What's in a Name? clipping. and Rhythm

Review and discussion on CLPPNG, the 2014 release from experimental hip hop group clipping.

Summer Album Overview 2020: Shades of Black pt.1

Overview of my mid-year music stimulus package, including:

Run the Jewels – RTJ4 (2020)

Damon Locks and the Black Monument Ensemble – Where Future Unfolds (2019)

Moor Mother – Analog Fluids of Sonic Black Holes (2019)

Afrikan Sciences – Centered (2019)

Shon Dervis – 16 (2018)

The Meters – Look-Ka Py Py (1970)

Relevant Links:

Review of Hama’s Houmeissa

The ever-growing 2020 Spotify Playlist

Public Enemy's "Fear of a Black Planet:" Predicting Our Orbit

Review and discussion on Public Enemy's 1990 hip hop classic Fear of a Black Planet.

P.O.S. "We Don't Even Live Here" and the Struggle for #20

Although I was not keeping close track of my favorite albums a couple of years ago, I feel pretty confident in saying that Never Better from P.O.S. was my album of the year from 2009. That was a time of incredible flux for me, when I was trying to make life decisions that I knew would have far-reaching effects.  I found the realistic themes of Never Better to be particularly uplifting as I sorted through them all.  I owe P.O.S. for providing some refuge during that time, so I really wanted to give We Don’t Even Live Here a fair shake.

But its late October release date posed a problem. Year-end lists are a fun way to look back, but in reality, it’s hard to give an album that has stood the test of time since February the same kind of attention that I give to that which is immediately in the player. Late fall releases are easily overrepresented because they are novel or, conversely, slip through the cracks, not to reemerge until sometime in spring.  I find I'm forced to be more cautiously objective than usual.

Which is kinda silly, really.  After all, New Year's is just another tick of the clock, right?

Anyhow, even after the release of We Don’t Even Live Here, I had intended for The Roots’ brilliant concept piece Undun to kick off this year’s Top Twenty list just to show how great my year in music has been. Both of these albums are incredibly creative hip-hop offerings, but their artistic success comes from different angles. I still genuinely love and respect the maturity and overall statement of Undun, but We Don’t Even Live Here crosses boundaries between electronica, rock, and hip-hop with an adventurous, organic flair that I just couldn't ignore. What other hip-hop artist out there is releasing live videos with two drummers and a synth hook that could put Miike Snow out of business?



There is, however, an unfortunate, nagging feeling that We Don’t Even Live Here isn’t quite as good as its predecessor, which kept it in the lower half of the list.  It seems that P.O.S. made an effort to consolidate the eclecticism from Never Better into something more succinct and perhaps widely accessible. This is understandable and perhaps respectable, but in my opinion, Never Better benefited from its broad variety. While P.O.S. has not compromised his sincere, anarchistic, and often thought-provoking stance, We Don’t Even Live Here doesn't seem as instrumentally broad as its antecedent. It is, however, musically stronger than virtually all of the hip-hop I hear (Death Grips notwithstanding).



What I don’t want to do is get into a Soft Bulletin/War of the Mystics standstill with We Don't Even Live Here, which is conceivable since Never Better was such an influential favorite for me in 2009. Even at the cost of Undun, I feel pretty justified in including P.O.S. in the top twenty. For one thing, The Roots enjoy a pretty high profile right now, while P.O.S. remains a relatively underground innovator. I feel that it is my responsibility to advocate for him if for no other reason than to widen his visibility. Don’t misunderstand, though - my rationalization for putting We Don’t Even Live Here in the top twenty doesn't come from a sense of obligation.  It stems from the strength of the album’s fierce musicality and playfully anarchistic ideology. It is a great hip-hop album that really has only one major fault – it follows what is for me a phenomenal classic.

"The Money Store" and Death Grips' Caustic Veneer

For the majority of 2012, there has been an indie buzz surrounding Death Grips, but it wasn’t until the recent surreptitious release of their third album No Love Deep Web that I took notice. I say surreptitious because this album was not printed on a CD, nor was its tracklist available on ITunes. It was, in actuality, to be postponed by their record company and released next year. Death Grips, however, had been promising their growing fanbase that the album would be released in 2012, so in response, they simply posted the entire album to the web (with a rather shocking album cover, I might add) without the consent of their record company. There were subsequent heated exchanges between the two entities, most of which the band made public, and in the end, their unapologetic act of defiance against the conventions of commodity got them dropped.

It seemed to me that record deals are hard to come by these days, and any group that was making that kind of sacrifice for their artistic integrity deserved at least more than a cursory glance. I wanted to take them seriously, though, and that would require hardcopy. Rather than download and burn No Love Deep Web (which I secretly hope will see CD release), I went on a search for their “other” 2012 album, The Money Store. As it turns out, it is incredibly compelling album that lays at the junctures of so many genres that it feels like something completely new.



A quick glance at Wikipedia describes Death Grips as an “experimental hip-hop group,” and in a broad sense, this is true. It goes on to say that the band consists of vocalist Stefan "MC Ride" Burnett with production team Zach Hill and Andy "Flatlander" Morin. This is also valid, but I think that the description pushes Hill's production skills to the forefront and suggests that his drumming skills are secondary. Nothing could be further from the truth. While Hill's production skills are formidable, his drumming is nothing short of phenomenal, which is plain to see when he performs live.



The potentials of electronic drumming often makes his work sound more like production craft, but a close examination of The Money Store's percussive aspects reveals a devastating virtuosity that blurs the line between technique and technology in the same way that Battles does.



Superficially, Death Grips is loud and angry – perhaps even caustic. They might not be for everyone. During our recent grout-sealing party at the new house, The Money Store was one of six CDs that was not packed in a box. I put it in just to see what would happen. Within five minutes, the volume was turned down to a barely audible level, and within ten, the angelic strains of Sigur Ros’ Valtari began wafting from the kitchen. Oh, well – experiment failed.

With a pedigree that runs in the same circles as noise bands like Hella and The Boredoms, It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that Death Grips has such a caustic veneer. The Money Store is an incendiary, confrontational assault that pounds on the boundaries between hip-hop, electronica, industrial, and punk. Listening to it in traffic with too much caffeine is a recipe for a dangerous case of road rage. It is also, however, tempered by intellect and substance, and because of this, The Money Store has become a 2012 favorite. It’s first really angry music that I have listened to in a long time that I genuinely believe in.

The Roots' "Undun" and Growing Up

As a music-fanatic dad, it is my intention to indoctrinate the Little One into a wide variety of music, but the lack of rap and hip hop is a glaring hole in my current listening habits. I admit that I am a very picky rap listener, mainly because I’m not always sure what will stick with me. My favorites have a mysterious combination of musicality, intellect, and authenticity that I can’t quite explain. Regardless, every so often I stumble across something that mixes these ingredients in just the right way, and a couple of weeks ago, I discovered that the recipe cooked up by The Roots seems to hit the spot.

Their recent release Undun is a concept album that outlines the story of a quasi-fictional character named Redford Stevens, a black youth whose time was cut short in a flurry of missed opportunities and frustrating circumstances. To me, it seems like a rap concept album is a no-brainer: rap depends heavily on the delivery of verbiage and storytelling, so it is a logical step to extend a narrative arc outside of the limits of a two to four minute song. There is a risk that inconsistency could derail such an ambitious project, but The Roots’ experience, intellect, and passion deftly handles the challenge. Sit back and check out the short film attached to Undun.  It features snippits of several tracks from the album.



Undun is a pristine example of mature, artistically ambitious rap. It’s an engaging commentary on the conditions of black youth, and eschews the sensationalistic narcissism that threatens to dilute rap as an art form. What brings the entire album into sharp focus, however, is its infectiously singable choruses. Each track on Undun has a hook that not only drew me into the song, but into the storyline of the album. In just a couple of passes, I found myself carefully studying them, which enriched my appreciation of the lyrics and overall concept.

The Roots have an added advantage with me because, counter to rap tradition, they identify themselves as a band. Rap and hip hop originated in the first-hand treatment of funk, soul, and R & B records. In its early days, a live performing group was unheard of. The Roots began bridging that gap over a decade ago, and now they effortlessly epitomize the musical connection between the great Motown studio bands of yesteryear and the work of today’s best turntablists. Their melodic and harmonic expertise provides access to a wide array of moods.  This is a somewhat low-quality video of my favorite track on the album, but it adequately shows The Roots in action.  Check 'em out on Jimmy Fallon any night of the week if you doubt their skills.



As engaging as Undun is, there are still conventions of rap makes it difficult to justify as an introduction for the Little One.  My sensitivity to these conventions indicates a change in my outlook as the mantle of “dad” starts to crease my brow. The Roots, while hardly foul, are not afraid to drop the occasional f-bomb or employ the socially complex n-word in the telling of Redford Steven’s story. In the past, I wouldn’t have given this relatively gentle rap language a second thought, but now it seems to stick out when the Little One is in tow. Go figure.