Eric Sermon feat. Keith Murray “Hostile” No Pressure Def Jam 1993

During this time of year, when the temperatures begin to slide closer to freezing and daylight gets progressively shorter, I tend to gravitate toward the more rugged, bare-bones style of hip hop production best exhibited by Buckwild, Da Beatminerz, the DITC crew, and of course, Erick Sermon.  The latter’s post-EMPD debut, No Pressure (1993), has been a recent rediscovery for me, a record I hadn’t heard since my early high school years when it initially dropped.  Sermon tends to get overlooked on most Favorite ‘90s Producers lists, which is understandable given the rather thin spectrum of his working methods: sampling “The Payback” for the umpteenth time, adding a chunky Skull Snaps drum loop, a dollop of sub-filtered bass, and a dash of melody from a Zapp or Parliament record, then repeat as necessary.  In short, he really only did one thing but damned if he didn’t do it well, and his work on the first three Redman records, Keith Murray’s first two joints, and his own solo ventures during the mid-‘90s holds up quite impressively when viewed as a whole.  Look closer and the monotony begins to grow tedious, but the unintentional hilarity of Sermon’s lyrics and delivery often makes up for it.  Case in point: “Hostile,” from his debut, which is most notable for introducing the world to an 18 year-old kid from Brentwood, Long Island, named Keith Murray.

I’ve been playing this song once a day for the past week and each time I find something else to love about it.  The first impression one might get is that “Hostile” sounds like it was recorded in an abandoned warehouse somewhere along the East River.  There isn’t a shred of melodic content to latch onto, just a thumping drum pattern and a subterranean bassline that threatens to drown everything out at any moment.  Some dude named Jeff Stewart acts as MC for a lyrical showcase of sorts featuring Sermon and Murray, introducing Sermon by his half-dozen aliases, from the Funk Lord to his preferred secondary nomenclature, The Green-Eyed Bandit.  The E-Double spits a typical 20 bars full of his trademarked braggadocio, complete with phrases that sound great but don’t make a whole lot of sense upon closer inspection (“swinging more shit than Tarzan”).  Murray’s verse, which he amusingly opens with “Keif Murree!” is animated to the point of theatricality, his excessively-delayed vocal ricocheting off the walls and wildly varying in pitch.  He avoids the downbeat on nearly every line, invents words like “beautifullest” and “illiotic,” and threatens to “break out” his “‘get busy’ tools.”  Classic, head-nodding stuff that could have only come out in 1993.

“Hostile” – Eric Sermon feat. Keith Murray 3:38 (No Pressure, Def Jam 2008)

Melvins “Youth of America” Electroretard Man’s Ruin 2001

A smattering of interrelated thoughts after a dedicated half-hour of having my eardrums rattled by Melvins’ “Youth of America”:

• This song simply cannot be played at a volume of less than 100 decibels; otherwise, 95% of its potency disappears.

• To date, Melvins have yet to release a cover that tops this – “Candy-O,” “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” and various Kiss and Pink Floyd retreads can only stand in the shadow of this interpretation. The Wipers’ original never made much of an impression on me until I heard Buzz Osbourne’s shredding, disemboweling guitar solo here.

• Never has one song been more of a sole reason to purchase a record – in this case, the odds n’ sods collection Electroretard (2001) on the now-defunct Man’s Ruin label. Everything else on the album pales in comparison to “Youth of America.” Plus, who doesn’t want to own a record titled Electroretard that has no connection to Crystal Castles?

• Hearing “Youth of America,” at the appropriate volume, is equivalent to: A) having your testicles sandblasted, B) feeling like the old lady who gets breath-blasted in the “Come to Daddy” video, C) hurtling through an asteroid field at Ludicrous Speed, or D) coming to the conclusion that your band will never be able to execute something as perfect as this.

• Dale Crover has the energy level of a five year-old on a strict diet of Pixy Stix. Look at the guy – he looks like Neil Young’s estranged younger brother who’s spent half of his life in a correctional facility, neatly personifying the comment “he ain’t right” better than anyone on Earth. Dude can’t be human!

• “Youth of America” reaffirms the notion that sometimes simplicity is best. Drums, bass, a couple of multi-tracked guitars, and a vocal. Done.

• “Motorik,” “biker rock,” whatever you want to call it: this song completely defies stasis. The ideal application of “Youth of America” would be an open desert highway at sunset, speedometer hovering around 95, top down, engine roaring underneath the chugging bass, the guitar feedback sweetly harmonizing with the howling wind as the pavement blurs below the wheels.

“Youth of America” – Melvins 9:17 (Electroretard, Man’s Ruin 2001)