Friday, February 21, 2003
it’s alright – I feel it! 5: keep on, keepin’ on
side a
1. "mary magdalene,” me’shell ndegéocello. a love poem from the high priestess of funk to the woman who was jesus’ whore. sultry, demanding, pleading – “tell me I’m the only one … give me what I need/satisfy me for free.”
2. “so fine,” mint condition. one group stood out of the morass of ‘90s r-and-b because they were a band. mint condition took the time’s template and added on it by subtracting – namely, morris day’s attitude. a well-oiled machine akin to earth, wind & fire or cameo, yet sounding more organic (and with guitar solos! on r-and-b radio!), they were equally adept (as most great bands are) at groovers and ballads. their best-of is incomplete, full of a number of radio edits; spring for their full-lengths, starting with meant to be mint.
3. "remember that,” rakim. from his “comeback,” the 18th letter. decent from most, so-so coming from rakim. the reason to purchase the album wasn’t the new album itself; it was the limited-edition double-disc version which included a bonus disc of eric b. & rakim classics. I was a fool for selling it during a cash crunch. there’s a lot – of history, and of expectations – riding on his next “comeback,” his collaboration with dr. dre, due this summer on the good doctor’s aftermath label. ra sounded great on truth hurts’ “addictive” last year; let’s see how he holds it down on his own.
4. “back and forth,” cameo. there were funk bands who could swing – the time, con funk shun, even midnight star in certain moments – and then there was cameo, who could straight-up swang. if it’s possible for you to listen to the best cameo tracks without working your shoulders, you really do have no soul. and this is one of their best (probably the runner-up to ‘81’s freaky “she’s strange,” which I’ve always seen as the precursor to grace jones’ character strangé in boomerang).
5. “flaming june,” bt. remember when progressive house and trance weren’t utter shit, but were in fact exciting, propulsive, hypnotic music? yeah, like this. his ima collection is still a benchmark of progressive electronic music from the mid-‘90s.
6. “scoundrel days,” a-ha. norweigan white-boy soul. morten and company made much better records than you realize, and were not limited to “take on me.” their second and third albums are full of more pathos than a hundred goth records, and are finer, and more listenable, too. if morten harket had been american, he might’ve been daryl hall’s protégé.
7. “let me ride,” dr. dre. best use of a p-funk sample ever, and dre rides it like hydraulics.
8. “if you think you’re lonely now,” k-ci hailey. on which hailey makes like bobby womack, gloriously succeeding in the realm of gutbucket soul. shame he didn’t stick with it, and instead is stuck making black adult contemporary records with his far-less-talented brother.
side b
1. “sun city,” artists united against apartheid. this succeeds not because of its subject matter, but because of the way it brought together such disparate musicians as afrika bambaataa, bono, and daryl hall on a rock record that grooves much more than it deserves to. ergo, little steven is superior to bob geldof. [on many levels, actually, but that’s another matter.]
2. “oregano flow (gumbo soup mix),” digital underground. post-“humpty dance,” post-commercial success, d.u. got freaky-deaky. “flow” is far funkier than anything preceding it (well, except maybe “humpty dance”’s bassline), sampling loose ends and sounding for all the world like george clinton’s true hiphop children. sample p-funk all you want; no group has ever felt so much like president clinton and uncle jam’s army.
3. “I get lonely,” janet jackson. the sexiest janet’s ever been, and likely ever will be. a simmering slow groove and janet talkin’ ‘bout “all I want is you,” leaning on the “you.”
4. “high times (bionic supachronic mix),” jamiroquai. jamiroquai hits the dance floor with the chili peppers, by way of outer space. not as good as the original, but still dandy as it is. the first time I ever heard ‘em was on a late-night jazz show on a public radio station; it was “return of the space cowboy,” and I was devastated. uniquely british, but at the same time so universal, so organic (as in, of the soil) – no, he’s no stevie, but he’s certainly a branch off the tree.
5. “all the things (your man won’t do),” joe. keith sweat ten years later: keith had the production, joe has the voice. dripping sensitivity, if you can’t figure out why the ladies love him, you never will. and you’re probably single.
6. “24 hrs. to live,” mase featuring the lox and dmx. surprisingly un-urgent music to drive by by. puffy was bad for the lox, and they were a bad fit with him; as they’ve shown us on records like “we gon’ make it” and “good times,” poptastic is not who they are. mase, however, was a perfect fit, even poppier and more cuddly than puff. dmx’s verse should’ve shown us what was coming, but the storm hit us all off-guard.
7. “back seat (of my jeep),” l.l. cool j. the song which gave my college radio show its final, and best, name. reasons this song kills: 1) “as I turn the corner/ starin’ in your cornea,” 2) the snap-crackle-pop of the vinyl, 3) piano, 4) no one does naughty-but-nice like uncle l.
8. “mirror, mirror,” diana ross. still making what essentially amounted to rock-disco-pop (see: donna summer) in ’83, and what a perfect straightjacket for miss ross to wrap herself in. sounding more like great funk than something disposable in retrospect, letting loose vocally and with the attitude, this stands up damned well against any r-and-b of the same period (and is better than stuff like rick james, or even some of prince’s first trio of albums). an honest-to-goodness lost classic, and one of the last great records diana made.
side a
1. "mary magdalene,” me’shell ndegéocello. a love poem from the high priestess of funk to the woman who was jesus’ whore. sultry, demanding, pleading – “tell me I’m the only one … give me what I need/satisfy me for free.”
2. “so fine,” mint condition. one group stood out of the morass of ‘90s r-and-b because they were a band. mint condition took the time’s template and added on it by subtracting – namely, morris day’s attitude. a well-oiled machine akin to earth, wind & fire or cameo, yet sounding more organic (and with guitar solos! on r-and-b radio!), they were equally adept (as most great bands are) at groovers and ballads. their best-of is incomplete, full of a number of radio edits; spring for their full-lengths, starting with meant to be mint.
3. "remember that,” rakim. from his “comeback,” the 18th letter. decent from most, so-so coming from rakim. the reason to purchase the album wasn’t the new album itself; it was the limited-edition double-disc version which included a bonus disc of eric b. & rakim classics. I was a fool for selling it during a cash crunch. there’s a lot – of history, and of expectations – riding on his next “comeback,” his collaboration with dr. dre, due this summer on the good doctor’s aftermath label. ra sounded great on truth hurts’ “addictive” last year; let’s see how he holds it down on his own.
4. “back and forth,” cameo. there were funk bands who could swing – the time, con funk shun, even midnight star in certain moments – and then there was cameo, who could straight-up swang. if it’s possible for you to listen to the best cameo tracks without working your shoulders, you really do have no soul. and this is one of their best (probably the runner-up to ‘81’s freaky “she’s strange,” which I’ve always seen as the precursor to grace jones’ character strangé in boomerang).
5. “flaming june,” bt. remember when progressive house and trance weren’t utter shit, but were in fact exciting, propulsive, hypnotic music? yeah, like this. his ima collection is still a benchmark of progressive electronic music from the mid-‘90s.
6. “scoundrel days,” a-ha. norweigan white-boy soul. morten and company made much better records than you realize, and were not limited to “take on me.” their second and third albums are full of more pathos than a hundred goth records, and are finer, and more listenable, too. if morten harket had been american, he might’ve been daryl hall’s protégé.
7. “let me ride,” dr. dre. best use of a p-funk sample ever, and dre rides it like hydraulics.
8. “if you think you’re lonely now,” k-ci hailey. on which hailey makes like bobby womack, gloriously succeeding in the realm of gutbucket soul. shame he didn’t stick with it, and instead is stuck making black adult contemporary records with his far-less-talented brother.
side b
1. “sun city,” artists united against apartheid. this succeeds not because of its subject matter, but because of the way it brought together such disparate musicians as afrika bambaataa, bono, and daryl hall on a rock record that grooves much more than it deserves to. ergo, little steven is superior to bob geldof. [on many levels, actually, but that’s another matter.]
2. “oregano flow (gumbo soup mix),” digital underground. post-“humpty dance,” post-commercial success, d.u. got freaky-deaky. “flow” is far funkier than anything preceding it (well, except maybe “humpty dance”’s bassline), sampling loose ends and sounding for all the world like george clinton’s true hiphop children. sample p-funk all you want; no group has ever felt so much like president clinton and uncle jam’s army.
3. “I get lonely,” janet jackson. the sexiest janet’s ever been, and likely ever will be. a simmering slow groove and janet talkin’ ‘bout “all I want is you,” leaning on the “you.”
4. “high times (bionic supachronic mix),” jamiroquai. jamiroquai hits the dance floor with the chili peppers, by way of outer space. not as good as the original, but still dandy as it is. the first time I ever heard ‘em was on a late-night jazz show on a public radio station; it was “return of the space cowboy,” and I was devastated. uniquely british, but at the same time so universal, so organic (as in, of the soil) – no, he’s no stevie, but he’s certainly a branch off the tree.
5. “all the things (your man won’t do),” joe. keith sweat ten years later: keith had the production, joe has the voice. dripping sensitivity, if you can’t figure out why the ladies love him, you never will. and you’re probably single.
6. “24 hrs. to live,” mase featuring the lox and dmx. surprisingly un-urgent music to drive by by. puffy was bad for the lox, and they were a bad fit with him; as they’ve shown us on records like “we gon’ make it” and “good times,” poptastic is not who they are. mase, however, was a perfect fit, even poppier and more cuddly than puff. dmx’s verse should’ve shown us what was coming, but the storm hit us all off-guard.
7. “back seat (of my jeep),” l.l. cool j. the song which gave my college radio show its final, and best, name. reasons this song kills: 1) “as I turn the corner/ starin’ in your cornea,” 2) the snap-crackle-pop of the vinyl, 3) piano, 4) no one does naughty-but-nice like uncle l.
8. “mirror, mirror,” diana ross. still making what essentially amounted to rock-disco-pop (see: donna summer) in ’83, and what a perfect straightjacket for miss ross to wrap herself in. sounding more like great funk than something disposable in retrospect, letting loose vocally and with the attitude, this stands up damned well against any r-and-b of the same period (and is better than stuff like rick james, or even some of prince’s first trio of albums). an honest-to-goodness lost classic, and one of the last great records diana made.
# posted by Thomas : 11:06 AM
