one good thought. (best of 2016)

Here are a few reasons to hate 2016:
Zika.
Terror attacks in Brussels and Istanbul.
Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, Keith Lamont Scott, Terrance Crutcher murdered.
Five Dallas police officers murdered.
Brock Turner.
Attack at Pulse Nightclub.
Trump.
David Bowie dies.
Glenn Frey dies.
Phife Dawg dies.
Merle Haggard dies.
Prince dies.
Muhammad Ali dies.
Prince Be dies.
Gene Wilder dies.
Arnold Palmer dies.
Leonard Cohen dies.
Sharon Jones dies.
Brexit.
Trump.
Attack at Ohio State.
Standing Rock.
Tennessee burns.
Trump.

I'm sure that I've missed something. 
Lots of sucking happening in that list, huh? But you know something...when I stood on the banks of the Currituck Sound, days after the attacks in Brussels, holding my four-year old daughter and watching the sun gleam off of the water the only thing I could think about was how such beauty could never be taken by terrorists. 

In October, when I stood in a crowd at the feet of Kelsey Lu, whose name I had never heard before, and listened to her voice and her cello I was not thinking of any of the terrible things that happened this year. In that moment all I could think was about was how such beautiful sounds could transfix a room full of strangers.

We need these moments. They give us life and hope and strength. Angel Olsen has reminded us that "some days all you need is one good thought strong in your mind." This year seemed to provide a never ending stream of loss and suffering. But when I really reflect on it I can see the beauty and joy and love sprinkled into it.

Music always helps. I have my favorites. Here are some that helped me through.

Kelsey Lu - Church

DIIV - Is The Is Are 

Angel Olsen - My Woman 

Anderson .Paak - Malibu 

A Tribe Called Quest - We Got it From Here...Thank You 4 Your Service 

Mary Lattimore - At the Dam 

Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein - Stranger Things, Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 

Ty Segall - Emotional Mugger 

Thee Oh Sees - A Weird Exits 

The Men - Devil Music 

Parquet Courts - Human Performance 

Kevin Morby - Singing Saw 

Car Seat Headrest - Teens of Denial 

Danny Brown - Atrocity Exhibition 

Solange - A Seat at the Table 

Quilt - Plaza 

Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam - I Had a Dream that You Were Mine 

Isaiah Rashad - The Sun's Tirade 

James Blake - The Colour in Anything 

Kendrick Lamar - untitled unmastered 

same old, same old.

I feel old. When I listen to new rap music these days and I feel like I'm missing something. I start to say things like, is this all they have to talk about? Drugs. Money. Guns. Derogatory terms for women. When I was a teenager rap and hip-hop was virtually all I listened to. Back then I would have argued with anyone who spoke out against the anger, the violence and the negativity that existed in rap music. To me, rap music was about stories. Not just stories -  true stories from people who had lived completely different lives than me but still wanted the same things: to be understood, to be loved and to be secure. Perhaps that's still true. If it is, however, the stories that I hear in most of today's music feels entirely out of touch with the present state of our nation. I have found myself being drawn to those artists who have figured out a way to tell their story, use their talent and sellout shows without relying on the same tired old formula that Puff Daddy made popular in the '90s. What I've found is that these artists have been around for a while, and I guess that's part of what makes me feel old. The Roots, Common, Nas, Killer Mike, El-P,  and Shabazz Palaces ("Butterfly" from Digable Planets), are a few that still hold my interest.

As sort of an effort to find something new, I have chosen to revisit something old. There are several albums that I keep coming back to and I can't help but wonder if the era in which most of them were recorded will go down as the last golden age of hip-hop. I've wondered if Nas was right, that hip-hop is virtually dead. I don't get A$AP Rocky or Drake or Whiz Kalifa or even Lil Wayne. When I listen to most new rap music what I hear has either all been said before or it's not worth saying at all. See my old post on Raekwon for further rants on this subject. I need some substance. So these are the records that have had things to say to me and have continued to speak.

A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory
This was the very first rap tape that I ever bought (if you don't count Kris Kross' Totally Krossed Out) and I really had no idea what I was getting into. I don't know what prompted me to buy it or made me think that I would like it. But it ended up changing the way I listen to music forever. It was the perfect entry into rap music for me - a subtle introduction to inner city life and the rap music industry that manged to be light-hearted and serious at the same time. I don't believe that I would have any interest in jazz if it weren't for this album. Between this and Digable Planets' Blowout Comb (more on that to come) I was primed for Miles Davis and Pharoah Sanders.

Nas - Illmatic
It's a classic. Everyone knows it. I can't say anything about it that hasn't already been said. From  front to back it's probably the strongest rap album of all time. And it's straight to the point. There is no filler and no fluff. Say what you want about the Nas records that followed all you need to do is listen to "One Love" to know he's one of the greatest rappers of all time (and it doesn't hurt that Q-Tip gives the production some of his jazzy flavor).

Outkast - ATLiens

I'm one of those people who prides themselves on the fact that they listened to Southerplayalisticadillacmuzik when Andre 3000 was just plain old "Dre" and no one had any idea who he was. While ATLiens was a bit of a departure from their debut in my opinion it is their strongest album to date. I was comfortable with them dropping the gangster sensibilities and becoming more reflective. I mean who else could get away with humming a chorus ("Millennium") or making a rap song without any beat ("E.T. [Extraterrestrial]"). I committed the lyrics of "Elevators (Me & You)" to memory and proudly recited them to every English-speaking Romanian that I met while overseas in 1996. I could still give you Dre's last verse in full.

Goodie Mob - Soul Food

It's hard to believe that this is where Cee-Lo Green got started. Well, maybe not entirely. Well paired with fellow Dungeon Family mates Outkast, the Goodie Mob sorta put southern rap music on the map with this one. They coined the phrase "dirty south" for goodness sake. But while they were telling tells of drugs and poverty, it was also clear that these dudes were from the Bible belt. Also, they made a song about food.

EMPD - Strictly Business

It's all about the samples. They certainly weren't the first use samples but you could probably make an argument that they were the first use them in this way. Folks made a big deal about the samples used on Watch the Throne last year (Otis Redding, James Brown, Nina Simone, etc.) but they were only impressive because of steep price of the royalties and the total lack of necessesity. EPMD managed to sample folks like Eric Clapton, ZZ Top, Steve Miller, Pink Floyd, Michael Jackson, Kool & the Gang, Aretha Franklin, Rick James, Otis Redding, Zapp and themselves (over and over) in ways that would make Puff Daddy's head explode. They were used to craft songs and attract the ears of those who undoubtedly recognized their source. It's a total embodiment of what makes rap music entertaining.

Souls of Mischief - '93 Til Infinity

It's a bit difficult to explain this one. I just like it. The beats are comprised of jazz/funk. The lyrics  stand out as a stark contrast to the west coast gangsta rap that was being pumped out in 1993. I always felt like the sound of the album was more New York than California. This was of course during a period of rap music when it was usually easy to tell what part of the country a record was produced in. In a group of four MCs, the flow from one verse to the next is virtually seamless. It's that cohesion which made Souls of Mischief much easier to listen to than the Hieroglyphics collective to which they belonged.

GZA - Liquid Swords 

From the release of Enter the Wu-Tang I was a Clan junkie. I couldn't get enough (there are periods even now when that is still true). While some might tell you that Only Built 4 Cuban Linx or Ironman are the best solo releases from the Wu they would be wrong. I feel dirty every time I do this but if you want to read more on why this album is probably one of the greatest of all time then you should check out the Pitchfork review of the chess box deluxe reissue. The production is perfect. The guest spots from other Wu members are perfect. The Genius is perfect. The only thing I never quite understood was the Killah Priest cut at the end of the album. Despite that, the GZA paints a vivid picture of the streets, the industry pitfalls and the drug trade with the tone and demeanor of a veteran. "Shadowboxin'" will always be right. Always.

Digable Planets - Blowout Comb

Honestly, to this day I don't think I have any idea what the hell they're talking about most of the time. Creamy spies? Huh? But it doesn't matter. It just sounds so funky. Much like The Low End Theory the production on this album had a great impact on me. It's just such an overwhelmingly cool record.

The Roots - Things Fall Apart

Whether they intended it to be or not, this was the tipping point - not The Tipping Point. "You Got Me" put them into everyone's homes and the success of this record is responsible for the genre bending force of nature that is The Roots today. Each track out does the previous one. It's just a progression of sound and lyricism that was organic and unexpected at the same time. Despite featuring their first sample ("Without a Doubt") the changes they were undergoing here feel much more like a realization of their talent as opposed to a compromise. Also, "Double Trouble" is some of my all time favorite back and forth rhyming of all time.

Common - Be

I wanted more of Like Water For Chocolate. I wanted Kanye West to bring rap music back the '90s, to the heyday of soul and funk samples. I got what I wanted in Be. Arguably Common's best effort, everything about it is just right. There are times when it feels like Kanye's beats are simply going to the highest bidder. This is not one of them. The whole show is tailored and contoured for Common Sense. I'm not saying the dude is old but he's not new to the game and the vintage soul cooked up for this album fit him perfectly. "Faithful" and "Testify" would have been enough for me to declare this one of my favorite lyrical albums but fortunately there is so much more. I never understood why "They Say" was not a huge hit.

I have to stop here. As I was writing this entry I continually asked myself why I listen to rap music so much. The only answer that I could up with is that it feels necessary as a way of continuing my understanding of the human condition, in almost the same way that I refuse to give up on the political process. To abandon it would be to abandon a certain insight into our culture.

reflections

I've entered another one of those blank stages. I feel stagnant, lazy. Maybe the high heat and humidity of this miserable summer has had something to do with that. It's hard to be outside in the punishing sun with no where to take cover and no way around sweating through my shirt. I've been listening to some new records that I've really enjoyed like Mines from Menomena, Part II: The New December from Fol Chen, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty from Big Boi and Disconnect From Desire from School Of Seven Bells. All the time spent indoors in the air conditioning, however, has caused me to reflect, yet again, on who I am, where I came from and what got me here. That's unpleasant work sometimes. Reflection can so often bring up the old, painful memories. It sheds light on those embarrassing and shameful moments, but the truth is it's the dark things, as well as the light, that have made me who I am today. I've been trying to relate this to music as well, considering what albums have made the most impact on my ears and have shaped the way I listen to things. I think I've come up with a few that I'd like to share. Some are probably obvious and seem like an easy choice. Others may be a little embarrassing. It's all true regardless, and it makes up my music history.


Bruce Springsteen - Born In The USA (1984)

When I was a kid my dad used to work out regularly in our basement. We had a rowing machine, a nordic track and some free weights. Dad used to put on his sweats, turn up the stereo and go to work. I would often observe from the basement steps or participate by dancing to the music. The playlist was rather exclusive. It was usually Sports (1983) by Huey Lewis & The News, Eliminator (1983) by ZZ Top or Born In The USA. The funny thing is that my mom was the big Boss fan, not my dad. Perhaps it was his guilty pleasure. At any rate, songs like "Downbound Train," "My Hometown" and "I'm On Fire" were burned into my brain (and that's not mention the mega hits from this album, "Dancing in the Dark" and "Glory Days"). At the time I didn't think much of the music. It was my parents music. Now I hear Springsteen's influence in every other band that wants to be somebody, from Dr. Dog to the Killers to Arcade Fire.


Sam Cooke - The Man And His Music (1986)

What a voice! Sam was another favorite of my mother's and I was exposed to him at a young age. I used to love singing along with him on hits like "Cupid" and "Wonderful World". Still do. He had great songs along with great arrangements and his voice was golden. "A Change Is Gonna Come" is excellent and I'm not ashamed to say that there have been times when it's moved me to tears. I'm not usually a fan of compilation albums, preferring the full length LPs over a collection of hits, but I grew up with this one and it's special to me. It's also out of print so, good luck finding a new copy. I was a bit disappointed a few years back to read about Sam Cooke the man and his womanizing ways. I was tempted to let it tarnish the brilliance of his music, especially the gospel songs, but then I remembered that he was human just like the rest of us.



A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory (1991)

This was my first rap cassette, purchased at age 12. Before this I was listening to things you might expect a child to like. Stuff my mom had passed on like the Rascals and the Monkees and then stuff from the radio like Roxette, Boyz II Men and Kris Kross. The Low End Theory changed everything for me and set me on a path that led deep through '90s rap, hip-hop and R&B, and then later through jazz. Needless to say, it disturbed my parents. Of course, I wasn't aware at the time but Tribe was changing the game with this album. It wove jazz and hip-hop together in a way that few albums before it did.



Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993)

If Tribe disturbed my parents, 36 Chambers would have killed them. Fortunately I was smart enough to hide it from them. It's dark and grimey, with that basement sound that is now characteristic of the Wu. Certainly not something a 13 year-old should listen to. It's rated R. I can remember being shocked at the language, knowing right away that most adults I knew wouldn't approve. I loved it and still do. It was the next step into rap music for me. I was fascinated by the stories they told. It was all foreign to me, a young white boy living in the suburbs. It was a window into another world, one full of drugs, violence and street poetry. At the same time it was also a world of make believe crafted from bits and pieces of old kung-fu flicks and comic book persona's. The combination of real street drama and bizarre martial art fantasy was brilliant. I couldn't get enough.



Soundgarden - Superunknown (1994)

It wasn't really until after high school that I would venture into other genres besides rap and hip-hop but before that there were a few albums that got my attention. Pearl Jam's Ten was one of them, and it perhaps developed a longer lasting bond, but Superunknown really connected for me. I have no doubt that it's dark atmosphere is the reason. The mood is not a far cry from that of 36 Chambers or any 2Pac, Biggie or Bone Thugs-N-Harmony record. The emotion is not all that different either. It's bleak, sad, angry and a bit self destructive. And I was a teenager. This one would be my companion and my ruler when I finally decided I could listen to alternative music.


Outkast - ATLiens (1996)

This is what I decided rap music should sound like. Story telling, street knowledge, cultural awareness and dope beats. Somehow they managed to turn from the gangsta tendencies that littered their debut (which really didn't suit them so well to begin with) to this middle of the road classic. It's possible to observe and report the violence in your neighborhood without taking part. It's possible to want to change a situation but still contribute to the problem. Life is messy. So is fame. "Elevators (Me & You)" is probably one of my favorite songs of all time. I can remember reciting the lyrics for some kids my age when I was in Romania. They seemed impressed. Or maybe they just thought it was funny. I enjoyed it in either case. Big Boi and Andre remain in a class by themselves. Who else would have had the guts to release songs like "E.T. (Extraterrestrial)," which does not include a single drum beat, or "Millennium," which exposes some of their insecurities and features a wordless chorus that consists of humming (if you can call it that. It's more like grunting). They made it work somehow, placing them back to back in the track list.


Radiohead - OK Computer (1997)

My freshman year of college I roomed with a good friend from high school who had very different taste in music. He was a grudge fan and didn't care much for rap or hip-hop. He would listen to Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" and The Bends by Radiohead over and over again until it would make me sick and I'd yell at him to turn it off. That's when he would turn it up. We were sort of like siblings. We enjoyed getting on each others nerves now and then. I would get back at him by refusing to take out the trash. It wasn't until a couple of years later when I was forced to diagram the sonic landscape of "Subterranean Homesick Alien" for a recording class that I understood Ben's obsession with Radiohead. They are on a whole other level. Being asked to diagram that song turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It completely changed the way I listened to music. I was suddenly aware of the entire sonic field and could isolate sounds and instruments in songs. This album made me appreciate how the little things come together to make great things.


Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights (2002)

I'm not really sure how to explain this one. I just feel like it opened me up to a bunch of new things. There was a time when I thought that if something wasn't on the radio it wasn't worth hearing. Turn On The Bright Lights completely disproved that for me. It was good timing because although my recording classes and Radiohead had widened my gaze,the side effect was that most mainstream, radio friendly songs had started sounding one dimensional and generally boring. Suddenly here's Interpol and this stuff called "Indie" music ready to quench my thirst. Bright Lights also helped me expand my catalog backwards after realizing that there was a bunch of classic stuff made in the '80s that I had never heard (i.e. Joy Division and the Cure). Interpol brought both the present and the past together for me in one really great album. How nice of them.


Portishead - Dummy (1994)

Also in my recording classes were some folks who were both talented musicians and informed members of the underground and indie culture. In one of our first classes we went around the room and shared what music we had been listening to. I admitted somewhat sheepishly that Pete Yorn's musicforthemorningafter had been playing in my car on the way to class. By the end of the semester these guys had pointed me to a ton of great albums. The one that I wished I had known about years earlier was Dummy. I'd been listening to Wu-Tang all those years without a clue that several of their samples came from Portishead. This was a blow to my hip-hop ego. I got over it, after a while, and then gladly shared the entire Portishead discography with everyone I knew. What this album really taught me, though, is that rap music has had a deep impact on a whole slew of other artists and it led me to people like DJ Shadow, Diplo, Lamb, Massive Attack and Bjork.


Tom Waits - Mule Variations (1999)

I used to be a part of a group of folks that would swap records, hoping to expand our collections and our ears. Most of these folks were music snobs and I don't think they would mind me saying so. To be honest, I did more taking than giving, feeling that what I had to share was not worthy enough. This is one of the treasure's that I took. In perhaps the same way as Turn On The Bright Lights, Mule Variations softened me towards two really great things: Tom Waits and classic singer/songwriter types. I had a bit of a hard time getting past Tom's voice. It's not easy to swallow, you must admit. Something about this album made it click for me though. It's so earthy and dusty and it feels so real, like a piece of Tom himself was somehow used to make it. I went on a Tom Waits binge after I heard this album a couple of years ago. It was all I listened to for weeks. Somehow getting into Tom made it possible for me to explore other greats like Nick Drake, Jackson Browne, Neil Young and Bob Dylan. There is a link somewhere in there that I can't quite put my finger on but trust me, it's there.


I'm sure I could keep listing albums that have advanced my music experience. I'm thinking of people like Digable Planets, Arrested Development, Mogwai, the Beatles, Pink Floyd...perhaps I'll write about them and more some other time. The ten I've listed here are just the first ones that came to mind. They're also albums that I frequently turn to when uncertainty paralyzes me. Right now...I'm off to get some ice cream.