Blackalicious “Shallow Days” Nia Quannum 2000

When was the last time you listened to Oakland duo Blackalicious? I rarely see them mentioned ’round these internets, and for me, it’s admittedly been quite a while since I’ve even given them thought. Gift of Gab is one of those MCs, like Black Thought from The Roots, whose delivery, cadence, and articulation are nothing shy of amazing, but sixteen bars later I’m struggling to stay awake. After probably dozens of listens to their debut full-length Nia (2000), I’m still hard-pressed to come up with one memorable line from the dude; fortunately, Chief Xcel’s colorful production on the record still manages to engage me. I gave Blazing Arrow (2002) a few spins when it was released then promptly forgot about it, and didn’t even bother with The Craft (2005), but Nia isn’t a bad record, despite its near-agonizing length and stale ‘conscious rap’ ethos.

“Shallow Days” remains my favorite cut on the album, as Gab takes a break from hyperactive lyrical dexterity and dissecting the first seven letters of the alphabet to ruminate on the state of hip hop, its influence on today’s youth, and the struggles of the young Black man in the ghetto. Nothing new, of course, although the way Gab narrates a conversation with a “misled” brother during the first and second verses is impressive, and in the third he discusses the state of hip hop in the wake of Afrocentricity and gangsta rap’s effect on children, who are “seeing more drama than war veterans.” Xcel repeats a two-bar loop of phased guitar and congas underneath a somewhat forceful drum pattern, which he then supplements with some psychedelic sound effects and a breezy trumpet during the chorus. Like much of Nia, this sounds fantastic on a stifling hot summer afternoon, as reality is distorted under a blanket of humidity.

“Shallow Days” – Blackalicious 4:20 (Nia, Quannum 2000)

Apologies, dear reader, for the lack of posts recently; my best excuse is the usual work overload and weekend wedding in Ohio that tend to interrupt my already-irregular posting schedule here. Recently I’ve experienced a spike in emails regarding my means of uploading audio and mixes to the site, likely the result of posting a picture of my “media sanctuary” a few weeks ago. I thought I’d forgo the usual song autopsy or artist feature and take a moment to explain the various technical means which assist my anal-retentive micromanaging of the site. A bit of a drag, yes, but a necessary one, and I have to acknowledge the demographic of tech-geeks that visit on occasion somehow. This one’s for you, fellas.

Early last year I splurged on two new turntables and a mixer all at once, and since I had a limited budget, I decided to invest most of the money on a quality mixer and spend the remainder on average turntables. I haven’t regretted it since. My setup consists of two Numark TT-200 direct drive turntables and a Numark 5000FX five-channel mixer. The turntables are decent and fairly priced, my chief complaints being the sensitivity of the pitch faders and the occasional skipping. I’ve heard that the motor begins to wear after a few hours of scratching, but since I really only use mine for mixing, it’s never been a problem. The 5000FX, however, is the jewel of my setup; I can’t imagine ever having to ‘upgrade’ to a better mixer as long as it’s still functioning. Five channels, two of which I never use (better to have them just in case), a digital bpm counter that is remarkably precise, an effects processor, and a 30-second loop sampler are just a few of its features that I’ve managed to figure out. What really impressed me, actually, was the addition of a 1/8″ headphone out to supplement the regular 1/4″ out – a subtle touch of logic that sold me instantly. I don’t want to sound too much like a rabid product endorsement, but if you’re looking for the mixer to trump all other mixers, it has my highest recommendation.

The Numark turntables and mixer are then routed to yet another mixer, a Behringer Eurorack UB802 eight-channel mixer that does only one thing: take the left and right channels from the Numark mixer and run them in stereo to my speakers and PowerBook. This thing is proof positive that, in some cases, you really don’t need to spend a small fortune for high-quality gear; I couldn’t have dropped more than $60 on it. The preamps are powerful as hell, there is absolutely no noise at all whatsoever (absolutely crucial), and it fits snugly on my bottom shelf. I completely take it for granted, but hell, if it broke, I’d just buy another one without thought. For playback, I have a pair of KRK V4 powered professional studio monitors that I’ve owned for years now. In a word: amazing, although I wouldn’t expect someone to fork over $500 at the drop of a hat for a pair of these. I will say this, though: it is absolutely unacceptable to listen to music from those tinny laptop speakers. Head over to Radio Shack, buy a few cables, and hook something up through your stereo, or invest in a nice pair of headphones, something.

When it comes to digital recording and wave editing, everyone has their own preference, but I’ve been using Peak for years and see no need to change. With Peak I can do virtually anything to an audio file, but for purposes here, I really only use it to adjust the volume of a track, maybe add a fade out, sparkle it up with a trace of EQ’ing, and that’s about it. My version of Peak (v4.01) has the random bug or two, but I’ve learned to predict them somewhat, and its positives far outweigh the negatives. If you’re looking for something cheaper, I’ve heard good things about freeware like Audacity, but I have little experience with it and am a bit wary about free software on principle. If I need to work with more than one stereo track or want to crossfade selections, I again turn to another one of Bias’ products, Deck, which is still in its formative stages as far as I’m concerned. In this case, you get what you pay for, and while it’s certainly no ProTools or Logic, it’s acceptable in doing what I need it to do.

Once I have a cleaned-up audio file from a vinyl source, I then import it into iTunes to convert it to an .mp3 for uploading. I encode all tracks at 112 kbps, which I feel is enough fidelity to sample and enjoy, yet isn’t crystalline enough to have the RIAA pounding down my front door. Plenty of heads claim that they can’t tell a difference between 112 and 192 kbps, but to me they’re like night and day, and my ears are shot from years of playing and listening to music. My FTP client is unimaginatively called Transmit, and I actually purchased it for $30 after making the most out of repeated time-limited trial versions. Nothing too exciting there.

For the music notation examples, I reluctantly use Finale; I believe mine is the 2004 version. I have a sort of love/hate relationship with it, constantly cursing its backward procedures while secretly understanding its logic. It’s probably the only software I’ve owned for five years that still has me reaching for the tutorials manual every other minute. Once I’ve typed in the notation, I usually take a screen snapshot, open it with Photoshop, and modify it to incorporate it as an image on the site. It would probably be easier to save the notation file as a .pdf, but Finale is a pain in the ass like that.

Finally, this site is ‘powered’ by WordPress, which I should probably advertise on here somewhere, but never seem to get around to it. Again, no problems at all whatsoever, although I’ve never upgraded for fear of a total site meltdown – if it ain’t broke, right?

If anyone has any recommendations or alternatives to the above, I’d love to hear about them. Regular entries will resume very soon, promise.

By the mid-’70s, vibraphonist and bandleader Roy Ayers had effectively ostracized himself from the jazz community, his remaining support diminished entirely by his move from fusion-inflected funk to disco. While 1976 saw his biggest hit to date, the timeless “Everybody Loves the Sunshine,” Ayers knew that he needed a quick follow-up to sustain his momentum. He set his sights squarely on the disco crowd and hit his mark with “Running Away,” a massive club hit that proved to be one of the most popular singles of his career. Unfortunately, the full-length that accompanied its release, the mostly forgettable Lifeline (1977), didn’t wade in the same pool of ingenuity as its lead single, and Ayers quickly moved on to prepare his next dancefloor smash, 1978’s “Sweet Tears.” Those familiar with the truncated edition of “Running Away” included on Lifeline only got half of the story, as the extended 12″ version is quite simply one of the most incredible pieces of music ever recorded.

The track opens with a one-bar fill from drummer John Mosley before diving right into the groove that will provide the foundation for every additional element of the arrangement; indeed, it does not change for the entire seven-minute duration of the song. Immediately, one is confronted with one of the most infectiously funky basslines ever committed to tape, a flighty two-bar exposition by bassist William Allen that is much more difficult to execute cleanly than it sounds:

Allen thumps out the root note of Eb on the downbeat before jumping up a flatted tenth to begin his nimble descent to Ab in the subsequent bar. He performs a quick octave leap for decoration, anticipates the Bb just shy of the third beat, then teases with the root just before the pattern repeats itself. With all of the activity and syncopation, it’s almost difficult to believe that Allen is merely elaborating on a simple I - IV - V progression. His bass tone is as critical as his line, a monitory growl that’s just slightly dry, but not quite trebly enough to fuzz up the lower frequencies during the second bar. This pattern is repeated, without any fills or variation whatsoever, for the entirety of the track. I’ve heard scores of phenomenal basslines in my day, but this has to be one of the top five in my book. It’s utterly, unbelievably brilliant.

With all of the busyness in the bass, the other members of the rhythm section are freed up to support its dominance. The drum pattern is a basic disco beat with minor variations on the snare and hi-hat, while the guitar is content to rapidly strum out a series of thin chords, its tone supplemented by a wah-wah pedal. A conga pattern can also be detected in the right channel, a sprightly Latin flavor that benefits the track immensely.

After four bars of establishing the groove, the first of many vocal chants enters with the song’s mantra: “Do-be-doo, run run run.” Hand claps on the second and fourth beats also make an appearance, adding an almost surprising buoyancy to the rhythm. The first lyrics enter at 0:44, sung by a predominantly female chorus, and describe a one-sided relationship: “‘Cause you’ve been mean to me, and I’ve been good to you, and I’ve been oh so true.” The content is secondary to the rhythm of the words, the way the syllables edge into the groove in a polyrhythmic fashion. Ayers begins to sing at 1:33, but his cycle of silence every two bars gives the impression of confused, half-completed thoughts, those of a man unable to comprehend the reasons of a failing relationship. At 2:24 the chorus returns, and Ayers chants mournfully in the background: “I’m running away.”

The lone notable distinction between the album and club versions occurs at 2:48, where the album cut would have begun to fade out. The guitar drops out and a shimmering Fender Rhodes enters, augmented by a massive dose of tremelo, to start a sequence of gorgeous chords that are less about harmonic substance than thick splashes of color to add to the mix. Ayers begins his vibraphone solo at 3:20, somewhat passively at first, then increasing in confidence and versatility. At 4:20 the guitar returns, and it’s almost startling how critical its role is after exposure to its absence. The vocals then layer themselves on top of each other for the ecstatic climax, a dense web of “doo-be-doo”s, “running away,” and “hey!”s that ricochet and echo off each other, increasing in intensity as they overlap. As the track fades abruptly its potency has long been released, and anyone could be forgiven for placing the needle back on the lip of the record to begin the dance again.

“Running Away (12” Version)” – Roy Ayers 6:58 (Lifeline, Polydor 1977)

The Sea and Cake “Transparent” Everybody Thrill Jockey 2007

Record label pre-orders are a beautiful thing. In addition to the extra sundries like promotional posters and bonus discs that are thrown in, the upcoming release oftentimes arrives the Monday before the scheduled street date, imbuing the recipient with a momentary sense of V.I.P. exclusiveness. With Chicago quartet The Sea and Cake, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Everybody (2007) was released this past Tuesday with the usual quiet celebration that accompanies each new record by the band, and the response has been generally positive, though far from overwhelming; then again, kids don’t exactly wait in lines around the block to pick up the new hotness from the group. If you’ve never been a fan of The Sea and Cake, Everybody probably won’t change your mind. However, for longtimers such as myself, it’s another extraordinary chapter in the history of this enormously talented and phenomenally underrated band, and sure to be one of the finest releases of 2007.

When I interviewed bassist Eric Claridge back in March, he said they “wanted the record to sound like four people just playing in a room.” Other than the veritable dearth of electronics that had become such a key element to their sound over the past ten years, not much has changed. Vocalist Sam Prekop still coos wispily over Archer Prewitt’s thoughtful guitar interjections, while Claridge’s nimble basslines and John McEntire’s fluid drumming lock wonderfully into elastic grooves. Everybody is not what you’d play while getting ready for a night at the club, nor will it sound great thumping out of trunk speakers during an evening of cruising around town. It’s a record of delicate subtleties, best appreciated on a warm Sunday afternoon or to accompany moments of quiet introspection. Album closer “Transparent” best establishes the overall feel of Everybody and is the band’s best finale since “Do Now Fairly Well” from The Fawn (1997), floating along an unhurried 6/8 and featuring the talents of Ken Champion’s pedal steel, an elegant touch. It’s almost shocking how absolutely lovely this is. Sit back, take a deep breath, and let its sound envelop you.

“Transparent” – The Sea and Cake 4:47 (Everybody, Thrill Jockey 2007)

When I received the Living in Harmony (2007) mixtape from Philadelphia’s Clean Guns last month, I would have never expected that I’d be listening to it on more or less a daily basis for weeks afterward. I reviewed it recently and can confidently re-establish that it really is that good; this is also coming from someone who rarely ever gets excited by mixtapes. The group’s own Zilla Rocca, aka Rap Jack Bauer, has been a frequent presence ’round these internets as of late, but the guy has a marketing strategy that I can get down with: rather than bombard the blogs with flashy promotional flyers and links, he drops insightful and articulate comments that reveal his love for hip hop over anything else. Fresh from 33 Jones interviewed Zilla recently about the new mixtape and Clean Guns’ own label, Beat Garden Entertainment, but I wanted to get his thoughts on the creative process of writing lyrics and constructing beats, which he was more than happy to oblige.

FWM: What is your earliest memory of being affected by hip hop?

ZR: I was first really affected by hip hop when I heard “Method Man” by Wu-Tang. I used to rock that album on cassette every day to grade school but would always fast forward to “Method Man” at some point. I remember feeling like I needed more songs like that; it grabbed me by the throat and didn’t let go until the song ended. The whole Wu album was like that, and I became a diehard fan of theirs to this day. After “Method Man,” I was hooked to hip hop forever as a fan and I probably would’ve stayed just a fan if Nico didn’t start writing, because I honestly didn’t think I could ever be in the same “profession” as Method Man or Biggie or Nas.

FWM: Both you and Nico have known each other for years. When did you begin writing and working together?

ZR: We started at 14 or 15 years old, just writing verses on our own, then calling each other and being like “Yo, listen to this!!?!” We still do that to this day a lot. Then we’d take our raps, get some instrumentals, and go to his sister Janette’s room to record on her karaoke machine – that was our “studio.” Some of the first beats we got on was “Paparazzi” by Xzibit, “Wu Renegades” by Killarmy, “I’m the King” by Royce da 5′9′, and “Bad Meets Evil” Eminem & Royce. We were wack as shit, too!

FWM: Lyrically, your influences are all over the map: I hear a lot of Ghostface, as well as Gift of Gab from Blackalicious, believe it or not. Who are some other emcees, past or present, that inspire you?

ZR: My dream team starting five of MCs is Andre 3000, Nas, Ghostface, Aesop Rock and Common. And Jay-Z, Mos Def, Black Thought, and Brother Ali are off the bench. I used to really study Inspectah Deck when I started writing – no one in Wu-Tang writes a better straight 16 front to back as consistently as him. But everyone I listen to to this day, I take a small piece from them somehow. I’m constantly picking out small traits, whether it be their inflection, flow, rhyme scheme, phrasing, or pauses in between words, and I’ve been doing this for about 10 years. Right now, my dudes are Sean Price, Joell Ortiz and J Dilla – Dilla really knew how to make a beat his own from an MC standpoint. I could list a thousand other MCs and what I’ve taken from their style, piece by piece, but that’s a whole ‘nother interview in itself.

FWM: Do you write on a regular basis as part of your daily routine (for example, in the morning before work, or late at night), or is it pretty much when the inspiration hits (á la Kool G Rap, e.g. “write rhymes in the shower”)? Do you have to have a beat to write to?

ZR: I’m definitely an MC who writes when inspiration hits. And 95% of the time, I need a beat to write to. I can go three weeks without writing anything and then over a four-day span, knock out a 100 bars. I’ve realized that I can’t control inspiration, I can only ride it out when it hits. Otherwise, I’m just wasting ink. I’ve written full songs at 8:45 AM at my job, at 3:00 AM in my room, and in the studio going back and forth with Nico for a couple hours after dinner. If it’s not there though, I don’t force it cause you end up laying down shit that later on you know wasn’t good at the time but you did it anyway.

FWM: A facet of Clean Guns that I’m particularly taken with is the directness of the lyrical content; both you and Nico seem to prefer ruminations on reality and human emotion rather than abstract concept pieces or left-field storytelling. Do you both try to avoid that sort of style?

ZR: We compliment each other so well in that I am the voice of the group that likes abstract shit, weird concepts, funny stories – y’all just haven’t heard them yet! Nico is the straightforward, articulate, reality-based monster that deals with emotions, life experiences, family and friends. We bounce off each other in that aspect and I have no problem writing on more honest topics, like death or relationships or society’s ills. But when I’m in my own lane, I’ll write a song about passing out in a dirty strip club, or the inner workings of a local TV news room, or flip a story about selling drugs while driving a cab for a living. I love Tom Waits for his use of imagination, weird characters and odd stories and I try to incorporate that more in my rhymes and songs. And I love Ghostface, Aesop Rock & Camp Lo for just blacking out on beats and rhyming about pink flamingos and crystal ski masks and banana hydrants or whatever they want to say. It sounds fly and if a beat tells me to spit four bars about abstract left-field fly shit, I’ll throw it in there just to break up the standard 16 bars about one specific, real topic.

FWM: Let’s talk about the production aspect of your role in the group. Which do you most identify with: the producer or the MC? Is there one that you enjoy more?

ZR: I’ve been an MC for about ten years and a producer for about four years. It’s easier to make a beat than to write a rhyme, though. A standard hip hop beat is really, really fucking easy to make: set the BPM anywhere from 77 to 98. Add a fat kick and snare, a thick bass hit, some hi-hats, and a sample or simple two- to four-bar melody and you’re done. But there’s no machine that’s gonna give you a concept to write about, or a button to push that’ll rhyme “cockroach” with “doctor throat.”

As the producer, I’m kind of the dictator in that I’m doing everything I can to get the best song possible, musically and vocally. The actual role of the producer is to make the artist sound their best, not to mug in front of the cameras and wear sunglasses at night while wearing bigger chains than the artist. But now that hip hop producers are bigger than most aritsts, that has became the role of the hip hop producer. People know Dre, Just Blaze, Kanye and Pharrell more than they know some of the artists they’ve worked with. So in Clean Guns and in Beat Garden, if I’m the producer and engineer of a session, I give honest and constructive feedback to everybody because I want the finished song to be its absolute best. And everyone in our camp, from Nico to Triple Nickels, understands that and we handle our business professionally because we all want to make great music.

FWM: Who are some producers that have influenced you?

ZR: As I said, I’m a diehard Wu fan so RZA is a no-brainer. I really like Kanye’s production – it’s mellow and funky. Just Blaze is the king of East Coast bangers, so I study him. I really love Madlib and J Dilla – just the sloppiness and freedom to let the music feel good, whether it’s offbeat or overcompressed or too low or too loud. I love that method of production moreso than the idea that everything has to be placed perfectly and sound impeccable at all times. I love Pete Rock because no one makes simpler beats that stand the test of time, and Dan the Automator, since he uses so many different sounds to sample. And Prince Paul, because he’s fearless as well. Havoc from Mobb Deep is simple but frightening. And El-P because he’s choatic, layered and frightening, and DJ Premier because his tracks bleed hip hop.

FWM: You’ve stated that you never sample from vinyl sources. Are there any personal ‘rules’ that you adhere to when constructing beats? For example, some producers refuse to sample other hip hop records.

ZR: I do have personal rules. I won’t consciously use the same sample someone else did. I won’t take 15 samples off one album. I won’t just sample soul or funk records – it’s too easy to do that. I won’t use obvious loops like the first eight seconds of “Billie Jean” or “Jaws.” I guess my underlying rule is to push myself to be as creative as possible, because like I said, when doing both beats and rhymes, beats are easier to make. So in order to get better, I have to make rules to challenge myself.

FWM: How conscious are you of trying to flip or disguise a sample so as to render it unrecognizable?

ZR: For some samples, the recognizable part is the best part of the record, and no matter how you chop it, it won’t be as hot. Other times, a record has so many pieces that are ridiculous, you can rearrange it and flip it to make it your version. If you heard the sample I used for “Say Goodnight,” you wouldn’t know I used it. But if you heard the sample I did for “These Words I Write,” I jacked the main melody wholesale and arranged it differently. It’s about what feels best and what sounds best. When I heard Just Blaze chop up “Super Freak” for Jay-Z’s “Kingdom Come,” I said to myself, “Ok, you can sample everything and flip it,” because that record has been used to death, and Just made it brand new. I wouldn’t have liked that song if Jay-Z just rapped over “Super Freak.”

“Say Goodnight” – Clean Guns feat. So-S@y 2:46 (Sometimes There Is Trouble, Beat Garden 2006)

FWM: You use Reason 3.0 for your beats, which I’m also familiar with and have been using for years. What are the positives and negatives of using software for your productions? Are there any particular limitations to it? Do you ever wish for the ‘tangibility’ of a sampler and turntable?

ZR: Reason isn’t a pure hip hop device like an MPC is – the sounds on Reason from a drum and bass standpoint aren’t as thick and fat as an analog machine. And it wasn’t made to be a straight hip hop sampler, so the the samplers don’t allow you to do specifically what you want all of the time; you have to work within Reason’s guidelines in that accord. I’ve been thinking about getting both a sampler and turntable a lot recently, just so I can have more options. And I feel like I’ve mastered Reason in the past four years, so it’s time for more tools and more sounds.

FWM: Where do you see Clean Guns and Beat Garden ten years from now?

ZR: Ten years from now, I see us having a vast catalogue with Clean Guns and the entire Beat Garden camp. The listening public has heard about 40% of what Clean
Guns has recorded. We live in the studio. We have so many joints recorded, for mixtapes, EPs, solo albums – we just pick and choose what to put and when to do it. As a company, our tagline is “Many styles. Many styles,” and that’s precisely what the motive is behind making music. So in ten years, we’ll probably have albums that were hardcore hip hop, indie experimental shit, emo shit, instrumental albums, party joints, club bangers, whatever. We just want to keep our heads down, work hard, make great music that people respond to and present it in a professional, eye-catching way. There are already 47 million rappers out there right now, so for the next ten years we’re gonna have to keep separating ourselves by making quality shit that stands out visually as well as musically.

This is a new time for music and music fans – there are more choices than ever. Why should someone buy a Clean Guns record or go to Professor Anarchy’s MySpace page when they’re getting beseiged daily with ads, spam, flyers, invites, mixtapes, etc. from hundreds of other rappers that, honestly, suck ass? I think our best chance is to let people discover us and not push shit on them like a used car salesman: “Here, listen to this, buy this, check this out, check out my boy, check our movement, here’s our clothing line, here’s our DVD.” That seems to be what most cats are doing right now.

I’d rather us make great albums, put on outstanding shows and grab people word of mouth or on tour, and let the name spread in an organic way while still using the internet as a way to be accessible to people.

“These Words I Write” – Clean Guns 4:23 (Sometimes There Is Trouble, Beat Garden 2006)