After a few years of feeling in a musical slump, I had my faith in hip-hop (and pop in general) restored on a dark, Indiana freeway. It was me, with friends Justin and Matt, starting a week-long record shopping trek through the Midwest. The road trip is a time-honored tradition amongst obsessive collectors, guided by the alluring myth that somewhere, out there, is a store that no one since 1974 has shopped in, stocked with mint copies of rare soul and jazz 45s and LPs. It's largely a pipe dream but hell, any excuse to live out of cheap motels and eat bad food in pursuit of vinyl appealed to a bunch of city slickers like ourselves. Motel 6 and Waffle House, here we came!
I flew into Chicago that afternoon and after grabbing some dinner, we hit the road out of town. Our rental car lacked a CD player so the radio became our fourth companion as we headed for Indianapolis. On this particular Friday night, some nameless DJ manned the turntables and started dropping bombs on us, silencing the car as we listened in respectful awe.
The first gem was Scarface's "Guess Who's Back?" This was my first time hearing the song and it sounded incredible, starting with the sharp, pinging piano that begins the track and then that unbelievably viscous bassline riddim rolls in. I'm not even a dancehall fan, but Kayne West's beat had me wanting to yell in patois with my finger cocked to the sky.
Then the DJ set off another one: Freeway's "Line 'Em Up". Whereas "Guess Who's Back?" pulls at you from below, "Line 'Em Up" is pure, in yo' face, aggression as producer Just Blaze throws down a two-bar guitar loop resurrected from some grime-slathered blues album or the like. We're driving a Ford Neon or some other shit American model that only rental agencies buy but you'd think we were hitting the I-65 with a X5, Blaze's 80 BPM converting into an imagined 340 HP.
There were some other great tunes that intervened -- Foxy Brown's slick ode to haute couture, "Stylin'", Big Tymers' hilariously self-promotional "Still Fly" -- but then came the money shot. Out of nowhere, the DJ began playing a random instrumental and we hear these words being blended over top: "Nowwwww . . . in my younger days I used to sport a shag / When I went to school I carried lunch in a bag . . ."
Complete pandemonium broke out in the car. Listening to Pharcyde's "Passin' Me By" acapella, a tanker truck could have exploded in front of us and we wouldn't have noticed or cared All we knew was that somewhere, 2,000 miles from home, driving in darkness towards a destination none of us had been to before, we were having the time of our lives, reciting lyrics memorized almost 10 years back.
It had been a long, long time since I had taken so much pleasure in such a simple thing as the radio. Especially in a day of Clear Channel media monopolies and Ja Rule remixes, play-lists are more homogenous than ever but for this hour, I didn't care about that. It was all about the joy of discovery, about being open to the music, letting the songs take me to wherever they wanted to. I surrendered my critic credentials, stopped thinking like a DJ for a minute, and simply became a fan again.
It was goddamn wonderful.
For my look back at 2002, I do so no less critical but thankfully, a little less cynical. Here's my top 10 breakdown, in alphabetical order:
1. Anything produced by the Neptunes (almost)
2001 is when the Neptunes ascended into the pop world but 2002 was when they took over. It's hard to remember the last time a production team has been so dominant in pop music but Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo were everywhere this year whether you're talking about Justin or Jay-Z, Britney or Busta. Their production aesthetic may not be as innovative or unpredictable as that of fellow Virginian Timbaland but the Neptunes shiny studio sound is the perfect fusion of hip-hop grit and pop polish. That's the formula that's fueled their growing empire and resulted in two of the year's best beats: Noreaga's Orientalist funk fantasia, "Nothin'" and the locomotive chug-chug of the Clipse's "Grindin".
2. Common, Electric Circus (MCA)
Every album Common has made has been a deliberate departure from what's come before. His last LP, 2000's Like Water For Chocolate, was more of a neo-soul excursion and while Electric Circus still bears traces, it's a far more ambitious effort, unlike almost any other hip-hop album that's come before it. As the title suggests, the album's music floats into the realm of psychedelia but never tritely so. Sure, Common's trying to get all Prince on us (indeed, the Purple One cameos on the album) and his song, "Jimi Was a Rockstar" overstates the obvious in every way, but there's a brave experimentation going on here and for the most part, Common pulls it off with aplomb. You're always aware that he's in control of this project and his biting, aggressive lyricism helps anchor down the more esoteric songs. Artistically, this is so far ahead of the game that terms like "underground" and "mainstream" cease to be relevant anymore.
3. DJ Shadow's Private Press concert v. 2.0
While the album itself lacked the wide-eyed wonderment inspired by Shadow's 1996 Endtroducing, his concert performance was an absolute revelation. Considering how visually inspiring Shadow's music is with its dramatic mood swings and sublime textures, Ben Stokes accompanying videography, projected on three screens behind Shadow, was more than an enhancement and damn near a transformation. Suddenly, sonic bits and pieces long familiar to Shadow fans were given physical shapes and forms, a kaleidoscope of images cascading to the constantly shifting sounds being mixed live. Like the music, the images looped as well, a montage of repeating scenes helping to build and release tension. The revamped version of the show, which began touring in late fall, adds the mouth-dropping encore of Shadow synching his MPC sampler with video images of mullet-sporting rockers offering drum lessons. Suffice to say, it has to be seen to believed (not to mention explained).
4. ego trip's Big Book of Racism *
Few thought they could follow-up on their brilliant Book of Rap Lists but the maniacal minds behind the erstwhile ego trip magazine have done did it again. Taking one of the most sensitive issues in American society -- race -- ego trip blow it up with satirical brilliance, poking fun at every group imaginable with lists and essays as inventive as they are hilarious e.g. Their wit cuts sharp enough to bleed at times but only the most close-minded (or clueless) won't find something to laugh out loud over.
5. Jurassic 5, Power In Numbers (Interscope)
Some artists escape being typecast by reinventing themselves in the extreme -- i.e. nerds turn thugs, queens turn bitches, etc. but Jurassic 5 manage to shed their image as old school revivalists simply by getting better. They stay true to their L.A. underground roots with conscious songs like "Freedom" and party cookers like "What's Golden" but also expand into unexpectedly excellent new territory like BBQ jams ("Hey"), R&B collaborations ("Thin Line"), and fast rap resurrections ("Day at the Races", "Break"). An album as smart and provocative as it is entertaining and exciting, Jurassic 5 add it all up for Power In Numbers.
6. Mr. Lif, I Phantom (Definitive Jux)
Holy shit, a hip-hop album with imagination, intelligence and a conscious agenda that doesn't sound like a didactic college essay on how to keep hip-hop "true". Instead, Lif hits you with a narrative-as-album, a story of death and rebirth that ends in the blinding glare of nuclear holocaust. Heavy stuff in concept but this Bay Area transplant from Boston pulls it all off with such a enthralled attitude that each new song is like a series of holiday presents you get to surprise yourself with. Behind it all, Lif slips in subtle jabs at everything from the tedium of office work, to instructions on wanna-be player-dom to a treatise on civilization's rush to self-destruction. This is one album you can't easily describe but can't easily ignore either.
7. Scarface, The Fix (Def Jam)
Scarface's seventh album in 11 years, The Fix possesses a level of maturity befitting the rapper's long career. He's no longer a brash upstart hustling corners but an elder ghetto-statesmen, thoughtful in his observations yet unrepentant of his trife life. With his gruff voice and dark, stark lyrics, Scarface manifests menace effortlessly, filling his narratives with a gritty realism conspicuously absent from the pulpless fiction of lesser king pins. At the same time, on songs like "Heaven" and "In Between Us", 'Face also weighs on the costs of it all - both physical and spiritual. Armed with arguably the strongest album in his decade-long career, Scarface stands triumphant as hip-hop's criminal and spiritual minded gangster, preaching his own brand of street sermons and dispensing his grace with a gunshot blast.
8. Scratch DVD
Even if you've never even seen a turntable, Doug Pray's excellent documentary will take you into the world of hip-hop DJing, from disco to turntable-ism, the South Bronx to Daly City. Informative and entertaining, it's one of the best hip-hop documentaries ever made, balancing as many different angles as possible without overloading the story arc. The DVD is even better though, with an entire disc of extras that includes scratch lessons from the one and only DJ Q-Bert to a "How to Rock a Party" lesson by DJ Z-Trip.
9. Steinski, Nothing to Fear (Soul Ting)
As one of the pioneers of so-called "cut up" songs (i.e. tracks made from literally splicing other songs together), Steinski should get respect regardless. But even better, his Nothing to Fear is an unqualified blast to listen to. No one makes fun hip-hop albums anymore - the genre takes everything, especially itself, far too seriously but Steinski returns some joy to mudville. How many artists would dare remix Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On", Nelly's "Country Grammar", Foxy Bron's "Hot Spot" and Blackalicious' "Swan Lake" on the same record, not to mention concoct brilliant, whimsical cut-up collages like "Swingset 10" and the hilarious "Hit the Disco"? Only the Botoxed can't crack a grin to this.
10. Wax Poetics issues 1-3 *
This new quarterly journal is dedicated to a small but fervent community of record collectors obsessed with all things funky. Lead backwards through music thanks to hip-hop's sampling appetite, this cadre includes everyone from savvy jazz hepcats to old school scholars to aspiring funkologists, all of whom bow to the altar of vinyl. The publication may seem a little parochial but it's written for the forward-thinking record nerd, not just small-minded obsessives and in its three issues so far, has included everything from a history of the Ultimate Beats and Breaks series to DJ floorplans to a B+ photo essay to interviews with everyone from Wildstyle's Chick Ahearn to legendary studio drummer Bernard Purdie. Especially with the demise of the UK's Big Daddy, Wax Poetics has become the first and last resource for the intelligent crate digger.
Honorable Mentions:
8 Mile and Brown Sugar
Assets: For the first time, two films got hip-hop right. It likely reflects the fact that the hip-hop generation is finally old enough to be working as production designers and art directors but these two films took great pains to capture the aesthetic and feel of hip-hop, as a music and culture, rather than portray yet another dressed-up, urban dystopia.
Liabilities: Brown Sugar has a pre-fab narrative that's equal parts Love and Basketball and When Harry Met Sally while 8 Mile whitewashes racial realities out of its story in favor of a fiction of class solidarity.
Standing in the Shadows of Motown
Assets: This film fills in one of the most vital gaps in 20th century American music by finally shining some light on the Funk Brothers -- the musicians responsible for the Motown Sound. Berry Gordy was unquestionably a genius visionary but a piss poor manager, having shuttled the Funk Brothers into obscurity for the better part of forty years. It's a pity that it's taken until now for someone to give these musicians their due but truly, better late than never.
Liabilities: The narrative is disjointed, concert scenes run far too long, and there's not enough archival performance footage. Worst of all, Ben Harper tries to channel Marvin Gaye with disastrous results.
Kayne West & Just Blaze
Assets: Along with the Neptunes, these two from Jay-Z's stable are responsible for some of the year's most memorable production. Blaze can take the credit for the slinky Bollywood number he hooked up for Erick Sermon's "React" and Camron's "Oh Boy", perhaps one of the most ridiculously simple, yet infectious beats ever made. Kayne was everywhere too, producing for Talib Kweli, Knocturnal and others but his standout cut was the riddim-blessed blaster, "Guess Who's Back?" for Scarface.
Liabilities: The two produced Jay-Z's The Blueprint 2 into a dull stupor and sounded like parodies of themselves.
* Conflict of Interest Alert: Just so you know, I contributed to these publications but that fact, in no way, contributed to my desire to highlight their achievements. Believe me, there's plenty of other places I write where I have NO desire to laud. Or even acknowledge.
