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“You Don’t Know My Name” – Alicia Keys
(Words/music: Alicia Keys, Kanye West, Harold Lilly, J. R. Bailey, Mel Kent, Ken Williams, available on The Diary of Alicia Keys, J-Records 2003)

A few weeks ago, I watched most of the Comedians of Comedy movie and their entire Live at the El-Rey special.  I had never seen Maria Bamford perform standup, so I was surprised and impressed at the different voices she slipped into and out of throughout her routine.  The one that stood out the most was her impression of Alicia Keys’ spoken bridge in “You Don’t Know My Name.”  I hadn’t heard Keys song in a while but Bamford nailed the tone and phrasing of Keys’ phone call (which, in turn, made me think of the recent Saturday Night Live digital short where Keys makes another late night phone call with different results). 

So today I went back to “You Don’t Know My Name” and remembered why I liked this song in the first place and why I never listen to it anymore.  The main part of the song captures a lot of the things I enjoy about Keys, particularly her voice.  I even love the production, in part because it’s an atypical style for Kanye West, especially since he stays virtually undetectable on it (I’d imagine that if this were made now, Kanye would have demanded to have Mos Def’s part in the video at least).  It’s a terrific soul ballad that’s sweet without being overly sappy.  Then there’s the spoken bridge.  It’s a little too theatrical for my taste, but I understand its purpose (and I remember it working well within the context of the video too), and today I enjoyed it largely because I kept thinking of Bamford’s impression.  Looking back at it now, it’s a little over-the-top and features a gratuitously outdated “can you hear me now” reference in it.  Most importantly, the bridge plus the outro push the song over the six minute mark; I like the song, but not nearly enough to devote ten percent of an hour to it on a regular basis.

More on Alicia Keys: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: alicia keys | kanye west | 2003 | 2000s | j-records | maria bamford |
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“Get By” – Talib Kweli
(Words/music: Talib Kweli, Nina Simone, and Kanye West, available on Quality, MCA 2002) 

Jay-Z, arguably the most successful man in hip hop this past decade, pays Talib Kweli a strong compliment on the track “Moment of Clarity.”  “If skills sold, truth be told, I’d probably be lyrically Talib Kweli.”  It’s somewhat of a backhanded compliment, as Jay says he’d give Kweli a run for his money if it made money, but it’s a compliment nonetheless.  By the time Kweli went beyond his relationship with DJ Hi-Tek and started rhyming over others’ beats, he established his reputation as one of hip hop’s most gifted lyricists.  Even if pairing him with Jay-Z’s producers (in this case, a pre College Dropout Kanye West) didn’t yield Jay’s SoundScan numbers, it broadened Kweli’s range.

Of course, skills alone don’t sell, but the “Sinnerman”-spinning beat on “Get By” makes Kweli sound like the most vital MC in the land.  West’s bouncy piano beat lets Kweli excel with his occasionally off-rhythm rhymes; when Kweli deviates from the beat – particularly when he spits a longer phrase at a quicker pace – he sounds like a soloist embellishing on a melody.  By deliberately breaking the form, Kweli gains a fluidity to his rhymes, letting him play in the space between those piano chords and drum notes the way that few other MCs would dare to attempt.  He always finds his way back onto the beat though, and his embellishments never obstruct his lyrics – top notch, of course.  “Get By” would be a winner with just Kweli, the drums, and the piano, but the vocal adornments make the track soar.  Whether Simone’s sampled vocals, the small choir singing the hook, or West’s secret weapon John Legend reaching for the back row, these additions give “Get By” a fuller feel.  Even if it’s a bit of a generalization, “Get By” remains one of the finest tracks in both Kweli and West’s body of work (not the career defining highlight for either, but certainly on their “best of” collections), and if that sounds like my own backhanded compliment, it’s meant as an endorsement of this track.

More on Talib Kweli: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: talib kweli | 2002 | 2000s | mca records | kanye west | hip hop | jay-z |
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“300 Bars & Runnin’” – The Game
(Words: The Game, music: a lot of people, available on You Know What It Is Volume 3 mixtape, 2005)

Extended freestyle tracks remind me of extended drum solos – the technique and endurance demands respect even if the music output remains non-essential. On “300 Bars & Runnin’,” The Game unloads on G-Unit and its affiliated rappers for almost fourteen minutes. Lyrically, The Game sounds like he’s found a direct passageway into his surreal stream of consciousness. He repeats ideas and lines for his three hundred bars, yet barely takes a breath. What it lacks in clever turns of phrase and editorial precision (it is a freestyle, after all), it makes up for in endurance and bravado. Clearly, The Game isn’t looking for a diss track that cuts like either Nas’ “Ether” or Jay-Z’s “The Takeover.” Instead, he’s happy to go with volume over quality, unloading line after line as the beat keeps shifting between both hip hop classics and contemporaries.

Still, “300 Bars” makes for a compelling listen if just for the cavalcade of beats behind his flow. In an odd way, The Game’s near constant barrage blends into the background, somehow in support of the different tracks his DJ spins for him. In particular, The Game catches his second (well, maybe his third or fourth, to be honest) wind around the ten minute mark just as Kanye West’s “Diamonds from Sierra Leone” kicks in. To be fair, I think even I would sound good rapping over this beat, but The Game snaps out of a bit of a lull, riding out the last four minutes of his marathon.

It’s worth noting that this came to mind because today is the 300th consecutive day I’ve written about a song. Unlike the Game, I’m not done at three hundred, though. I think it’s safe to declare at this point, but it’s my plan to finish the year writing about a different artist every single day (with the exception that a solo project and a band are two separate entities). I realize that not every post is as strong as I’d like it to be, but I’ve been happy to hit a few moments like the ten minute mark on this track where everything seems to fall into place.

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

TAGGED UNDER: the game | 2005 | 2000s | hip hop | kanye west | mixtape |
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“Never Let Me Down (f/ Jay-Z and J. Ivy)” - Kanye West
(Words/music: Michael Bolton, Sean Carter, Bruce Kulick, J. Richardson, and Kanye West, available on The College Dropout, Roc-a-Fella 2004)

Kanye West’s car accident is the formative experience of his adult life.  Like many who experience a tragedy, West turned inward and started asking questions.  On a basic level, West asked the same question that survivors often asked – why me?  He doesn’t stop there, using his lyrics to try to reconcile the many contradictions that swirl around his life.  While he crystalized this paradox – specifically, why do bad things make me feel good – on Late Registration, Kanye explores these parts of his personality on The College Dropout.  These are Kanye’s most compelling moments lyrically – when he lets down his guard and shares his uncertainty with us.  In a genre of music that values certainty and confidence on the mic, Kanye holds his own with some of hip hop’s best lyricists (at least in the mainstream) by embracing his contradictions and probing deeper (and it’s this heart-on-sleeve display that makes 808s and Heartbreaks feel human beneath its icy digital finish). 

West’s verse on “Never Let Me Down,” takes a broader view on the paradoxes in his life.  He details all of the different things he comes from – activist parents, apathetic peers, everyday racism, materialism and the accompanying guilt, and the fear that he’s losing sight of the big picture.  His guest verses even pull him in different directions; Jay-Z’s verse represents the “game” of hip-hop and all of the glamor and fame associated with being at the top of your game.  Jay has a few inspired turns of phrase in his bookend verses, but poet J. Ivy steals the show with his verse.  Ivy delivers his verse as spoken word that floats over the track without reference to the beat, making him sound like a man possessed at points.  His verse talks about a higher purpose and at points he sounds like he could be speaking in tongues.  These are Kanye’s twin ideals, and like his idols he desperately wants to be both socially conscious and world famous.  Both have their pull – Kanye responds to Ivy’s verse with a “take ‘em to church” line and emphasis on the choir-like backing vocals.  Then, as soon as Jay-Z comes back, West slips back into his rapper role.  He plays both roles well, but he’s at his best when he’s true to himself.  This is what makes his lyrics compelling – he often treads on trite language and flirts with cliches, but an honesty and openess radiates from his best verses.  Here’s a man who works so hard to cultivate a persona, yet he sounds most interesting when he pulls back the curtain and reveals that he’s as self-conscious, conflicted, and neurotic as the rest of us.  I feel his pain and hope he eventually finds peace somewhere in the middle of these two poles.  Still, there’s a selfish part of me that hopes that he stays conflicted and keeps searching, if only to keep him artistically sharp.

More on Kanye West: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: kanye west | jay-z | j. ivy | roc-a-fella | 2004 | hip hop | track analysis | contradictions |
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