Some Songs Considered

“Game Theory” – The Roots f/ Malik B.
(Words/music: Malik B., Khari Mateen, and The Roots, available on Game Theory, Def Jam 2006) 

No one will ever question the Roots’ chops as musicians, nor should they.  However, I wonder if their consistent prowess gets them taken for granted.  They always put meticulous thought into the performance and sequence of their albums, and now as Jimmy Fallon’s late night house band, they are on TV five nights a week backing musicians ranging from Christopher Cross to Public Enemy.  Even ?uestlove’s Twitter account reflects his immense understanding of music history and ear for tunes, as he constantly shares deep cuts many haven’t heard and offers off-the-cuff “lectures” ranging from production minutia to a thumbnail sketch of his band’s catalog.  Continued brilliance defines genius, but it also makes it easy to accept brilliance as commonplace and let appreciation lapse into acceptance. 

This thought ran through my head over the last week as I listened to the new Roots album How I Got Over at least a dozen times in a variety of settings.  It’s the same thing I’m hearing this afternoon, granted in a harder tone, as Game Theory fills the air.  Their recordings manage one of the trickiest balancing acts – minding the tiny details without sacrificing the song’s “big picture.”  Every bit of the track, whether the snap out of half time when the rhyming begins or the timbre and level of the organ peppered throughout the verses, feels perfectly positioned and performed.  Even with a band as good as the Roots, this isn’t a one-take track.  Still, this degree of attention to drum sounds and integrating samples might get in the way of the track’s overall feel, yet the Roots always manage to retain the same intensity they exude as a live band.  I can lose myself in the specific sounds in one of their tracks as easily as I can absorb the beat and bob my head along to it.  This versatility may seem effortless, but it’s also elusive, and few ever reach that level once, let alone at the frequency the Roots find it.

More on The Roots: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Wet Hair” – Japandroids
(Words: Brian King, music: Japandroids, available on Post-Nothing, Polyvinyl 2009) 

In between outbreaks of Animal Collective and Grizzly Bear hype, a noise-obsessed offshoot of skatepunk turned some heads.  I tried the Wavves album but couldn’t get past the murky aesthetic, so my burst of noise punk came via Japandroids Post-Nothing.  Guitarist Brian King and drummer David Prowse play off each other like two careening fireballs, trading rapid fire licks at a furious pace.  Songs like “Wet Hair” blast out of the speakers like a trebly mess of guitar and cymbals with both King and Prowse trading vocals – in this case, about pursuing unconventional girls.  Their limited lineup makes room for the chaos – King and Prowse can embellish their licks without crowding the mix because they are the complete show.  It gives King’s guitar room to feedback beneath his vocals and Prowse the excuse to go slightly overboard with his kick pedal. 

Still, there’s skill underneath the chaos – King seems to know his way around the Sonic Youth chord book, and Prowse spits out lightning fast hi-hat fills.  In this case, the technique takes a back seat to the exuberance.  The sing-songy repetition of the few lines (and the rocket propulsion of the riffs) make “Wet Hair” sound like a headrush.  It’s appropriate for the mix of lust and hedonism in the scant lines, giving it the kind of urgency that reminds me of late summer teenage hijinx.  Even if their performance on Jimmy Fallon last night wasn’t as over-the-top as I expected, it’s hard to deny that these two (and the crowd behind them) look like they’re having fun.

More on Japandroids: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Savory” – Jawbox
(Words/music: Jawbox, available on For Your Own Special Sweetheart, Atlantic 1994 / Dischord 2009)

For all of my interest in music, I still find that I take a lot of styles for granted.  Specifically, the licks that fall under the umbrella of “post-hardcore” feel natural to me, in part because I’ve spent most of my active listening life hearing bands put these things to use.  Wiry, dissonant guitars, odd time signatures, and oblique lyrics fill many of the megabytes on my hard drive, and while hearing a nimble bassline under a wall of feedback used to turn my head, it gets lost in the fuzz these days.  In a way, I’ve become overloaded and fatigued by the imitators before I got to the original sources.

So when I came across Jawbox years ago (but years after they heyday), the record didn’t stick immediately.  It was only later, going back to For Your Own Special Sweetheart, that I appreciated the songwriting.  On “Savory” in particular, I’m in awe of the way all of these knotted melodic strands, whether guitars, vocals, or bassline, wind together.  It seems like every time one tugs in a certain direction, all of the rest react.  It creates this densely jarring and deceptively melodic fog, and like the fog it gradually rolls out and changes its shape.  It’s this nuance that made me reconsider the band. 

Today, as the reissue of For Your Own Special Sweetheart sat on my porch when I got home the same day that the band reunited for a one-off gig on Jimmy Fallon’s show, I’m curious how many other bands I’ve slept on because of the bands that imitated them.  This isn’t to say that a band is great because they did something first, as there are plenty of “important” bands that don’t inspire the same reaction that others have.  Instead, I wonder how many bands I’ve overlooked (or prematurely judged) strictly because my first impression reminded me of a derivative band.  Optomistically, this just means I have more Jawbox moments in my future – moments where I find a pleasant surprise within my own collection.

More on Jawbox: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Bring the Noise” – Public Enemy
(Words/music: Carlton Ridenhour, Hank Shocklee, Eric Sadler, available on It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Def Jam 1988)

It would be foolish of me to try to put It Takes a Nation… into the proper social context; other people have done it and did a much better job than I ever could.  I only came to this record a couple years ago but it immediately struck me as sounding fresh and vital, especially for an album that just surpassed its twentieth birthday.  Even though the Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique gets credited as one of the first sample-heavy “masterpieces,” the production by the Bomb Squad loops together dozens of samples without it sounding like a jumbled sound collage.  Even with such a rich backing track, Chuck D’s voice cuts through loud and clear, delivering his messages with both skill and conviction.  Hell, even Flavor Flav sounds competent (especially when compared to the ridiculous self-parody that reality TV has turned him into) when he chimes in. 

I was pleasantly surprised my first time through when I realized how different the album version of “Bring the Noise” was to the Chuck D / Anthrax thrash version of the song, one I knew from hours of playing the Tony Hawk 2 demo stage on the Sega Dreamcast in high school.  I imagined that the original wouldn’t have the same edge without the relentless double kick drum action, but the album version keeps the intensity enough to prevent Chuck D from sounding like a raving maniac.  In particular, the horn sample that weaves throughout the verse gives the track another sonic texture behind the siren sound and the prominently mixed scratching (the most dated part, at least to my ears).  Where the Anthrax version blurred the lines between rap and rock (and look at the horrors that has wrought), the original makes the connection between soul, funk, and hip hop explicit.

Listening again, it makes perfect sense that Public Enemy would tap The Roots to be the backing band for a live performance of the album – their diverse musicianship and devotion to detail will help make this album breathe as a funk-fueled riot.  Earlier tonight, I watched Public Enemy’s performance with The Roots (and the Antibalas Horns) on Jimmy Fallon’s show last night (embedded below, but go to Hulu and skip to about 37 minutes in to watch it in a higher resolution) and a few things jumped out at me.  First, Chuck D still sounds great and Flavor Flav looks more ridiculous than ever in a jacket that looks like a NASCAR series car (by the way, happy 50th, Flav).  Additionally, The Roots are an incredible asset to Jimmy Fallon’s show if for no other reason than serving as the potential to bring more live hip hop to television.  I have to think that the opportunity to perform with the Roots on TV (see: Ludacris’ excellent performance during Fallon’s first week) will make more skilled MC likely to perform on a late night show.  It goes without saying, but the Roots are flat-out excellent in this clip.  The most telling part, aside from their faithful interpretation of the original’s semi-chaotic funk, was Black Thought’s verse in last night’s performance.  The fact that he held his own with Chuck D says volumes about his abilities, and I’m looking forward to hearing him join plenty of other rappers in the coming months.

More on Public Enemy: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Sweet Thing” – Van Morrison
(Words/music: Van Morrison, available on Astral Weeks, Warner Brothers 1968)

Last night, due to a few days with a skewed sleep schedule, I found myself up watching Jimmy Fallon’s first show even though I had to be up for work five hours later.  Still, wide awake, I took in the show, driven in part by the knowledge that it would end with Van Morrison singing a song from his Astral Weeks album, specifically the lovely “Sweet Thing.”  I hadn’t listened to that album in a while (until this afternoon, when I put it on to relax), but I was eager to hear how the aged Morrison would translate one of his more wistful songs for late night television.  The song, as with much of Astral Weeks, moves differently than traditional pop music.  Rather than move within a verse-chorus structure, Morrison’s band sounds more like a group of jazz musicians vamping and embellishing rather than a folk-pop band running through an arrangement.  His rhythm section sets the groove, and each of the musicians take turns adding their flourishes to the mix.  It creates a lovely bed for Morrison – the featured player in this jazz ensemble.  More than at any other point on Astral Weeks, he sounds off the cuff and relaxed, giving off an improvised vibe even though that’s probably not the case.  Still, the repeated phrases and the slight vocal variations remind me of a jazz master putting his personal stamp on a standard.

While Morrison’s vocals draw on the loose feel of the song, he also sings a bit like a soul singer.  Sure, it’s hard to think of any of his Motown contemporaries singing over something like “Sweet Thing,” but Morrison employs some of the same sensibilities.  The musical flourishes – the flute melodies and guitar fills, for example – act as a reaction to Morrison, directing attention back to him.  In the center stage, Morrison lets certain notes hang a bit longer when necessary and repeats certain words for rhetorical effect.  Most importantly, he senses the moments where he needs to lean into a phrase and executes these flawlessly, letting his voice carry up a bit higher.  This was the greatest disappointment watching Morrison on TV last night.  His band sounded great, and for the most part, Morrison sang well enough for someone performing a forty year-old song.  I just kept finding myself waiting for him to seize these moments and add a little lift into his voice; I’m not looking for perfection, but rather just an attempt at grabbing the reins.  Instead, the entire performance seemed a little flat – without these subtle vocal moments, it just seemed like a bunch of really skilled musicians having fun playing a Van Morrison song rather than watching a Van Morrison performance.

More on Van Morrison: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm