holding it down: heads only wanting Cuban Linx, Pt. 2, and RZA’s absence in the producer’s chair. Instead, we get a slew of relatively unknowns (sans Pete Rock) using rather cheap-sounding drum kits coupled with loops of heavily synthesized Mediterranean music (especially Chris Spheeris). Maybe it’s my Italian heritage, but I love hearing these loops, perfectly complementing Raekwon’s crime stories, but I can understand why others would dismiss Immobilarity on these ground, at least back in the day.

Now that hindsight’s clued folks up that RZA wouldn’t be on every Wu release (and we did get Cuban Linx, Pt. 2), folks have since softened on this album. Problems remain that keep it from being a hidden gem in the Wu discography (too much filler in the end; the beats still lack), but Immobilarity’s a worthy pick-up if you prefer your hip-hop having sophistication and class.

BT - 今 Ima

Reprise Records: 1996

Ha ha, neener neener! For once, those of us on the west side of the Atlantic got a superior version of a major electronic album. Suffer, all you Europeans, with your single-CD version of BT's debut album Ima, and bask in our glorious 2CD edition. Not only does this re-release contain all the original's tracks and the Sasha mini-mix, but also extra remixes, b-sides, and that Tori Amos collaboration everyone over here went monkey-poop over. Yes, yes, I feel that envy, that glorious- huh? What do you mean you can simply order it online? What is this, man – like, the future? Why am I talking like it's 1996, duuddee?

Seriously though, Ima's an album that is hopelessly dated to the era it came from. Hell, some of it sounded dated even by mid-'90s standards, with 'Balearic' sounds that 808 State left to the bin years prior. Meanwhile, whatever the heck ‘epic house’ was, it only lasted for that brief period of time, producers soon moving onto other forms of prog as the new hotness (gotta keep progressin’, after all). So while Ima had quite a bit going for it when it came out, if you’re one of those cats that can’t stand anything firmly rooted in the ‘90s, you may want to stay away.

Oh, you’re still here? Ah, I get it. You discovered BT long after this came out, and all his long-time fans proclaim Ima as Mr. Transeau’s best album front-to-back. It’s the one you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a BT fan, a shining example of the musical craft he’s capable of, many times after put to great use or utterly squandered in equal share. What sets Ima apart from most of his later efforts is the relatively narrow scope of genre he explores. Balearic, epic, progressive, acid, psychedelic... whatever, dude, it’s just house music; a little trance too.

For my money, the bangin’ tracks like Quark, Tripping The Light Fantastic, Poseidon, Embracing The Sunshine, and Divinity are where it’s at, but that’s because I loves me some gnarly TB-303 workouts, which BT displays an expert use of. It even helps elevate the cornier moments in Embracing and Divinity, the uplifting piano refrains, guitar strums, woodwinds, strings and nature sound effects given extra heft (and keeping them firmly out of tepid ‘dream house’ territory). The other tunes are fine as well, though with more vocals so if you just can’t stand those, maybe- oh, wait, this is early-early BT, where he doesn’t sing at all. Carry on, then. (gotta say though, hearing Tori Amos endlessly repeat “blue skies” grates after a while)

Ultimately, the funny thing about Ima is that, for a BT album, it doesn’t really feel like a BT album, not anymore. His muse has wandered in so many bizarre, brilliant and crap ways since, that compiling a straight-forward dance long-player just doesn’t seem like him. Given Ima’s status among many, however, maybe he should do that again someday.

Nas - Illmatic

Columbia: 1994

The only Nas album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a Nas fan. That’s what everyone will tell you, and given his storied career, that’s some incredible praise to be had for Illmatic. So like any good hip-hop head, you go and get the CD or vinyl (no MP3 cheating, son!), throw it on, and think, “Yeah, this some good shit, back when hip-hop was best. Lovin’ those Eastcoast beats. Damn fine lyrics, Nas. This truly is illmatic and- what, it’s already done? That’s it!?”

‘Tis true, one of the most essential hip-hop albums of the ‘90s is also one of the shortest, clocking in at under forty minutes of your time, including a near two minute intro. And once It Ain’t Hard To Tell fades off, you’re left hanging, hungry for more. Illmatic’s almost calculated in its succinctness, building hype for the next release with just a teaser, a taste of what Mr. Nasir Jones could bring to the table (as if live freestyles around New York weren’t already enough). Most rappers these days have to generate such hype by way of the mixtape circuit, and here’s Nas doing it as a proper debut.

I can’t say it’s worked for me, though, as Nas in general hasn’t interested me much beyond respecting nods on the tracks I’ve heard him guest-verse. This is going to sound totally lame on my part, but even though ol’ Nasir’s main strength’s long been considered his lyrics, he has a voice and flow I find boring and un-dynamic. Just because his style is more a storyteller than a hype man doesn’t mean he couldn’t show more enthusiasm. Maybe his albums have him showing more passion, but if Illmatic is considered his best, I’m kind of doubting it, as he exhibits the same flow here as I’ve heard everywhere else.

Whatever. I’m a twat for thinking this way about Nas, but along with the laid-back jazzy vibes this album holds, his flow is appropriate. I couldn’t think those piano loops on The World Of Yours, organ licks on Memory Lane, xylophone plinks of One Love, or mix-up of everything in N.Y. State Of Mind working any better if Nas was shouting a bunch over them. There’s definitely urgency in his voice as he narrates his tales – street hustling, recollections of youth, or prophesying the future; the topics covered are generally what you’d expect of Eastcoast rap – so he will keep your attention. It’s just, damn, them backing tracks are mint. Dealing drugs, are ya’ (One Time 4 Your Mind)? That’s nice, Nas, but let me focus on that dope bassline some more. Yeah, that’s the stuff.

Okay, this review’s been lacking, I admit it. Illmatic deserves its classic status, but I’m the last person to tell you since I’m just parroting the narrative. To give a more informed opinion of it, I’d have to digest ten more of Nas' albums. And, well… yeah.

Beastie Boys - Ill Communication

EMI Music Canada: 1994

The Beastie Boys had been in the music business nearly a decade by the time Ill Communication hit the streets, utterly thriving in the world of hip-hop where a three-piece whiteboy posse should have miserably failed. Still, ten years is more than enough time for the rap game to see change, and much had in their region: Eastcoast-Westcoast rivalries heating up, gangsta rap emerging as the new hotness, and fresh New York-based upstarts like Wu-Tang Clan, Nas, and Notorious B.I.G. challenging the old guard. And what's with this DJ Premier guy, sampling all these jazzy loops as a counter to the g-funk of the left side of America? Well shit, son, the Beasties are actual musicians. If that’s the way things are going, why not forget drum machines and raiding the past for samples? Start making your own original jams. Ain't no one doing that in hip-hop, is there? (Guru, but whatever)

And that’s what they did done. Throughout this album, you get funky Big Apple jazz licks galore, nearly a third of which are pure instrumentals. What is this, a blaxploitation soundtrack? Nah, guy, but it’s definitely a throw-back of sorts to the music the Boys undoubtedly grew up surrounded by in the ‘70s. The cheesy cop caper video for Sabotage was hardly a one-off fancy on their part; rather, part of a larger whole that is the homage to that era.

The Beastie Boys don’t let the b-boy antics fall by the wayside though. Root Down, Sure Shot, Freak Freak, and Alright Hear This find them as sharp as ever, with beats – whether sampled or played live by Mike D – keeping the boom-bap ever fresh. The star, however, has to be Get It Together featuring Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest, a perfect meeting ground of old and (then) new Eastcoast hip-hop. The Boys were clued into what was shaking up within the Five Boroughs, even if their music didn’t always reflect it.

Yet, with all these positives, Ill Communication tends to get overlooked when discussion of Beastie Boys albums comes up. About all most folks know of it is that Sabotage is the big tune (wedged between Root Down and Get It Together no less, for an excellent string of tracks!), which is unfortunate but understandable. As the Beasties had entered that ‘experimental’ stage most long-running music groups go through, there’s ample genres indulged in here. Second track Tough Guy is a pure punk freakout, and while Sabotage oozes thrash rock too, going that far off the hip-hop road must of turned some heads away. Or what about the Bhudda chant funk-jam fusion of Shambala, delved even further in follow-up Bodhisattva Vow? Who do the Beasties think they are, Banco de Gaia? Darn Tibeten muses.

As such, the musical explorations renders Ill Communication somewhat lower on the “Repeated Play-Through” totem for most. It’s still an essential part of any fan’s collection though, so if you haven’t done got on this yet, then go get her done.