Bongwater - 'Too Much Sleep' (Shimmy-Disc)

I'm not sure what's up with my bizarro version of Too Much Sleep, as it seems to have a different cover than anything I can find online, and is missing quite a few tracks from what Wikipedia/AllMusic reports. Which means I apparently miss a cover of 'Why Are We Sleeping?' but that's okay since the Slapp Happy tune 'The Drum' remains - probably my favorite of any Bongwater (or even Shockabilly) cover version. As if there was any doubt that these guys were into Blegvad! But they wear it well, cluttering up the lovely chord changes with sampled voices that are totally eerier instead of just superflous. But that's the name of the game with Bongwater. Too Much Sleep is a messy, goofy bundle of singsong flapping about, which has a lot of that Kramer reverb sound and enough double-tracked male-female vocals to totally drive a stake through the corpse of Sonny and Cher. There's a few tunes that have a proto-Chicks on Speed Eurotrash sound, like 'Talent is a Vampire', where Kramer seems to have calculated the right way to throw electric guitar shards in a way that conjures monster truck rallies, MA opening shows, and melting eyeliner. The spacey production occasionally works psychedelic wonders, particularly when keyboard/organ notes swell up and meander around the guitar-based rhythms. Dave Rick, who played in King Missile, shreds all over this record and I wonder if people would revere him the same way they do Alan Licht if he hadn't played in such goofy projects. 'Mr. & Mrs. Hell' is like an American reboot of the Mekons' 'Trouble Down South', and the electronic resonance has it's complement in side 2's 'Khomeni Died Tonight', a bit of Ralphy weirdness if I've ever heard it. 'One so Black', a Dogbowl-penned composition, has a lovely vocal arc and more of Rick's enlightening fretboard scratching. It all ends with the creepy, yet strangely affecting 'No Trespassing'. Overall I think this is Bongwater's most solid album though I can't say I've heard any of the others in recent years. The logo's designed by Gary Panter, who 20 years later has enjoyed a hipster resurgence though those kids probably wouldn't touch a Bongwater record with a 20 foot pole.

Boards of Canada - 'Peel Session TX 21/07/1998' (Warp)

I'm going to save all of my hyperbole for when we get to Music Has the Right to Children; this Peel sessions EP is more of a teaser, presenting three songs from that album in slightly alternate versions. One side consists of 'Happy Cycling', the closing track on the album, which sets the eerie Dr. Who vibe that this whole EP carries. Of course, that classic BoC sound is here - obsessively calculated timbres, decaying atmospheres, and futurist nostalgia. 'Aquarius (' suggests spelunking, or at least exploring underground tunnels of some sort. There's something metallic around the edges and the vocal samples, of laughing children and random words, feel like a cheap IDM effect. I'm sure this will have the hardcore fans up in arms as 'Aquarius' is one of the more loved tunes, but the winner for me is 'Olson (version 3)' with it's warm keyboard shoulder shrugs and scratchy impulses. That all-too-familiar Boards of Canada beat doesn't crash in, leaving you wanting more. It's more of a feeling or a sketch than a full piece, but these guys are nothing if not impressionists, right?

Hamiet Bluiett - 'Birthright' (India Navigation)

This is "a solo blues concert" and that's always a bold move; solo saxophone records are not an everyday thing and presenting yourself as this type of soloist in concert is often demanding. Hamiet presents here what I assume is an unedited concert, with extensive liner notes in a cursive font that is too hard to read. Here's what I like about this record: it's diverse, and the recording is such that you really get the live feel. You can hear the room, and you can hear him moving around different parts of the stage. Bluiett is definitely rooted in melodic and blues-based forms, but there are some excursions into circular breathing and heavy affectation that usually accentuate the intent of the piece. 'Doll Baby aka Song Service', the 10 minute opener, is a tribute to his grandmother; it introduces the theme of family and history that carries through the album. The piece moves through a few different movements - slow, placid tones at first, and then a more sinewy speedrush through the higher registers of his instrument. Side two's counterpoint is the 'My Father's House' 3-part suite, which is fast, free, and chunky. This and the subsquent 'In Tribute to Harry Carney' are both described as "free-form telepathic", which me question how a solo performance can involve telepathy. Unless he means his instrument has a mind of its own. I love the way baritone saxophones sound; if I played saxophone, it would be my choice, except I think it's too heavy. Heavy as in carrying it, I mean; the sound of the instrument can certainly carry some gravity too, but his pieces avoid being overbearing. The conceptual, personal nature of Birthright is a nice complement to Endangered Species' more mind-based strategies. Bluiett got his start playing in the Mingus band -- well, actualy he got his start in a St. Louis grade school under George Hudson,who gets his own ballad at the end of side one -- but you can feel the eternal Mingus swing underneath some of the more dazzling runs. There isn't really any point where I am overdazzled though - I'd never point to this as an example of technical mastery, though he is more than competent - for me this is a record that showcases the range of his voice amplified by the range of his heart. There are some squeaks and squawks, but they don't take away from the color of his tune.

Hamiet Bluiett - 'Endangered Species' (India Navigation)

Hamiet Bluiett is a pretty excellent baritone saxophonist, but we'll really hear his 'extended technique' on our next entry. This is to showcase his compositional skills, and his ability to lead a band. Now I almost wrote "smokin' hot band" because I'm prone to jazzbo cliches but that's actually a very terrible descriptor for this record - even given my usual gutter standards for music journalism. This isn't really one for fire, and it's oblique enough to avoid mourning bluesy clichés as well. The opening track is called 'Between the Rain Drops' so that should give you some idea; it lets space build, with balafon (you know, that frame thing Hamid Drake plays) accentuating the drumset but not overdoing it. Olu Dara's on trumpet here and I might even say he steals the show, at least on side one. Though there are fallbacks into traditional solos, etc., we do have a lot of thoughtful, Braxtonesque harmonies and the tendency to gaze into the structural elements of jazz composition instead of the emotional once. But then you flip it over, and get 'The Other Side of the World' and 'Ayana Nneke' which stick very closely to folk forms, and they do it nicely. I remembered it's this side that particularly struck home with me when I first heard this, because this was at a time when I was turning away from the whole super aggro loft-style ESP blowout and looking for something lyrical in avant-garde jazz. New York in the late 70's is probably, if anything, an understudied field. I dig baritone sax as well because it just sounds so different, in terms of its hue/palette, than what we're used to. This is a great one for when the classics just aren't doing it; a change-up, but one with a pretty killer vision.

Blues Control - 'Puff' (Woodsist)

Hazy, murky tape ambience with thick layers of keyboard and slowly repeating melodies. The sensation of a music box being run over by a steamroller. And heavy, thick guitar strings reverberating with distortion, delay and echo, chopping through the stasis like a bloody sledgehammer. Puff is five compositions, built, no-doubt, from improvisations; it's a sound-world constructed with blind precision. Rhythms build from tape loops, felt in the distance as the tracks march toward Valhalla. I guess I'm not describing anything too groundbreaking given the utter glut of these practitioners in the past few years, but Puff is truly a high-water mark the whole 'movement'. And movement indeed, for Russ and Lea are masters of brownian motion. This is one to enjoy loud, or with headphones on, because it's so nice to sink into. The five tracks blend into each other and have pretty similar approaches anyway, giving the album and overall thematic cohesion, but the final song, 'Call Collect' is fucking amazing. It's wispy; simultaneously raindrops and black magic, tip-toeing around the stereo field. At times this could pass for some detached German electronica; it's music that somehow trasncends time, as it could have been recorded 30 years ago or 30 years from now. These two used to have another band called Watersports that was similarly amazing at the way they constructed sound. Maybe Watersports just renamed themselves, though Blues Control have less of a focus on environmental recordings so maybe it's a distinctly different project with the same lineup. Regardless of their moniker, I think these two are incredibly underrated, and I think Puff is one of those records that people will still be listening to in 15-20 years. Which is more permanence that most of us could ever hope for.

Blue Öyster Cult - 'Secret Treaties' (Columbia)

Things really come together on this third album, where the BÖC integrates a lot more pop hookery yet somehow doesn't compromise their dark rock edge. And drummer Albert Bouchard takes the mic a few times, on the incredibly goofy 'Dominance and Submission' and 'Cagey Cretins'. But how about the opening cut, released as a single, 'Career of Evil'? A Patti Smith-penned bit of rock mythology that is absolutely ridiculous at times ('I'd like to do it your daughter on a dirt road'!) but magically awesome at the same time. I dig the weird keyboards and minor keys that hint at Eastern mysticism and the usual fake occult shtick these guys piled on. I assume most of that is Sandy Pearlman? Has a band of decent artistic quality ever been so dominated by their manager? He formed the band, named and renamed them (Soft White Underbelly, anyone?), produced their albums and wrote a ton of their lyrics. Though who can blame him? When left on their own, these kids come up with stuff like 'Harvester of Eyes', a tune which is saved by it's heavy half-time coda with scat singing on top. The fascist imagery that I mentioned when I reviewed their first album pops up a bit more overtly here, with the cover photograph and song 'ME 262' about a German warplane. But all of this imagery is just flirting. I'd love to get all of the weird background vocals (including the spoken bits on 'Dominance and Submission') and do a silly mash-up, but I guess SNL already exploited BÖC-themed comedy. We leave the cult here, as the Encourager Template dips no deeper into their catalogue, but if you wanna really bum yourself out, seek out Espers' butchering of the (originally sublime) 'Flaming Telepaths'. Oh, this time they thanked a guy who runs a T-shirt company, while on the last album they thanked someone from 'The Leather Man'. Maybe this is the short-sleeve polyester blend to Tyranny and Mutation's leather look.

The Blue Öyster Cult - 'Tyranny and Mutation' (Columbia)

Gawlik's awesome artwork has taken on a new alien dimension here, accentuated by two pink moons (though this predates Dhalgren). Architecture is still the focal point of his drawing, but architecture perhaps without purpose, unlike the songs themselves. Things crunch a little harder here and any remaining psychedelia from the Stalk-Forrest hangover is almost totally jettisoned (though I can still hear a bit on 'Teen Archer'). 'The Red and the Black' is a great tune for testing out new stereo equipment, cause the louder you play it the more shaking and stirring you can here. It's crazy that such a fiery bit of boogie-rock is actually about the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and not Stendhal. This is the one the Minutemen covered, and they probably called Eric Bloom "E. Bloom" in 'History Lesson, pt 2' because of the way all monikers are abbreviated here. I would probably call this my favorite BÖC record, though it doesn't have anything resembling a hit or even a radio staple. '7 Screaming Diz-busters' more than makes up for that, on a balancing act between dark vibe rock and proto-metal. 'Baby Ice Dog', penned by Patti Smith, is maybe my least favorite song - I prefer the evil Ren-faire tinges on stuff like 'Mistress of the Salmon Salt (Quicktime Girl)'. Seriously, could anyone come up with better song titles? Well, 'OD'd on Life Itself' and 'Hot Rails to Hell' sound like something from a Saxon record, but they're good stompers as well. I feel like The Blue Öyster Cult (note the addition of the definite article!) took a step away from accessibility here and really made their masterpiece, though it's got such a strange/goofy dichotomy going on that I still don't completely grok it. To go back to the artwork one last time - the back cover reminds me of that crazy acid-burned Nintendo game, 3D Worldrunner; this is a pretty good soundtrack to crash into those columns, though I don't know if any powerups will pop out.

Blue Öyster Cult (Columbia)

I love staring into the three point perspective of this album cover. The way everything tapers into the fake occult symbol, recalling question mark, crucifix and swastika - the three most essential symbols of humanity right? And the strangely repetitive geometric architecture, mirrored on the back by a set of railroad tracks. If I were Greil Marcus or some other great pontificator I could probably draw allusions to 'Mystery Train' or the underground railroad or something, but really I just see this as motion. This is a band with an idea, with direction, and yet there's something vaguely sinister about it all. Opening up your debut album with a song about Altamont certainly makes it clear which of rock's spiritual forces you intend to draw on; what I also think BOC's whole shtick suggests (at least early on) is some sort of fascistic undertone to rock and roll. After all, something can light 'Cities on Flame' and you can burn down the Reichstag too. Or maybe that's just what I think when I see umlauts. If you actually pronounce the Ö, well, it sounds fucking stupid so that was obviously mean to look cool, but not sound cool. The music, well, it's awesome riffage from start to finish, with a few weird stylistic bumps that shows these guys haven't found their footing yet. 'Redeemed' has an edge of Vegas crooner to it, and 'She's as Beautiful as a Foot', while great, feels more akin to Christian cult-rock, the type that's been the reissue rage lately. Thank Richard Meltzer for that. This is a somewhat manufactured band though, and the vaguely fascistic imagery I think also suggests a less individualist approach to rock music than the classic big names of the Stones, the Who, etc. None of these guys ever becamse a household name, right? Even after they landed a few hit songs years down the road, knowing the name of Joe Bouchard is more likely to win you a pub quiz than a spot in typical 'rock' conversation. Eric Bloom sings on almost every song with this weird raspy echo behind his voice, and the guitars all have a pretty similar crunch at least until side 2. Keyboards are there, ocasionally in a Doorsy way ('Before the Kiss, a Redcap') but usually felt not heard. And the album in general feels like an album. This is AOR, after all, a term that probably didn't exist yet by this point but here's a record to lead you to it. I remembered 'Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll' being a much better song than it actually is, but I totally forgot about the greatness of 'Workshop of the Telescopes'. True story - when I was really young, like 12, there was something that made me uncomfortable about the idea of this band and I hoped I would never actually hear them. Years later I found the first three albums all at once and I've never regretted that purchase, not even once. Rock music plus theatrics can walk a thin line but these guys are all hints and suggestions, and they deliver the goods as a band too. It's weird how they are sorta manufactured -- what's the 00s equivalent, the Strokes?

Paul Bley - 'Open, to love' (ECM)

Paul Bley has made a few solo piano records and I admit that they are a guilty pleasure of mine. Though this is the only one I actually own, I would not pass up another were I to stumble across it at a fleamarket, swap meet, or secondhand record store. You see, I used to tinkle the ol' ivories myself a bit, back in the day, and I maintain a real soft spot for that instrument. I started playing piano when I was 7. Actually, I went to a Suzuki lesson when I was even younger but that didn't work. The teacher drew a smiley face on middle C; I was in a class with about 40 other students and we all took turns going up and playing middle C once. No thanks, mom! I said on the drive home and that was that; I later started studying with a an old nun named Sister Bernadette and you can be sure that was the "traditional" method. Anyway, I bring all of this up now because after 8 or 9 years of piano lessons I could just about bash my way through Rachmaninoff's 'Prelude in C# Minor', but when it came to actually playing something interesting or evocative, sorry, no way. Thus my interest in solo piano records by people like Bley, Muhal Richard Abrams, and Cecil Taylor. Additionally, I just love the way solo piano sounds on vinyl - when you can really crank it up and hear all sorts of air in the room, and the highs just scream out of my Ortofon cartridge. Now, Bley in particular is the other end of the spectrum from Taylor; he's slow, sparse, and a major bummer. This is downer music of the highest variety. It's hard to imagine that you could want to slit your wrists by listening to a guy play piano for 40 minutes, particularly in that abstract ECM way, but give this a listen if you don't believe me. Even when he gets into more rolling songforms like 'Ida Lupino', there's just enough hesitation to inflict some real soulpain. This track is a killer because of the way he accents the tune - it's definitely got the depressed lounge feel (more than any of the others on here) which you can thank his ex-wife Carla for cause she wrote it - but Paul's grace notes and embellishments are what makes this track so amazing. Well, that and I think I can hear him humming as he plays, Glenn Gould style. Three of these tracks are written by his ex-wife and two by Annette Peacock; however, he makes it all his own. The title of the album and track 'Open, to love' emphasises the isolation felt here - a divorced man, playing piano alone in a room in Norway. You can only imagine the Helvetica font and Scandinavian design to maximise the cultural stereotypes we have about these things. I listen to this record when I want a downer, sure, but it's not angry or bitter bad vibes at all. Instead, it's music of resignation. Insecurity, trepidation, and fear also play a part. Bley doesn't try to impress by playing fast or dazzling you with crazy tone clusters, cause I guess he did all that on his 60's records. This is more like the Steely Dan of avant-jazz; an older, calculated performance inspired by disappointment instead of energy.

Carla Bley Band - 'European Tour 1977' (Watt)

I've listened to this one about four times in a row now, hestitating to jot down these thoughts for some reason. There's nothing controversial about European Tour 1977, yet it's the only other Carla Bley record I own which means I will be leaving her work after this record... at least until the great Liberation Music Orchestra album which I have filed under H for Haden. So I'm savouring it somewhat. I think Bley is one of the most underrated of American composers. There's a liveliness here, cause it's a strong band (Andrew Cyrille and Hugh Hopper as a rhythm section, Michael Mantler, Terry Adams, Elton Dean as lead alto, etc.) and Bley's compositions are quite exuberant. She's actually rather uncompromising, despite the (relative) accessibility of her work. When separated from Paul Haines' lyrics, the pieces take on a much more freewheeling vibe. This manages to walk the ede of jazz and fusion pretty well - Dean and Hopper certainly give it that edge (plus the electric bass in general) but side two in particular has a more jazzy feel to it. 'Drinking Music' is named probably due to it's swerving, elliptical melodies. One can imagine these guys in some Bavarian beerhall during the recording of this. European melodies are all over Mantler's trumpet lines, which scream like a drunken toreador. But if you're thinking this record is going all Eurotrash, the closer, 'Spangled Banner Minor and Other Patriotic Songs' will dispel that. This is the avant-jazz deconstruction of 'The Star-Spangled Banner', and, you know, I think it gives Hendrix's version a run for the money. This track in particular does it for me, not that I really love these melodies in their original form but because I'm a sucker for big band jazz with large, strident melody lines. Ten people is big enough for me, and no one overplays. The middle movement of this slows to a crawl before building up around a piano arpeggio and sputtering towards its climax. I have a real tendency to associate good music with left-wing politics, and particularly to look for minor key themes in conjunction with overtly American imagery (such as John Fahey's America album). It's certainly easy to think "this music mourns the decline of morality in an empire" (or something like that) and I fear that this post may opt for that easy critical eye. But I also know what it's like to be an American in Europe, struggling with the conflicts of identity politics in a strange, chunky sea. And perhaps the American members of the Carla Bley Band in '77 were feeling that too - for me, I think it would come out sounding something like this, at least if I were a large jazz ensemble. But back to the music: I don't think there are any parts of this record that are completely improvised; in fact, most of side 1 feels tightly wound (and beautifully languid at the same time). Bley's organ blasts some funky clouds, especially when over the more rock parts -- perhaps this is something she developed in the Escalator days w/McLaughlin and Bruce. If so, they were great help because she's mastered the balance, at it all feels so seamless.

Carla Bley / Paul Haines - 'Escalator Over the Hill' (JCOA)

Actually, you know, Escalator Over the Hill is my favorite chronotransduction ever. Why can't avant-garde jazz have their own Jesus Christ Superstar? As notorious as this is for being an overblown pretentious pile of art-wank, if you actually listen to it you'll find a pretty good time. There's only a few triple LPs that I think are deserving of the length, and this is one of them. A Lot of People Would Like to See Armand Schaubroeck ... Dead is another, but it'll be years til we get to it. Sandanista is not, and something about that forthcoming Joanna Newsom triple gives me a bad, bad feeling. But let's get to Escalator - the lineup is amazingly great, and I could fill this post naming the luminaries who blow 'n pluck on these six sides: Bley and Mantler, of course, and then Charlie Haden, Don Cherry, Gato Barbieri, Jack Bruce, Don Preston, John McLaughlin, Linda Ronstandt (!), Roswell Rudd, Michael Snow (!), Jimmy Lyons, Enrico Rava, Leroy Jenkins, Dewey Redman .... and that's not counting the unsung heroes like Paul Motian (who drives the drumkit throughout). I am a sucker for Bley's style of brainy big-band deconstructions; I love Tropical Appetites and a lot of the songs here follow a similar pattern, though with Paul Haines' perplexing lyrics. There's a lot of great, soulful movements here; the whole set opens with Roswell Rudd's trombone aching in pain. This Hotel Lobby Band comes back and forth like a Greek chorus, with other smaller breakout groups driving forward the story and the band returning - used to great effect at the end of 'Holiday in Risk'. I'm not going to be a literary critic here, so you won't get any comments on the themes present in the lyrics (mutation, India, conflict, the body, etc.). But as one who enjoys delicate, female-driven songwriting, big-band swing, and weird electro-acoustic sound fuckery -- this has everything for me. It's amazing how incredibly consistent it is over two+ hours. I guess this took a few years to assemble so Bley really could take her time to keep the wheat from the chaff, you know? But while "it's all good", there's still highlights. Linda Ronstadt really has a shit-hot voice, and whenever she takes a tune, it slays ... check 'Why?' on side 2 if you don't believe me. I wonder what this stage production looked like? I can only imagine actors dealing with sounds like the ring-modulated piano or the calliope bits. Jack's Traveling Band (which is McLaughlin, Bley, Bruce and Motian) rip it up in rock-fusion fury on side 3-- to the point where you can only dream of an offshoot LP. It resembles Tony Williams' Lifetime on more than a surface level, though contained into a five minute "rock song" and somehow fitting in place with the rest of this. They come back in 'Rawalpindi Blues' and get a bit more room to explore, when McLaughling busts this nutty guitar line that is super staccato repeated notes. The piece goes into this weird chanted "What will we ever do with you?" vocal part over what sounds like AMM or something, and then the theme is taken up by the other recurring band in Escalator Over the Hill -- the Desert band. They actually appear earlier on side 5 to introduce the Eastern section of the story. This is where Jenkins shines, though it's also copiloted by Don Cherry's ethnoclouds of trumpet (and later his vocal glossolalia). The cello (played by Calo Scott) has a tambura/Bharat vibe, and these sections feel like a slice of curry-flavoured gristle in the middle of wedding cake. Overall, cause it's been a few years since I last listened to this, I'm kinda blown away by how good it is. I could probably go to this at any point during the last ten years and found something in there to reflect on my current interests. When I was into jammy, spacey rock explorations I would have enjoyed the Jack's Traveling Band sections; when I was interested in oblique songwriting, well, pretty much all of the parts with singing would apply. Free jazz? Of course, and more restrained improvisations are all over this, too. Outsider, NWW-listy sounds? Sure, they're the glue that holds this together really. There's also a few tunes where the voice drifts over the instrumentation in the same way that outsider/free folk does, which I can't explain any better. 'Oh Say Can You Do?' on side four (which is voice and calliope) is what I'm talking about. Ethnic free explorations: see the Desert band, above. Complicated art-rock ideas: the whole thing. Right now what I take from this the most is the idea of composition as a means of liberation, not control. This is a pretty tightly knit triple LP, probably the most tightly knit 3xLP I can think of except for maybe that one Vitamin B12 release. But at the same time, it invites exploration across a shitload of different genres, and can probably be studied to the point of microscopic detail.

Blank Dogs - 'On Two Sides' (Troubleman Unlimited)

The cover art to this feels a tad silly now, as the identity of Blank Dogs was shrouded in mystery at the time of release -- though now, it no longer is, so an opportunity for a cool album cover was squandered by putting a photo of a dude with a blanket over his head. But at least it's designed nicely, just like the bumpy post-punk-influence pop ditties here. These "bedroom punk" tunes are probably quick to record and he sure pumps them out on this (and other) releases, but they're really solid here. 'Ants' kicks things off with the formula that works, unchanged, across 12 songs. Canned drums, cheap synth icing, repetitive simple melodies, jangly guitar notes around the edges and some killer guitar crunch when the time is right. Vocally it's moaning, affected, distorted, and weirdly catchy. 'Blaring Speeches', 'Calico Hands' and 'The Lines' are particularly strong, and when you've listened to this a few times they all start to blend together into a mishmash of hooks. I don't find myself singing along as much as I tap/bash my fingers on the desk when listening. But maybe that's cause I have to strain to understand the lyrics, which is more effort than I'm willing to put in. Could 'Pieces' be the pinnacle of office punk, perhaps? Though the obvious comparisons are early 80s mileau like Magazine, early Cure, New Order/Factory stuff, etc -- I actually hear a bit of 90's indie rock in 'Three Window Room', the closing track. For some reason this unfolds like a classic Magnetic Fields track to me, maybe just in the way the chords move. I admit I haven't kept up with the slew of output to follow this but at some point I could see myself needing more.

Blackalicious - 'Nia' (Quannum)

A return from the holidays finds this sore thumb waiting in the Underbite, a throwback to that innocent summer of '00, a time that I always want to reminisce about cause it's before 9/11 and therefore everything had yet to "change". But the reality is that I was just another white avant-leaning indie kid in college who dabbled in hip-hop -- at least, if it was scribed as being particularly artistic. This double LP ranked near the top of that mountain, which probably explains why it's still here. It's almost ten years later and man, what a weird listen this is now. Primarily this is because I have no interest or connection in the hip-hop genre at all, and in fact feel so removed from black American 'urban' culture that the stylistic/genre affects strike me as nearly alien today. What I can't deny is how strangely good this music is. I don't ultimately understand (or care) about the elements that make a rapper good, such as flow or style or whatever. (I do have an unfortunate memory of being stuck listening to some shithead babble about how great Eminem's "flow" was, while waiting to get the cheque at some shithole diner at 3 AM -- an experience that probably did as much to drive me away from hip-hop as anything else). However, I can understand that Gift of Gab manages to convey something really visceral and Chief Xcel's rhythms are strangely infectious. I expected to put this on the 'sell' pile, or at least declare the double LP length to be far too long, but I have little to complain about. There's a few diversions from direct rap that stand out, such as "Ego Trip", which sets a Nikki Giovanni poem to some beats and manages to be an intense fireburn of black feminist energy. Also "Cliff Hanger" is, I think, about the film The Golden Child or if not, a nice surreal dream anyway. These dudes know how to weave a tapestry of soul/jazz/rap styles, without sounding needlessly retro: take 'As the World Turns' for a really nice example. I don't really care about "positive" lyrics but there's an intellectualism that's evident here, in addition to all sorts of obscurist samples like Finnish jazz guitarists and the Move. Lateef and Lyrics Born pop up, being the necessary guest stars to do the whole rap collective thing (and after all, Quannum Projects was a noble venture). Subtleties are there too - offbeats on the drum programming, mild vocal asides, and tiny tonal twangs in every corner. 'Smithzonian Institute of Rhyme' gets into a dark disco minimalist groove, with that hip-hop way of singing that became a lot more prevalent over the next decade. But this is a million miles from the overproduced gizmos that adorn commercial rap. Though Xcel pastes things together with great attention to detail, it avoids having any sort of shimmer; 'Beyonder' has a great retrofuturist 80s feel which is what I'm trying to describe. Now I'm tempted to seek out that first Latyrx album, which I remember as being even better than this. Maybe it's time for a personal hip-hop renaissance?