It’s rare that I cover any media besides records on the site, but there are two books I received in the mail recently that deserve some exposure.

BeatTips Manual, Fourth Edition Written by Sa’id Superchamp Books 2007

So you just got a sweet deal on an Akai S-950 on eBay. You scored a pair of used Event TR8’s at your local Guitar Center, and your Technics 1200 MKII just came in from the repair shop. Now what? Well, if none of that made any sense to you, don’t fret; with the new level of prominence the producer’s role has attained in hip hop, the fourth edition of Sa’id’s BeatTips Manual (2007) is directed solely toward up-and-coming beatmakers looking to get their foot in the door. Sa’id begins the manual with advice on production setup and the right gear, moves into the art of sampling and structuring beats, and even includes a full chapter on the legal ins and outs of the business and how to protect oneself. Light reading this ain’t: section titles include “The Genius of One Bar Core Sequences” and “Group Map Assignments.” But if scholarly discussions on beat quantization and loop time stretching send your heart fluttering, you’ll find plenty to like here.

The author also includes a thorough list of artists and songwriters to study (from Donny Hathaway to The Police), and when I saw that Showbiz occupied the number three slot on his “Top 50 Hip Hop-Rap Producers of All Time” list (behind Premier and Marley Marl), I knew I had found a kindred spirit. And here’s the best part: nearly half of the manual is devoted to in-depth interviews and “shop talk” with everyone from veterans like Primo and Buckwild to established newcomers like Chris Styles and Versatile, in addition to studio engineers and industry players. (Granted, most of the interviews revolve around preferred mic preamps and software setups, but they’re revealing nonetheless.) What Sa’id can’t provide, obviously, are the inherent creative and artistic components necessary for constructing a certifiable banger, though he stresses originality at every corner and the importance of establishing a signature sound. If I had to pick a beef with the manual, it’s the lack of a proper editor, which can be incredibly frustrating and ultimately distracting from the content; hopefully this will be corrected in the fifth edition. But a book of this type needed to come along, and Sa’id has done a fine job in presenting it.

Check the Technique: Liner Notes for Hip Hop Junkies Written by Brian Coleman Villiard Press 2007

Chances are if you fiend for ‘Golden Age’ hip hop like, well, a “junkie,” you’ll have already consumed this book in a matter of hours and have committed most of its trivia to memory. It’s not often that I use the phrase “must-have” in regard to books, but seriously, if you own any hip hop album recorded between ‘86 and ‘96, it is imperative that you get your hands on a copy of Brian Coleman’s Check the Technique (2007). Personally, I’m still coming to terms with the fact that this book actually exists, and if I ever got the chance to meet Mr. Coleman, I’d probably bypass the handshake and bear-hug the guy until security extracted me from him.

Unofficially cited as an “expanded” version of Rakim Told Me (2005), Check the Technique examines in often excruciating detail 36 classic or near-classic platters from hip hop’s most exciting era, from multi-platinum juggernauts like The Fugees‘ The Score (1996) to near-forgotten gems like MC Lyte’s Lyte as a Rock (1988). As one who tends to obsessively magnify the minutiae of events that go into crafting a song or album, I pored over every word of the book, re-reading passages and earmarking pages for potential quotables – like when Buckshot of Black Moon drops a jewel of enlightenment like, “Rapping is like a snake traveling up a tree. It’s so slitherful.” Coleman’s writing doesn’t exactly redefine hip hop journalism, but who cares? It’s the interviews here that comprise the real meat of the book, and I cherished every moment of reading about how half of The Roots‘ Do You Want More?!!!??! (1995) was made on Bel Biv DeVoe’s leftover equipment, for example, or why X-Clan’s Brother J actually disliked Professor X’s signature “Sissy!” on every cut from To The East, Blackwards (1990). Dilettantes will likely quibble over the exclusion of particular favorites, but it’s tough to complain with so much goodness here, and if I’m still utterly absorbed during the chapter on Onyx’s Bacdafucup (1993), you know it’s got to be good. Highly, highly recommended.

Many moons ago, when I was thirteen years old, some friends and I ventured out on a cold February evening to an old theater downtown named The Dixie (oh, I grew up in Virginia, by the way) to see the latest cinematic hotness that everyone had been raving about, Juice (1992). As the only white kid in a theater of a few dozen people, I was a bit taken aback when my fellow viewers began yelling at the screen (I was genuinely startled when a girl began crying loudly after Raheem is shot), but nothing could have diverted my attention from those DJ competition scenes. Sure, watching the film now they’re corny as hell – Omar Epps with a loose hoodie over his head, grinning from ear to ear as he cuts up a Big Daddy Kane lyric – but I remember at the time thinking that it was the coolest shit ever. I also had a hard time believing that the same dude who used to clown on stage in the Digital Underground videos made for such a captivating villian. The next day I copped the soundtrack on cassette from my local Sam Goody and over the next month or so, proceeded to wear the magnetic tape into dust in the confines of my temperamental Walkman.

I’m well aware that dreamy nostalgia always tends to cloud serious analysis, but when I listened to the Juice soundtrack recently, I was surpised at how hit-or-miss the a lot of the selections were. In fact, I bet it would be next to impossible to find someone who could play the record from start to finish and love every track, although when you have Tammy Lucas squirming uncomfortably alongside Son of Bazerk, things are bound to take a turn into questionable waters. Let’s dissect, shall we?

“Uptown Anthem” – Naughty by Nature

I was never one of Naughty by Nature’s biggest fans, but I’ve always thought that this was one of Treach & Co.’s strongest tracks, a fitting bridge between the trio’s rugged self-titled debut (1991) and the more accessible 19 Naughty III (1993). “Uptown Anthem” accompanied the end credits in the film, yet proved to be a gripping opener on the soundtrack, with a Gothic-sounding piano dirge added on as an intro. Taking that hypnotic, delayed piano note as his cue, Treach rips into this cut with absolute fury, and even Vin Rock is amped up enough to drop a solid eight bars to conclude the second verse. The song was so popular that Tommy Boy began repressing the group’s debut with it tacked on as a bonus track. A fine inclusion here, and a superb way to kick off the album.

“Uptown Anthem” – Naughty by Nature (Juice Soundtrack, MCA 1992)

“Juice (Know the Ledge)” – Eric B. & Rakim

If the rest of the tracks on Don’t Sweat the Technique (1992) were as intense and razor-sharp as “Juice (Know the Ledge),” Eric B. & Rakim would have committed an outstanding swan song to the hip hop oeuvre. As it stands, this is the last truly great gem the pair conceived before splitting. No other selection here encompasses the look and the feel of Juice more than the title track, which is why it was the no-brainer candidate to soundtrack the opening credits. A nimble drum loop, that dusty acoustic bass, some panned razor-sharp scratching for the chorus, and Rakim at his devastatingly finest – all the signs of a rightful classic are here. My favorite touch: the dancing flute sample that is injected periodically into the verse.

“Is It Good to You” – Teddy Riley feat. Tammy Lucas

Of course, you can’t have a ‘92 soundtrack without the new jack, the first of two on the record. I’ll sheepishly admit to having a slight guilty pleasure with this song, despite the obvious inquiry regarding its inclusion here. “Is It Good to You” has experienced a rough aging process over the last fifteen years, but it was generally disposable to start with. This is the track playing in the Harlem record store as Q (Epps) turns his mack up on the strobelight honey working the register, all so his companion Steel can boost a few LPs undetected.

“Sex, Money & Murder” – MC Pooh

I never really cared much for Too Short nor his protegé MC Pooh, but this track is tolerable enough, and its brief length usually kept me from instinctively pouncing on the fast-forward button on my Walkman. I’m sure the album’s producers, Hank Shocklee and Kathy Nelson, had a valid reason for choosing this track, but I could have picked a hundred more suitable emcees for the film’s soundtrack than Oak-town’s Pooh-Man. His lyrics wallow in too many obvious gutter-reaching punchlines for my taste, although Ant Banks‘ production here swaggers a nice West Coast vibe. I’m not positive about this song’s occurrence in the film, but it was likely for only a few seconds; possibly as a source cue in the arcade?

“‘Nuff Respect” – Big Daddy Kane

I remember this track was completely unexpected when I first heard it; I had pretty much written off Kane after that Prince of Darkness (1991) nonsense. Certain productions are precisely tailor-made for particular emcees, and I can’t imagine anyone – anyone – who could hold a candle to Kane’s performance here. There are too many standout one-liners to mention, but the “Sitting next to the man, sitting next to the man…” lyric is possibly my favorite. Hell, the whole track induces goosebumps, and any price paid for this record is wholly justified by “‘Nuff Respect.” Outstanding. This cut was flipped a hundred different ways during the DJ scenes, mostly as a backing track for the turntablists to scratch over.

“‘Nuff Respect” – Big Daddy Kane (Juice Soundtrack, MCA 1992)

“So You Want to Be a Gangster” – Too $hort

Shocklee taps into Oakland’s mimimalistic, bass-heavy scene for a second time. This track is mildly refreshing after the scorched-earth intensity of “‘Nuff Respect,” but around the second minute or so, its low-keyed demeanor begins to wear thin. Again, $hort’s casual pimp persona wasn’t really my thing, but I can recall most of these lyrics off-hand, so evidently I didn’t hate it. I can’t recall its placement in the film, but I would guess it was being played in Q’s headphones in a number of scenes.

“It’s Going Down” – EPMD

I’ve stated before that “It’s Going Down” is arguably the quintessential EPMD track in terms of production, content, and delivery, with “So Wat Cha Sayin’” running a close second. Unlike the version on Business Never Personal (1992), the few expletives here aren’t edited, for those that care about that sort of thing. Erick and Parrish show up for a brief cameo in the film as patrons in the neighborhood bar while the track is playing, just before the place is robbed at gunpoint by a crazed associate of Q’s.

“Don’t Be Afraid” – Aaron Hall

Hall’s post-Guy career didn’t really take off, though “Don’t Be Afriad,” which opens the second side of the soundtrack, was his most successful hit. I suppose if I had to pick a new jack cut that isn’t entirely unbearable, this would likely be my choice, but only because of Shocklee’s production here – those crushing drums alone could topple buildings. But when Hall starts in on the “rest your head on my tattoo’ed chest” routine, I instinctively reach for the skip button. And who is the uncredited female co-star here who sounds like she’s half-awake? This track was a source cue in the apartment of En Vogue’s Cindy Herron during an intimate post-coitus moment with Epps’ character. Mmmm. Cindy.

“He’s Gamin’ on Ya’” – Salt N’ Pepa

I used to know the exact time it would take to fast-forward past this song on my Walkman and land just a few seconds shy of the next track. Hurby Luv Bug wasn’t exactly revolutionary in terms of production, but the clunky drum programming and cheap keyboard patches here were dated even back in ‘92, and the girls’ voices are unpleasantly high in the mix. The whole thing sounds like a studio toss-off that was too “street” for Very Necessary (1993); it doesn’t fare any better in the context of this soundtrack. I think this was the song playing when Raheem spots his girlfriend hopping in the car of Special Ed (!).

“Shoot ‘Em Up” – Cypress Hill

I still stand by my assertion that Cypress Hill was one of the most overrated groups in hip hop (try to sit through the second half of Cypress Hill [1991] now), but damned if they didn’t get everything right with this one. The secret weapon here, as with 95% of their material, is DJ Muggs, who loops a nasty buzzing guitar atop a muddled drum pattern (what the hell is going on with the hi-hats?), with disembodied vocal snippets echoing around the mix. At first it sounds nearly unlistenable, but then becomes absolutely entrancing as the track continues. I’m unsure about “Shoot ‘Em Up”’s occurence in the film, but I do recall “How I Could Just Kill a Man” being played during the climax. A definite soundtrack highlight.

“Shoot ‘Em Up” – Cypress Hill (Juice Soundtrack, MCA 1992)

“Flipside” – Juvenile Committee

“Flipside” was essentially the film’s narrative as performed by a group of teens from South Central that sounded like a more aware, harder version of Da Youngsta’s. It would be convenient to dismiss the amateurish Juvenile Committee as a novelty, but their debut, Free Us Colored Kids (1993), had production assistance from Dr. Dre and DJ Quik – does anyone know whatever happened to these kids? Either way, this one is expendable, with no hook whatsoever and a drum track that grows increasingly stale with each passing verse. Similar to “‘Nuff Respect” in its Juice placement; “Flipside”’s beat was scratched over during the DJ competition.

“What Could Be Better Bitch” – Son of Bazerk

Bazerk Bazerk Bazerk (1991) is often unfairly compared to the dull Young Black Teenagers material where Bomb Squad production projects are concerned, but Son of Bazerk was nothing if not singularly unique for his time. As the song’s title is repeated gruffly by the backing vocalists, Bazerk grunts his way through the track like he’s suffering from a painful bout of constipation, forgoing a coherent rhyme scheme for hilarious one-liners like “I’m giving you jimmy, bitch, so what could be better, bitch?” I enjoyed this more than I probably should have, but I’m completely drawing a blank as far as appearance in the film is concerned.

“Does Your Man Know About Me” – Rahiem

Mysteriously, I’ve been unable to find any information about Rahiem or this track, but after listening to it, it’s probably for the better. “Does Your Man” makes the disagreeable Riley and Hall new jack cuts seem to blend naturally with the rest of the hip hop material here, a sparkling R&B/dance hybrid that sports one of the lamest “lover raps” I think I’ve ever heard – and it’s repeated twice. Unquestionably the worst item on the soundtrack, and I don’t even know if it appeared in the film at all. Coincidendally, this is the second sample occurrence of Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You” on the record, the first being “It’s Going Down.”

“People Get Ready (Remix)” – The Brand New Heavies feat. N’Dea Davenport

By the time I got to this track I began wondering why this soundtrack got so much play back in ‘92. While I can appreciate what UK’s The Brand New Heavies were about, everything about their musicianship screamed mediocrity, and “People Get Ready” is no exception: a painfully unfunky drummer who sounds like he’s scared to death in this company, some stock horn charts, and a keyboardist who can’t stretch beyond that ridiculous comping pattern he’s playing. I can’t muster anything more than a yawn about this track. Why is this here? This may have been another source cue at the arcade while the crew is skipping school.

Acclaimed director Godfrey Reggio is perhaps best known for his trilogy of thought-provoking films on the systematic destruction of the environment: Koyaanisqatsi (1983), Powaqqatsi (1988), and Naqoyqatsi (2002). For those unfamiliar with the films, each uses visual techniques like time-lapsed landscapes, intense montages, and striking, intimate footage to present a unique perspective on the impact man has had on nature. There are no characters, dialogue, or linear storytelling devices; each is a powerful and effective coexistence of images and music. Koyaanisqatsi is absolutely essential, Powaqqatsi is flawed but captivating nonetheless, and Naqoyqatsi is a scatterbrained and confused mess that doesn’t hold a candle to the previous two.

Reggio employed postmodernist composer Philip Glass to score Koyaanisqatsi, and the collaboration proved fruitful enough for the two to creatively unite for the remaining films of the trilogy. Glass’ score for Koyaanisqatsi, often heralded as the finest of the three, has been relentlessly ridiculed and parodied almost to the point of rendering the music irrelevant, no doubt because of the maddening repetition of certain sequences and his overuse of the irritating arpeggiator-on-crack technique. (Glass’ main weakness was that he could never seem to harness the repetition and apply it effectively without bludgeoning the listener over the head with it, unlike the subtle shifts in tonal color and texture utilized by contemporaries Steve Reich and Terry Riley.) For my money, Powaqqatsi is the most rewarding score of the trilogy, a mesmerizing display of colliding polyrhythms, non-Western modal scales, exotic instrumentation, and the mind-numbing cycles of 16th notes are curbed a bit.

I’ll admit that “Anthem – Part 1” is a little corny and somewhat dated, but it’s remarkably effective as the soundtrack to the opening images of the film. There is a towering majesty here that’s hard to deny, and the pulses of octaves in 10/8 that lurk underneath are hypnotically serene. My friend Mat has commented on what he calls “airplane music,” which I interpret to be the idea of sound as movement and as modern technological travel. About four years ago, as I was taking off from John Wayne Airport in Orange County, CA, “Anthem – Part 1” was in my headphones, perfectly complimenting my ascension from the choking, surreal haze of the midday heat and continuous streams of Los Angeles traffic.

“Anthem – Part 1” – Philip Glass 6:23 (Powaqqatsi, Nonesuch 1988)

“Mosque and Temple” takes a cue from Persian modes and scales with a snaky ascending line for unison strings that crests a mountain of drones and exclamations from the trumpets and horns. The signature is an odd 16/4 that is divided into three bars of 3, followed by a bar of 4 then a final bar of 3 before returning to the beginning. It’s a fine example of Glass’ incorporation of various Third World musics into the score.

“Mosque and Temple” – Philip Glass 4:42 (Powaqqatsi, Nonesuch 1988)

The highlight of the disc is undoubtedly the “New Cities in Ancient Lands” suite, positioned as the centerpiece of the score and presented here as one long track (preceded by “Video Dream”). The movement shows Glass in a rare lyrical mood, making clever use of chromatics in a descending/ascending sequence through a tricky chord progression (Cmin to F#maj) at the opening. At 2:23 (“China”) he expands the progression (Cmin – Bmaj – Emaj7 – Bb7), as well as the flute and harp melody line as the violins begin sweeping across the landscape. The effect is hauntingly beautiful. At 5:02 (“Africa”) a kalimba and balafon enter and joyously dance around the two-note bass hits and percussive metallic scrapes. “India” begins at 7:58 as colorful synthesizers assist the orchestra and African percussion to coalesce into a swirling, bubbling ocean of sound, finally collapsing into a cavern of reverb at the finale. This is the best thing Glass ever wrote, which proved to be massively influential on 90’s techno and dance music; Orbital spent half of their career constructing music like this atop 4/4 kicks and hi-hats.

“Video Dream / New Cities in Ancient Lands: China, Africa, India” – Philip Glass 12:41 (Powaqqatsi, Nonesuch 1988)