Today marks the debut of a feature that I’ve been tossing around in my head for over a year now. I doubt I’ve ever mentioned it here on the site, but my love for good food almost matches my passion for all things music, and over the past few years I’ve been discovering the pleasures of cooking (though I’m far from deserving of the title “chef”). In addition to the various ingredients, you’ll also find two indispensable items in my kitchen while I’m preparing a meal: an alcoholic beverage and a stereo. The first is pretty obvious, but the second holds a certain fascination with me. Wine and beer connoisseurs have been pairing food and drink together for centuries, but what about food and music? I’ve been experimenting with musical compliments to my meals almost as long as I’ve been cooking, and I’ve found that there is something deeply rewarding in choosing the perfect aural counterpart to a favorite dish. Why not satiate the ears as well as the hungry stomach?

“Modern Audiac Cuisine” is a nod to the Stereolab album of a similar name and will serve as a place to share some of my favorite culinary and musical pairings. I’ll try to steer away from the obvious (ex. enchiladas and mariachi music or Italian food and a Morricone soundtrack) and will always provide a (hopefully insightful) context for each selection. Novice cooks fear not, as you won’t find any exotic emulsions or fragrant infusions in any of the recipes. My tastes tend to lean more towards the simple, clean, and fast. And by all means, use the comments board to offer alternative ingredients or other ideas and suggestions for musical pairings.

Let’s start with an easy one first: a seriously gourmet-ass dish that tastes more complex than it is, which also happens to be the best homemade mac and cheese I’ve ever tasted.

Gruyère Macaroni and Cheese with Prosciutto
Serves four

10 oz cavatappi or other corkscrew pasta
1 cup heavy whipping cream
2 cups grated Gruyère cheese (about 8 oz.), divided
3/4 cup whole milk
4 oz. Prosciutto di Parma, roughly chopped
3 tbsp. grated parmesan cheese
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Butter 9” x 9” baking dish. Cook pasta as directed in a large pot of boiling salted water and drain well.

While pasta is cooking, whip cream in large mixing bowl. Whisk in 1 cup of Gruyère, milk, prosciutto, parmesan, and nutmeg. Add pasta and toss to coat, then season with salt and pepper. Transfer to prepared baking dish and sprinkle remaining 1 cup Gruyere on top.

Bake uncovered for 25 minutes or until cheese has melted. Remove from oven and let sit for 5 minutes before serving.

Notes:

For an appropriate side, steam some fresh green beans with a tablespoon of butter for about 5 minutes, then sprinkle with toasted almonds. You can’t beat that with a bat.

“It was good, but it was too runny.” This is the standard response from many first-timers, and it’s usually because they overcooked the pasta or served the mac and cheese immediately once it came out of the oven. There are three ways to prevent your mac and cheese from leaking all over the plate when served:

• Whip the hell out of the cream until it’s thick and fluffy. Don’t stir it lightly with the whisk a few times then add the other ingredients. Your arm and wrist should be tired by the time you’re done whisking.

• Cook the pasta just shy of al dente; for example, if the box says 8 minutes, cook it for 6. The pasta will absorb more of the milk while it’s baking in the oven.

• Let the mac and cheese sit for 5 full minutes before serving. It’s going to be too hot to eat immediately anyway, so let some of the moisture escape.

I prefer corkscrew pasta (cavatappi and cellentani, or even rotini and fusilli would work), but common elbow macaroni is fine as well – just add another ounce or two to even out the volume.

Remember to take it easy on the salt when seasoning – the prosciutto adds a sweet saltiness to the mix already.

Whole Foods sells a tangy, buttery Gruyère that’s delicious and cheaper than most Gruyères I’ve seen elsewhere.

To keep the prosciutto from clumping, add one little piece at a time to the milk and cheese mixture. Yeah, it’s tedious, but it’s worth it.

I prefer my mac and cheese with a nutty spiciness by adding 1/2 tsp. of nutmeg and freshly ground black pepper. If you’re feeling adventurous you could add a dash of white truffle oil just before serving, but I attempted this once and found the dish better without it.

If Prosciutto di Parma isn’t in your budget, don’t bother with domestic or Canadian prosciutto as a substitute. Add a few links of sliced and cooked andouille sausage instead.

I suppose you could save any leftovers here, but I’ve found from experience that this particular mac and cheese recipe doesn’t hold up in the microwave.

Pinetop Seven “The Palm Acres Parade” Bringing Home the Last Great Strike Atavistic 2000

For most, mac and cheese is the very definition of comfort food. For the aural pairing, it’s natural that one would wish for the same warm coziness to highlight and not work against the dish. The hugely underrated Chicago collective Pinetop Seven, and particularly their shining hour, Bringing Home the Last Great Strike (2000), are the kind of band to curl up with on a frigid January evening and make a wonderful complement to the meal here. The drugged waltz feel and soft melancholy of “The Palm Acres Parade” encourages, almost begs the listener to savor every bite: the delicate tenor of Darren Richard mirrors the rich silkiness of the Gruyère while the clarinets emphasize the dominant French influence in the dish, and the expansive, widescreen atmosphere present in the recording resonates with the inherent heartiness of the mac and cheese. It’s immensely satisfying to the point of tranquility. Cue this up on the hi-fi before serving and watch your diners bring a new definition to the phrase “food coma” at the conclusion of dinner.

“The Palm Acres Parade” – Pinetop Seven 3:56 (Bringing Home the Last Great Strike, Atavistic 2000)

Michael Jackson “Get on the Floor” Off the Wall Epic 1979

Let me skip the introductory formalities and get the obvious of the way: this post isn’t about Michael Jackson. It’s about the technique of electric bass playing loosely known as “slapping and popping,” an approach that, nine times out of ten, tends to trigger a look resembling my reaction to a particularly stubborn gnat buzzing around my face. I can admire the skill, sure, but as a devout student of the Less Is More School of Modern Bass Playing, the skittering blitz of notes that accosts my ears from this technique goes against every one of my principles. Add to this the fact that 95% of all bass players who do insist on “thumpin’ and plucking” just don’t do it right; chances are, these are the guys who wish they had the ability to play the guitar or drums, the kind of insolent asshole musician who continually looks for every available opportunity to pick up your instrument and “show you how it’s done.” Spanking the strings of the bass like you’re teaching it a hard lesson has its place, but overall, it simply doesn’t jive with me – like country music, rappers who pose shirtless, Deadheads and Phish phans, or the vocal stylings of Neil Diamond.

With that established, there are occasions when I’m forced to make exceptions, and Louis “Thunder Thumbs” Johnson’s bass line that propels “Get on the Floor” from Off the Wall (1979) is a monument of rhythmic perfection. It struts and wiggles inside the beat, in lockstep synchronization with the drums yet still remaining fluid and independent. It’s the kind of musical brilliance that begs the question, “How would he think to play that?” until a glance through the liners reveals that Johnson co-wrote the song with MJ, so everything here likely originated from the chunky figure he constructed on his bass. Jackson uses it to entice a wallflower he has his eyes on, insisting that she dance with him, knowing that it’s impossible to resist Johnson’s low-end funkiness. Quincy Jones dresses up the track with fluffy disco strings, succinct horn spasms, and even an “Apache”-like Latin percussion breakdown before the last chorus – it’s all arranged wonderfully, but still the bass remains the star of the show. To all aspiring bassists who are incapable of plucking their strings without clobbering them with their thumbs or violently yanking them from the fretboard: study this track diligently, commit it to memory, and walk in its footsteps, then maybe I won’t immediately search for the nearest exit the next time you want to “funk it up a little.”

“Get on the Floor” – Michael Jackson 4:38 (Off the Wall, Epic 1979)

No other Soul outfit during the ’70s wrote ballads like The Isley Brothers; hell, the band used to dedicate entire halves of their records to the slow jam. The “3 + 3″ lineup that the group solidified in 1973 – Ernie and Marvin Isley and Chris Jasper, backed by O’Kelly, Rudolph, and Ronald Isley – were simply incomparable when they were exploring the lower ends of the tempo spectrum. This isn’t a slight on their musicality or to suggest a limited ability in the songwriting (”Harvest for the World” is one of the most breathtaking four minutes in pop music history and still gives me chills), but I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve wanted to hear funk workouts like “Fight the Power” or “The Pride,” while the amount of listens I’ve given black-light ballad “Make Me Say It Again Girl” must near two hundred. During their ’70s heyday and up until 1983’s Between the Sheets the group wrote enough bedroom serenades to be single-handedly responsible for the conception of an entire generation of babies (”Generation Isley”), but here are the five that I believe hold the most potency.

5. “Voyage to Atlantis”
from Go for Your Guns (1977)

Based strictly on cheese factor alone, no other ballad in the Isley catalogue comes close to “Voyage to Atlantis.” Dated psychedelic phaser effect on Jasper’s electric piano? Check. Ernie Isley’s wailing electric guitar threatening to scorch right through the analog tape? Check. Ronald constructing a metaphor for lovemaking that comprises nautical activities and underwater kingdoms of yore? Check. As the only ballad on the funk-dominated Go for Your Guns (1977), “Voyage to Atlantis” had a sizable weight on its shoulders to deliver the seductive goods, but damn, did it deliver in spades. This one has glitter ball, sequins, and platforms shamelessly written all over it, and in anyone else’s hands it would be revered with the same amount of historical merit as Nazareth’s “Love Hurts.” In the gentle clutches of the Isleys, however, it’s transformed into a thing of rolling, oceanic beauty. A note of caution to the fellas – attempting the phrase “misty lady” as seduction patter will garner, at best, a roll of the eyes followed by an excuse involving a magical headache that inexplicably appears at the moment of the highest inconvenience. Don’t bother.

“Voyage to Atlantis” – The Isley Brothers 4:30 (Go for Your Guns, T-Neck 1977)

4. “At Your Best (You Are Love)”
from Harvest for the World (1976)

A hugely underrated item in the Isley’s ballad canon and the strongest argument on record that Ernie should have dusted off the old wah pedal more often. His double-tracked cooing is the highlight of this delicate quiet stormer, with Ronald’s heavenly falsetto bridge coming in a close second. While the line, “you’re the positive motivating force within my life” veers a little more toward sacred than secular, you’d be hard-pressed to find a woman who wouldn’t completely melt by the end of the first chorus. In a perfect world, some part-time studio intern at Epic would stumble upon an extended twenty-plus minute version of “At Your Best (You Are Love),” which would be greeted by the public with the same fervency as when the group debuted “Shout!” nearly fifty years ago. Seriously, this could seemingly go on for hours, or, to be more direct, however long your bedroom stamina will allow.

“At Your Best (You Are Love)” – The Isley Brothers 5:23 (Harvest for the World, T-Neck 1976)

3. “Groove with You”
from Showdown (1978)

One could substitute the title “Afternoon Delight” in place of “Groove with You” and the difference would be negligible; with its welcoming, sunny temperament and a detectable bounce in the tempo, few other selections in the Isley discography are as conducive to the occasional weekend afternoon romp. What the group does with the relatively simple groove here is astonishing, with Ernie adding layers of bright guitar while Jasper answers him, Marvin connecting the conversation with a snaky bass line, and Ronald blessing the proceedings with his silky tenor. Note how there is no climactic bridge of ecstasy, fiery guitar solo, or hushed breakdown during the course of the song, just a gorgeous, mid-tempo swing that the band seems in no hurry to rush. My guess is that the Isleys had their formula down to such exactitude back then that “Groove with You” took about as long to write as it did to record it. What draws the ladies to this one is Ronald’s rather disarming inclination to put his mack game aside and just hang with his girl, enjoying the pleasantries of conversation; at one point in the track he even encourages his woman to “speak [her] mind.”

“Groove with You” – The Isley Brothers 4:44 (Showdown, T-Neck 1978)

2. “Don’t Say Goodnight (It’s Time for Love)”
from Go All the Way (1980)

“Don’t Say Goodnight” was one of the Isleys’ last charting hits, and in hindsight the song seems the perfect final touch on their run of extraordinary singles during the 1970s. It’s also the group’s most explicit plea for intimacy, from Ronald expressing his desire to “see what you’re like in bed” to the object of his affection in the first verse alone to shifting into the time-honored “thrill/feel” and “caress/undress” rhyme routine of R&B balladry. The production on the track gives the impression that it was recorded live, with an arena-like reverb on the snare and a slightly overcompressed vocal, but the lack of a piercing wall of female shrieks in the background dispels the notion right off the bat. The key to the song’s effectiveness is the amount of breathing room the group gives the sleepy 6/8 tempo, with Jasper providing some especially tasteful synthetic strings and a mysterious blip of a chord that echoes off into space. If “Don’t Say Goodnight” isn’t enough to arouse the dormant libidos in even the most distant of couples, it’s safe to say that no amount of therapy or counseling will either.

“Don’t Say Goodnight (It’s Time for Love)” – The Isley Brothers 5:47 (Go All the Way, T-Neck 1980)

1. “For the Love of You”
from The Heat Is On (1975)

Short of a front-row ticket to one of Teddy Pendergrass‘ “Ladies Only” concerts, nothing during the mid to late ’70s was as guaranteed to magically remove ladies’ undergarments quicker than a bottle of wine, some incense, and the Isley’s “For the Love of You” playing at a soft level in the background. While the tempo is well above accepted ballad standards, this minor quibble becomes moot within the first ten seconds of the song. Ernie dons his acoustic guitar to outline the chord changes while Marvin thumbs out one of his most animated bass lines, teasing you to dance along with him. Ronald sounds like he’s been waiting his entire life to lay down his vocal here, and despite the countless interpretations the song has been privy to, not one has been able to hold a candle to his original (sorry, Whitney). And with Jasper at the helm, the Moog analog synthesizer has never sounded sexier, like a warm breeze through an open window brushing the skin. In the right mood, the listener could hardly be faulted into thinking that “For the Love of You” could somehow solve all of the world’s problems with the mere press of the play button. It’s pure perfection and absolutely timeless. And of course, it’s a mutha in the bedroom.

“For the Love of You” – The Isley Brothers 5:38 (The Heat Is On, T-Neck 1975)

Floodwatch: The inclusion of a Pete Rock-produced cut on some of the more prominent hip hop releases in the ‘90s was often the highlight of the record, and usually tended to trigger a response something along the lines of, “Why couldn’t the entire album be like this?” Following the split with partner CL Smooth in the middle of the decade, Rock made some questionable moves in regard to where to focus his talent – strikingly mediocre solo artists (Deda), passive MCs with no presence whatsoever (InI), and talentless thugs (YG’z) – then would contribute only a track or two to more reputable artists’ records. It’s clearly not my place to judge the man’s artistic intentions back then, but with this sort of pattern, frustration was inevitable among many listeners and fans. So in the same spirit of that rumored full-length Primo/Nas collaboration that heads still dream about, From Da Bricks‘ Dan Love and I will indulge ourselves in a spell of wishful thinking in this installment of the P.R.A.S. (Pete Rock Appreciation Society), presenting ten MCs whose careers could have been drastically changed by an album manned entirely by the Chocolate Boy Wonder, with the year of preference for the release date.

Dan Love: My problem in approaching this particular task is that I’m so manically obsessed with all things Soul Brother that picking just five dream match-ups is almost impossible. Like Premier, Pete Rock has the uncanny ability to make even the weakest of MCs sound good, but I’m attempting to reign myself in here and select those that I genuinely feel could have carried the weight of a full-length collaboration at some stage in their career. The process hasn’t been easy, and the sense of rousing excitement as collaborations started to take shape in my mind was rapidly cut short by the sinking realization that these ideas will forever dwell in the realms of fantasy. Man, I wonder why I put myself through these things sometimes…

AZ Year: 1995

FW: As the only MC to guest on Illmatic (1994), Brooklyn’s AZ had a considerable amount of weight on his shoulders to deliver a solid first album. Doe or Die (1995) certainly didn’t disappoint (it has aged remarkably well over the years), but it was hardly surprising that Rock produced arguably the two best tracks on the record: the gorgeous, laid-back “Gimme Yours” and AZ’s statement of intent “Rather Unique.” With respect to L.E.S., Buckwild, and DR Period, who all contributed fine productions to the album, AZ’s distinctly high-pitched flow and Mafioso fantasies were given an extra breath of life by the colors in Rock’s stumbling drums and keys. Had Rock taken him under his wing and helmed the entirety of Doe or Die – well, the possibilities would certainly be worth pondering for years.

“Rather Unique” – AZ 4:49 (Doe or Die, EMI 1995)

Das EFX Year: 1993

DL: Although there is never going to be any doubting the lyrical impact that Drayz & Skoob had on the hip hop scene at the beginning of the ‘90s, I think it’s questionable to state that they ever managed to put together a truly classic album (see Flood’s assessment of the topic in our previous Pete Rock collaboration post). With Dead Serious (1992), the onus was clearly on the Brooklyn duo’s lyrical prowess, and as such the beats were perhaps somewhat of an afterthought, basic yet effective platforms to display a new and exciting way of approaching the mic.

However, my suggestion for a little Pete Rock intervention doesn’t come at this stage, but rather a year or so later in replacement of their Straight Up Sewaside (1993) LP. Given that their lyrical originality had now been subsumed by a plethora of other artists who had ‘borrowed’ from their style, the crew needed some production of true quality to set themselves apart, and yet the beats to be found on their sophomore effort fall distinctly into the realms of mediocrity for me. The “Jussumen” remix proves how fantastic the pair sound over a denser and more organic sound, and had it been the blueprint for the always-difficult follow-up album, who knows what the results could have been. Don’t forget to take into account that Pete was firing on all cylinders in ‘92/’93, churning out remixes that still stand up as some of the greatest ever committed to wax, and the combination of his work during this period with the playful lyrical gymnastics of Drayz and Skoob could have been awe-inspiring.

“Jussumen (Pete Rock Remix)” – Das EFX 4:45 (Mic Checka 12″, EastWest 1992)

Freddie Foxxx Year: 1998

DL: Plagued by label strife with his sophomore release Crazy Like A Foxxx, Freddie Foxxx missed out on the opportunity for a full-length mid-90s drop, forcing him to maintain his rep through guest verses on other’s work. This is a real shame, as this particular period of time in the genre’s development would have offered up the perfect backdrops for his ferocious and unforgiving style of rhyme. Glimpses of what this collaboration could have promised can be found on the Industry Shakedown (2000) LP under the Bumpy Knuckles guise, where Rock contributed no less than three beats, each of which easily held its own amongst an all-star production line-up that included Premier, Diamond and Alchemist. “Bumpy Knuckles Baby” is my preferred cut of the three, with tightly tuned snares and jangling keys providing a well-judged combination of grit and melody that suits Foxxx to a tea. For Freddie’s sake I would have liked to have placed this a little earlier in the decade, but in terms of a collaboration with Pete Rock, 1998 would seem to be the perfect moment for these two giants to work together, with The Chocolate Boy Wonder already incorporating a harder-edged angle to his smoother, soul-entrenched aesthetic of the early ‘90s (think “Tru Master” or “Tha Game” from the Soul Survivor [1998] LP). The vision here is of a street album full of Foxxx’s inimitable swagger counterbalanced by Pete Rock’s more soulful production tendencies: sounds good doesn’t it?

“Bumpy Knuckles Baby” – Freddie Foxxx 4:03 (Industry Shakedown, KJAC 2000)

Inspectah Deck Year: 1998

FW: Here’s how it should have played out ten years ago: coming off the success of Wu-Tang Forever (1997) – on which he contributed the finest verses of his career, reigning supreme on every track he blessed – the Rebel INS grows impatient with RZA’s new keyboard-based approach to beatmaking and Bobby Digital (1998) distractions. Dissatisfied with the scattershot RZA tracks and the fruits of the Wu-satellite producers that would comprise Uncontrolled Substance (1999), Deck offers Pete Rock the opportunity to produce the record in the same template as “Trouble Man,” his lone contribution to the album. While Wu diehards are sent into an uproar over the absence of the Wu abbot, the resulting full-length is nonetheless a smashing success, as Deck’s signature metaphors and endless alliteration are a perfect match for Rock’s rhythmic soundscapes. On “Trouble Man,” note how the Soul Brother offers a fresh perspective on Isaac Hayes’ “Joy” riff, slicing it up into syncopated microfragments, then layering the chalky piano from Curtis Mayfield’s “Give Me Your Love” atop for the chorus, which also appropriates Sade’s “Paradise.”

“Trouble Man” – Inspectah Deck 5:05 (Uncontrolled Substance, Loud 1999)

Jeru the Damaja Year: 1997

DL: Whatever situation caused the rift between Primo and one of Brooklyn’s finest ever MCs, there’s no doubt that Jeru’s career suffered without the weight of a top level producer behind him. Although Heroz4Hire (1999) was a decent enough record with some standouts, imagine how much better it could have been with a master behind the boards. Envisage the scene: with Premier cutting ties with Jeru, in steps The Chocolate Boy Wonder to pick up the pieces and fill the void to swiftly push out a third album to follow Wrath of the Math (1996). Not only could it have been one of the greatest three album runs by any single artist in the genre, I’m confident that the results would have been truly slammin’ in their own right.

Having never worked together on an album, the only evidence we have for this particular scenario’s success is the remix of “You Can’t Stop The Prophet” that Rock blessed Jeru with earlier in his career. Despite the difficultly of removing yourself from Primo’s original mix, there’s no denying the coherence of Rock’s production and Jeru’s vocals, and a whole album where the two worked in close conjunction would have been truly captivating.

“You Can’t Stop The Prophet (Pete Rock Remix)” – Jeru the Damaja 5:03 (You Can’t Stop the Prophet 12″, Payday 1995)

K-Solo Year: 1994

FW: Despite a gimmickry penchant for spelling out his rhymes, K-Solo was one of the early ‘90s’ most underrated MCs and a bit of an anomaly in EPMD’s Hit Squad. His rapid-fire cadence and seemingly infinite arsenal of battle rhymes contrasted sharply with the rugged blunt haze of Redman and the faddish wordplay of Das EFX. When the crew dispersed in early ’93 following the split between Erick and Parrish, K-Solo headed out West to affiliate himself with Dre’s Death Row Records, working behind the scenes and nurturing artists like Canibus. My change to the course of history? Solo would have remained in New York and hooked up with Pete Rock (who provided the MC with the beat for his last single “Letterman”) and turned out a universally-acclaimed classic third record, making K-Solo a household name. The harder-edged productions on The Main Ingredient (1994) (“Worldwide,” “I Get Physical”) and Rock’s remix work at the time would have been an ideal foil for Solo’s devastating verbal attacks.

“Letterman” – K-Solo 3:20 (Time’s Up, Atlantic 1992)

O.C. Year: 2000

DL: With one classic album under his belt and a sophomore effort that neatly averted the dreaded slump, Omar Credle seemed like he might just be one of the most consistent players in the mid to late ‘90s rap game. Unfortunately, the spark was gone by 2001’s Bon Appetit, and despite a highly credible production roster the album is one best forgotten.

Instead, let’s get Pete on the boards. In the run-up to 2000 Mount Vernon’s finest would have been putting together beats for the yet to drop instrumental tour de force Petestrumentals (2001), a release that categorically proved that he still had skills in abundance come the turn of the millennium. Paired up with O.C.’s consistent lyrical finesse, the results could have been jaw-dropping. The fantastic ‘Respect Mine’ from Soul Survivor gives us a flavour of how the combination may have sounded, with Rock forging an infectious, hypnotic beat that is perfectly balanced by O.C.’s tone and cadence. The thought of this one gives me goosebumps…

“Respect Mine” – Pete Rock ft. O.C. 4:06 (Soul Survivor, Loud 1998)

Rakim Year: 1994

FW: His skills on a microphone are indisputable. He has contributed more quotable lyrics and verses to the hip hop vernacular than arguably any other MC. His singles, billed with partner Eric B., are timeless. Yet what many overlook is the fact that the god Rakim never dropped a solid, front-to-back full-length banger in an era (’88 – ’92) when it seemed like a classic was hitting the streets every month. Taking a note from the jazzier, Soul-inflected productions on Don’t Sweat the Technique (1992), Rakim could have connected with Rock to oversee the musical fodder for his next project after splitting with Eric B. Think of the possibilities: Ra’s breathy, dry baritone would sound heavenly over one of Rock’s sleigh bell- and horn-laced concoctions, with tempos rarely dipping below the 110 bpm range – except for the two “for the ladies” tracks, of course, in the vein of “Lots of Lovin’” or “Mahogany.” The two wouldn’t cross paths until Rakim’s ‘comeback’ record of sorts, the generally well-received The 18th Letter (1997), of which Rock contributed two outstanding cuts among legends like Premier and Clark Kent. Ah, one can only dream.

“When I’m Flowin’” – Rakim 5:04 (The 18th Letter, Universal 1997)

Sadat X Year: 1996

FW: Sadat X’s spotty solo career has been troubled by a myriad of issues, chief among them the fact that, Diamond and Buckwild excluded, the Bronx MC has rarely come across a producer who is capable of complementing his irregularly-pitched flow and unique delivery. Naturally, Pete Rock is a third exception, and for proof look no further than “Escape from New York” on Sadat’s first solo venture Wild Cowboys (1996). The elegant piano and vibraphone loop is contrasted by a slamming drum pattern, with Sadat (and guest Deda) sounding more than thrilled to wreck shop over it. Imagine an entire album like this, with the MC and various guests – Puba would have to appear on a track or three to trade lines – committing this kind of gold to analog tape, with Rock spitting an occasional sixteen here and there and making an appearance on every chorus. The record would have a refreshingly laid-back, Sunday-afternoon-in-the-cipher-type vibe that would have been a diamond in the rough among the Bad Boy-bullshit that was polluting the airwaves in ’96.

“Escape from New York” – Sadat X feat. Deda 4:09 (Wild Cowboys, Loud 1996)

Sticky Fingaz Year: 1997

DL: Of all five selections that I offer to you here, this is my wildcard. Although the thought of an entire album with the Onyx frontman and our boy Pete Rock is perhaps stretching the concept a little too far, there’s definitely something in this collaboration that could have worked well. The pair have crossed paths on a very limited number of occasions, but in the two instances that I know of there is a surprising coherence between the gruff delivery of everybody’s favourite kleptomaniac and Rock’s signature production style. This white label remix of “Shout” clearly demonstrates this, with Rock’s more laid back overhaul of the original keeping the overtly hardcore nature of Sticky and company in check. “Strange Fruit,” taken from the Soul Survivor LP, also provides a flash of what could have been and indicates the variation that could have been offered up by an album together, the beat’s darker, more sinister vibe working well with Sticky’s snarling sixteen bars. Granted, a full album together would have needed some interesting guest spots to avoid a sense of plodding monotony, but it’s interesting to ponder what could have been had Rock slipped out of his funk jacket for a minute and gotten seriously grimy.

“Shout (Pete Rock Remix)” – Onyx 3:47 (White Label, 199?)

“Strange Fruit” – Pete Rock ft. Tragedy Khadafi, Cappadonna & Sticky Fingaz 4:42 (Soul Survivor, Loud 1998)

One of the things I love most about overindulgent music consumption in the modern Internet age is the ease of accidentally discovering an artist’s music at just the right time. Case in point: About a week ago, I was mindlessly sifting through my “Saved for Later” page on eMusic, hoping to find a halfway-decent album to listen to from a few dozen selections that I had placed on the back burner long ago. I came across Norwegian viking/black metallers Enslaved and their 2003 release Below the Lights, and downloaded it out of both curiosity and boredom. With an impressive catalogue of nine full-lengths into their career, I’ve always felt a twinge of guilt at knowing so little about this band, although in my defense, a good portion of their discography is tough to acquire in the States and often fetches steep import prices. I began playing “As Fire Swept Clean the Earth,” the opening salvo from Below the Lights, and by the 60-second mark every nerve ending in my body was tingling. I listened to the record in its entirety twice that evening and actually had difficulty succumbing to sleep later that night because of my excitement at the opportunity to explore this band’s music further.

The following day I strolled into my local Newbury Comics to pick up a tangible copy of Below the Lights, but to my mild disappointment the store had only one disc by the group, their most recent release Ruun (2006). I picked it up anyway, figuring that it would be just as good, and maybe even better than Below the Lights (at this point, I hadn’t done much online research about the band). Nothing could have prepared me for the unharnessed power that roared out of my car speakers minutes later. Leadoff track “Entroper” immediately embraced my eardrums and refused to let go for six minutes. Here is a list of reasons why I was hooked:

• The guitars. My God, the guitars. At once scalding the skin with blue-flamed fury yet stinging like a shower of ice pellets. I can’t emphasize enough how phenomenal the duel guitars of Ivar Bjørnson and Arve Isdel sound: raw, alive, majestic. And rather than chug along the lower strings of the fretboard, the pair construct open, expansive chords and weave internal melodies into the progressions, stacking ninths and elevenths atop the harmony. Hell, there are even bright, un-metal major seventh chords here. I could listen to this kind of six-stringed electricity every day until I go deaf.

• It would be criminal to overlook Grutle Kjellson’s bass playing. Listen at 1:38 for his solo exposition, brilliant in its simplicity and placement in the song, overlapping bar lines, every note resonating with determination and purpose.

• Cato Bekkevold owns the drum throne, never once overplaying and in complete deference to the time, yet prone to sudden bursts of double-kick rolling and polyrhythmic accents on his cymbals to keep the listener in suspense.

• Kjellson’s vocals are mixed perfectly, from his weathered rasp to the acidic whispers to the multi-tracked clean vocals. Yes, there are clean vocals here – normally a turn-off for my metal tastes – but their presence is never overpowering, and they are blended into the mix seamlessly.

• Listen to how thick and colorful the guitars sound. This is in no small measure due to Herbrand Larsen, who eschews organ solos and clunky piano licks for pure texture.

Soon I became engulfed in the swarming maelstrom of sound that brings “Entroper” to its triumphant climax, the guitars mowing down everything in their path while Kjellson mourns, “They turned safely into non-existence.” Which is precisely what I’ve just experienced.

“Entroper” – Enslaved 6:21 (Ruun, Candelight 2006)

On a record that’s virtually one long highlight it feels slightly inordinate to focus on standout cuts, but the title track gloriously melds exotic gloom with black metal elegance. The song opens with beautiful ringing guitar arpeggios over a slinky 7/8 signature that are counterbalanced by a drilling one-note riff in the left channel. At 1:43 the atmosphere turns claustrophobic with mashed chords as the drums force their way through the speakers in double-time, with Kjellson adopting his gutteral howl to deliver the chorus. A brief acoustic interlude offers the only chance for breath before the guitars return, culminating in the last final shrieks of Kjellson before fading into silence. Absolutely stunning.

“Ruun” – Enslaved 6:49 (Ruun, Candlelight 2006)

So for forty-six minutes I remained in my car, staring glassy-eyed into my windshield while absorbing the record, with an occasional flip through the insert for lyric clarification or some minor recording detail. I haven’t done this in years. Certain albums just find you when you need them to, and this is exactly the kind of heaviness I have been needing to hear for the past three years now, filling the void where Opeth’s somewhat disappointing Ghost Reveries (2005) was intended to reside. I couldn’t even fathom hearing a note of Ruun in warm weather; it is the sonic equivalent of the icy, desolate environment seen up there in the current floodwatchmusic.com banner (the remains of the fire tower atop Mount Garfield in Northern New Hampshire, for anyone wondering).

If anyone needs me during the next three weeks, I’ll be poring over every note of this band’s discography.