No Trivia

Archive for October, 2010

How Big Is Your World? Untamed – “Club Riot”

leave a comment


Untamed’s “Club Riot” begins with Three Six Mafia’s “Tear Da Club Up,” like its noting the bar previously set for rowdy, fuck-you-up hip-hop: From tearing the club up to an all-out riot. That iconic Three Six sample is just one part of the crowded, snapping, crashing music here though. Reflecting the general trend in horrifying dance music these days (to eschew explicit structure for something scarily one-note and crowded), producer Johnny Juliano doesn’t so much build-up energy as just sustain one level of hard-ass insanity for three minutes. Listen to the way PT Primetime steps in within a second or two of that iconic hook entering the mix, as if he’s unfazed by its status and just raps over it, like it’s another smack of percussion, which is kinda what it is here.

Unlike G-Side, that other Huntsville duo that don’t seem to do anything wrong, PT Primetime and AC Burna are an interesting rap duo precisely because they aren’t foils for one another. And they don’t really complement one another either. It’s more like they continue each other’s thoughts, just in slightly different, fevered tones, giving off the impression that if you upset one of them, you’d get both of them in front of you screaming threats and then, nimbly rapping those threats too. The approach is refreshingly straight-forward and lets the group avoid the rather hedged, narrowcasting take on rap (make one kind of song, over and over and over again) that’s taken over much of the underground as of late. These guys comfortably pull off songs like “Country” or “Gangsta” too. “Club Riot” is fueled by healthy homage and a surefooted desire to up the fight music ante, and the next group to come along, ready to make next-level, mad-as-hell, hard-as-fuck Southern chant rap that does to “Club Riot” what Untamed’s done to “Tear Da Club Up” have to call their song “Club Apocalypse” or something. From the upcoming Street Solid, presented by (you ready?) Baller’s Eve, I’m Not A Toy, Southern Hospitality, Traps N Trunks, and Dirty Glove Bastard.

Written by Brandon

October 30th, 2010 at 5:47 pm

do you like chillwave?

one comment

C O M I N G S O O N

Written by Brandon

October 29th, 2010 at 12:00 pm

How Big Is Your World? DJ Burn One – “Bobby Cox”

leave a comment


DJ Burn One’s arranging skills are on display in the twenty seconds of foggy, movie music that begins “Bobby Cox” and then, the “Burn one…” drop arrives, some wailing funk guitar not far behind, and that composer pretense is pushed to the side for something with a lot more knock. Burn One is too consistent, too prudent, and too devoted to country rap tunes to forgo their appeal, just to prove he’s the Jerry Fielding of this hip-hop shit. So yeah, “Bobby Cox” is still a beat, but it’s not an “instrumental” in the sense of a rap beat unadorned by an emcee, it’s a hip-hop-tinged piece of music that takes full advantage of not having to worry about who can rap on it and how. Everything gets to be a little more filled-out and sprawling.

Ricky Fontaine’s guitars endlessly glide along and get to have a real musical conversation with one another: “Oh, pleasant wah-wah guitar, meet politely screaming Eddie Hazel guitar.” The drum programming has seven or eight different layers to it, all bouncing and snapping off one another, peaking with that gun-shot-like snare. The second half of the song adds some hesitant pings from a music box (courtesy of Walt Live) and blaxploitation strings from Walt Live. The music box and the strings are the main sounds in the gloomy intro, and they return towards the end of “Bobby Cox,” now in the background and with a new context. It’s a brilliant production touch and bridges the seemingly disparate intro to the rest of this track. Really can’t wait for The Ashtray.

Written by Brandon

October 28th, 2010 at 9:25 am

Splice Today: GLC – Love, Life, & Loyalty

one comment


Here’s how most rap albums are put together these days. Producers give a rapper tons of beats and the rapper pick the ones he likes and then raps over them and then ideally, if the right beat and the right rap meet, there’s a song for the album. Then, as the rapper records more and more songs, some sort of flow or concept develops and then, the rapper sequences and re-sequences tracks depending on that concept/flow. And the whole time the rapper’s developing a concept/flow, the rapper’s probably recording more and more songs, which can or cannot derail or at least, shift said concept/flow. GLC’s Love, Life, & Loyalty is a rap album made in that vein, only the guy forgot to take into consideration the passing of time, the changing of trends, and new talent. Like dude is holding on way too tight to all the connections he had a few years ago and it’s a bummer. I don’t feel bad writing this review but I do feel bad.

Along with fellow wizened, Kanye West crony Consequence, GLC expanded the middle-class travails of College Dropout, adding a more lived-in, less petulant point of view to work-a-day anthem “Spaceship.” Consequence rapped about going from guest-spots on Tribe Called Quest’s Beats, Rhymes, and Life to working a day job, while GLC injected a knowing, street dude perspective into the decidedly suburban song, ending his verse with a regret-filled couplet: “Should’ve finished school like my niece / Then I wouldn’t have to use my piece.”

As West’s profile continued to rise, GLC and Consequence remained defiantly down-to-earth. Consequence’s 2007 debut, Don’t Quit Your Day Job! stretched “Spaceship”’s conceit over an entire album and that same year, GLC released “I Ain’t Even On Yet” a song that cleverly ran through a list of luxuries his relative rap fame afforded him, punctuating the boasts with “and I ain’t even on yet”—a half-modest reminder that he wasn’t yet a superstar…

Written by Brandon

October 27th, 2010 at 5:26 am

Slant Magazine: “House Playlist: Curren$y, the Fresh & Onlys, the Go! Team, and Jamiroquai”

6 comments


Wrote something about Curren$y’s “Michael Knight” for the new singles column over at The House Next Door, Slant Magazine’s blog…

Over producer Ski Beatz’s pairing of kung fu movie music and elegant G-funk, New-York-by-way-of-New-Orleans rapper Curren$y crams three casually intricate verses into less than three minutes—and finds a place for a delightfully absurd Knight Rider-referencing hook, complete with KITT sound effects. Filled with pothead punchlines (“I got high enough so I could autograph the sky”), wonky wordplay (“car windows” rhymed with “Carl Winslow”), and a few marvels of internal rhyming (“Everything with wings ain’t a plane, man” via his Southern accent becomes “Everythayng with wayngs ain’t a plane mayne”), this track from next month’s Pilot Talk 2 is more strangely beautiful, deceptively simple, chill-out rap from a guy getting ridiculously good at this sort of thing.

Written by Brandon

October 25th, 2010 at 8:53 pm

The Black Album Redux

14 comments


Earlier in the week, we got a tracklist for Jay-Z’s The Hits Collection: Volume One. The song selection leans heavily on his post-Blueprint work and is pretty kind to his post-”retirement” work as well. There are three songs from Blueprint 3 on this thing, which just seems weird. Revisionist history is important for Jay because presumably, wants to keep making music and so, he’s gotta lean on the recent stuff or risk a default confession that his recent stuff doesn’t match-up to the old stuff. And if that’s the case, well why is anybody going to buy the next Jay-Z album?

That said, Jay-Z’s revisionism is a bit more loaded than others’ and not quite as nefarious. Or maybe, not entirely nefarious. What’s so interesting about the guy and frankly, really brave, is that he hasn’t been afraid to change and basically “grow-up.” As a result, a lot of that older stuff is probably embarrassing for him. It also isn’t quite as appealing to the people whose circles he runs in these days. These two things tie together of course. Notice, the songs where Jay-Z is a total shitbag are missing. “Big Pimpin” is on there because that song’s reached a level of ubiquity that renders its problematic-ness beside the point. Your grandmother probably makes “pimpin” jokes.

Also: Nothing from Unplugged?
Also: How about an all The Neptunes volume?
Also: And then, an all Kanye volume please?

Back to the tracklist. Note the dearth of tracks from Kingdom Come and American Gangster, which are not only Jay-Z’s worst albums, but the albums between his Black Album “retirement” and his actually mature Blueprint 3. He grabbed the big hit off each and kept it moving. Those albums were necessary at the time, both artistically (he had to make “grown up” albums to get to the just plain grown up Blueprint 3) and financially (it was good for him to make hedged, just alright albums after retiring and nothing polarizing).

The most interesting aspect of this tracklist however, is the inclusion of The Black Album’s “Public Service Announcement (Interlude)” and “Encore.” Neither of these were singles (though “Encore” was the B-Side to “Dirt Off Your Shoulder), but they became “hits” because they were slowly championed by a fairly intense hip-hop fan base and they took on a new context via Jay-Z’s live performances. “Public Service Announcement (Interlude)” was a tone-changing, mid-performance explosion of energy and “Encore” is an ideal to track to well, use for an encore. Though “Encore” is bizarrely stuck between “03′ Bonnie & Clyde” and “I Just Wanna Love You (Give It 2 Me)” on The Hits Collection: Volume 1, “Public Service Announcement (Interlude)” is exactly where it should be and should’ve been all along: At the start of an album!

Since The Black Album dropped, it’s bothered me that “Public Service Announcement (Interlude)” is placed towards the end and The Black Album kicks off with the pretty limp “Interlude.” It also baffled me as to why “Encore” didn’t um, end the album?! With the The Hits Collection: Volume 1 at least kinda putting things back in their cosmic order, I thought it would be a good excuse to go back to The Black Album and “fix” it.

Because no one ever thought to remix Jay-Z’s The Black Album, right?

1. “Public Service Announcement”
2. “December 4th”
3. “Lucifer”
4. “What More Can I Say?”
5. “Ignorant Shit”
6. “Threat”
7. “99 Problems”
8. “Dirt Off Your Shoulder”
9. “Moment Of Clarity”
10. “Allure”
11. “Interlude”
12. “My 1st Song”
13. “Encore”

Removed:
-”Change Clothes”
“Hits”-wise, Jay-Z’s career is pretty curious because the guy never had a #1 hit before “Empire State Of Mind.” His special talent was picking songs that were pop but never too pop, that still satisfied the rap crowd, and slowly but surely wormed their way into the ears of regular-ass people who probably didn’t consider themselves hip-hop fans. That’s a cynical description, but that’s a pretty unprecedented talent and it shouldn’t dismissed or underrated. “Change Clothes” sounds like it’s trying too hard to be that pop hit. The Black Album doesn’t need this track and it never really fit anyway. It seems like it’s really on there for its hit potential and because, it would look bad for Jay-Z and The Neptunes if their only pairing was the awesome, but very understated “Allure.”

-”Justify My Thug”
Yeah, it’s a Quik beat and it’s pretty sick. In fact, it has that should-be-a-bad-idea but totally works feeling of some of Quik’s solo work. Does it work on a Jay-Z album, though? Not so much. Unless of course, Madonna showed up and sang that flip on her own hook–as was rumored–but she didn’t. The rapping also gets lost in this oozing, actually funky beat, and Jay sounds out of breath, almost like he’s shouting. There’s some fun rap nerd history hanging out around the track–Madonna sampled Public Enemy’s “Security Of The First World” for “Justify My Love” and here a rap producer does his interpretation of “Justify My Love”–but that isn’t enough to save it.

Added:
-“Ignorant Shit”
“Ignorant Shit” just sounds ready for The Black Album, as it should, it was recorded for it and then rejected for god knows what reason. It’s guest-less like the rest of the album, and like much of The Black Album, it sonically resides in this place between expensive, widescreen r&b epic and relatively reserved banger. The inclusion of “Ignorant Shit” would’ve also been prophetic, as much of Jay-Z’s “post-retirement” work hinges on the anger he has in this song: You idiots get upset with me for doing “ignorant shit” but that’s the shit you all listen to, whether you’re in the streets, in middle America, or listening to NPR. You hear it in the “rap critics” stuff on “99 Problems” and the defensive but still classic “I dumb down for my audience and double my dollars” from “Moment Of Clarity,” so it’s already there and adding this song into the mix really highlights one of the threads almost running through the album.

Final Tracklisting w/notes

1. “Public Service Announcement (Interlude)”
2. “December 4th”
Both of these songs scream-out “first track on your last album!” but “Public Service Announcement (Interlude)” can’t follow “December 4th,” so these kinda work themselves out. The “allow me to reintroduce myself” parts works wonders at the very beginning–it’s mock-humble–and it’s makes more sense then “reintroducing” himself three quarters of the way through The Black Album, as he does when this song is track ten. Just remove that uncomfortable-sounding “we now return to The Black Album,” part at the end of this track and it’s ready for the number one spot.

“December 4th” works as a counterpoint to the myth-making Jay builds on “Public Service Announcement (Interlude). In these two songs, right next to one another, you get J. Hova, the ultimate hustler bad-ass turned legendary rapper, as well as Shaun Cater, the good student turned bad once his dad left who fell in love with rap and um…became a legendary rapper. The production on “December 4th” is ridiculously grand (those strings!) but putting his mom where a hook should go, sells the personal narrative. There’s nothing cool about having your mom on a song, you know? “December 4th” is the first scene of the movie and “Public Service Announcement (Interlude),” the awesome opening credits sequence.

3. “Lucifer”
4. “What More Can I Say”
Part of The Black Album’s appeal is that it was something of a return to The Blueprint model after the bloated Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse and that means, lots of plain rapping and lots of soul beats. Yes, “Lucifer” has a Max Romeo sample but it’s very much in the soul beat style and it works better here than awkwardly stuffed between “Justify My Thug” and “Allure.” The transition into “Allure” was perfect and we lose that moving the song up, but we gain the development of a sort of “suite” of soul beats, which aids listenability. Placing “Lucifer” up also gives a break from the “I sure am incredible” retrospective/mission-statement tracks and it just gives listeners some great, really fun rapping. And then we get back into the mission statement stuff with “What More Can I Say” and keep the soul beat suite going.

5. “Ignorant Shit”
6. “Threat”
7. “99 Problems”
Enter a kind of sub-suite of songs: The ignorance suite. Now, we’re developing an album proper here: sonic and intellectual ideas floating around together. “Ignorant Shit” and “Threat” continue the soul beats and “Ignorant Shit” also introduces the mini-argument Jay’s obsessed with on The Black Album: I’m smart and you’re perpetually underrating me as Mr. “Big Pimpin.” By the way, doesn’t matter if that argument’s correct or not–it isn’t–it only matter that Jay’s asserting it and well, the resequencing makes the argument go down a little easier. Right after “Ignorant Shit” there’s the gun-talk “ignorance” of “Threat” and the deceptively ignorant “99 Problems.” So yeah, this is the “ignorance” suite and these songs give you a ton of ignorance but really deconstruct it, via pure craft on “Threat” and clever word-deconstruction on “99 Problems.”

8. “Dirt Off Your Shoulder”
9. “Moment Of Clarity”
The spare, defiantly ugly “99 Problems” shifts the album away from soul sonics and works as a bridge into “Dirt Off Your Shoulder” and “Moment Of Clarity,” the two relatively minimal, electronic-sounding songs on the album. There’s probably a place here for “Justify My Thug” too, but well–no. “Dirt Off Your Shoulder” also justifies the removal of “Change Clothes” because this is the big, giant, awesome pop-rap song “Change Clothes” wants to be but just isn’t. It’s too good of a song to remove but it really doesn’t fit the sound of the rest of the album, and putting it with the synthy “Moment Of Clarity” helps. Eminem’s god-awful Daudi Baldrs-esque beat here would make it a contender for removal if Jay’s writing and rapping wasn’t so spot-on. That whole pragmatic capitalist argument for why making well, “ignorant shit” is a good look, especially when it makes you money that you can then put back into your community is unimpeachable.

10. “Allure”
11. “Interlude”
The concept here is right after “Moment Of Clarity,” when Jay is at his most cogent and self-aware, he returns to thinking of his earlier life as a hustler. In many ways, “Allure” should end The Black Album, but Jay just happened to record three “end” songs for this album–”Encore,” “Allure,” and “My 1st Song”–and the sequencing here gives all three a proper place on the album. Putting the “Interlude” after “Allure” is risky but it also makes more sense. Starting the album with a slow, atmospheric track that ponders “the end” just doesn’t really work. Here “Interlude” comes in and reminds listeners of the end: The end of Jay-Z’s career, the end of the album, and given the dramatic weight he’s established via the previous ten tracks, maybe even the end of an era. Also, “Allure” to “Interlude” to “My 1st Song” to “Encore” transition works: close to the same BPMS, the same light, clacking drums.

12. “My 1st Song”
13. “Encore”
We have our big ending song (“My 1st Song”) and a quick, triumphant return with “Encore.” As I said before, the song is called “Encore” so it should come at the end of the album and here it comes afterthe end of the album. Maybe insert a few more seconds of dramatic silence after you hear the “It’s your boy!” sign-off and the lights being flipped off, and then let the crowd-noise and steady, mournful horns of “Encore” kick-in and give listeners one last song. The mix of sadness and triumph in the beat, the fact that the whole concept of the song is an “Encore,” the returning “one last time” phrase–it’s all perfectly, appropriately bittersweet. This way, The Black Album ends with crowd-noise and people shouting “Hova!”…which is how it should end.

Written by Brandon

October 23rd, 2010 at 7:41 am

Posted in Jay-Z, Redux

Village Voice, Sound of the City: Interview with Phonte Coleman of The Foreign Exchange

2 comments


My interview with Phonte of The Foreign Exchange for Sound of the City is up. The guy’s a quote-machine so there’s plenty of interesting, engaging stuff about r&b, maturing, etc. in there. If you haven’t checked out Authenticity, F.E’s new record, you really should. It’s easily one of the best records of the year.

When Phonte Coleman, the singing, songwriting half of r&b duo the Foreign Exchange (the other half is producer/multi-instrumentalist Nicolay Rook), talks about the group’s new album Authenticity, he’s close to apologetic. That’s because unlike 2008’s Leave It All Behind, the group’s Grammy-nominated celebration of love’s up-and-down complexities, this new one is an extended, depressive suite about wizened contentment and well, existential dread. Authenticity is purposefully one-note: spare, frosty electronic soul about how much damned work it is to be in a relationship. We met up with Phonte last week in Raleigh, North Carolina, to discuss the record as the Foreign Exchange prepared for their two CMJ shows this Saturday: A free one at the Union Square Best Buy at 2:30 p.m. and then a 7 p.m. performance at BB King’s…

Written by Brandon

October 20th, 2010 at 7:48 pm

Splice Today: Mark McGuire – Living With Yourself

one comment

This is my first “write lovingly about a record but don’t actually describe the music all that much” review, but it’s really the concept and emotions behind Living With Yourself that make is so good anyway. The genius here is that McGuire has totally loaded-up his instrumental music with context without the record toppling over. So there are just all these completely relatable caves of meaning behind really beautiful, bittersweet instrumental music. To me, it’s like anti-chillwave in the sense that it isn’t about sitting around, hanging out, or a half-guilty contemplation of “a life of leisure,” it’s about asserting the very specific problems that arise from growing up suburban, to a family that loved you a whole lot, and maybe a little too much.

Ambient guitarist Mark McGuire releases dozens of cassettes and CD-Rs each year, but he’s calling Living With Yourself his “first record.” Though his basic approach to composition (endless loops of super-clean guitar that build to a cathartic though not exactly epic climax) hasn’t changed much, this is his first release on an above ground label (Austrian noise/electronic behemoth Editions Mego) and this time around, he’s wrapped his wandering instrumentals around a brilliant, very touching conceit.

Living With Yourself is about experience, and the way in which the building-up, inevitable breaking down, and occasional rebuilding of relationships permanently alters the lives of everyone involved, whether they like it or not. McGuire investigates this through contemplative guitar work adorned with cryptic, pointed references to family, friends, and lovers: proper nouns in the song titles, the family photos on the album cover, the audio from home movies that preface the first and last track…

Written by Brandon

October 14th, 2010 at 5:53 pm

No Country For Old Rappers

9 comments

Director Morocco Vaughn shoots the beginning of “Bustin’ At Em,” and all the No Country For Old Men-referencing parts in a gritty, kinda beautiful style that’s perhaps perfected by The Motion Family but is just generally really popular right now. Very easily, Vaughn could’ve made a hand-held, art-movie-street-doc that’s smart, gritty, and tasteful. But that’s easy. Instead, Vaughn moved on and mixes it up with some very conventional “dudes in a warehouse” performance footage and some absolutely ridiculous CGI-soaked shots of Waka swatting bullets fired by video girls.

The idea that there’s a “good” or at least acceptable video that’s eschewed for something far more bizarre is really appealing. Rather than have one “smart” video, or two okay videos, Vaughn mixes styles and takes it all to the next level. He one-ups the now pretty rote, nicely-shot, hood video by merging it with a really clever and out-of-the-box crime movie reference. The warehouse performance footage is a throwback to a kind of spare, performance video that doesn’t really exist anymore. And he pumps the computer-assisted, ridiculous event video full of steroids. The CGI bullets have eyeballs on the end of them. Flocka is knocking the bullets down like King Kong swatting planes. His Fozzy Bear chain comes alive and swats some bullets too. This is Pen N Pixel in music video form.

When “Bustin’ At Em” is stupid, it’s really stupid, and when it’s smart, it’s really smart too. Vaughn and Flocka don’t miss the point of the crime movie they’re referencing, as is often the case when rappers reference Scarface or Goodfellas–they just reconfigure it a bit. “Bustin’ At Em” begins with wizened hood commentary that conflates the narration from No Country For Old Men with (as monique_r suggested), the somber, sincerity you get in the dramatic parts of a Tyler Perry movie. That pre-song monologue—nearly word-for-word from the Coens’ movie—cleverly doubles as a commentary on rap’s perceived, decaying values and lowered expectations, embodied by Waka Flocka Flame. So, it’s appropriate that Flocka portrays No Country’s cold-hearted, next-level killer Anton Chigurh.

Like Chigurh, who blew up a pharmacy to get pain medication, who didn’t use a gun but some evily-efficient, pressurized nail-gun-like thing to commit murder, Flocka wanders the rap scene not only breaking the rules, but obliterating the sense that there were rules in the first place. Dude doesn’t really rap at all, he shouts, grunts, and yells, and sometimes those shouts come out as couplets. But it works. This is the most knowing, character-identification in a video since Kanye West portrayed himself as the moody, bitter Tetsuo from Akira in the “Stronger” video.

Written by Brandon

October 13th, 2010 at 7:29 am

Salem, and Why It’s Never Been About Authenticity.

77 comments

Salem make a gothic, syrupy kind of electronic music and the touchstones of their sound are the slowed-down, choppy drums and vocals of Houston screw music. On some songs, such as “Trapdoor” (the title itself, a play on the horror movie elements of their music and their love of coke-slanging “trap-rap”), the rapped vocals of the all-white, Midwestern group creep along, slurred, heavy with bass–like a DJ Screw freestyle. These quasi-raps are punctuated by the word “bitch,” threats of rape, and some clear pronunciation nods to Southern rap. Streets is “skreets” for example. A lot of people, like Christopher Weingarten think this is pretty offensive. A lot of other people, like Larry Fitzmaurice are just like, “nope.” Others, including the group itself—defend the vocals as simple, vocal manipulation.

Well, it’s not. The slowed down vocals do not only have the effect of bringing the vocalist’s voice down to stoned crawl, they make the white performer sound black. This, coupled with lyrics that are content-wise, what my grandmother thinks rap’s about (murder, rape, misogyny, repeat) and the problematic, conscious “hip-hop” pronunciations underneath that vocal effect, makes Salem’s music pretty egregious. This is a group of white kids who’ve screwed their vocals down to “sound black,” and then use that screwing-down of vocals to say things they wouldn’t–and couldn’t–say otherwise. Employing the word “minstrelsy” is controversy-baiting, but it also isn’t that far off.

Songs like “Trapdoor” also do a disservice to screw music and southern rap by reducing it to aggro-violence and tough-guy sexuality. There’s a communal joy in those DJ Screw freestyles. There’s a sense of humor and word-obsessive fun on Gucci Mane songs. And the production isn’t relentlessly dark. You don’t screw Junior’s “Mama Used To Say” if you’re trying to be all tough and scary.

When the “this shit’s offensive” discussion really started to pick up, it turned into a debate about “authenticity” when that was ultimately besides the point. Ignoring the musical issue (that King Night is much less sonically sophisticated than the stuff it’s ripping off), which has nothing to do with “authenticity,” there isn’t really any degree of “authenticity” that could justify these dopey kids changing their voices to sound like Project Pat and then, saying “bitch” a whole lot.

Plus, Salem are plenty authentic. If the game here is “authenticity=struggle” etc. well a group of midwest fuck-ups who had or have drug problems should be awarded some major points. My guess is that they feel like they relate to the “fuck the world” feeling of DJ Screw freestyles and Waka Flocka’s fight rap just like they relate to black metal’s nihilism. And that’s interesting! And awesome. Good to see artists reaching into music beyond what they’re “supposed” to reach into and also, it’s the internet era, age of information, etc. so really, why wouldn’t these Salem kids who clearly like Gucci Mane or Chicago Footwork cram it into their music? Fusion! Yes! For extra “authenticity” points, Salem hail from Chicago and Detroit and so, they have something resembling a direct connection and understanding of this stuff.

Only they don’t. The group really show their asses in this XLR8R interview. Salem’s Jack Donoghue calls footwork wunderkind DJ Nate’s music “smart,” but adds, “but I don’t think he’s trying to be clever.” DJ Nate is most certainly trying to be clever. That’s what sample-based dance music like footwork is all about: consciously flipping the weirdest, funniest, most dope sample in the coolest, smartest way possible. Heather Marlatt, photographed for the magazine in cornrows, describes her interest in “Juggalos” but not the Insane Clown Posse’s music, which seems the inverse of Salem’s interest in black music: who cares about the people, it’s all about the sounds, man.

Later in the same interview, John Holland dismisses the whole “hey, it’s fucking weird that these kids are making themselves sound like black guys” argument with this: “It’s not like we’re Elvis Presley…what are we robbing the music from a different race? Give me a break!.” That’s of course, exactly what these guys are doing. But that isn’t what’s troubling people about the group. It’s that inexcusable and naïve employment of the screw vocals for something far beyond a sonic effect.

Notice, that despite Salem’s “authentic” pedigree (ex-junkies and troubled youths, from the birthplace of at least some of their sounds, etc.) the group’s defenders rarely take the “authenticity” approach to justify the group’s music. Instead, they play the “post-authenticity” game, which steps around “there’s some racially problematic stuff about these kids” altogether. It says: none of that stuff matters anymore. The floodgates are open bro, get with the program! “Post-authenticity” starts to sounds a lot like “post-racial” explain-aways.

When the argument doesn’t go with the “authenticity is dead” narrative, it reaches for “authenticity never existed.” There will be references to “fakers” like Elvis Presley or Bob Dylan, either to deflect (as Holland did with XLR8R) or as some weird, precedent: music was never authentic and the rock n’roll from decades ago (and a very different America) straight-jacked a lot of music, so it’s acceptable for people in 2010 to do whatever they hell they want as well.

Brandon Ivers, who wrote the XLR8R piece, articulates that “post-authenticity” angle well: “Salem embodies a generation that doesn’t care about race, sexual orientation, authenticity, and a lot of other stuff that used to be a big deal.” There’s some irony in Ivers’ statement but he’s completely on the nose when it comes to Salem: they don’t care. And the music fans and critics embracing these clowns don’t care either.

Written by Brandon

October 12th, 2010 at 8:56 am