De La Soul

Album: ‘Timeless: The Singles Collection’      
Year: 2003

It was simply a matter of time until all forms of music were tried as blended pairs. Rap and Rock got together thanks to the exploits of Body Count, Kid Rock, and Limp Bizkit. Metallica brought classical instruments into the fold (if only for a limited time). And now I find out that Jazz and Rap, two pure American art forms, has been blended as well. De La Soul touts itself as Jazz-infused rap with a generous helping of samples and electronic mixing, but what comes out is something rather unusual and quite unique.

As you may have noticed, I know very little about rap and its history. I’m a late-comer to the game to say the very least. Sure, I can spout the exploits of the heavy hitters of rap  over the last 10 years (Eminem, Jay-Z, Kanye West, etc.) but outside of that I’m lost. So, when I heard De La Soul for the first time this morning, I could only say, “Wow.” The only comparison I could draw was to Kool Keith’s Dr. Octagon, but even that was a bit of a stretch.

The De La Soul sound comes across as well orchestrated and, for lack of a better word, deliberate. Every sound, every stop, every word sounds like it exists on the record for a reason, like there is some over-arching master plan they have to execute with each track and in every beat. It can be hypnotic and playful and keep you guessing even though you probably know where they’re going. It’s part of the fun of listening to these guys do their thing.

The only problem I had was accessibility. Though these are their singles I had never heard any of these songs before in my life. The track, “Me, Myself, and I” sounded vaguely familiar, as if I had heard it on a radio in a passing car 10 years ago. So, as a virgin listener, I feel I was rewarded for this find. Now all I have to do is educate myself on rap and I should be set, right?

Track of Distinction: “Ego Trippin’ Pt. 2.” Though all of the songs showcase tremendous beats, this is the only one whose beat has lingered in my head today. Kudos for that.

David Cross

Albums:     
‘It’s Not Funny’ (2004)
‘Shut Up, You Fucking Baby!’ (2002)

I will be the first to admit that I don’t enjoy all comedians. There are comedians who I hate (Carlos Mencia, Jim Breuer, and Jimmy Fallon–I’m looking at you three), but there are also comedians I don’t find funny but can understand why others do.

David Cross is a funny guy in movies and on TV, but doing stand-up he doesn’t tickle my funny bone. Yes, he makes great points and the time I spent listening to these two albums is time I do not will returned, but he didn’t strike me all as that funny. Cross, through three discs of material, praddles on like the guy you meet at a house party who, though he seems nice enough, just won’t stop bitching about one thing or another. You laugh when he speaks because he’s obviously making light of the problems he has, but you’re still a bit uncomfortable at the same time.

The albums, nine and seven years-old are very relevant in their own time but, when the listener steps away a few years, the material becomes horribly dated. Great comedians choose timeless topics and issues to address and, though there are limited numbers of those items, the perspective can always be fresh. Cross keeps his humor grounded in reality and in specific events which, at the time, were probably pretty funny but are now past their prime.

There is also a lot of anger seeping through the comic’s act. It comes on in both subtle ways as well as full-frontal, just as if the guy at the party (from out of nowhere) talks about beating the guy across the room with a baseball bat. The fury, at times, is so visceral, that even the audience does not know whether to laugh or take him seriously. Cross is, undoubtedly, a master at his craft, but has found himself in need of perpetual stimulation and outlets to release it all so as to stay relevant and funny.

Track of Disctinction: At the end of ‘It’s Not Funny’ there is a hidden track where Cross goes on to riff about Creed frontman Scott Stapp and an incident where the two met at a celebrity poker tournament. Probably the only part of his work that got any sort of sustained laugh from me.

Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds

Albums:       
‘Live at Luther College’ (1999)
‘Live at Radio City Music Hall’ (2007)
‘Live in Las Vegas’ (2010)

I have long labored under the impression that live albums served two distinct purposes: 1) introduce songs to the general populace in a style they may not have heard outside of the album, and 2) give something back to the loyal, die-hard fans who have helped the band make it this far. Being a fan of live recordings (good live recordings, mind you) I find myself straddling the line of being the focus of both of these target audiences.

I’m not going to sit here and write about how I knew about DMB way back when, but I have been a fan since ‘Crash’ came out in high school. It actually wasn’t until after ‘Before These Crowded Streets’ came out that I realized that “What Would You Say” was done by the same band. Have I mentioned I was kinda dumb when I was younger?

When Dave and Tim released their now famous ‘Live at Luther College’ serving I was in my first year of college and not yet acquainted with the world of acoustics. If you had asked me back then I would have said acoustics was for barefoot hippie guys looking to get laid (lo-and-behold, a stereotype that works out in the end) but I found, when I first put these discs on, that they were fulfilling the same purpose as any other live recording: Dave was saying thank you to the fans and trying to get more through acoustic arrangements.

But it was just Dave, not the rest of the band. This is where the ego meets the road. Back in ’99, Tim was not a part of the band (and purists will argue he never will be an “official” DMB member, just someone who is with the band in the studio and on every tour date) so it was really Dave’s show with his music. After listening to these recordings again, recently, I found myself thinking about how big of an ego Dave must have to get away with this. I can only imagine the conversations he has with the rest of the band:

“Hey guys. You know all those songs we recorded and made us both legions of loyal fans and wealthy beyond our wildest dreams? Well, I’m going to let you guys stay home and I’m going to take those songs out on the road with some guy who isn’t part of the band or the creative process.”

In 1999, Dave let the rest of the band know why it is, and always will be the Dave Matthews Band. As Boston Legal’s Denny Crane would say to establish his seniority and power, “Name on the door!”

The songs are as good acoustically as they are on the albums and I think that’s why Dave took on this type of challenge. It probably wasn’t an ego trip at first but, as the discs go on, there is a distinct sense of ego when he is taking his sweet time and drawing out each line of a song just because he can. Tim doesn’t say anything during the shows, playing Teller to Dave’s Penn, but the guitar speaks volumes. I have found myself coming closer to some of Dave’s songs because of these recordings and, yet, I feel like I’ve been had. Three times!

Am I oversensitive to this subject? I feel like, if I were in a band (playing a mean kazoo, glass jug, and washboard), if someone went off and started their own little side project making music, I would feel inadequate and wonder if the magic of the band had worn off. Would this be the end? If DMB is a barometer of how musicians handle side-projects, then all of this is in my head.

Track of Distinction: “Lie in Our Graves,” from ‘Live at Radio City Music Hall.’ This is a song that I never really appreciated (nay, liked) on the album, but the live versions always seem to breathe life into it. Its best incarnation, in my opinion, is this acoustic version that has a mean bridge solo by Tim.

Concert Goings: Josh Ritter and the Royal City Band

Before I begin, I will say that this is out of the scope of this blog. This is not part of the musical journey I have undertaken, but it is journey-adjacent, so I’ll let it slide. Plus, this is the first show I have seen since starting this blog a few weeks ago.

Last night, the wife and I went and saw Josh Ritter and the Royal City Band at Chautauqua in Boulder. Josh was playing there as part of summer music series that is held every summer at Chautauqua. They draw in some pretty good talent each summer, but this is the first show they’ve had where I was really excited to see it. My friend Nick, who I’ve mentioned before, is the person that introduced me to Josh a few years ago. Shortly after that, he, I, and our friend Chris went as saw Josh perform at The Bluebird in Denver and, since that night, I was hooked.

Nick, though in California’s bay-area, heard about the show and (thought he won’t admit it) was jealous that I was a) going, and b) sitting in the third feakin’ row. He wanted my breakdown of the show and so I wrote him this e-mail  just a few minutes ago.

Daughtry

Album: ‘Daughtry’        
Year: 2006

We have come to a point in our society where we no longer reward the talented and the special; we reward those who make the most noise and who keep our inane intention for the longest. The blame rests with reality television, of course but, for a while, reality TV could be avoided with relative ease. I am proud to say that I have never, nor will ever, watch an episode of Survivor, Big Brother, or Jersey Shore.

I have watched numerous episodes of American Idol, however. It’s impossible to escape. With the other shows, you could stay off specific television channels and really not hear too much about it, and what you did hear could be easily discounted, dismissed, and ignored. Idol changed all of that. It made the news, the contestant’s songs were on the radio, and everyone had an opinion. It started in season one and continues to dilute the natural vocal talent of the country to this day. It was established early on (season two) that you didn’t even have to win the competition to achieve stardom. Some might find a sense of pride in that so much talent is available year after year, but I have to think we, as a society, are lowering our standards for musical greatness.

Daughtry is the epitome of what is wrong with the American music scene. A season … whatever … finalist, he did not win the competition, but he had a following. He did well singing other people’s songs, and he has a tremendous vocal talent, but he did not seem to offer anything new or relevant to the music scene.  It’s probably why he lost. But, in his dismissal, he was free to explore his options and conquer the music world.

He was offered the lead vocal position in the band Fuel (which is the band responsible for me knowing how to spell Hemorrhage) but turned it down to form his own band. The result is a band with an album that joins other contemporary rock titans such as Nickelback and Puddle of Mudd (not a compliment). The anger is not prevalent with Daughtry, but the unwarranted sense of self-deprecation and loathing is certainly there. Daughty falls into the trap of a seemingly stylish band talking about how they are angry outsiders does not wash with many listeners anymore, which could be why the likes of Nickelback are getting booed off stage while having rocks thrown at them.

But Daughtry is popular. Upon my first (and probably only) listen, it’s easy to hear what 4 million people found so engaging that they purchased this album. There’s the obligatory catchy hooks, the memorable riffs, and the easy-to-remember lyrics that make it perfect to sing along to. The natural talent Daughtry has is most certainly present, but it has found its way into the corruptible world of pop music when it should be back in a karaoke bar singing someone else’s songs.

Track of Distinction: “Over You.” one of the few solid tracks on the album that showcases that Daughtry may have a future if he doesn’t let the A&R people dictate the direction of his career.

Darius Rucker

Albums:  
‘Back to Then’ (2002)
‘Charleston, SC 1966’ (2010)
‘Learn to Live’ (2008)

It seems Darius Rucker has two faces.

The first is an extension of his days as front-man for the 1990’s pop-rock icon band Hootie and the Blowfish; sedated, sincere, and full of love. This face likes to use the word “baby” a lot in reference to women, and also likes to use smooth bass lines and sultry guitar riffs to get across his message of, ahem …  amore.

This is the face that Rucker wears in his 2002 debut album ‘Back to Then,’ where he channels his inner Lionel Richie (listen to “This is My World” and tell me I’m wrong), his inner John Mayer (though Rucker does know how to pronounce “baby”), and his desire to Peter Cetera’s replacement in Chicago (as to Rucker’s affinity to include lots of horns) to create an album that seems like the next logical step from his days as “Hootie” (who is NOT Cuba Gooding Jr., BTW). He drops the college-rock facade that HatB carried with them and adopted a smoother sound more akin to Marvin Gaye. Lord knows, Rucker has the vocal acumen to hang with a talent like that. The album comes off pretty well, a solid solo-effort, and a definite building block to a career making great baby-making music.

Then Rucker rears his second face. Just as ‘Back to Then’ closes with “Sleeping in My Bed,” which features Snoop Dogg (that is not a typo), my iPod switched over to ‘Charleston, SC 1966,’  and the song, “This,” which begins with heavy country riffs and enough steel guitar to make Pittsburgh proud. The mentions of “baby” were quickly replaced with a more conservative, country tone that was sparked with the opening line of the album: “Gotta baby girl sleepin’ in my bedroom / and her mama’s laughing in my arms …” The “baby” is now to be taken literally. Romance has come with maturity. And the scary part is (and I cannot believe I m going to admit this) Rucker is really good at making country music.

His sound is unlike many of the modern country artists of the day, rather taking a page from older country artists like George Strait. This sound sets him apart and really helps him play to his vocal strengths. Though he fits in well with the younger class of country superstars, he has shown that he can transcend the genre and make a more unique impact on this seemingly stagnant genre.

Track of Distinction: “The Craziest Thing,” from ‘Charleston, SC 1966.’ I’m drawn to this song because of its self-deprecating message that a woman must be noticeably out of her mind in order to be in love with a guy like me. If this song had been published a few years prior, I probably would have lobbied for it to be played at my wedding.

Danger Doom

Album: ‘The Mouse and the Mask’       
Year: 2005

Being a white-bread honky, my knowledge of the “rap game” (as the young people on the Interwebs call it) is really small. When it comes to things I don’t fully understand, I tend to do what many in my position do: compartmentalize. Some would day this is a debilitating habit that leads only to a close-minded view of the world, but it’s all in how you look at it.

For me, when I compartmentalize about things like rap music or the French New Wave cinema of the mid-20th century, I tend to label things as being good (something I like) or bad (something I wouldn’t like to experience again). I try to keep an open mind and reward people who give a genuine effort by placing them in my good graces, and that leads me from indifference and ignorance, to wanting to learn more.

Danger Doom are in my good graces. They mighty care about that if I had any real musical insight of pull in the listening world, but I don’t. However, I feel that if I had millions of readers and could sway listeners’ minds with the simple phrase, “fart bubble,” I don’t think they would care. Why? Two reasons:

1) They are artists and, as artists, they create for themselves and not for the mainstream. One listen to the album and you would recognize this in a moment. They revel in the esoteric and drop references that one listener in several thousand might pick up on without the aid of Wikipedia or a knowledgeable friend. By drawing inspirations from their own extensive rap and hip-hop backgrounds, as well as their affection for the programs on Cartoon Network’s original [adult swim] lineup, rapper MF Doom and producer Danger Mouse team up to pay tribute to that world in the only way they know how: music. Incorporating voice talents that created such iconic figures like Master Shake, Frylock, Meatwad, Carl, Brak, Space Ghost, Harvey Birdman, members of Sealab 2021, and other cartoon personalities that made [adult swim] such a landmark success, the rap duo produce an album that culls material from that same world of nerd humor and silliness.

2) Most people don’t know who they are. Upon some research, I found that, though both are big players in the music world, they are not the household names like their other collaborators. MF Doom has worked with some of the contemporary masters of music, including Gorillaz, while Danger Mouse has worked as a producer with the likes of Jay-Z and Beck and teamed up with Cee-Lo Green to form Gnarls Barkley. They seem to be content with their roles in the music business and have seen a lot of success from their ventures.

This collaboration, though enjoyable, was far from successful, selling less than 200,000 copies to date. Though this (and ‘The Occult Hymn EP’) are probably the last we will hear from this duo for a while, their time was well spent and produced something truly unique.

Track of Distinction: “Old School,” featuring Talib Kweli is one of the more straight-forward tracks on the album, with the message of taking rap back to its origins, before it was all about violence and the degradation of women.

Daniel Lanois

Albums:     
‘Acadie’ (1989)
‘Belladonna’ (2005)
‘For the Beauty of Wynona’ (1993)

Those of you familiar with the live work of Dave Matthews Band (like some of you sick people out there) are probably somewhat familiar with the work of French-Canadian singer-songwriter Daniel Lanois. Matthews has made Lanois’ “The Maker” a song that appears on set lists with some regularity. Since Matthews and Lanois are musicians cut from the same cloth, this does not pose a problem for the listener. However, since DMB and Matthews are a household name, Lanois gets less of the spotlight (though Matthews does credit Lanois as one of his heroes).

Lanois is one of those musicians who makes music that pleases himself without a noticeable thought to the listener. There are very few artists that can get away with such self-centered aspirations (as well as having a label that would allow such indulgence) but Lanois is one of them. His lyrics and the quality of his music is so fine that each song and album sounds more like an intimate labor of love than an album recorded for the masses.

‘Belladonna’ is an album of extremely visceral instrumentals that are the product of working with some of the biggest and brightest minds in music. Many would be wary of listening to an album full of instrumentals as that label is more likely to evoke thoughts of Mannheim Steamroller than Joe Satriani. Lanois straddles the lines of those two worlds to bring about some truly unique and beautiful sounds.

‘Acadie’ and ‘For the Beauty of Wynona’ are two more traditional folk albums where Lanois blends him multi-linguistic style with unique stylings that seem both revolutionary but eerily familiar and comforting at the same time. On ‘Wynona,’ Lanois begins taking some chances with the sound established in his ‘Acadie’ debut, but they seem to be used to set itself apart and keep the songs from falling into the folk-artists trap of having a repetitive sound and feeling track after track. His talent is undisputed and I look forward to hearing more of his offerings.

Tracks of Distinction: “Sleeping in the Devil’s Bed,” and “Rocky World,” both from ‘For the Beauty of Wynona.’ Two tracks that really encapsulate the Lanois sound (as I heard it) that are, as described earlier, unique but familiar; an old friend that you just met.

The Dan Band

Album: ‘The Dan Band Live’          
Year: 2005

There’s something to be said for gender equality in the music business. Shifting of paradigms and whatnot to make a point. Sometimes it lands, sometimes it doesn’t, but it always leaves an impression. Some do it for laughs, some do it for art, but it always makes a statement.

In 1996, CAKE turned the gender paradigm on its ear when it released a deadpan-male version of Gloria Gaynor’s iconic disco hit “I Will Survive” on their ‘Fashion Nugget’ album. To hear it for the first time you may laugh, but what CAKE did was drill down past the glitz and glamour of the song to its artistic core. That’s why the track stands up, musically, well with its 70 predecessor.

Dan Finnerty and his Dan Band do not drill down to the artistic core the way CAKE did, but they do contribute their own artistic take on the songs they cover. The songs they cover, all of which happen to be originally recorded by female artists, are done in a lounge band tone and mostly as a medley of some sort. On the album, the live audience seems to be going wild for this band who is doing unashamed covers of such songs as Christina Aguilera’s  “Genie in a Bottle,” ABBA’s “Mama Mia,” and Kelis’ “Milkshake” (a song I ordinarily loathe). Dan does not play the pronoun game with the lyrics, keeping them as in-tact as will fit their tone and style as a band.

The band, which gained much of their popularity after appearing in movies such as ‘Old School’ and ‘The Hangover,’ does a great, albeit brief, job of turning in a great live experience and translating it over to an album format. The brevity comes from limited crowd interaction, no ego-indulging diatribes between songs about whatever issue is trendy these days, and their overall amped-up style of music. But there’s a want to call them a comedy act when, in fact, they are just a cover band with a peculiar choice of song selection. Are they making a statement with their music? Probably not, but they do leave a lasting impression on every listener.

Track of Distinction: “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” I do have to state that, along with the live version of the song there is a studio offering at the end of the disc. The live version is so much better as it seems to capture more of the spirit of the song.

Daft Punk

Albums:      
‘Discovery’ (2001)
‘Tron: Legacy’ (2010)

Whoever said that nothing good ever came from France? Democracy? Exitentialism? The Menage a Trois? Thanks, but France’s crowning achievement, their greatest gift to the world might be two guys who are good at making weird noises.

The Menage a Trois is a close second, but I digress.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m not into techno music. I attribute this to the fact that 99.9% of techno music out there does not get played outside of a dance club. Since I’m a married fat guy I don’t find myself in too many dance clubs. I didn’t do it when I was a single fat guy. I don’t dance. It’s court-ordered. But Daft Punk came into my consciousness because they pretty much encapsulated the 0.1% of techno that does get airplay outside the club. “One More Time,” “Digital Love,” and “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger,” are all addictively entrancing hits that Daft Punk used to propel themselves to music’s A-list.

Fast forward almost 10 years to when Disney announced they were finally making good on their promise to produce a sequel to ‘Tron’ before they defrost Walt Disney’s head. Trying to fit in with the style and feel of the first, they knew that the soundtrack would play an essential role in the film, the producer’s sought out the French techno duo to compose the entire soundtrack. For a single artist or group to be allowed to take the reins of an entire movie soundtrack is pretty auspicious (see: Vangelis and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers to name two) and Daft Punk did not disappoint. Wearing what we can only presume are football helmets from the year 4000, the duo take on the project marrying the best elements of their music style with the traditional opus that is a motion picture soundtrack. The result is astounding, especially if you are like me and listen to it driving home during a major thunderstorm.

The final prognosis is that Daft punk is not just two guys good at making weird sounds anymore; they are true musicians that have taken a misunderstood artform and brought it to the masses for all to enjoy again and again.

Track of Distinction: “Veridis Quo,” from ‘Discovery.’ One of the more complex songs that blends several styles together into a deliberate chaos that sounds like everything is moving without purpose, but is so well orchestrated that it blows you away when everything finally comes into harmony.