from the LP When Disaster Strikes…, Elektra Records, 1997
Remember when MTV actually played music videos…? I know, that’s an overused quandary by people my age these days, but damn---the ignorant-ass shit that channel is laying on the youth of today has got to be a hundred times worse for them than even the edgiest or most unabashedly lewd music videos from back in the ‘80s & ‘90s. Although, that was an era when being a “music video director” still came with a lot of cachet if you did it well (not to mention money…), and the video for this eternally slammin’ cut from Busta is a perfect example. Director Hype Williams basically made his name in music videos, this one being among his finest; essentially a redux of Coming to America, the whole vibe of this track was magnified several times thanks to Williams’ psychedelic & surreal directorial vision (those tribal day-glo warriors sealed the deal for me). This song also happens to be the joint, with that Timbaland-inspired beat which never losses its freshness, and Busta’s ridiculously hot rhymes, “…hit you with the shit make you feel it all in your toes, hot shit got all you niggas in wet clothes; stylin my metaphors when I formulate my flows, if you don't know you're fuckin with lyrical player pros…” Word.
from the LP NuYorican Soul, Talkin’ Loud Records, 1997
No discussion of American house music would be complete without focusing the microscope on NYC, and in particular, the masterminds known as Kenny ‘Dope’ Gonzales & ‘Little’ Louie Vega, rulers of the ‘90s beats scene under many monikers (most notably as Masters At Work), including this eclectic side project which focused on live instrumentation as opposed to knob twiddling, dubbed NuYorican Soul. From the insistent piano atop those loose breaks, to the epically sweeping string section, to the chorus-of-angels vocal delivery care of renowned disco diva Jocelyn Brown and some bad-ass backup singers, this track absolutely showers the listener with a torrent of sunny uplifting energy, and it garnered an awful lot of attention upon it s release (not to mention, a slew of remixes in every conceivable genre of electronica); this was actually a cover of an old Rotary Connection number from the early ‘70s, far more psychedelic in tone than what we have here & well worth tracking down also.
from the 12” single, Uphoria Records, 1993
One of the first raves I ever attended was a tiny gathering of ~200 kids in the woods of northwestern Massachusetts during the early fall of 1993, put on at a time when parties were just beginning to get a foothold in the American psyche, and it was abundantly clear to many of us that this was gonna be our shot at experiencing something similar to what the generations before had done with “acid tests”. I remember this track getting spun: not the beginning of it so much, but the moment that sample from Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation dropped into the floor’s conscience there wasn’t a single blasé expression in the place---this was our childhood, remixed & repackaged, virtually re-imagined as MDMA’s clarion call unto a shared vision of empathetic unity, “…in complete darkness we are all the same, it is only our knowledge and wisdom that separates us; don’t let your eyes deceive you…” Being from Florida, and proud of the fact that I’d already been into beats for a couple of years prior, I marched boldly up to the booth and asked the DJ what this track was, and after getting a gruff reply I figured I would try to impress him with my knowledge of breakbeats, so I requested that he spin Smart E’s – Sesame’s Treet---BIG mistake. This dude turned to me and said something like, “sorry man, that cut is way too mainstream”. Ouch. I recoiled and slinked away, feeling decidedly un-cool for the next couple minutes, but I never forgot the name of this amazing track.
Side B, Housewares, 1998
“…play them vibes for us…” Yes, it’s another legendary DJ from Chicago…I know, I know, big fucking surprise. Look, it just can’t be helped that there’s so many heady dudes around spinning mad freshness who also happen to hail from Chi, it’s been the reality for nearly thirty years, get over it. Gene Farris blew up during that city’s second tsunami of house music maestros, in the mid ‘90s, proving himself as both a top-class producer of dank beats and a consistently crowd-pleasing DJ; he actually lived in Amsterdam for over 4 years, only recently returning from that sojourn, and a wise expatriation it was for him, developing a larger following in Europe than many other American house DJs. This mix was part of a lengthy archive of “Live On Haight” tapes & CDs that were put together by HouseWares co-owner Owen Maigrit, and although it was definitely recorded live in the Bay Area, I’m not sure whether it was at a party or an in-store appearance. I do know one thing though, “…I like the sound when we, clap our hands…”
from the LP Fashion Nugget, Capricorn Records, 1996
Always existing dangerously close to the region of contrived schlock inhabited by G-Love or Jack Johnson, and coming across a bit like Soul Coughing’s dumber drunk cousin, Cake were the toast of the town there for a second back in the nondescript mid ‘90s, post-Nirvana wastelands; yes, most of their stuff smacks so heavily of upper-middle class cynicism (see: angst ex nihilo) that it’s only digestible in small doses, but this particular lump of infuriated discharge always proves to be a cathartic listen. I mean, there’s always somebody in your life that needs to hear the primary message of this song, even if they’re just on the periphery (see: that crazy dude on the bus that always gets preaching real good), “…shut the fuck, ah yeah, shut the fuck up…” Shit, there are surely people that would like to say that to me at times (see: G-Love & Jack Johnson fans, lol). I guess these guys are still churning out albums, their upcoming release apparently being recorded entirely with solar energy---I guess all that white guilt wasn’t just irony after all…
from the LP Remedy, XL Recordings, 1999
How can this track not have been laced in Chi-town??!? To be perfectly honest, the same could be said for the majority of singles & EPs the boys in Basement Jaxx dropped in the mid ‘90s leading up to this, their debut long-player; being from London, their ability to work within the Chicago phatty-boom template was uncanny (too bad all their recent stuff has been shite). The only thing I can come up with is that DJ Sneak, who was spinning at their club nights in the UK as early as ’94, must have smoked them down with so much weed that his sets somehow infused into their DNA through the cannabinoid receptor system, thus leaving them helplessly beholden to that Windy City tracky-jack groove. Not a satisfactory answer for the elevated levels of dankness found within this song, I know, but it’s the best I got; many blissed out memories of this number though, sweltering parties packed with soggy ravers rolling face on double-stacked Mitsubishis…good times.
from the LP You’d Prefer An Astronaut, 12 Inch Records, 1995
Sticking with an Illinois theme, Hum are surely among the mightier unsung heroes to have never emerged from the underground, short a brief (and mostly forgotten) brush with fame via their lead single from this LP, “Stars”. One might think that having the almighty oracle of all things indie & Midwest, Stevel Albini, producing your demo would ensure eternal success, but you’d be wrong, and the story of Hum reads similar to countless other crews that also fell prey to lady luck’s emotionless divining. Where their Chi-area peers the Smashing Pumpkins always leaned more towards a Led Zeppelin frame of mind, Hum reached more for the stars, marrying Hawkwind’s brutal drugy riffage to Pink Floyd’s expansive dream, concocting a noise that sounds both sprawling & torpid at the same time, and employing cryptic lyrics which tease the brain, “…sleep comes to everyone while we wait for the Sunday afternoons… that's why the suicide machine is built for two, a simple sick device devised to overload on love, to bring us colored dreams and soundtracked waves of fun…and to the left where up is down, now stands a zebra made of shapes of me, and silver and the sun; so bring no guilt with you up above the flat-line, let's just hit the sky, exploding into one…and so I give myself away, to everybody everyday; and so I give myself to you, and you need it more than I do…” Psychedelic haze from the nation’s midsection: get high, raise volume, and exist…
from the EP Overload, Network Records, 1990
Although often times overshadowed by its more well-known siblings (the 303 & the 808), Roland’s TR-909 was the drum machine most techno and house producers in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s ended up using to lay their beats, usually after having reached the limitations found on the other previously mentioned machines; frankly, the 909 is just easier to work with and has everything you need in one contraption. Midlands-based duo Altern-8 (Mark Archer & Chris Peat) probably know every last in & out of this particular device, all the fun patches and every last pattern, having employed one to craft many of the UK’s biggest rave anthems in the early days; these dudes used to show up at parties dressed in full-on, EPA style hazmat suits, including masks over their faces---which makes an old raver wonder, were they the first to start rocking those masks (pre-Vicks) which became ubiquitous at raves worldwide in the years following…? This track, and a grip of their initial wax, walks a fine line between techno & house: a bit too bouncy to be techno proper, but dark enough to sit pensively in the middle.
from the LP Burn Berlin Burn, Grand Royal Records, released: 1997, recorded: 1995
Typically, when someone announces that they are an anarchist, it’s met with understandably doubtful expressions & exhausted sighs---even the Black Blockers I knew up in Minneapolis (deemed by some to really be “true” anarchists) were mostly just angsty, middle-class white kids acting out their pre-conceived notions of rebellion (i.e. “smell me, motherfucker…”). Thus, it was with a suspicious & cynical mind that I first laid ears on digital hardcore forbearers Atari Teenage Riot, although it was admittedly more enticing due to the press reports of them being banned in their own country following a spate of riots that had erupted after their performances; I don’t mean that I think riots are cool or anything vacuous like that, but when art causes people to lose it, I can’t help but take notice. The results, musically speaking, were a pretty mixed bag: much of the album (not an LP proper, but a collection of their previously released 7”s & EPs) was filled with jackhammer gabber-beats which proved to be near unlistenable to all but the most dedicated of hardcore fans (see: people high on glue), but a few of the tracks where they slowed things down have become a consistent part of my library over the years, including this song---the one which got their LP barred from stores in Germany. For us Americans, it’s like the Weather Underground going techno, radical slogans & brash tunes; frankly, somebody out there needs to sample Alec Empire (the band’s leader) when he says, “…we react very strongly to tranquilizers, you know…” Seriously though, given Angela Merkel’s declaration last month that multiculturalism in Germany is dead, and the rise of right-wing neo-fascism spreading across Western European politics like wildfire, maybe these guys weren’t just being paranoid or dramatic…
from the LP Holiday, Merge Records, 1994
Male singers who have unfathomably deep vocal ranges always run the risk of sounding like they’ve been chasing Quaaludes down behind pints of Jägermeister, but in the case of Stephen Merritt (the persistent axis inside of indie rock darlings, the Magnetic Fields), that deadpan drawl actually contrasts wonderfully against his peppy, skewered take on pop music; not to mention, dude loved him some drugs for a minute, so it all fits. Upon first inspection, one wouldn’t be judged harshly for presuming that this was just a droll take on your basic love song, “…on the ferris wheel, looking out on Coney Island, under more stars than there are prostitutes in Thailand; our hair in the air, our lips blue from cotton candy, when we kiss it feels like a flying saucer landing…” However, when you factor in Merritt’s unorthodox upbringing and his well-noted sense of misanthropy, another picture emerges out of the second verse, “…in Las Vegas where the electric bills are staggering, the decor hog wild, and the entertainment saccharine; what a golden age, what a time of right and reason, the consumer’s king and unhappiness is treason…” His sarcasm smacks like those old school sourballs, pointing us in the direction of his dilemma over these modern times, not necessarily anti-capitalist exactly, but maybe leaning in that direction. To be honest, I’m very hit-or-miss when it comes to assessing the Mag Fields whole discography, but when things all come together as they do in this song, the sensation resembles rolling naked through fields of warm cashmere Snuggies.
Vol. 1, Side B, 1996
Perhaps no other American jungle DJ has received as much global acclaim and notoriety as has Damian ‘Dieselboy’ Higgins, and although that amount of visibility has certainly brought with it the standard chorus of haters, no one can argue that his ascendance to power was almost entirely the work of his own two hands, along with important early support from Nigel Richards, the granddaddy of Philly’s beats scene. If you were an up & coming DJ back in the 1990s, your reputation was often made on the weight of mixtapes, and few parts of those mixes were as important as the intro---in this case, the jungle breaks don’t even drop until over four minutes past the start. Dieselboy’s sound got considerably darker as the years progressed, but he came out of the gates ready to throw down, as this mix ably demonstrates. LOVE to Shampoo & the Philly massive!
from the LP Lamb, Fontana Records, 1996
Having been locked up from February of ‘95 – May of ‘97 meant that I’d missed an inordinate amount of music releases, and I can still recall my many fervent footsteps throughout the mall to get to a Camelot music store (remember those…), more than ready to make up for some lost time. I actually corralled a sales associate and told them something like, “I’ve been away for a couple of years and need to get caught up”, after which I proceeded to list off a laundry-list of band’s I loved, both for updates & to garner suggestions of new musicians I might dig. This LP, by Manchester duo Lamb, got purchased in that first chunk of new tunes, suggested on the weight of my professed love for Portishead; the vocal stylings of Louise Rhodes are the main element that links the two crews up, but the beats in Lamb come across a lot tougher & closer to breakbeats than trip-hop. Good looking out music store dude!
from the LP Pure Guava, August Records, 1993
Could there be any more appropriate band to go and see on Halloween than Ween?!! Surely not, and so my better half & I set off a couple nights ago to experience what was undoubtedly one of the wildest and loosest Ween shows we’ve ever been to, dressed in complimentary banana and gorilla outfits (yes, we are that lame). Deaner had high praise for this area in an interview he gave to the free weekly out here, “Denver and Boulder are the places that we've played more than any other place; we're almost there once a year...it's the pot-smoking hippies… honestly, it's a very liberal, progressive, artsy community that's rich in marijuana smokers. I'm really, truly excited for the Halloween show in Denver. There's no way it can't be fun…” True to his prediction, the show was fucking epic, even for Ween, pummeling the crowd with a far-reaching 3+ hour set that all the hardcore fans are still drooling over (including a sweltering “Let Me Lick Your Pussy” to close the show, and a touching rendition of this number, "Sarah", with only Dean & Gene on stage, one of the only times they’ve ever played this track live, and something which brought the vibes so hard I saw some people crying gently)---not to mention their hilarious bunny costumes, the perfect amount of surrealism & good old fashioned fun. I also happened to be sitting near a couple from Florida, and it turned out that my first Ween concert (at Club Detroit in St. Petersburg, 1995) was also their first, something which reminded me for the zillionth time: it truly is a small world. Ween: bringing good people together for over twenty years, may we all be blessed enough to enjoy another twenty or more…all hail the mighty BOOGNISH!!
from the LP Fear of a Green Planet, Lion & Roots Records, 1998
Have I mentioned lately my deep love of the hashish…? I know, I know, “how many more times can this dude post about his affection for the full-melt bubble?!” It’s just so extraordinary to me how many different ways you can consume marijuana, and that extra kick to the dome-piece one receives from indulging in hash or kief sometimes swiftly reminds us that, indeed, THC is a drug (it’s easy for a chronic user to forget this). “This one will lift you higher than high…” Along with being a potential advertising campaign slogan for high-grade hash oil, that’s also the promise of producer Adrian Sherwood & his veteran collective Dub Syndicate, who have been melting heady minds since the mid ‘80s with their brand of progressive dub atmospherics; I must say, those solemn violins really do take things to the next level for me.
from the LP Here Come the Lords, Pendulum Records, 1993
Man, this one takes me back…I can almost smell the sweet-soggy funk of schwag burning in a White Owl or Optimo cigar casing, emulating what we were all seeing in the rap videos around this time but, frankly, made perfect sense (practically speaking) to serious potheads who were looking to get as high as possible; admittedly, when they inquired “…could it be the skunk weed that makes us oh so funky…”, the answer for me & my friends at that time would have been mostly “no”---for us, these were the days of $80-a-zip commercial trees, only rarely scoring an eighth (or less) of what they called “Krypie” in Florida back then (essentially just kind bud). Even though many of us have plausibly become weed snobs in the decades since, no one can really knock smoking ‘mersh in a blunt, because it does get you mad high!! This track, by New Jersey-based crew the Lords of the Underground, wound up on a grip of mixtapes I made for friends back in the summer of ’93, and it still bangs hard as fuck today.
from the LP Underground Vibes, Street Jazz Productions, 1995
Laurent ‘DJ Cam’ Daumail has often been called the DJ Shadow of France, and although that comparison is a bit misleading (Cam has always been far more interested in jazz records, where Shadow has leaned much heavier on the funk tip), it works well enough to give one an idea of just how massive Mr. Daumail’s skillset really is. His dexterous pairing of portly drum breaks with numerous snippets of ephemeral jazz décor has resulted in some of the dankest beats ever dropped, on either side of the ocean! Thinking about it, one would perhaps be more accurate to compare Cam’s work with the nuanced masterpieces of Japan’s DJ Krush, at least in his ability to show restraint without sacrificing the density of the cut. Cam is still dropping fresh, phatty beats to this very day, evolved somewhat from what you hear here, but remaining very closely related. This track isn’t just a smart title either---this is music for getting blunted to.
Side B, Mix Connection Multimedia, 1999
Yup, it’s another refreshing mix from a true Windy City luminary: Angel Alanis has done it all inside the world of beats, from DJing & throwing raves in the ‘90s (with legendary Midwest crew Mushgroove, who have one of the all-time cutest mascots with that dancing mushroom, and I’ve heard they still throw killer parties--- they sure as hell used to, some of the most positive vibes of any Chi-town events I attended back then) to producing loads of killer tracks under a slew of aliases, work he continues to this day. His sets were always tribal as fuck, exploring all the outer reaches of house and tech-house, and this mix is no exception; he gives us a stellar sampling of Chicago based producers from that era (excepting for Hatiras, the crazy Canuck), including his own divine “Chi’s Revenge” and a chunky cut from the stellar Dave ‘DJ Rhythm’ (big ups to the Moody crew), a strong mix from start to finish, and tracky as all fuck! I know there ain’t no going back, but those truly were the good old days…
from the 12” single, Black Male Records, 1994
My heart is heavy, and I can’t stop sobbing any time I think about the tragic suicide of that freshman Rutgers student this past week, after being outed via hidden camera---he was the fourth boy in a month to take his own life after having their sexuality exposed, or questioned & debased, and the other lost souls were even younger: one was 15, and the other two were only 13 years old. 13. Someone that young taking their own life is an act so brutal & immense that I can’t even breathe well right now… I don’t know what to say. I will always have hope, but circumstances sometimes floor me in a heavy way, and this is one of those times. Yes, this track was recently posted elsewhere in the blogosphere, but right now nothing else will do, as its message is an important one for anyone that feels a lack of hope, things do & will get better; I dedicate this to the memory of Tyler Clementi, Billy Lucas, Asher Brown & Seth Walsh.
from the LP When Disaster Strikes…, Elektra Records, 1997
