Low End Theories
Hip-Hop Will Eat Itself
[3 April 2002]
by Oliver Wang
PopMatters Music Columnist
Edan
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Suddenly, it's 1994 again. Two of our current spring anthems on urban radio
are almost exact retreads of huge hits from eight years back. The Notorious
B.I.G.'s radio hit, "One More Chance" has come back in the form of Ashanti's
"Foolish" which uses the same, prominently Debarge, sample. Meanwhile, the
track for Jennifer Lopez' new "Ain't It Funny" (featuting Ja Rule and
Cadillac Tie) is practically a note-for-note resurrection of Craig Mack's
unexpected smash "Flava In Ya Ear". Given sampling's insatiable hunger,
we've gotten to the point where hip-hop will eat itself -- again and again
and again.
It's only through this logic of return, repetition and re-creation that we
can appreciate the unusual example of Edan -- a young, white, 20-something
rapper/producer/DJ out of Baltimore, now living in Boston. Debuting his
first album, Primitive Plus (Solid Records), Edan devotes himself to
the hip-hop aesthetics of the late 1980s with obsessive detail. Almost every
song, every lyric is a nod to a bevy of giants -- some remembered, some
forgotten -- from hip-hop's old school and early new school (think
1985-1989) including Rakim, Percee P, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Marley
Marl, Ced Gee, Kool Keith, Stezo, etc.
Let's not confuse things here -- many rappers pay tribute to the past all
the time in both figurative and literal fashion -- but Edan takes it to
levels heretofore unseen. Not only does he, like Ashanti and Lopez,
sonically recreate the past -- "One Man Arsenal" for example, uses the same
drum track from Boston's obscure '80s rap group TDS Mob -- but on two songs
in particular, "Ultra 88" and "Schooly D", he pays tribute to the
Ultramagnetic MCs and Schooly D by mimicking their vocal form and flow. This
is clearly someone who's grown up under hip-hop's 20+ year tutelage and Edan
is just the most obvious example of a new generation of emerging MCs who
spent their childhood with rap records as parent, teacher, playmate and
progeny alike.
As the album's primary producer, Edan excels with the dirty, rough sound of
yesteryear, unleashing sparse, over-modulated drum tracks
("Rapperfication"), slick, grooving loops ("Run That Shit"), thrashing
guitar tears ("You $uck"), and "mega dumb reverb" laden vocals ("Number One
Hit Record"), giving Primitive Plus the quality of a demo tape lost
since 1987, forgotten in someone's shoe box. He's especially good in
resurrecting the art of "fast rap": i.e. hip-hop beats that manage to pump
above 110 BPM (beats per minute), a rarity in a time when the average rap
song is about 15% slower than it was 10 years ago.
In some ways, Edan can seem a little too "authentic", like he's little more
than a one man, old school revue show. But what saves him from being a
living wax museum of '88 hip-hop style is his knowing sense of humor. For
example, his lyrics are more style than substance, but are giddily fun to
listen to just because of that. On "Syllable Practice" for example, Edan's
even considerate enough to warn you: "I'm not going to say anything
significant, but, it's going to be battle rhymes, and it's going to sound
pretty" and then, true to promise, he hits you with this: "the renegade
radical/demonstrates battle drill/efficiency and dedication/through
placement/of syllable swords/directly where umbilical cords/were chopped/on
little kids/put up for adoption".
Edan is a hip-hop prodigal son who simultaneously goofs on the music's
conventions and pays homage to them. It's tempting to write off Edan as
another "back to the old school" preservationist, however, songs like
"Emcees Smoke Crack" and "Syllable Practice" bristle with layers of irony
that could only come from a post-90s MC, literate in hip-hop's fundamentals.
Unlike Ashanti and Lopez -- whose liberal borrowing from the past is
superficial at best -- Edan manages to make something new out of something
old in ways that are unexpected and entertaining. The result is one of the
most creative underground albums in ages that manages to both validate
hip-hop's past glory and reassure us of its future potential.
P.S. Be sure to also pick up Edan the DJ's Fast Rap mix-CD. Edan
picks from his own rarefied collection for a mix of songs that feature some
of the best scintillatingly rapid flows from the past such as Percee P's
spectacular "Lung Collapsing Lyrics", Big Daddy Kane's mind-melting "Warm It
Up Kane", Organized Konfusion's rattling "Prisioners of War", and over a
dozen other selectables. Alas, Edan's mixing skills are rather sparse -- he
rarely mixes, instead just quickly segueing from one track to the other, but
the selection alone is worth the price of admission; especially given that
most of us haven't heard any of these songs in at least a decade -- if we
ever heard them at all.
P.P.S. Since we're on the topic, if you really want to get a kick out of old
school resurrections, pick up the amazing new compilation Black Rio:
Brazil Soul Power 1971-1980 (Strut Records). Not only is it filled with
some ridiculously funky fare that deliciously mixes Afro, Latin, Soul and
Brazilian influences, but check out Gang Do Tagarella's "Rapper's Delight",
a 1980 cover of the Sugarhill Gang's massive hit from 1979 which opens with
the same bongo breakdown and goes into the familiar bass line strains of
Chic's "Good Times". Instead of the Sugarhill Gang's "bang to the boogity
bee" lyrics though, Gang Do Tagarella brings in a guitarist and heated brass
section. It's wicked fun, a sure-fire hit on the dance floor and a reminder
that even when things do go in circles and cycles, being spun dizzy can be a
blast in itself.