My mentioning of AZ’s Doe or Die (1995) a few weeks ago when presenting a handful of hip hop-related conversation-enders sparked a recent reawakening of my appreciation for the album, despite its front-loaded nature and hit-or-miss production.  Today I thought I’d tackle one of Pete Rock’s two productions on the record, the Nas-assisted “Gimme Yours,” whose remix was also released as a second single (and produced by the Soul Brother).  I haven’t dissected a beat in quite some time and could always use more entries in the Pete Rock Appreciation Society – shout to Dan Love.

Lyrically, “Gimme Yours” hardly deviates from the street-Mafioso content that defines Doe or Die, or as our narrator succinctly puts it, “rolling trees, stacking Gs.” Nas makes his first of two appearances on the record (the second being the DR Period-helmed “Mo Money, Mo Murder, Mo Homicide”), though he eschews dropping a verse here for merely singing the hook with a blunted, half-conscious inflection.  Pete, following the release of his second full-length with CL Smooth and who was likely working on the Deda and InI records at the time, contributed a track that was typical of his production style then, namely lush, almost saccharine soul samples floating atop rugged drum loops, with little of the chopping and arranging of micro-snippets that would dominate his work toward at the end of the decade.

For “Gimme Yours” Pete resurrects an old Minnie Riperton single, 1980’s “Here We Go,” released just after her death and featuring a posthumously-recorded vocal from Peabo Bryson.  Pete focuses on the four bars of melodic content from 0:21 to 0:33 on the original, where Minnie’s first verse begins and the drums drop out to reveal a harp and synthesizer.  Wisely (given the general public’s familiarity with Riperton’s unique voice), the producer extracts the music between her vocals, most notably a descending arpeggio from the harp at the conclusion of the fourth bar in the original.  Perhaps realizing its sonic prominence, Pete then inserts the arpeggio in the first bar of the loop, and its diminished harmonic color contrasts nicely with the warmth of the Abmaj7 chord.  The E natural and G flat from the arpeggio appear again in the second bar to add some flavor to the harmonically-ambiguous Bb chord, a dreamlike effect that’s heightened by the fluttering Cm7 chord that concludes the loop.  The buzz of the synthesizer is faintly detectable in the mix, though its role seems to enhance rather than complement the harp.  I’m not familiar enough with the logistics of the harp to know for sure whether or not this passage is actually playable, but to these ears it’s some aural candy that’s hard to resist, and the track’s three-minute runtime is all-too-brief because of it.

“Here We Go” – Minnie Riperton feat. Peabo Bryson 4:04 (Love Lives Forever, Capitol 1980)

“Gimme Yours” – AZ feat. Nas 3:08 (Doe or Die, EMI 1995)

Though I’ve always been more of a Step in the Arena (1991) and Daily Operation (1992)-type of dude, I’m still taken aback by how good Gang Starr’s Moment of Truth (1998) is every time I hear it. Which is slightly absurd, given my near-decade of familiarity with it and the ‘classic’ tag it has arguably been given by the general populace over the years. Moment of Truth has essentially become my own brand of noise pollution to the public these days, as I am wont to blare “The Militia” and “Work” out of my car speakers with all windows down on the first 70+ degree day of the year; if my side and rear view mirrors aren’t buzzing with distorted reflections on every kick hit, it’s not loud enough. That’s right. Public nuisance-style.

Yet the other day, as I was forcibly subjecting the citizens of Boston to my favorite cuts from the album, I was suddenly struck by how playable Premier’s beats were – and by “playable” I don’t mean “MPC-programmable,” but more applicable to live instrumentation in a small group setting. Granted, one could argue that most hip hop beats could actually be replicated to a certain extent by real musicians, a somewhat obvious point given its sample-based aesthetic. Still, there is something about Preemo’s musicality and approach to production on Moment of Truth that lends itself to transcription more so than, say, his jazzier leanings on Gang Starr’s earlier records and the stark, often atonal sound collages from his mid-’90s work with Jeru and Group Home. Here are four of the more notable selections.

“You Know My Steez”

Premier’s reconfiguration of the intro to Joe Simon’s “Drowning in the Sea of Love” forms the basis for Moment’s opening cut, which is guided by a drum track constructed from those classic Grandmaster Flash beatbox drums. Other than a brief trombone swell lifted from the Simon sample, that’s about it, but there are two distinct features of note here (disregarding the fact that there is no bass line). First, from a sonic perspective, “You Know My Steez” possesses the unique characteristic of sounding spacious and claustrophobic at once, the chunks of guitar octaves colliding with the slightly distorted, overcompressed kicks of the drum track. Secondly – and this is purely subjective – but to these ears, the guitar ‘melody’ appears to be arranged backwards; the bars should be flipped so that the stuttering F# pattern should follow the rising and swelling motif in the previous bar. Yet not only does Preemo’s ‘reversed’ interpretation work marvelously, it gives the two-bar loop a circularity that a more logical arrangement would lack when repeated for more than 16 bars. Guru seems particularly inspired by the music, showcasing, in this author’s opinion, his finest lyrical moment on wax.

“You Know My Steez” – Gang Starr 3:44 (Moment of Truth, Noo Trybe 1998)

“Above the Clouds”

“Above the Clouds” is proof positive that the the art of creating music from sampled sound extends far beyond a cracked copy of Fruity Loops and snippets of imported audio from a few CDs. The best beatsmiths all have an unidentifiable ability to ‘hear’ arrangements and musical structures from the most unlikely of sources and recycle those sounds into something their own. Premier, unsurprisingly, is one of these individuals. His production for “Above the Clouds” is absolutely brilliant and ranks among the finest of his career; how someone could make something this bangin’ out of the first few seconds of John Dankworth’s “Two-Piece Flower” is beyond mortal comprehension (I’ve offered the original source below for this example).

Incidentally, “Above the Clouds” lends itself surprisingly well to transcription, despite its overall weirdness and the audible repeated triggering of selected samples in the beat. What sounds like a shamisen on the original recording could be played by a palm-muted and slightly flat guitar, and two oboes would be required – a tad unorthodox, yes, but crucial for the counterpoint in the latter half of the second bar (unless a polyphonic oboe can be found as a substitute, of course). Premier wisely chooses to leave the bottom end open, only inserting two emphatic bass hits to signal the loop; he’s cleverly reminding you that it’s there, but he’s not going to clutter the track with it. Note the 32nd-note pinched kicks before the first and third beats, which give the track a sense of propulsion that the more common 16th note pinches would lack, as well as help enforce the impression that the tempo is faster than it actually is (roughly 86 bpm). It’s hardly surprising that Inspectah Deck straight-up destroys this cut with a verse that surpasses any of the other guest spots on the record.

“Above the Clouds” – Gang Starr feat. Inspectah Deck 3:41 (Moment of Truth, Noo Trybe 1998)

“Two-Piece Flower” – John Dankworth 4:04 (John Dankworth and His Music, Fontana 1967)

Bonus link: Try to play the melody from “Above the Clouds” on this virtual shamisen! Fun!

“Itz a Set Up”

Most of the fodder for the suspenseful “Itz a Set Up” derives from keyboardist Les McCann’s “Beyond Yesterday.” The two-bar loop begins with a sequence of two- and three-note clumps from a parallel guitar and bass lick, followed by a brief stab of electric piano, then concludes with the soft trilling of a trumpet for the final three beats. Premier keeps the drum track relatively straightforward to prevent any clashing with the three distinct colors from the other instruments, though he can’t resist adding some shuffle to the hi-hat track in the second beat of each bar. One gets the slight feeling that he could have constructed something like this in his sleep, but regardless, the music would have fit right at home on M.O.P.’s Firing Squad (1996) or even Jeru’s Wrath of the Math (1996). “Itz a Set Up” is also one of the handful of tracks on Moment that would sound amazing as interpreted by El Michels Affair (on a limited-edition 7″, no less).

“Itz a Set Up” – Gang Starr feat. Hannibal 3:49 (Moment of Truth, Noo Trybe 1998)

“The Rep Grows Bigga”

One of the highlights during the second half of Moment of Truth is “The Rep Grows Bigga,” a choice example of what Preemo could do with a piano, a drum track, and little else. When transcribed, the music reveals a wealth of subtle complexities that a cursory listen would fail to notice. The foundation of the track is a looming, inescapable piano that stomps down on each beat and would grow incredibly tiring in the first minute were it not for Premier’s drum track, which takes advantage of those 32nd-note pinched kicks and a well-placed hit just before the fourth beat of each bar. The harmony is about as basic as it gets, a i - v progression that almost screams “open-close” every two beats; note the mangled dissonance of the second chord with the addition of the B natural.

The tonality changes on every eighth bar with the appearance of an odd Eb diminished chord, which is introduced chromatically and decorated with a brief flurry of notes. It’s a terrific way to bring a sense of closure to the somewhat static seven bars before it, and curious unresolved nature of the chord helps to keep the listener engaged.

“The Rep Grows Bigga” Gang Starr 3:31 (Moment of Truth, Noo Trybe 1998)

Of the many musical components that are analogous to what we recognize as hip hop, which one would qualify most as its ‘essence’? Would it be that meticulously chopped and truncated loop, the creative molding of raw sound into something alien yet strangely familiar? Or how about the breakbeat, which has provided the foundation for countless early classics? Could it even possibly be the tempo, specifically around 94 bpm, a rate perfectly suited for any style of delivery? All valid contenders, sure, but my vote would go to the kick drum, that most critical of rhythmic ingredients in any track; more significant than a crackling snare or hand clap, shuffling hi-hat pattern, or any number of decorative rhythmic devices used to liven up the music. Without the thump of the kick drum, hip hop would be weightless and hollow, each successive bar drifting by uneventfully and repetitiously. That compelling sensation of movement would be lost if not abandoned completely, and what would remain would be something akin to bobbing one’s head to a Mozart sonata. And perhaps most importantly, it would sound horrible in a car.

Before the days of sampling, when the music consisted of simple drum machines and keyboards, the kick drum occupied a prominent role in the beat, yet it couldn’t be disguised that it was still a flavorless factory sample. Short of a little EQ’ing and tuning, there wasn’t much more a producer could do with samples like ‘808Kick’ or ‘HardStab’. During the late ’80s, as the breakbeat craze swept over hip hop, the kick drum was at its lowest in popularity, as producers could simply isolate a drum break from a record, loop it, and not have to be concerned with programming or drum placement; it was already self-contained within the break itself. Around the turn of the ’90s, however, more and more beatsmiths began to exercise creativity in the studio, not just in sampling a drum loop, but sampling the individual elements of the loop into tiny microseconds of sound: a snare drag, the bell of the ride cymbal, an open hi-hat. Soon producers were accumulating entire disks of drum samples for their MPC3000 or SP-1200, guarded with the same amount of caution as their crates of vinyl. For this drop I’d like to examine a handful of producers from the mid-’90s who creatively utilized the kick drum in a unique manner, subtly shifting the direction of hip hop production through their application of this one singular element.

Before we get started, it’s important to understand the basics of drum kit notation.

Figure 1: Kick Drum Pattern 1 0:10

This is a simple one-bar drum pattern repeated over four bars. Each hi-hat is represented by an “x” and is placed between the top two lines of the staff, while the snare is positioned beneath. (Note that for our purposes, the snare pattern will not include rests, which clutter the notation and present possible confusion with the kick drum rests.) Each kick drum note is placed between the bottom two lines of the staff, with rests accordingly.

Here’s the same snare/hi-hat template with more elaborate kick drum placements:

Figure 2: Kick Drum Pattern 2 0:10

The circled kick drum notes are known as “pinched kicks,” a technique of coupling bass drum hits, usually with a bar line between, that creates forward momentum. They are just about as vital to hip hop as the guitar is to rock music. With that out of the way, let’s move on.

For all of the mystery surrounding his early productions – sampling from obscure kung fu flicks, ominous piano motifs, the haphazard addition and subtraction of sounds in the mix – Wu-Tang’s abbot RZA surprisingly adopted a less-is-more approach to his drum tracks. Rhythmically speaking, RZA’s chief focus was the snare, which he would often double with another sound then alternate between the two for effect (see “Bring da Ruckus,” “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing ta F’ Wit”); the kick drum was almost always secondary in importance. Strictly speaking in regard to his drum tracks, RZA introduced a refreshing simplicity to the hip hop production landscape. The sound of the kicks themselves was unlike anything heard before in hip hop, oftentimes captured from a punch to a character’s stomach in some color-saturated martial-arts film. RZA displayed a remarkable economy with his kicks, only placing them where they were needed to devastating effect (see “Guillotine [Swords]” or “Triumph”).

Raekwon’s “Incarcerated Scarfaces,” from Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… (1995), is a fine example of RZA’s minimalist kick drum ethic. The drum track is dusty and spacious, with a tight snare and loud, open hi-hat just before the third beat. RZA places pinched kicks around the downbeat to propel the track forward, then places a kick underneath the open hi-hat accent for greater emphasis. Like all of his productions from this era, RZA likely dismissed quantization and played each note live on the drum pads, as there is a faint yet detectable inconsistency in the timing during certain sections, but this only enhances the individuality of his sound.

“Incarcerated Scarfaces” – Raekwon 4:42 (Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…, RCA 1995)

Following their now-classic third release Midnight Marauders (1993), A Tribe Called Quest figurehead Q-Tip recruited a young studio wizard from Detroit calling himself Jay Dee to assist in the production. Along with group member Ali Shaheed Muhammad, the trio dubbed themselves The Ummah and went on to create one of the most recognizable and unique sounds in hip hop. Tip’s infatuation with dry, cracking drums (see the entirety of The Low End Theory [1991], Nas‘ “One Love,” or his work on Mobb Deep’s The Infamous [1995] for reference), combined with Jay Dee’s lush, jazz-inflected Fender Rhodes found a wide audience, from the backpackers to the street hustlers. Unlike RZA, whose drum tracks were metronomic and rigid in adherence to the beat, The Ummah’s productions were characterized by a sort of swing, a peppy bounce that wasn’t so much about note placement as the actual feel. Their kick drum patterns were far from revolutionary but they sufficed in being exactly what the listener wanted to hear, and almost every track they helmed was dominated by pinched kicks.

The brief “Crew,” from 1996’s Beats, Rhymes & Life, features a curious application of kick placements that stands in contrast to the trio’s usual consistency. Accompanying a foreboding progression on electric piano, the four-bar drum track thickens with kick drum hits at the beginning, evens out during the middle, then increases again before repeating itself. Note the fairly standard pinched kicks in bars two and three and the more active kick patterns that bracket them.

“Crew” – A Tribe Called Quest 1:58 (Beats, Rhymes & Life, Jive 1996)

For Gang Starr’s DJ Premier, no other element in the mix takes greater precedent than the almighty kick. More often than not it’s the loudest sound in his tracks, hitting the speakers with the force of a steel toe to the gut. For Premo, the kick drum is the breath of hip hop, the fuel for converting a drum track from stasis to a kinetic being. Similar to The Ummah and RZA in his no-frills approach, his positioning of kicks is based around efficiency: that which will make the track as direct and in-your-face as possible. Rarely are there unnecessary kicks in a Premier production, with nary a ghost note to be found. His beat for “The Militia” from Moment of Truth (1998) is a virtual tutorial for constructing a guaranteed banger. Over a head-nodding tempo of 92 bpm, Premier’s drum track is comprised of two bars, each with slightly different kick placements. Notice his use of space between the snare hits in every even bar, as well as the pinched kicks that conclude each one.

“The Militia” – Gang Starr feat. Big Shug & Freddie Foxxx 4:48 (Moment of Truth, Virgin 1998)

Alternately, like many musicians of his caliber, Premier had an ‘experimental phase’ which occurred roughly from ‘94-’95. His work on Hard to Earn (1994), Jeru the Damaja’s The Sun Rises in the East (1994), and parts of Group Home’s Livin’ Proof (1995) possesses a dissonant, almost avant-garde approach that eschewed melody for gritty texture (it’s safe to say that there will never be a hip hop single as bizarre as “Come Clean” ever again). Naturally, Premier’s kick drum patterns followed suit, and one needs to look no further than one of Gang Starr’s own singles from this period, the hypnotic “Mass Appeal.” The hits are a succession of pinched kicks, but what’s most notable is the fact that there is no kick on the downbeat – practically unheard of in hip hop – but because of the way the organ loop is positioned, the ears are none the wiser.

“Mass Appeal” – Gang Starr 3:41 (Hard to Earn, Chrysalis 1994)

When it came to kick drum patterns of elevated complexity, few producers could hold a candle to Pete Rock. At times it seemed as if he was deliberately attempting to trick the listener into following a pattern, only to alternate it entirely as soon as it was grasped. Instead of building his drum tracks with the usual two- or four-bar chunks, Pete often expanded his to twelve or sixteen, with each four-bar segment containing variations on one pattern (see album opener “In the House” from The Main Ingredient [1994]). InI’s “To Each His Own,” from the long-shelved Center of Attention (1995) is a chief example of his tendency to insert kicks almost arbitrarily into the drum track, much as if (like RZA, above) he was hitting the pads live instead of programming them. Notice the subtle variations in bars four and eight, as well as the extra pinched kicks in bar seven.

Just when the listener has latched onto this pattern, Pete introduces yet another variation at 1:19, but this time with a kick directly under a snare in the third bar, a defiant middle finger to the more conservative beatsmiths who frown on such techniques. One would be forgiven for thinking that the producer had accidentally clammed up the drum programming, until the realization occurs that 1) it’s Pete Rock, for Christ’s sake, and 2) the kick/snare overlap happens half a dozen more times during the remainder of the track.

“To Each His Own (Instrumental)” – Pete Rock 4:15 (Center of Attention, Rapster 2003)

I’m not naïve enough to assume that these producer showcases will be some sort of revelation to the hip hop cognoscenti, but if anything, perhaps they’ll offer a different musical perspective to already-familiar material.