speakers inda trunk with the bass on crunk: a Stairway2Drew mix for funk soul brothers Jun 24 '04 (Updated Jun 26 '04)    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet Popular Products in Music The Dirtchamber Sessions, Vol. 1 by The Prodigy From $11 Jersey Boys [Original Broadway Cast Recording] by Original Broadway Cast From $8 The Bottom Line Quite possibly you knew these songs were great. But I didn't, and it's my essay. You would never guess this from my profile photo, but I'm white. Hey, it's a genetic condition. I won't pretend science has found no treatment, but medical dramas from Black Like Me on have told of the serious side-effects all would-be cures have caused, so I've chosen to live this way. I understand Black Sabbath but not Robert Johnson; I enjoy 12-minute songs by Dream Theater, but not by Barry White. I even learned not to worry about it, to pretend my handicap did not exist. Then came Epinions. Here on Epinions, fine writers have insisted – they don't even ask me permission – on writing about concepts like "rap" and "soul" and "gospel". Thus I began an education in these strange black-people's musics. I have chosen many guides, and one of the finest has been, actually, one of the palest-skinned guys I've ever met. He calls himself Drew, and he was raised in an inner city. As was I, almost, but his schools didn't isolate him in special protected white-person environments, where his handicap would be tolerated. And so, when names like "Gladys Knight" and "Mos Def" enter the conversation, Drew actually knows who they are. Now, thanks to a mix CD he made for me, so do I. In fairness, I made a hip-hop / soul mix for him, too; happily, he liked it. But my discoveries were random whims; his were culture. This is what I heard: 1. Me’shell NdegeOcello, “Diggin’ You Like an Old Soul Record” Drew kicks off his mix with pure truth in labeling. This song by the former Mary Johnson sounds very much like a (remastered) old soul record: relaxed drum taps, wah-wah bass, jazzy Rhodes keyboards, a fiery guitar solo that burns clean, and vocals which alternate between low, husky talking and improvised-sounding soprano drawls. Me’shell has probably been heard by most people only as John Mellencamp's backup singer, and what’s odd about this song – rather appealing, really – is how all the vocals circle around like backups, for a lead we never hear. But backup singers expect the freedom to wander around repeating themselves, so this calm and happy groove goes on, long after the thrill of listening is gone. 3/5 2. Talib Kweli, “Get By” Here comes fresh energy, an electric piano scampering across the scales. We have circling soul backup vocals again – and as they reach the “ba ba, badaa”s, it suddenly it occurs to me that these soul singers sound just like helium-voiced Jon Anderson, from the great progressive rock band Yes. Which implies that Anderson is at least partly a soul singer, so why are Yes’s concerts only attended by white folks? Talib is out front rapping, articulate and loud, with an a natural rise-and-fall inflection and a fondness for wordplay (“we go through episodes, too, like Attack of the Clones)”. He outlines a dozen ways that poverty warps black culture, then the backup singers give him a melody as their words give him hope. Then they join to sing the chorus: rap and song inform each other, and lend each other strength. 5/5 3. Jeff Buckley, “Everybody Here Wants You” Slow, elegant, drifting. The keyboards drone and the guitar licks waft by, in quiet service to Buckley’s aching voice. I’d never thought of Buckley as a soul singer before, which is probably because he kept cluttering his songs with big grungy guitars that didn’t, come to think of it, even begin to belong. 4/5 4. Res, “They-Say Vision” Nice segue here, as a soft and static keyboard pattern guides us into the perky essence of the song. Racial divisions blur here: replace the black singers with chirpy, Oxford-educated women sporting Hello Kitty backpacks, change the synthesizer patch to something tinnier, and the exact same melody and words would sound like the cutest little attempt at punk rock since Heavenly disbanded. 4/5 5. Spearhead, “Everyone Deserves Music” And this would be the cutest little attempt at selling peace and love since even longer, except Michael Franti has the charisma to pull off something far better than “cute”. Gosh, what a great voice: the rhythmic tug of his low bluesy rumble on the verses, the attractive force of his chorus preachings, and we know it means lots of things since he’s got swing enough for any ten of us. “Even our worst enemies, they deserve music”, he sings, and I'd say something snarky about how our worst enemies deserve the Shaggs (if anyone will hate a bunch of oblivious off-key 10-year-old freaks, it’s our worst enemies) ... but no, they deserve “sweet music”, because hey, “we all strange, we all just a little bit insane”, so who am I to judge? And it works – especially for the calls of “eee-yo” where I suddenly think I’m listening to the Police, but on the polished soul of the rest of it, too. 5/5 6. Gladys Knight, “Midnight Train to Georgia” The time-travel segment of our program: simple blatting horns, piano chords, background strings, and a standard kick-snare, brought to us in fabulous lo-fi. Gladys has a nice voice, but previews Mariah Carey’s pre-porn arrangement style, spending half the song soaring around while paid backups carry the actual melody and the “Whoo-whoo!”s. Still, if it sounds generic (and it does), that’s only because “Midnight Train to Georgia” is a song a genre built itself around; what matters is that I can hear why a genre wanted to. 4/5 7. Ray Charles, “Drown in My Own Tears” I requested a Ray Charles song, and who can blame me? He was a famous innovator, a beloved entertainer, a man whose album titles kept using the word Genius without anyone giggling. Besides, I think of him and I think of his great Caucasian Trilogy, those beloved songs “Georgia on My Mind”, “Armenia up My Nose”, and “Azerbaijan under My Left Armpit”. However, maybe I’ve time traveled a little _too_ much here; maybe the moves he invented came so long ago that I just can’t hear how they were special. Ray Charles is also the man behind some annoying Diet Pepsi commercials and a horrible cover of “Eleanor Rigby”, and maybe I can’t help hearing those too. “Drown in My Own Tears” is dignified, the piano playing tinkles nicely, but I don’t care, and when it ends I immediately forget. 2/5 8. Blackalicious with Lateef and Keke Wyatt, “It’s Going Down” Of course, my forgetfulness might be all Blackalicious’s fault – or Keke’s, assuming she’s the singer behind those winding, Bach-like melodies and those taunting choruses. The content of the song is the standard we’re-better-rappers-than-you-are piissing contest that helped keep me away from hip-hop for a decade, but I can’t bring myself to mind. Lateef and Gift of Gab slide easily into half a dozen rhythms, the sampled bass riff is great, Keke has a rich, pure, flexible voice, and all the elements get recombined so expertly that you’d think there were even more of them. Blazing Arrow, from which this was taken, was my first purchase to result from this mix; it is excellent, and will not be my last. 5/5 9. Jay-Z recombinated with Marvin Gaye, “Change Clothes (Skammed Mix)” Yep, this is one of those “mash-up” mixes, and it works: one of Jay-Z’s least obnoxious raps paired with the groove of “Sexual Healing”. Gaye alone guarantees that it sounds sexy, but “Change Clothes”’s vocals (which sound like lame pickup lines) get spliced and diced, undercutting Jay-Z’s sexual machismo with outbursts from a goofy case of Tourette’s. 3/5 10. Joyo Velarde, “People Like Me” Sultry and dark, minor key. To me this sounds as Brazilian as it does funky, while the flutes are played with tongue a la early Jethro Tull, and Joyo’s vocals slide along pretty, elliptical melodies. 4/5 11. Mos Def, “Mr. Niigga” The music is nagging and repetitious, the same standup-bass and piano hook over and over throughout its five minutes, muted here and there but never really changed. It’s not a problem. Mos Def is the star: lecturing, hectoring, satirizing, waving his arms in frustration, the music no more than a catchy-enough excuse. Racism is the subject, and maybe that’s not new, but black people have a right to talk about it as long as white people keep pushing them around. Has Mos gotten rich? Oh yeah: we hear all about it for 80 seconds, but he’s got “two homes, one problem”, whether it’s the cop shining a light in his face, the tourists asking “do you work here?”, or the stewardess challenging his right to be in first class (and then coming back an hour later: “My son’s got all your albums!”). “You can laugh and criticize Michael Jackson if you wanna/ Woody Allen married and molested his stepdaughter/ O.J. found innocent by a jury of his peers/ and they been fuuckin’ with that niigger for the last five years!”. Rappers brag about how successful they are, and it can be annoying, but you know, white society tells them all the time to go make something of themselves. When they do make it big, elevated for their sharp pen and comic timing, and we slam them against a wall asking for I.D.... well, we better give thanks that their anger is so entertaining. 5/5 12. OutKast, “Knowing” A fun yet eerie groove, with its echoing woodblocks, guttural whoops, minor-key piano, and thudding bass. Andre’s voice is high and strained and full of saliva; Big Boi’s is ghostly. Then the real song starts over the groove, a rap that sputters like a machine-gun. I haven’t liked OutKast before: not “Aquemini”, not Big Boi’s single from Speakerboxx, and I’m apparently the only person who doesn’t get “Hey Ya”. It’s nice to finally hear proof that yes, these guys are the creative weirdos their reviews talk about. 4/5 13. Nina Simone, “I Shall Be Released” Nina has a wisened, working-class roughness to her voice, but also the kind of strength and pitch that would lend power even to bland factory pop. Not that it has to; this is a gospel classic, fervent and powerful. There’s not much instrumental support, mainly a cheap imitation of a church organ, but that’s plenty. 4/5 14. Latryx, “Burning Hot in Cali on a Saturday Night” The opening is wonderful: nursery rhymes by and for sewer-dwelling zombies. Has nothing to do with the song, mind you. A simple organ / kick-drum groove, some guitar wizardry buried in the background, goofy “yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah” sing-song, and a narrative rapped by a hysterical ham actor. Silliness. 4/5 15. Solomon Burke with Blind Boys of Alabama, “None of Us are Free” This is not the kind of song I like. It’s solemn, humorless, unrelenting, with a chorus that’s already repetitive the first time out (“None of us are free/ none of us are free/ none of us are free, if one of us is chained, none of us are free”), and then gets sung over and over. It’s not the _kind_ of song I like, I said; this specific song and performance work great. Where Michael Franti on “Everyone Deserves Music” is a friendly preacher, with a twinkle in his eye and a doctrine of love, Solomon Burke is an evangelist and a puritan, grabbing us by the shoulders and ordering us to help, and identify with, the worst off. What they share are righteousness and charisma. Burke’s voice is world-worn and deep, the bass rhythm is patient and slow-building, the organ lends emphasis at key moments, and neither rain nor sleet nor crack of whip shall slow them in their appointed rounds. 4/5 16. Black Star, “Respiration” Drew doesn’t believe in re-using the same artists in a mix tape, but Black Star is Mos Def _and_ Talib Kweli, not just _or_. I’m not sold on the combination, oddly. The groove is exotic and foreign in ways I can’t place, there’s vibraphone (always good), the beats are so deep-pitched that they’re almost abstract ... it’s an interesting set-up, but neither rapper seems comfortable sharing the spotlight. 3/5 17. Roots and Dave Matthews, “Why Oh Why / Crush” Another odd couple, in which it’s hard to see what the Roots add (and I say this as a guy who likes Phrenology a lot). The Matthews Band contribute a languid sway, LeRoi Moore plays his smoothest sax, and then Tinsley and Beauford lean into their violin and drum-work for a fierce bridge duet, but Black Thought keeps mumbling over it like he hopes no one will notice he’s in the wrong studio. It’s still a nice track ( 3/5 ), and a pleasant end to a wonderfully educational set. I am now seventeen songs less ignorant, or sixteen if I get no credit for missing the point of Ray Charles. Either way it’s a feeble step, but I thank Drew for helping me take it.

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