Dave Matthews Band (live): A Primer

For a group of laid-back, genial musicians, Charlottesville, VA's Dave Matthews Band has been one of the more divisive groups (among music nerds, anyway) in recent memory. They’re everything that’s right with music; they’re Dead rip-offs. Dave’s lyrics are positive and charming; Dave’s voice is annoying. Their grass-roots approach has been the inspiration for, at this point, hundreds of bands; their fans suck. It goes back and forth, and to some degree, both sides are right. Here’s what I wrote in my Exchange with Michael Atchison, a firm member of the ‘anti-DMB’ camp.

As for DMB...when somebody tells me they're not a fan, I just say that I understand. While it's rewarding to delve deeply into their catalog, I've not been a fan of almost any of their singles (same goes for [Pearl Jam], actually), their music is a pretty acquired taste, and their fanbase--a unique amalgamation of frat dudes, stoners, and complete music nerds like me--is one of the most whiny, self-righteous fanbases out there (and I say that as a member of the fanbase!).

For the most part, I’ve been doing this “Primer” series on artists who aren’t well-known enough to have sold out Giants Stadium multiple times. However, as a decade-long member of the ‘pro-DMB’ camp, I figured the least I could do was try to illustrate why I do like DMB. So here we go.

(I should note that I’m using only songs from official DMB releases. I could have broken into my spindles and spindles of live “I’m a huge Music Dork” DMB recordings, but that wouldn’t help all of you GN readers who will most assuredly rush out to get your hands on as much live DMB music as possible after reading this...so I only went with stuff you can buy at your local music store or—more likely—order online.)

1. Ants Marching, Red Rocks (8-15-1995)

Full disclosure...and I’ve never admitted this to anybody, so you—the loyal Good Nonsense readers—should feel very honored and privileged: I am the lowest of the low among DMB fans—I am a Crashhead. That derotagory nickname is a way of saying I did not discover DMB the ‘correct’ way, the grassroots way. I discovered DMB in the most embarassing, commericalized, non-hardcore-fan-inducing way possible: watching Party of Five in early 1997 with my high school girlfriend and hearing “Crash Into Me” played during a romantic scene between Jennifer Love Hewitt and Scott Wolf. There. I’ve admitted it.

Uhh...okay, I take it back. None of that happened. I, uhh...okay, too late. Cat’s out of the bag. We were watching a painfully, cheesily romantic moment on a painfully, cheesily melodramatic show, and I was struck by the poetic wordplay of DMB’s most painfully, cheesily poppy song, so I went to the local Wal Mart (the only place to buy music in Western Oklahoma) and purchased Crash.

A week later, I owned Under the Table and Dreaming (1994), Remember Two Things (1993), and the Recently EP as well. I got hooked fast. The funny thing is, most hardcore DMB fans...the people who can no longer count just how many DMB shows they’ve attended (or how much money they’ve spent on live shows and live albums and blank discs to download and burn live bootlegs) didn’t usually come across the band in this way. They heard about the band through word-of-mouth or a live tape, or they got talked into seeing the band live or something, and they got hooked. Always one to be different, I became hooked before I even knew of their live prowess.

Of course, when I was posting on DMB message boards back in the day, I didn’t exactly admit this.

It turned out that I was jumping on the DMB bandwagon at the perfect time. I got hooked just before going to college, where, needless to say, I was no longer the only DMB fan I knew. I soon became aware of their live reputation because, the fall of my freshman year, they released their first official live album—Live at Red Rocks, 8.15.95. I came to grasp why DMB had so many hardcore followers, and I quickly became one of them. I attended my first official DMB show in Dallas on 8-13-98 (the infamous—among DMB nerds, anyway—“invasion of the crickets” show).

Any list of live DMB songs really has to include “Ants”, so I thought I’d get it out of the way early. This song has one of the the most recognizable quarter-note (or is that a half-note?) drum beats of all-time, and those simple beats are certain to be followed by the loudest cheers of the night. This song has aged well—it remains probably DMB’s most reliable, best set closer. This version is also notable for the way it segued from the previous song (“#36”, to be addressed later on) straight into the “Ants” beat. One of the best moments I’ve ever had at a DMB show came in Columbus in 1999 (6-19-1999, to be exact), when live staple “Warehouse” segued directly into “Ants”, catching much of the crowd—including myself—off-guard.

One aspect of the band’s music is the celebratory nature of so many of the songs. Well, this is one of the most celebratory, most loved songs in the catalog. And Live at Red Rocks is one of the most celebrated, most loved shows in DMB lore. Performing at the historic Colorado venue represented an early peak for the band, and the show itself was something of a peak as well. It’s interesting to hear how much so many of these songs have changed in the last twelve years. This is a performing band that consistently shakes songs (and setlists) up, which is one of the reason there is such a loyal group of show collectors, myself included.

(Okay, back to PO5 for a second. It really creeps me out to realize that whiny little Claudia—Lacey Chabert—is now old enough to have been in Maxim (or FHM or Stuff...one of them...I’m not looking it up) not once, but twice now. If realizing Empire Records was 12 years old made me feel old, this downright makes me feel downright creepy. I shouldn’t even be talking about this. Forget I brought it up.)

2. Seek Up, Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds: Live at Luther College (2-6-1996)

Technically, this isn’t a Dave Matthews Band performance, but Dave & Tim shows are part of the DMB lore, so I’m counting it. Timmy is a fellow Charlottesvillian (Charlottesville-ite? Person from Charlottesville?) and has been a long-time DMB collaborator—or rather, he was a collaborator in the mid- and late-‘90s...not so much since then. For a different atmosphere and sound, Dave and Tim have occasionally gone on tour through mostly college venues, and right before the ’99 D&T tour, Live at Luther College was released to whet everybody’s appetite.

“Seek Up” has always been a treat at full-band shows, especially as a set opener—even at 10+ (or 15+) minutes, it’s a nice way to get things started. The musicians enter the song one-by-one, single file, and with each new component, the groove builds nicely. It’s one of my favorite full-band songs. However, I’m putting this D&T version on the list because of one single reason: it is the best thing on Live @ Luther College. You know a song is good when you can completely change the structure and instrumentation behind it and it stays wonderful.

For those who don’t like Dave Matthews’ music, one reason is probably his occasionally cheesy, save-the-world lyrics, and this song definitely skates a little close to the Indigo Girls line (“Look at me in my fancy car/And my bank account/Oh, how I wish I could take it all/Down to my grave/God knows I’d save and save”), but he gets away with it because...well, I’m not sure how he gets away with it. Must be his delivery. He gets away with it in “Seek Up” because of everything, really—the song’s just gorgeous.

And for those who don’t like DMB fans (I’ll address them further in a bit), well...don’t go to a D&T show. Dave has created a very familiar, open presence with his fans, and that backfires in a more intimate venue when people start shouting out song requests and yelling what they think are inside jokes (but are really just pathetic attempts at establishing a connection). You don’t really hear this too much on Live at Luther College, though you do hear him addressing requests a couple times. L@LC does manage to highlight the intimacy of many DMB songs, including “Say Goodbye” (lyrically, a pretty creepy song in which Dave begs a good female friend for sex, but musically, my absolute favorite DMB song...go figure), and “One Sweet World” (another ‘save the earth’ kind of song).

I should also mention that I met my future roommate—fellow GN poster Hear No Evil—while camping out on the Mizzou campus for D&T tickets. I thought I was a DMB nerd, but I had no idea. HNE introduced me to the world of DMB live downloads, and my bank account was never the same (blank discs were expensive back then!).

3. I’ll Back You Up, Worcester College (12-8-1998)

Another reason to dislike DMB (so I hear) is Dave’s voice—in particular, his trips to falsetto land. Well, if you don’t like Dave’s voice, you probably won’t like this song. But it’s one of the quietest, most touching songs in the DMB catalog. It quickly became my first official “favorite DMB song” and is still in the top 5. The lyrics, like most of my favorite Dave lyrics, don’t really translate well on paper (“I remember thinking/Sometimes we walk, sometimes we run away/But I know/No matter how fast we are running/Somehow we keep...somehow we keep up with each other” doesn’t sound nearly as good on paper), but his falsetto (shaky but not “You Are So Beautiful to Me” shaky) make it one of the most heartfelt songs I’ve heard. Plus there’s always been an added value of intrigue when considering it was written for a woman he proposed to—and was turned down by—three times.

This Worcester College version is a rare full-band (or at least half-full band) effort, and guest Tim Reynolds’ solo near the end is spare and unbelievable.

4. The Last Stop, United Center (12-19-1998)

The Winter 1998 tour marked an interesting time in the DMB chronology. Their 1998 release, Before These Crowded Streets, had debuted at #1. They had just finished their first expansive amphitheatre tour that summer. They were selling out every venue they played. They were getting ready to move from amphitheatres to stadiums. Through all this transition, their 1998 arena tour had a unique feel to it. Lots of guests, lots of jams. Less songs, longer shows. Two of these shows have been officially released by the band. The Chicago show, the last of the tour (the ‘last stop’, if you will...sorry) saw Tim Reynolds sitting in the entire show, former James Brown saxophonist Maceo Parker sitting in on “What Would You Say”, and Vic Wooten and Mitch Rutman sitting in on a cover of Daniel Lanois’ “The Maker”. In all, it was a wonderfully unique show, kicked off by a long-time DMB nerd favorite, “The Last Stop.”

“Last Stop” is unique in the DMB catalog—it’s got a distinct Middle Eastern twang and religious, spiritual lyrics (only one other DMB song—“Minarets”—fits these characteristics):

Gracious even God
Bloodied on the cross, your sins are washed enough
A mother’s cry
“Is hate so deep?
Must a baby’s bones this hungry fire feed?”

This song represents a strong musical accomplishment for the band. In all, Before These Crowded Streets is probably the most musically unique album in the DMB discography. While 2002’s Busted Stuff is lyrically darker, BTCS reaches a unique darkness and a musical foreboding. It’s good dark enough that I haven’t listened to it in about two years...ever since The Butterfly listened to it and liked it enough to steal it and keep it in her car. Not that I'm bitter.

5. Two Step, East Rutherford (9-11-1999)

In the Summer of 1999, my DMB nerddom took quite a few steps up the ladder. After seeing DMB in Columbus with HNE (he lived in StL, and Columbus is almost exactly halfway between StL and DC, where I was living for the summer), I attended shows in Hershey and outside DC (in Bristow, VA, at Nissan Pavilion, possibly the hardest venue in the country to get in and out of—there is no way to avoid a 3-hour traffic jam getting in, and there’s no reason to even start your car for at least 2 hours after the show), and I started to truly get a feel for what was great about a DMB set and what was great and terrible about DMB fans.

DMB fans are an impressive lot, really. They’re diverse in their expectations of a show—some come to get drunk and high and listen to the music, some come to get drunk and high, talk (yell) on their cell phones (“WHAT? I’M AT THE DAVE SHOW! IT ROCKS!!! WHAT?”), and yell out their requests (likely either “Crash”, “All Along the Watchtower”, or the latest single), some come to get drunk and high and laid, and some (like me) come to enjoy the songs, bitch about the drunks in the crowd, memorize (and maybe bitch about) the setlist, and look for tapers. And it’s very much assured that members of each group of those fans (especially the group in which I reside) don’t really enjoy members of any of the other groups. But they attend a bazillion shows anyway.

The single best, most unified crowd moment of a typical DMB show is the moment the intro to “Two Step” ends and the song truly begins. Everybody knows it’s coming, everybody’s ready, and everybody just starts doing whatever their own personal version of dancing is (mine, for instance, is bobbing my head up and down and watching everybody else losing their minds). All the disparate groups coexist for a moment. It’s fun to watch. “Two Step” has been another live staple for well over a decade now, and while it’s changed shape a bit, it’s always a show highlight.

6. JTR, Folsom Field (7-11-2001)

The summers of 2000-01 represented a relatively active DMB-going period for me. Most DMB nerds compiled a much bigger list of shows than the nine I attended those two summers, but...well, I couldn’t afford it. I was content with attending a few and collecting just about every show of the tours via download. This period of 2000-01 probably represented DMB’s highest level of popularity—both summers, they played Giants Stadium, Foxboro Stadium, Veterans Stadium, RFK Stadium, Buffalo’s Ralph Wilson Stadium, Soldier Field, and others.

My only experience in one of these huge venues was at RFK Stadium in DC in 2000. Never has the weather been so poor at a concert I attended, yet rarely have I had a better time. By the time Ozomatli and Ben Harper had played and it was time for DMB to take the stage, the crowd was drenched and slap-happy. DMB opened with “JTR”, with its chorus of “Rain, rain, rain down on me,” and all 50,000+ in the stadium lost it. It was the perfect way to kick off what would be one of the better concerts I’ve seen. But a simple line from a chorus doesn’t describe what’s great about this song.

“JTR” started as a cover of the old standard, “John the Revelator”, which DMB performed with Santana when the latter opened during a few stadium shows in May 1999. However, when DMB went into the studio in the winter of ’99-’00, they turned it into their own song. In fact, it has become one of DMB’s greatest ‘original’ songs. The last 2-3 minutes of “JTR” are quite simply the best musical achievement of DMB’s first 15 years together. The song breaks down from its verse-chorus structure and almost disintegrates into chaotic sax and shrieking violin before pulling back together and rollicking on toward the end. I don’t think that came anywhere close to describing it correctly, but it’s to be heard, not read.

As a whole, Live from Folsom Field is one of the best in the ever-expanding official release catalog. Boulder’s Fox Theatre was one of the band’s favorite stops when they began country-wide touring, and playing at Folsom Field was a nod to that.

7. Everyday/#36, The Gorge (9-6-2002)

In 1999 and early 2000, DMB got together with Steve Lillywhite, producer of their three previous major-label releases, to record their next album. Their partnership had been quite fruitful to this point, and the material with which they were working was strong. However, something wasn’t quite right. Dave was drinking a lot, the content of the lyrics was quite dark, and in general the band was down about the recording process and its results. Here’s a quote from drummer Carter Beauford in a 2001 Rolling Stone article:

"Bruce [Flohr, Senior VP of A&R and Artist Development at RCA Records] and I stepped outside one evening after doing some takes, and he said, 'Carter, how do you feel about this record?' I just had to come out and tell him I wasn't feeling it. The vibe wasn't there, you know? It was lacking everything the Dave Matthews Band was about. So I said, 'Look, I don't feel it, and I'm almost certain the other guys don't feel it. We need to make a move.' And Bruce said, 'That's all I needed to hear.' From that point he began working to find someone else to produce the record and working toward putting our heads into a forward and positive space."

That someone was producer Glen Ballard. After the summer 2000 tour, Dave met with Ballard to find a new energy and write some new songs. They quickly and unexpectedly created an entire album’s worth of material. It was released as Everyday in early 2001, and the reviews were, shall we say, underwhelming, particularly from the hardcore nerdbase. Everyday had some catchy songs—“So Right” is pretty fun, “The Space Between” isn’t just horrifyingly cheesy, and...uhh...the guitar lick in “I Did It” is pretty good. But the work as a whole was substandard. The lyrics were underdeveloped and, well, underwhelming. “Why must I beg like a child for your candy” (from “Angel”)? “Make a bomb of love and blow it up” (from “I Did It”)? Really, Dave? Departures from normalcy are fine (as Stand Up would prove a few years later) and even encouraged, but they still have to produce good work.

DMB nerds were further displeased when leaks of the Lillywhite recording sessions surfaced. The songs were fantastic. But I won’t go down this road. You can read about the whole ordeal here and here. The point is, The Lillywhite Sessions were great, and there was displeasure among the fanbase.

If there was a standout song on Everyday, it was the title track. It’s a simple song with positive, non-earth-shattering lyrics, and its structure was derived from “#36”, a song from the Live at Red Rocks days.

In April 2001, Hear No Evil and I drove from Missouri to Virginia for the opening show of the 2001 tour, a Charlottesville homecoming. The Everyday material was unsteady—some strong material, some weak—and there was an underlying tension surrounding the event. Two songs worked to break the tension: a mid-set “All Along the Watchtower” with Neil Young, who opened the show w/Crazy Horse and took the song hostage, giving Dave quite the guitar lesson—and a late-set “Everyday” that completely incorporated the words and chorus of “#36”. It’s hard to describe why this was cool, but it seemed like a nod to the old, conflicted fans...and it made a solid song infinitely better. This combination song continued to get better over the next couple of years.

Overlooking the Columbia River, the Gorge (in George, WA) has always been one of DMB’s favorite venues, and The Gorge 2002 showcases the best performances of their multi-night stay there. Maybe it’s just because I was there for the first performance of “Everyday”/”#36”, but I love this song, especially this version. The crowd joins in on the backing vocals, and you can close your eyes, picture the sun setting over the Columbia River gorge, picture the entire crowd singing the “Come and dance with me” refrain...yeah, this would be a nice experience.

Thanks to a friend of mine with a knack for getting great tickets (and the fact that I was in DC for one last summer), 2002 was my heaviest DMB-going summer. Looking at the show list from that year, I can’t actually remember how many shows I attended. Pretty sure it was 10. Either way, the vibe for the crowd and the band for most of the 2002 shows was more pleasant and satisfied than anything during 2001. The big reason for this was the release of Busted Stuff, a collection of most songs from the Lillywhite Sessions plus two new ones—“Where Are You Going” and “You Never Know” (which is one of their best, most emotional songs). It was a “make peace with the old fans before moving in a different direction” gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. In all, Busted Stuff is probably their best album, gesture or no gesture.

8. Bartender, Red Rocks (9-9-2005)

Shortly after DMB’s 2003 Central Park performance, it was released as a massive 3-disc show. It’s pretty good—their cover of Neil Young’s “Cortez the Killer” with Warren Haynes is among many highlights—but it just doesn’t hold a candle to future releases. The years of 2003-2004 featured plenty of good shows and new highlights, but it was a period of treading water. DMB wanted to move in a different direction and did so with Everyday, but it was something of a false start. After resituating with Busted Stuff, it was once again time to try something new. In Winter 2004-05, they hired producer Mark Batson, who was known mostly for working with acts like Eminem, and got to work.

As a whole, 2005’s Stand Up is everything Everyday was intended to be. There’s some electric guitar, some new instrumentation, some further steps in the area of R&B and funk, and—strangely—simultaneously more simplistic lyrics and melodies and more complex experimentation. It’s admirable, but it’s a mixed bag. Some songs (“Old Dirt Hill”, “American Baby”, “Everybody Wake Up") don’t at all work for me, but those that do (“Louisiana Bayou”, “Hello Again”, “Smooth Rider”) absolutely blow me away.

The process of creating Stand Up served another purpose—it reawakened DMB to the pleasures of their old songs as well. The setlists were more varied than ever, and the energy and quality of play was as high as it had ever been. I attended one show in 2005—my first since 2002 (it’s called “getting a full-time job and getting into a serious relationship”), and I loved it. And because of all this, two songs from 2005 shows make this list.

First up is “Bartender”, from Busted Stuff. This song obliterates me every time. Heartbreaking lyrics, Dave’s most passionate singing, and Carter Beauford’s strongest drumwork (which is saying something) make this something special. The Lillywhite Sessions version will always hold a special place with me because it came first (and because of Carter’s emotional drums), but the Busted Stuff version is solid as well. However, the live version is an experience in and of itself, especially this Red Rocks version—coming ten years after their celebrated first trip to Red Rocks.

Slight aside: in the extended version of Almost Famous, there’s a scene in which William Miller (played by Patrick Fugit) and Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup) are discussing how it’s the littlest things in music that people remember the most:

Russell: It’s not what you put into the music. It’s what you leave out. Listen to Marvin Gaye...a song like “What’s Happening Brother”...there’s a single ‘woo’ at the end of the second verse. You know that woo? That single woo?

William: I know that woo! (Tries to sing it) Woo!

Russell: Yeah! That’s what you remember, man. It’s the little things...the silly things...the mistakes. There’s only one of ‘em, and it makes the song! That’s rock and roll, man!

(I just spent about an hour looking for this quote...I somehow managed to skip over it about four separate times while searching. I could have almost watched the whole damn movie in the time it took me to find this silly quote. Needless to say, The Butterfly is not too happy with me at the moment. She just doesn’t get me sometimes.)

Anyway, there’s a point near the end of this (and only this) version of “Bartender” where Dave lets out a slight yelp as his vocals end. It’s my “woo.” It comes at the end of Dave’s most passionate set of vocals—one of the best things about the song—and it completely overshadows everything that preceded it. It doesn’t matter that the piano solo that follows his vocals stretches on about four minutes too long, and the song avoids its own ending to its own detriment. Because of that small yelp, this is my favorite version of one of my favorite DMB songs. It’s the little things, man.

9. Louisiana Bayou, Red Rocks (9-12-2005)

There are certain recurring themes and subjects in Dave’s lyrics. There’s the “seize the day...you never know what tomorrow might bring” theme (found in “Tripping Billies”, “Pig”, “Lie in Our Graves”, “You Never Know”, and about 23 other songs), and then there’s a slight offshoot—the general “let’s sing about death” theme found in “Grace Is Gone” and, among others, the two best songs on Stand Up. There’s “Hello Again”, a super-delightful romp (seriously) with lyrics like “Sinnin' I've done my share of this/Still I hope the Lord forgive me my sins/Ten years ago down by the lake/I saw my sweet love in her watery grave.” And then there’s “Louisiana Bayou”.

No no, momma now, devil don't do-si-do
Two young boys lyin' dead by the side of the road
The coins in their eyes represent the money they owe
No judge or jury ever gonna hear the story told

...

Sweet girl daddy done beat that girl like he's insane
Brother can't watch him beat that girl down again
So late one night cookin' up with a couple of friends
Swears his daddy never gonna see another day

...

Money on the bed but you ain't got to go
Sold your soul just trying to get over low
No empty pocket gonna keep you from getting yours
No judge or jury ever gonna hear the story told

The album version is pretty enjoyable—it’s always been one of my favorite songs from the album. However, the live version is, to use a word William Miller did in Almost Famous (since I just saw most of the movie and all), incendiary. It’s a powerhouse. Upon its 2005 introduction into the DMB catalog, “Bayou” almost immediately became a favored show closer. During portions of the 2005 tour, Robert Randolph & the Family Band opened for DMB, and Randolph—pretty incendiary himself—sat in on this song and brought the band to a rarely-achieved level.

Since the end of the 2005 tour, trumpeter Rashawn Ross has been sitting in with the band, and his presence, though subtle, is felt the strongest on “Bayou”. It both sounds like something DMB has never done before and sounds like something no other band could do. A major step forward. And even though much of Stand Up was average at best, moments like this make me excited about where DMB is going.

10. The Idea of You, Fenway Park (7-8-2006)

Last summer, DMB became one of only a few bands to have played Fenway Park. They played two nights on July 7-8, and the shows were released last fall. This set is further proof that there was something about the Stand Up sessions that significantly energized this band. With Ross and keyboardist Butch Taylor (who has been accompanying the band on stage since, I believe, late-1999), the band ripped through two diverse sets, playing old stuff, so-new-it’s-not-yet-been-recorded stuff, and an interesting selection of covers. When I was driving to work a few months ago after breaking this out, I almost ran off the road when the opening notes to “Sweet Caroline” began (It’s Fenway—you have to play “Sweet Caroline” at Fenway, I guess), and was even more taken aback by the absolute note-perfect rendition that followed. I almost chose that song to represent this release, and I almost chose “Say Goodbye” simply because it’s been a long-time favorite, but as purely an illustration of where the band mind and spirits were last summer, I’m choosing “The Idea of You”.

At this stage last July, “Idea” was still pretty rough. For songs like this—songs that get road-tested before the band has truly figured them out—you get some mumbling from Dave in places where he hasn’t totally decided on the lyrics. However, two things about this song make it Primer-worthy: a) the soaring chorus (the only part of the song that was truly set in place at this point), and b) the “Just so you know, I love that song” comment Dave makes afterward. I’ve never heard Dave say anything like that in a live show before (and I’ve heard easily over 200 of them), and I think that says more about the band’s state of mind than the feeling about this particular song. And that, in turn says a lot about the future of the band. To me, at least.

The Dave Matthews Band is getting ready to head to Australia for a series of shows. Bassist Stefan Lessard interviewed with the Brisbane Times recently and had this to say about recent recording sessions (via Nancies.org): “We’re on a bit of a creative break as far as working in the studio – we’ve been in pre-production for a long time, but we’ll get more serious later in the year.”

The original goal, as it was reported, was that these ‘pre-production’ sessions would result in an album to be released this summer, but it didn’t work out that way. The worrying type might fear that this could be another down time like the 2000-2001 Lillywhite Sessions/Everyday period, but considering how happy the band was on tour the last couple of years, and considering that they never seem to get things recorded in the hoped-for time period, I guess I won’t read into the news too much. But for any reader who has made it to this point, you don’t really need to worry about a new album—just enjoy the 10 songs I’ve mentioned here.

I mentioned in a previous Primer that Mos Def & Talib Kweli were my 'gateway drug' to a lot of other underground hip hop. If that's the case, Dave Matthews Band were my gateway drug to live music, the taper culture, bands with alternate instrumentation, the heaven that is Charlottesville, VA, and jam bands. Not bad. My appreciation of their music rises and sinks slightly depending on the latest album, but their impact on my taste is pretty well-proven at this point.

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Ben Harper: A Primer

1. Walk Away, Welcome to the Cruel World (1994). Ben Harper is why I hate the Recording Industry Association of America. I was rooming with GN poster Hear No Evil in the dorms when Napster caught fire roundabout ’99-00, and we...well, let’s just say we used Napster a decent amount. My primary use for Napster was “I’ve heard good things about _____, I should check them out.” As a broke college student and burgeoning Music Nerd (which I proudly called myself until my Grammy Diary, when I admitted to liking Justin Timberlake and Mandy Moore, among others), Napster was the greatest invention ever. And my first great Napster discovery was Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals. I downloaded a couple of their tunes, then a couple more, then a couple more, and suddenly I was in complete possession of their first three albums.

The first thing you notice about any one BHIC album is the varied mastery Ben displays. You get your hard rock, your protest rock, your R&B/soul, and your quiet acoustic tunes. Ben Harper is actually relatively unique in how he lets his influences shine through. That results in an occasional song that is a bit too derivative (listen to “Get It Like You Like It” from his latest album and try not to think of every introductory Keith Richards riff, “Satisfaction” in particular), but most of the time it’s worth the risk...especially when the influences are so far-reaching—Stones, Curtis Mayfield, ‘60s hippie folk, gospel, Zeppelin...these influences make for a beyond-dynamic live show as well.

The other thing about Harper’s music is, while every album can stand well on its own, each song that is released seems to fill in a gap in the musical landscape he tries to piece together. Jimmy Buffett released a greatest hits package a while back called Boats, Beaches, Bars & Ballads because almost all of his songs fit into one of those categories. The songs in the Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals catalog fit into musical categories in much the same way, as you’ll see throughout this post. This allows old songs to fit in quite agelessly with newer ones, and vice versa.

(On a side note, Jim Croce’s catalog works much the same way...with almost every song fitting into one of three categories—bad relationships, bad guys, badass women. But I guess that’s another Primer for another time.)

Anyway, one constant of a Ben Harper headlining show is a quiet, acoustic first encore, and even though “Walk Away” is one of his oldest songs, it’s still one of his best. A quiet guitar lick over sad, desperate lyrics, “Walk Away” manages to avoid cheesiness (even with the line, “You put the happi- in my –ness/You put the good times into my fun”), quite the feat, really. Usually the quiet love song is the kryptonite for someone who can rock as hard as Ben Harper can, but he demonstrates strength here.

Plus, “Walk Away” has the added advantage of being the first song I ever sang live in public. So it’s gotta be good, right?

Oh no, here comes that sun again
It’s just another day without you, my friend
And it hurts me to look into the mirror at myself
And it hurts even more to have to be with somebody else
And it’s so hard to do, and so easy to say
But sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away

From the beginning, Ben has made up for not having a natural, beautiful voice by pouring insane amounts of emotion into his voice. “Walk Away”’s lyrics are poignant but not groundbreaking...the gravelly voice is what makes it sound so profound.

2. Ground On Down, Fight for Your Mind (1995). As a whole, Welcome to the Cruel World was a creative, mature debut album. Fight for Your Mind one-upped it in every way. “Oppression” was a better protest song than anything on Cruel World. “Another Lonely Day” was every bit as good and painful as “Walk Away” in the quiet acoustic category. “Gold to Me” was the perfect vehicle for his voice and guitar skills. “Burn One Down” was a catchy, percussion-laden pro-pot song (“My choice is what I choose to do/And if I’m causin’ no harm, it shouldn’t bother you/Your choice is who you choose to be/And if you’re causin’ no harm, then you’re alright with me”). The trio that ends the album—“Power of the Gospel,” “God Fearing Man,” and “One Road to Freedom”—took the spiritual folk of WTTCW’s “Like a King” and “I’ll Rise” to a different level of soul and exploration.

And “Ground On Down” rocked really hard. Ben’s slide guitar skills are on full display, and this is just a good, solid rock song...probably the song most indicative of where Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals were going with their music in 1995. The progression between Cruel World and Fight for Your Mind was probably the biggest between-albums progression that Ben Harper made. And the album holds up beautifully 12 years later.

3. Glory & Consequence, The Will to Live (1997). This album probably represents the smallest progression. Don’t get me wrong—it’s a fine album with many fine songs—but it’s in no way better than FFYM. However, if you look at Harper’s first three albums as something of a trilogy that represents his musical vision, this album does a good job of filling in some holes. It takes all the different characteristics of Harper’s style in a slightly different direction. “Number Three” is a neat instrumental piece that shows some fine acoustic chops, “I Shall Not Walk Alone” is a gorgeous addition to the ‘religious folk’ songs I mentioned above, “Widow of a Living Man” and “Roses from My Friends” are unique sad songs, “Mama’s Trippin’” is some nice, outrageous funk, “Faded” builds off of territory found in “Ground On Down” (and segued wonderfully into Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” in concert) and “Homeless Child” is an interesting blues take.

But “Glory & Consequence” has been my favorite song on Will to Live since the first time I heard it. It’s a simple song, really...especially compared to a lot of the complexity that’s floating around this album—it’s a simple rock riff with relatively simple lyrics (“I am more afraid of living/Than I am scared to die/I am more afraid of falling/Than I am of flying high/Every moral has a story/Every story has an end/Every battle has its glory/And its consequence”), and it’s just executed perfectly.

The Will to Live is also a unique album in that my four favorite songs (“Widow of a Living Man,” “Glory & Consequence,” “Mama’s Trippin’,” and “I Shall Not Walk Alone”) are the last four on the album. It’s almost as if he knew he could execute those songs well and wanted to draw attention to the more unique songs out of the gates. I don’t know if that was even remotely the intention, but the the album’s track order displays quite a bit of confidence in Harper’s abilities.

4. Steal My Kisses, Burn to Shine (1999). If the first three albums were part of a trilogy, Burn to Shine represented something of a new beginning. The material wasn’t amazingly different than what had come before, but there was just a new feel and freshness to Burn to Shine. The songs just seem to play louder and fuller than those on Will to Live. That’s probably the best way I can say it.

On its face, Burn to Shine’s songs fall roughly into the same categories that had already been defined—the quiet ballads (the all-piano “Beloved One”), the religious folk (“In the Lord’s Arms,” “Two Hands of a Prayer”), the guitar-heavy rock (“Forgiven,” “Burn to Shine”)—but a few songs serve as giant leaps into new territories. “The Woman in You” was easily the furthest journey into soul to date, and “Suzie Blue” takes the old-timey feel in which Harper had dabbled from time to time (“Homeless Child” is a decent example) almost into Squirrel Nut Zippers territory.

However, it’s “Steal My Kisses” that stands out the most. Most likely the most recognizable song in the Ben Harper catalog, you really couldn’t avoid this song in the Summer of 2000. Its popularity, however, shouldn’t take away from the fact that this is a pretty damn catchy song, a nice combo of R&B and rock with a human beat box thrown into the mix. It was the freshest-sounding Ben Harper song (probably still is), and it ranks high on the all-time “You can’t help but smile when you hear it” list, at least for me.

5. The Woman in You, Live from Mars (2001). The hardest pick I had to make on this list was what to choose from disc one of Ben’s long-awaited live album. Go with his segue excellent segue of “Faded” into “Whole Lotta Love”? A great live standby like “Burn One Down” or “Forgiven”? In the end, I went with his aching Curtis Mayfield tribute, “The Woman in You” (and really, how was I not going to post a Curtis Mayfield tribute on this list?). Ben’s vocals go in a strange direction sometimes—he can basically make his singing voice sound like it’s crying, and while it’s not a pretty sound by any means, it’s uniquely effective. No one projects pain and anger like Ben Harper, and “The Woman in You” is one of the best examples of that.

6. Beloved One, Live from Mars (2001). A unique feature of this two-disc live album was that it was one disc of full-band highlights and one disc from Ben’s acoustic encores. The acoustic sets don’t make up a full half of a concert like they do on this album, but this album arrangement is an acknowledgement of the impact these 3-4 songs a night seem to have. While “Beloved One” was good as a solo piano track on Burn to Shine, it seems better and more natural with acoustic guitar instead. The vocals are at the edge of Harper’s range (at least when he’s singing quietly), which gives off a nice sense of vulnerability to go with the sweet lyrics.

Also on this disc was a dead-on, gut-wrenching version of The Verve’s “The Drugs Don’t Work,” but I decided to go with a non-cover for whatever reason.

7. Brown Eyed Blues, Diamonds on the Inside (2003). The four years between Burn to Shine and Diamonds on the Inside was by far the biggest gap between releases for BHIC, but his popularity had continued to grow in that span of time, thanks mostly to the success of “Steal My Kisses,” Live from Mars, and the continuing positive impact of his concerts.

Diamonds continued on the trends of previous albums, dabbling in reggae (“With My Own Two Hands”), hard rock (“Temporary Remedy”), blues rock (“When It’s Good”), soul/funk (“Bring the Funk”), and quiet acoustic (“She’s Only Happy in the Sun”), but to me the best groove on the album comes from “Brown Eyed Blues.” There’s not a lot profound to be said about this one—it just makes you nod your head and serves as a palate-cleanser from the more heavy work that abounds on the album.

I should also mention two other things. First, “Picture of Jesus” includes a beatiful contribution from Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Second, this is probably the most sincere album, from top to bottom, in the BHIC catalog. Sincerity and hope have always been a couple of his stronger traits, but it’s always encouraging when an artist becomes more sincere as time goes on. It usually doesn’t work that way, but age seems to have made Ben Harper more idealistic and proud of his beliefs, and Diamonds is the proof of that.

8. Amen Omen, Live at the Hollywood Bowl (2003). A few months after the release of Diamonds, BHIC’s first live DVD (with accompanying EP) was released, and while the EP was not all that notable, it did feature a staggering version of Diamonds’ “Amen Omen,” a slow-building song that is one of the best at combining all of the different genres in which Ben Harper tends to dip his toes. It slides dynamically between quiet and loud, it adds a religious dabble into a song about lost love, and basically, it hits you really hard.

What started as a whisper
Slowly turned into a scream
Searching for an answer
Where the question is unseen
I don't know where you came from
And i don't know where you've gone
Old friends become old strangers
Between the darkness and the dawn

Amen omen, will I see your face again
Amen omen, can I find the place within
To live my life without you

Like a lot of Harper’s lyrics, this song can mean different things to different people, but while one’s grasp of the meaning might differ, there’s no way to avoid the prevalent emotion for which Harper aims on a given song, and this is a perfect example. You feel pain and yearning, and it comes from the lyrics, the music, the vocal delivery, everything.

9. Satisfied Mind (w/Blind Boys of Alabama), There Will Be a Light (2005). The first thing I thought when I heard that Ben Harper was recording an album with the Blind Boys of Alabama was, “Cool...he’ll get a Grammy out of it for sure.” The Blind Boys are Grammy gold in the gospel categories, and sure enough, There Will Be a Light won Best Gospel Album in 2006. My second thought was, “This is going to be fantastic.” I was right on this account, too. Ben’s natural R&B/rock tendencies (not to mention the fact that he dabbles in religious material on every album) were set up perfectly for gospel harmonies, and songs like “There Will Be a Light,” “Wicked Man,” “Church House Steps,” Diamonds on the Inside’s “Picture of Jesus,” and “Satisfied Mind” worked perfectly. “Satisfied Mind” is a song that has been performed by a large variety of artists, most notably Bob Dylan, Jeff Buckley, and Johnny Cash. The lyrics aren’t Ben’s, but they’re worth printing, anyway.

How many times have you heard someone say
"If I had his money I'd do things my way"
But little they know that it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten with a satisfied mind

Once I was waiting in fortune and fame
Everything that I dreamed of to get a start in life's game
Suddenly it happened I lost every dime
But I'm richer by far with a satisfied mind

When my life is over and my time has run out
My friends and my loved ones I'll leave there's no doubt
But one thing is for certain when it comes my time
I'll leave here for certain with a satisfied mind

The wide range of musicians who have performed this song have proven that there are a lot of different ways to sing these three simple verses—Jeff Buckley, for instance, played it “Hallelujah”-style with just his electric guitar and him. Ben Harper & the Blind Boys, give this version a lovely funk/gospel twist with great harmonies, and their adaptation of this standard is probably the best illustration of the tools they were working with while recording this charming album.

10. Better Way, Both Sides of the Gun (2006). As every album seems to pull Ben Harper in different directions, I guess it would make sense that he’d eventually release an album with two distinct discs—one that feels quieter and more hopeful, one that’s louder and angrier. There’s a wealth of strong material here, but it almost hurts the cause to separate the songs by tone. This separation means there isn’t the same “highs and lows” effect to this album, in which you experience a roller coaster of emotion throughout the course of the album. However, in an iPod era where track listing isn’t as important, that works out okay, I guess. Besides, there are plenty of strong additions to the catalog here.

On the quiet disc, “Happy Everafter in Your Eyes” is his sweetest (and cheesiest) love song yet (I believe I read that it was played at his own wedding to Laura Dern), and “Picture in a Frame” aches beautifully. On the louder disc, “Engraved Invitation” gets stuck in my head at least once a week. “Gather ‘Round the Stone” is a strong, bluesy protest song. “Serve Your Soul” belongs in the same ‘slow build’ category as a lot of Harper’s more memorable songs. “Please Don’t Talk About Murder While I’m Eating,” despite having the most unfortunate title in the Ben Harper catalog, rocks. But there are two songs on Both Sides that dwarf the rest: “Black Rain” and “Better Way.”

I mentioned in the Mos Def & Talib Kweli Primer that there were two major protest songs that came out in the weeks following Hurricane Katrina, Mos Def’s “Dollar Day” and Ben Harper’s “Black Rain.” “Black Rain” is featured on this album, and as time goes by, this song does a great job of bringing you back to the emotion you felt in September 2005 and reminding you that this epic government screwup can never be forgotten or forgiven.

Don't you dare speak to us like we work for you
Selling false hope like some new dope we're addicted to
I'm not a desperate man, but these are desperate times at hand
This generation is beyond your command
It won't be long till the people flood the streets
And take you down one and all
A black rain is gonna fall

It’s a brilliant example of the emotional power of music, but I wanted to focus on a different song for the purposes of this Primer. “Better Way” is a giant step forward for Ben Harper. It has a set of idealistic lyrics you’ve come to expect from him, but ths music itself is just gorgeous. Slightly Middle Eastern instrumentation creates a quietly intense vibe while Ben does some of his best singing, ranging from stern but laid back to urgent and loud.

I'm a living sunset, lightning in my bones
Push me to the edge, but my will is stone
I believe in a better way

Fools will be fools, and wise will be wise
I will look this world straight in the eyes
I believe in a better way

While Both Sides of the Gun isn't Ben Harper's best, tightest, most cogent, album, as is his style, the songs open up new areas of exploration and polish off old ones. The influences shine through, but the songs remain unique...not the easiest task to manage.

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Mos Def & Talib Kweli: A Primer

In most cases, there are two types of valedictorians: 1) the overachiever—the person who works harder than everybody else, takes unbeatable notes, organizes study groups, and does whatever it takes to get ahead and stay ahead in the classroom; and 2) the wiz—the person who grasps everything faster than everybody else, has never had to really work hard at their craft, and seems to move on from one idea before fully developing it. In the case of hip hop’s two young(ish) Brooklyn valedictorians, Talib Kweli is the overachiever, and Mos Def is the wiz.

They’ve only made one album together, and they’ve basically worked as solo artists for the last 7-8 years, but I figure it would be pretty fitting to do a Primer on the two of them together.

1. Definition, Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star. My first introduction to Black Star (as they are known when they are a duo) came in a Mizzou dorm in ’98. I was making a tape of a friend of mine’s hip hop collection (he owned turntables and lots of vinyl), and he insisted that I record their first single. That song was called “Definition,” and it knocked me over. I set a record for how long it took me to completely wear that tape out, then I headed to Slackers in downtown Columbia to buy the whole album.

(Seriously, how great was late-1998 for hip hop? Lauryn Hill’s The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, Jay-Z’s Reasonable Doubt, Vol. 2: Hard-Knock Life, Outkast’s revelatory Aquemini, and Mos Def and Talib Kweli Are Black Star all came out in the last four months of the year. Those might be the best four hip hop albums of the last decade!)

Black Star was one of my first introductions into underground hip hop. I’ve loved hip hop for a long time (as have hundreds of thousands of white males my age), but until that point, about the furthest-from-mainstream I’d ventured was Aquemini. Even though Common and The Roots had been around a while by that point, I discovered them because of Black Star. Black Star was my gateway drug.

2. (Re)Definition, Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star. Something that immediately showed Black Star's uniqueness was this creative departure—they took “Definition’s” chorus, threw it behind a different beat, and created a brand new song with a completely different feel. Focusing on a theme of “too much violence in hip hop,” “Definition” and “(Re)Definition” are two of the most musically intense songs on Black Star, as the rest of the album focused on old school hip hop techniques and departures into the jazzy, soulful sounds of acts like The Roots and Common (Common actually had a verse in “Respiration”). There was intelligence and quality oozing out of every song, from “Brown Skin Lady” to “Thieves in the Night.” When I bought the cd for myself there was an insert advertising the then-upcoming Mos Def solo album, and though I’d known of these rappers for less than a year, I’d never found myself looking forward to a hip hop album this much before.

3. Ms. Fat Booty, Black on Both Sides (Mos Def). Despite the horribly unfortunate name of this song, this is one of my favorite hip hop songs ever. It’s also one of the rarest, in that it’s a non-cheesy hip hop love song. There aren’t many in this category. This song is great simply because of Mos’ lyrics and impeccable delivery.

She spot me like paparazzi; shot me a glance
In that catwoman stance with the fat booty pants, Hot damn!
What's your name love, where you came from?
Neck and wrist blazed up, very little make-up
The swims at the Reebok gym tone your frame up
Is sugar and spice the only thing that you made of?
I tried to play it low key but couldn't keep it down
Asked her to dance she was like "Yo, I'm leavin now"

...

Scene three: weeks of datin’, late night conversation
In the crib heart-racin’, tryin’ to be cool and patient
She touched on my eyelids, the room fell silent
She walked away smilin’, singin’ Gregory Issacs
Like “If I don't...if I don't...if I don't...”
Showin’ me that tan line and that tattoo
Playin Sade’s "Sweetest Taboo"
Burnin’ candles, all my other plans got cancelled

It’s at this point, about a quarter of the way through his solo debut, that you realize that Mos is one of the most charismatic and talented musicians (in any genre) in the last few decades. Whether he’s telling you about a failed relationship or injustice or pain, you believe every word he says, and you want to hear what he has to say about just about anything.

4. Four Women, Reflection Eternal (Talib Kweli & DJ Hi-Tek). You get the impression that Mos Def has never written down a lyric in his life. He just walks into the studio and nails his part. (Not saying that’s what he does—I have no idea—but that’s how it feels when I’m listening to him.) No matter what he’s saying in his lyrics, a laid-back feel almost always pervades his vocals. Kweli, on the hand...you get the impression that he works for it. Hard. Like, lots of notebooks of lyrics in his bedroom. The Chuck D-esque intensity which which he tends to deliver his vocals and the slightly more harsh sound of his voice perfectly complemented the smooth Mos on Black Star. However, Kweli quickly proved that he was more than capable of carrying an album by himself. While Mos was putting out Black on Both Sides, Kweli was preparing his first solo work, Reflection Eternal with DJ Hi-Tek. It was good, but it was no Black on Both Sides, which was the best album of 1999. Amazing, however, was the hidden track, “Four Women,” a take on an old Nina Simone song. And honestly, Kweli has really turned himself into hip hop’s Nina Simone—powerful, opinionated, talented...and a bit bitchy. But he gets his point across and writes some of the more poignant lyrics around.

I got off the 2-train in Brooklyn on my way to a session
Said let me help this woman up the stairs before I get to steppin'
We got in a conversation she said she’s 107
Just her presence was a blessing and her essence was a lesson
She had her head wrapped
And long dreads that peeked out the back
Like antenna to help her get a sense of where she was at
Imagine that—livin’ a century
The strength of her memories
Felt like an angel had been sent to me
She went from nigger to colored to negro to black
To afro then african-american and right back to nigger
You figure she'd be bitter in the twilight
But she’s alright, ‘cuz she done seen the circle of life

Not just any rapper would even think to attempt painting a portrait of four women in different stages of struggle and life, much less do it well.

5. Get By, Quality (Talib Kweli). Mos may have won the first round of the solo album battle (though it was a split decision), but Kweli’s more prolific output and increasing maturity have won the later rounds. “Get By” is, simply, the most inspirational hip hop song of the past decade or so, and likely the best song either of these artists has put out, together or solo. This Voices of Civil Rights article/column was beyond complimentary:

In a genre that has rightfully been criticized for its sexism, materialism and violence, rapper and native Brooklynite Talib Kweli is quite possibly the most prominent artist today in the tradition of socially conscious music.

This morning I woke up feeling brand new/I jumped up feeling
my highs and my lows /And my soul and my goals.

The lyrics are from “Get By,” a populist anthem praising the heart and resilience of everyday people. The song appears on Kweli’s album “Quality.” In the opening verse, Kweli urges his listeners to become politically active: Even when the condition is critical/and living is miserable/your position is critical.

“I definitely feel like hip hop artists have more musical knowledge than any generation before us because the nature of hip hop is to build on the past,” he says in his trademark raspy voice and deep-Flatbush accent. “The more you get invested in hip hop the more you learn about other music.”

...

Songs of conscience may not come to mind immediately when one hears the words “rap music,” but hip-hop is making an important contribution to the tradition of protest music and the legacy of the Civil Rights Movement. “There are a thousand hip-hop songs that share those themes,” Kweli points out. If anyone believes differently, he says, “they just aren’t listening.”

Some lyrics:

We keep it gangster, say "fo shizzle", "fo sheezy" and "stay crunk"
Its easy to "pull a breezy", "smoke trees", and "we stay drunk"
Our activism’s attackin’ the system, the blacks and latins in prison
Numbers in prisons—they’re victims—lackin’ the vision
And all they got is rappin’ to listen to
I let them know we missin’ you, the love is unconditional
Even when the condition is critical, when the livin’ is miserable
Your position is pivotal, I ain't bullshittin’ you
Now, why would I lie? Just to get by? Just to get by? Get fly?
TV got us reachin for stars
Not the ones between Venus and Mars, the ones that be readin’ for parts
Some people get breast enhancements and penis enlargers
Saturday sinners, Sunday morning at the feet of the Father
They need something to rely on, we get high on all types of drugs
Man, all you really need is love
To get by ... just to get by ... just to get by ... just to get by
Our parents sing like John Lennon, "Imagine all the people", watch
We rock like Paul McCartney from now until the last Beatle drop

It’s pretty clear that Kweli has a goal—to use whatever fame he can garner to affect positive change in the world. He’s an artist and an activist (though, as he’s sure to tell you, not a politician). And his music is the perfect example of the good that can come out of hip hop.

This reminds me of a passage I read recently from a Wright Thompson (Mizzou grad!) article about a couple of players from the Portland Trailblazers visiting Memphis’ Civil Rights Museum (h/t to True Hoop, a fantastic basketball site, for pointing this one out to me).

They walk past the bombed-out wreck of another bus, past photos of angry white faces at lunch counters, past metalwork from the Edmund Pettus Bridge. They listen to gospel singers belt out freedom songs.

"Hip-hop was freedom songs when it first came out," Bowles tells the group.

"Now it's about how many cars you got," Aldridge says.

In a lot of ways, I’ve stuck by hip hop the way I stick by Mizzou and the Pittsburgh Pirates (though at least hip hop rewards me occasionally...at least maybe once a year), and it’s because of artists like Kweli. Hip hop is entrenched in its hair metal stage at the moment (“I’m so cool! Look at what I can buy! Look at the women that are in my pool!”), but everything is cyclical, and when people start looking for value in hip hop again, hopefully they’ll find that in Kweli.

6. What’s Beef?, Chappelle’s Show (Season 1, Episode 12). For once, I was ahead of the curve on something. In February 2004, Season One of Chappelle’s Show came out on DVD to almost no fanfare...and ended up one of the best-selling DVD sets of all-time. Nobody knew the influence this show was having until stores were swamped with requests. How does that show I was ahead of the curve? Because I was driving around mid-Missouri the night of its release, trying to procure a copy before everybody else. It was a great show, and I watched every episode at least twice, but the reason I wanted the DVD so badly was so I could watch this performance by a briefly reunited Black Star.

One of the great things about what Chappelle did was, he went out of his way to say, “If people are actually liking what I do, and I have this bright light being shone on me, then I’m going to shine it on my friends, too.” He began featuring musical acts like Black Star and De La Soul, getting them some extra exposure. It was this thrown-together song that had the biggest impact on me. Kweli went first, and his verse was solid—he actually ended up using it as a verse in the first song on his next album, The Beautiful Struggle. But Mos, who hadn’t been too prolific lately because he was too busy becoming an award-nominated actor (it’s really not fair when people are so good at so many different things), came up with a Pantheon-level verse of his own. So many references in so little space, however a lot of it was based in reference to the ‘feud’ between Jay-Z and Nas at the time—I will always think that it was at least partially made up to sell records and get attention.

Beef is not what Jay said to Nas
Beef is when workin' n----s can't find jobs
So they’re tryin’ to find n----s to rob
Tryin’ to find bigger guns so they can finish the job
Beef is when the crack kids can't find moms
Cause they end up in a pine box or locked behind bars
Beef ain't the Summer Jam for Hot 97
Beef is the cocaine and AIDS epidemic
Beef don't come with a radio edit
Beef is when the judge is callin' you "defendant"
Beef, it comes with a long jail sentence
Handed down to you in a few short minutes
Beef is when your girl come through for a visit
Talkin' bout "I'm pregnant by some other n----"
Beef is high blood pressure and bad credit
Need a loan for your home and you're too broke to get it
And all your little kids is doin is gettin' bigger
You’re tryin’ not to raise 'em around these wild n----s
Beef is when a gold digger got ya seat and a
A manicured hand out like "pay me n---- or I'm tellin' your wife”
Or startin' up some foul rumor that'll ruin your life
Beef is when a gangster ain't doin it right
Another gangster then decided what to do with his life
Beef is not what these famous n----s do on the mic
Beef is what George Bush would do in a fight
Yeah, beef is not what Ja said to 50 (another feud reference, this one between Ja Rule and 50 Cent)
Beef is more than Irv not bein here with me (couldn’t tell for sure what he said in this line)
When a soldier ends his life with his own gun
Beef is tryin' to figure out what to tell his son
Beef is oil prices and geopolitics
Beef is Iraq, the West Bank, and Gaza Strip
Some beef is big and some beef is small
But what y'all call beef is not beef at all
Beef is real life happenin' everyday
And it's realer than them songs that you get at Kay Slay

7. Black Jack, The New Danger (Mos Def). I’m getting carried away here. I’ll try to limit the copy-pasting of lyrics, but it’s just so much easier to show the profundity of what their saying than to actually try and describe it myself. Maybe I’m just being lazy. Anyway, after doing quite a bit of acting and fighting with record labels, Mos finally returned to action in 2005 with his second solo album, The New Danger. He brought with him a hard rock band called Black Jack Johnson (named after the heavyweight champion, not the surfer/acoustic rocker, of course). About half the album was recorded with the band, and it’s a pretty interesting experiment. The plain old hip hop is pretty solid too, but only because Mos has so much talent. The first time I listened to this album, all I could think was, “I can’t wait to see what he does next time,” because while he went in interesting directions, it didn’t sound like he had put as much time into this one as he did on Black on Both Sides. It’s pretty hard splitting time between being a badass musician and award-worthy actor, and I think it shows on New Danger. “Black Jack” is one of the more interesting experiments, taking off from a standard blues guitar lick and bassline and incorporating mostly Mos’ singing, not his rapping.

Also notable about The New Danger was the bit of trouble Mos got in for his anti-industry song, "The Rape Over," in which he said both "some tall Israeli" (Lyor Cohen) and "quasi-homosexuals" were running hip hop, getting him called both anti-semitic and homophobic. You get in less trouble when you do something harmless, like threaten to kill somebody on your record. The song got removed from later versions of the album, but since I bought it the first day it was out, it's on my copy. I'm special. Or hopeless. One or the other.

Anyway, any excitement I had regarding Mos’ third album, however, was tempered when I read an interview with him a short while after New Danger came out. He expressed his disgust with the major labels and said he was going to crank out his third album pretty quickly so he could fulfill his contract and do what he wanted to after that.

8. Broken Glass, Beautiful Struggle (Talib Kweli). The best song of 2005. When you’re dealing with pain and wasted lives, not every song can be hopeful like “Get By.” Sometimes you have to tell the story of those who didn’t manage to just get by. With one of the best beats Pharrell Williams has ever produced, this song is the perfect combination of hard-hitting music and lyrics, telling the story of a girl with “dreams too big for a small town” who crashed and burned when she hit the big city. Not much else I can say beyond that...just a perfect hip hop song.

9. Ms. Hill, Right About Now (Talib Kweli). The best way to show just how prolific Kweli has been over the last few years is to look at the volume of ‘non-release’ releases (sometimes referred to just as ‘mixtapes’) he’s put out (Mos does this too, but Kweli does it more). One of the better ones was 2005’s Right About Now. It’s nothing special, really...the beats are relatively primitive and predictable, and he seems to have saved his best lyrics for official releases, but he just has too many great songs and verses to share, and quite a few of them will end up on these collections. The most notable song from Right About Now was “Ms. Hill,” a tribute to Lauryn Hill, an amazing artist and friend of Kweli’s, whose struggles with the music industry, religious machinery, and herself, have been pretty well-documented.

10. Dollar Day (Katrina Klap), True Magic (Mos Def). Two songs came out within, it seemed, just a week or two of Hurricane Katrina, that perfectly captured the anger and outrage that millions felt (and only thousands apparently still feel) about the neglect and abandonment of hundreds of thousands of people every bit as American as you or me or Mos Def or anybody else: Ben Harper’s “Black Rain” and Mos Def’s “Dollar Day (Katrina Klap).” I posted the video for this song a while back.

The thing about Mos Def, compared to most other musicians (and celebrities in general), is that his conviction doesn’t just last until the next big party. Outside last September’s MTV Video Music Awards, Mos got himself arrested for performing “Dollar Day” in the street without a permit, putting on an impromptu concert to remind people of things they were starting to forget.

I can’t, however, say that Mos’ third album, True Magic, truly followed up on the creative momentum stirred from “Dollar Day.” As I said above, this was cranked out a year after New Danger, and Mos cared so little about its success that he didn’t actually produce any liner notes or anything for it. If you go to your local Best Buy, you will likely find it in a clear plastic case, nothing but a disc and a price tag. And, after showing potential with Black Jack Johnson, he ditched it for True Magic. Again, it’s listenable because of Mos’ talent (he did get a Grammy nomination for “Undeniable,” after all), but let’s just say I’ll be expecting a lot more out of him next time around, when he’s on an indy label and not realizing that his success would put money in pockets of the suits at Geffen Records.

Mos Def and Talib Kweli will always be thought of in the same boat, and I doubt it bothers either of them too much (other than in the context of the roughly 14,526,353 times they’ve heard “So when are you gonna put out another Black Star album?” in the last 8 years), and while I could have pretty easily made a “Primer” about each of them individually, I figured that accentuating their differences best highlights their relative strengths. These two Brooklyn MC’s are the best hip hop has to offer and have been for quite a while. One is a charismatic presence, one is a workhorse. Both of them respect hip hop’s history and constantly tinker with ways to move hip hop forward.

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Barenaked Ladies: A Primer

As underrated a band as there has been in a long time.

1. Be My Yoko Ono, Gordon (1992). When I was in high school, a friend of mine came home from visiting relatives in St. Louis, and he was giddy about this funny new band over whom his cousins were obsessing. They were silly and witty, and they sang a lot of songs that, well, you tend to enjoy when you’re a nerd in high school. They weren’t Weird Al or Doctor Demento or anything...they were more like They Might Be Giants. They looked like nerds, and they acted silly, and it was a lot of fun. At some point throughout high school and my freshman year at Mizzou, I ended up with all of their albums to that point, and on pretty much any road trip I took, Gordon (their debut album) and Rock Spectacle (one of the more entertaining live albums ever) always got played. They kept me awake and entertained. “Yoko” is one of their silliest songs, as the title would suggest. It showed off both the wit and intelligence of this young band.

2. You Will Be Waiting, Maybe You Should Drive (1994). What hooks hardcore fans is the diversity of BNL's song material. Yes, they’re fun and silly. They’ll always have the “Be My Yoko Ono”’s and “If I Had $1,000,000”’s. But it’s songs like this one that earn them lifelong devotion from fans. This song has never been a live staple of theirs, and it sure wasn’t ever on the radio, but it’s just a perfectly-written little song about pains in a relationship. “I’m so sick of fighting /And that effigy you’re lighting / Looks an awful lot like someone whose name I just can’t quite place / Though you say it’s not supposed to be me / Or any entity / Still through the flames and smoke I see / I recognize that face / But I know, you will be waiting / Oh I know, you will be waiting / Oh I know, you will be waiting / Waiting there for me.” Certain songs hit me hard when they go unnoticed by others. Put this one in that category.

3. The Old Apartment, Born on a Pirate Ship. Their first main radio song in the United States...the first one I ever heard on the radio in Oklahoma, anyway. Songs like this and “Enid” simultaneously display the vulnerability, random loyalty and...immaturity (and slight dark side), of most guys aged 14 to, well, whenever, in relationships.

4. If I Had $1,000,000, Rock Spectacle (1996). One of the better, most accurately descriptive live albums of the ‘90s, Rock Spectacle introduced a lot of people to the exhibition that is a live BNL performance. Skits, improvised songs, lots of silliness, and the omnipresence of more poignant, emotional songs like “What a Good Boy” or “Jane.” However, the touchstone of any BNL show is, of course, the closer, “If I Had $1,000,000.” It’s a fun singalong, it has silly lyrics, and the crowd throws macaroni at the band on the “We wouldn’t have to eat Kraft dinner” line (well, they did before the band requested they stop because, well, it hurt and it got stuck in the instruments).

5. Call and Answer, Stunt (1998). Stunt was the album that changed everything for the status of Barenaked Ladies. “One Week” was far and away their biggest hit, and it was followed by “It’s All Been Done,” which was possibly their second-biggest hit. Plus, there was the irony of the song, “Alcohol,” which basically made fun of frat boys who love getting drunk and trying to get laid ("Alcohol, my permanent accessory / Alcohol, a party-time necessity / Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself / O Alcohol, I still drink to your health")...and became one of their most popular live songs as those frat boys, not in on the joke, couldn’t get enough of it. They officially became a household name after Stunt went crazy, and they started playing bigger venues.

But the one song on the album that probably packs the biggest punch was “Call and Answer,” a song about putting together a broken relationship. It starts with this: “I think / It’s getting to the point where we can be ourselves again / It’s getting to the point where we have almost made amends / I think / It’s the getting to the point that is the hardest part.” And it ends with this: “But I’m warning you / Don’t ever do / Those crazy, messed up things that you do / If you ever do / I promise you / I’ll be the first to crucify you / Now it's time to prove that you’ve come back here to rebuild.” This comes across as straight out of the Beatles' playbook. For their first few albums, the Beatles always had a song, likely written by Lennon, that showed a little-explored dark side, songs like "Run for Your Life" or "You Can't Do That," songs that said "I can be cute and funny all you want...but don't cross me." With songs like "The Flag" (from Gordon) and "The Old Apartment" and "Call and Answer," BNL manages to tread lightly over the same territory.

6. Helicopters, Maroon (2000). Maroon is the perfect Barenaked Ladies album. One of the best albums in the last decade. The two aspects of their bipolar personality (silly and serious) are at their highest levels of quality here, and every song is fantastic. If you like silly, it doesn’t get much better than “Pinch Me” or “Too Little Too Late” or “Never Do Anything” or “Humor of the Situation.” If you like serious, try “Baby Seat” or “Helicopters.” If you like both aspects of the BNL personality, then you find that this is the pinnacle of BNL’s career, musically, creatively, emotionally, and lyrically.

God...so many good songs here. I should have written an entire post about just Maroon. “Go Home” is an upbeat directive to a guy whose stubbornness is costing him a relationship: “Let me tell you, if you’re feeling alone / ‘Stead of whining and moanin’ / Just get on the phone / Tell her you’re coming home / If you need her, you should be there / And if you scream in your sleep / Or collapse in a heap / And spontaneously weep / Then you know you’re in deep / If you need her, you should be there / Go home.”

“Baby Seat” is a more intense directive toward a father struggling with maturity: “You left Billy with the kid / And all those selfish things you did / With Billy / You left your hometown in the spring / And turned your back on everything / You thought your life would just go by without a pause to wonder / Don’t be silly / You can’t live your life in the baby seat / You’ve got to stand on your own / Don’t admit defeat.”

“Sell Sell Sell” is a fun song about an almost-over-the-hill actor. “Conventioneers” is about two co-workers hooking up at a convention and not knowing how to act around each other when they get back. The album ends with a light (honestly) song called “Tonight is the Night I Fell Asleep at the Wheel” and a hidden track called “Hidden Sun,” written and sung by Kevin Hearn, the band’s keyboardist (among other instruments), who had contracted leukemia after the recording of Stunt. He was undergoing treatment and was absent through most of the touring for Stunt, but he was feeling good enough to contribute on Maroon.

The roller coaster of sentiment (fun, sad, silly, depressed...and let's face it, this is what life is actually like) reaches its emotional peak, however, with “Helicopters.”

This is where the helicopters came to take me away
This is where the children used to play
This is only half a mile away from the attack
This is where my life changed in a day
And then it changed back

Buried in the din of rotor noise and close explosions
I do my best to synthesize the sounds and my emotions
This is where the allies bombed the school, they say by mistake
Here nobody takes me for a fool, just for a fake

Later at the hotel bar, the journalists are waiting
I hurry back to my guitar while they're commiserating

And I'll be leaving soon
I'll be leaving soon

Just as soon as we were on the ground, we’re back in the jet
Just another three day foreign tour we'd never forget
It's hard to sympathize with all this devastation
Hopping 'round from site to site like tourists on vacation

And I'll be leaving soon
I'll be leaving soon

I can't help anyone cause everyone's so cold
Everyone's so skeptical of everything they're told
And even I get sick of needing to be sold

Though it's only half a month away, the media's gone
An entertaining scandal broke today, but I can't move on
I'm haunted by my story and I do my best to tell it
Can't even give this stuff away, why would I sell it

Everybody's laughing, while at me they point a finger
A world that loves its irony must hate the protest singer

So I'll be leaving soon
I'll be leaving soon

No explanation of the lyrics is needed, seeing as the song was released about a year or so after Columbine; however, the way the lyrics are used in a more universal way, describing anything traumatic that becomes a news sensation and is immediately dropped for the next news sensation, makes the song more poignant. And Stephen Page’s high-and-low vocals hit hard. The best song on Barenaked Ladies’ best album.

7. Get In Line, All Their Greatest Hits, 1991-2001 (2001). Further proof that BNL can make a catchy, fun, extremely melodic song in their sleep. This is basically a throwaway song, pulling the old “Add some new material to a band’s greatest hits, so the hardcore fans will want to buy it even though they own all the albums already” trick, but it’s good. And sadly, it makes All Their Greatest Hits worth getting. Then again, if I’d had iTunes at the time, I wouldn’t have had to fall for their trick, now would I?

8. Upside Down, Everything to Everyone (2003). After taking some time off from the physical toll of lots of touring and the emotional and mental toll of Hearn’s battle with leukemia and the fact that they’d been together nonstop for going on 15 years, the band joined to record E2E. All band members contributed to the writing process, more than in albums past, and the result was a wider variety of sounds than what was seen on Maroon or Stunt. The results were also mixed. I never got into songs like “Maybe Katie” or “Celebrity” or “Another Postcard” or “Shopping,” but there are still plenty of highlights. After all, good bands’ worst albums are still pretty damn good. With a fun beat and interesting time signature, “Upside Down” is probably the most indicative song of the album as a whole.

I almost selected “War On Drugs” for this slot, but I wanted something more upbeat, and honestly...“War On Drugs” is about the saddest song I’ve ever heard (other than “The Drugs Don’t Work,” anyway).

In the dream I refuse to have
She falls asleep in a lukewarm bath
We're left to deal with the aftermath again

On behalf of humanity
I will fight for your sanity
How profound such profanity can be

Won't it be dull when we rid ourselves
Of all these demons haunting us
To keep us company

Won't it be odd to be happy like we
Always thought we're supposed to feel
But never seem to be

Near where I live there's a viaduct
Where people jump when they're out of luck
Raining down on the cars and trucks below

They've put a net there to catch their fall
Like it'll stop anyone at all
What they don't know is when nature calls, you go

They say that Jesus and mental health
Are just for those who can help themselves
But what good is that when you live in hell on earth?

Just an amazing song, but it’s just too damn sad for this list. So “Upside Down” it is.

9. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (w/Sarah McLaughlin), Barenaked for the Holidays (2004). I’m not even remotely a fan of Christmas music. It was the worst part about working weekends at Barnes & Noble...8 hours of crap Christmas music every shift for a month each year. However, I discovered two things I could stand—Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown Christmas album, and this one song from BNL’s holiday album. The harmonies, instrumentation, and arrangement of a song you’ve heard a million times is the perfect representation of what Barenaked Ladies can be as pop artists. I guess it’s the exception that proves the rule about Christmas songs, I guess.

10. Vanishing, Barenaked Ladies Are Me (2006). And finally, we reach last year's Barenaked Ladies Are Me. Like E2E, Are Me was an extremely collaborative process; Ed Robertson and Stephen Page (the band’s primary writers) unleashed a wealth of songs into the process as always, but Kevin Hearn added some, and bassist Jim Creegan made probably his biggest contribution to the writing process since Born on a Pirate Ship. The result was well over useable 20 songs (actually, the writeup for this album on Wikipedia is quite good if you want more details). The band took advantage of emerging web capabilities (and a friendly, flexible record label) to release lots of different versions of the album in different forms. At your local music store, you can buy a 13-song version of Are Me, followed by (on February 7) a 12-song follow up called Barenaked Ladies Are Men. Online, you can download the mega-27-song version, as well (which is what I did). Along with this, they took fan interactivity to an impressive level, unleashing a “remix” contest in which fans could download individual tracks and mix them themselves; also, if you take a look at their website, they’re currently showing the winner of a user-submitted video contest for the song “Wind It Up.” They've been on the forefront of music-computer technology for a while now.

What you get from such an expansive work like Are Me is a) a lot of songs that are of exactly the style you expect from BNL, and b) a lot of creative departures. One of those departures is a Kevin Hearn contribution (he wrote and sang it) called “Vanishing.” “Isn’t that the necklace he found behind your ear? / He’s floating upside-down below a chandelier / Wishing he had the power to make you reappear / He’s a magician / Hoping, wishing / And you’re the one vanishing.” This isn’t anything groundbreakingly creative, but it doesn’t have to be that to be a great song, and this pretty quaint, quiet number is one of my favorites on the album so far. Plus, it shows that the more open songwriting process that BNL has undertaken recently has both gotten better and proven that there’s plenty of energy left in this band. Few bands express everything in the spectrum of song-worthy emotions quite as well as Barenaked Ladies, so as they creep toward their third decade together, here's to hoping they keep it up.

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The Roots: A Primer

I seem to be on an all-music, no politics kick lately...while I'm sure that will trend back toward politics when Congress convenes next month, I figure for now I might as well go with it...more music!

Today's challenge: tell you everything you need to know about The Roots in 10 songs.

1. "Pass the Popcorn," Organix (1993). This song and “Essaywhuman?!!!??!” best reflect the song and vibe that The Roots were going for on their debut album.

2. "Proceed," Do You Want More?!!!??! (1995). It's fun watching the progression of time through these 11 years' worth of songs. Back in the early- to mid-'90s, The Roots were still unique with the live act, but they had quite the Digable-Planets-meets-a-less-gimmicky-Das-Efx vibe going on on Do You Want More?!!!??! (they sure loved the demonstrative punctuation, eh?) and Organix. As a whole, Do You was a better all-around effort. Things really took off, however, with their next album.

3. "Concerto of the Desperado," Illadelph Halflife (1996). Looking at my iTunes ratings for this album, not a single song got 5 stars...but damn near every song on the album got 4. Just a consistently good effort...making it pretty difficult to choose just one. “Concerto” is probably my favorite, though you can’t go wrong with “Respond-React,” “Push Up Ya Lighter,” “Clones,” or “What They Do” either.

4. "The Next Movement," Things Fall Apart (1999). Here’s where picking one song from each album gets tricky. There are nothing but solid songs on this album, which was the closest thing they’ve had to a “breakthrough” album with the Grammy success of “You Got Me,” but there are three pantheon-level songs. “You Got Me” deserves the success it found, “Double Trouble” features a fantastic tag team effort between Black Thought and the unknown-at-the-time-but-fantastic-as-always Mos Def, and “Step Into the Realm” is one of the most creative rap songs ever, but it just doesn’t get any better than “The Next Movement” for the combination of beats, lyrics, and just the overall groove. Almost any album that kicks off with this song is going to be successful.

5. "You Got Me," The Roots Come Alive (1999). The other reason I found it okay to pass on “You Got Me” as my Things Fall Apart selection is because the truest nature of the song can be found on the live version. A buddy of mine “borrowed” The Roots Come Alive from me a few years ago, and he kept it so long that I damn near bought another copy of it because I thought I lost it. He gave it back to me, and it looked like it hadn’t left his cd player in two years. It hadn’t. Even without the visual effect, The Roots’ live act is like nothing else...and The Roots Come Alive is one of the better live albums you'll hear. It does a great job of displaying all of the band's influences to that point, from jazz to hip hop to soul and R&B.

Back in 2002, when they were a part of the Smokin’ Grooves Tour with Outkast, Jurassic 5, and Lauryn Hill (one of the best lineups I could have ever imagined), I went to a tourstop with a couple of friends...one of whom turned to me halfway through The Roots’ set and said, “I...I had no idea.” There’s just no way to prepare you for The Roots' live experience until you’ve been through the experience.

Also notable about this version of “You Got Me,” of course, is that it features Jill “Jilly from Philly” Scott, the original performer of the song. The record company decided that the female part should be occupied by a bigger name for the Things Fall Apart version, so they brought in Erykah Badu for the singing and Eve for the rap. It worked great, and they have the Grammys to prove it, but let’s just say that Jill Scott, for better or worse, goes places with this song that nobody else would imagine. It takes a really strange turn with her, but it’s exciting even when it’s uncomfortable. The version from the Chappelle’s Block Party soundtrack is just as interesting with both Badu and Scott.

6. “Big Pimpin’”, Jay-Z Unplugged (2001). When it came out that Jay-Z was going to do an MTV Unplugged special with The Roots as his backing band, I must say I was as confused as intrigued. “How in the hell is he going to do ‘Big Pimpin’’ with a live band?” Well, I wish I could have “holy crap!” moments like that on a daily basis. They were treading water through the first four songs (including competent renditions of “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)” and “The Takeover,” but when ?uestlove started the beat and they kicked in with the snakecharmer-like whistle/recorder part, it was quite the revelation. This was pretty much the moment when I realized that The Roots could do pretty much anything they wanted (as did everybody else...they were even asked to perform with Eminem at the Grammys). The rest of the show was cranked up to fifth gear, capped by the phenomenal “I Just Wanna Love You (Give it 2 Me)” finale.

7. "Water," Phrenology (2002). Hardcore Roots fans are like fans of any other band, really...especially fans who get to interact with the band and feel a heavy-duty sense of ownership. The long-time fans reminisce about the good old days and sigh that the band “sold out” or just isn’t as good as it used to be. The “Nothing Will Top the Good Old Days” syndrome. Happens with every band with any semblance of longevity (except maybe Pearl Jam, whose hardcore fans go out of their way to prove that the new music is just as good as the old). Get on http://www.okayplayer.com/ at any time, and you’ll see longing for the good old days of Do You Want More?!!!??!. When Phrenology came out, it freaked quite a few Okayplayers out as the band dabbled in rock and other influences and slowly started to stray from the jazz sound.

For me, it gets no better than Phrenology. Just like Dave Matthews Band’s Busted Stuff is, to me, far superior to Under the Table and Dreaming, I like it when a band matures, takes in new influences, and pushes itself to create new sounds. There are nothing but new sounds on Phrenology, and for me The Roots peaked as a band with “Water.”

For most of The Roots’ existence up to this point, the microphone was manned by two guys, Black Thought and Malik B. As Malik B (allegedly) started to struggle more and more with drug addiction, his role in The Roots basically went on hiatus. Starting with Phrenology, Black Thought did almost all of the vocals. He wrote a quite autobiographical tribute to Malik B., “Water.” I can’t just take a small sample of the lyrics...they’re too good.

(Chorus)
You need to walk straight, master your high
Son, you’re missin’ out on what’s passin’ you by
I done seen the streets suck a lotta cats dry
But not you and I, my n---a, we got to get
Over...the water...over...the water

...

We done been through many meals, a couple of deals
Shared clothes and wheels, killed mics and reels
We done rocked shows abroad and slept on floors
Trying to figure what the f—k we gettin’ slept on for
Or what we’re walkin’ with the weapon for
Weighted by the gravity law, you know it if you came up poor
Picture the bus up north
You know we’re made of everything outlaws are made of
I’m far from a hater
And I don’t say I love you ‘cause the way I feel is greater
You’re a poet, son, you’re a born creator
And this’ll probably dawn on you later
It’s in your nature
Lyrics all up on your walls like they’re made of paper
You gotta follow where the talent take ya
You might f—k around and finally make it

...

I want you all to understand I come from South Philly
And when I walk the streets it’s like a pharmacy
They got all type of sh-t anybody can get
From H to X to Lucy cigarettes
For my ghetto legend, known for little shyst runnin’
Cop codine by the quarters and keep comin’ and dumbin’
Just embracing the dope like it’s a woman
You’re burning both sides of the rope and just pullin’ and tuggin’
In between Islam and straight thuggin’
Layin’ everyday around the way and doin’ nothin’
See ‘em all shakin’ their heads and start shruggin’
If they don’t got a man like mine, they gotta cousin
And yo, you better be a true friend to him
Before the sh-t put an end to him
Or give a pen to him
Or lock him in the studio with a mic
‘Cause on the real it might save his life

Not only does “Water” have some of the most poignant lyrics in the Roots catalog, it also has one of the best, most Roots-esque grooves. I could listen to this song all day...even the 7 minutes of strange, experimental instrumentation at the end.

8. "Star," The Tipping Point (2004). I was really tempted to use “Stay Cool” as the Tipping Point representative, but while that’s another 5-star song, they almost make it sound too easy. The Roots are too good at establishing this kind of “stay cool” funk groove at this point, so even though that song is fantastic, it’s like it doesn’t even count. Instead, I’ll go with the album opener, “Star.” It heavily samples a classic Sly Stone (“Everybody is a Star”) and proves once and for all that I’m a sucker for a ‘70s soul sample (see my Best of 2006 list, where J5’s “Gotta Understand” made my #2 slot with their phenonemal sampling).

Lyrically, this kicks off an album that’s almost one long stream-of-consciousness from Black Thought. The theme of most of the lyrics is just life in general, and there aren’t that many topical songs. It works for me (I’m easy to please, I guess), but I guess it got a bit monotonous for some. The Tipping Point has fewer classic songs, but there are still a couple other great ones in addition to the two mentioned above—“BOOM!”, “Why (What’s Goin’ On?)” (which was the most topical song on the album), “Duck Down!”, and, of course, the classic hidden track jam session, “Din Da Da.”

9. "The Seed / Melting Pot / Web" (live), Home Grown! The Beginner's Guide to Understanding The Roots (2005). Man oh man. This 16-minute live jam (yes, a 16-minute live hip hop jam...there’s a reason these guys are so amazing live) was featured toward the end of the really interesting and entertaining 2-disc Home Grown! album, which was basically drummer ?uestlove’s version of The Roots’ greatest hits. It was a combination of hits and the band’s favorite songs, with enough new material and remixes to make the album worth purchasing. But I’ll be honest, this song alone made it worth purchasing. This is a jam that cycles through three great Roots songs, never loses intensity, and actually disappoints you when it fades out after 16 minutes and two seconds. I said I could listen to “Water” all day...well alternate between these two songs, and I’ll damn near be in heaven. The perfect example of absolutely everything The Roots have to offer. And having R&B singer/guitarist/crazy dude Cody ChesnuTT in the mix sure doesn’t hurt.

Home Grown is also worth buying because of the lengthy liner notes in which ?uestlove goes track by track, talking about each song and telling stories, including a great one about “You Got Me” in which he talks about still feeling bad that he forgot to mention Eve in his Grammy acceptance speech.

I’m not sure any band (or in the case of ?uestlove, any one band member) does more to communicate with their fans, but I’ll get more into that later. I can tell you’re excited.

10. "Here I Come," Game Theory (2006). In a recent Myspace blog entry from Europe, ?uestlove laments the fact that they didn’t show up in a respected magazine’s “Top 50 Albums of the Year” list for basically the first time ever (granted, they did end up in the top 20 of Rolling Stone’s list). This is one of the things that has been interesting about The Roots’ career. Their sales have had peaks and valleys (“You Got Me” got them a lot of notoriety, and their albums sold pretty well until the power of no greatly successful single bumped them back a level or two (though apparently, as you’ll watch below, “The Seed” from Phrenology was hugely successful in Europe, only they didn’t find out about this from the label...they found out when they toured Europe and were experiencing damn-near Beatlemania wherever they went), but the critical success has always been there, especially with the British music magazines like Mojo and Uncut. Well at this point it almost seems like the critics are bored with talking about how great they are. They still like the albums, but they forget to mention them from time to time. A relatively interesting phenomenon. Luckily they always have their live act to fall back on, so they don’t really have to worry as much about sales and critics. Plus, Jay-Z’s in their corner now at Def Jam, so they’re in good hands.

Anyway, Game Theory is their latest release, and predictably it’s quite good. It’s not Phrenology, but it leans on a larger variety of influences than The Tipping Point did (including a Radiohead sample in one song). It’s most notable, though, for the exciting return of Malik B. to the microphone (four years after “Water”). “Here I Come” has a pretty nondescript chorus, and it’s not about anything in particular, but the beat is fantastic, and it shows the teamwork of Black Thought and Malik B. (and frequent Roots vocal contributer Dice Raw) at its very best. Songs like this are why The Roots can always afford to experiment with different sounds and influences—no matter where they go with their music, they always put out a couple of badass, pure hip hop songs on every album to tie everything together.

Game Theory is also notable for its finale, “Can’t Stop This,” an 8-minute tribute to legendary DJ J-Dilla, who died of lupus early last year.

By the way, no relatively mainstream band has done more to adopt Myspace than this band, by the way...at the moment, it is their official band homepage, and ?uestlove made a video blog entry almost every day of their recent European tour...including this fantastic one about how fanbases ebb and flow.



So that’s it. As usual, this ended up longer than I intended it to, but I figure this “Primer” format is a pretty good way to discuss a lot of bands I like and think you should like too (at least the bands who have been around long enough to put out 10 songs’ worth of varied material). Now you don’t have to go buy every single Roots album—you can just start with these 10 songs...and THEN buy every single Roots album. Honestly, while I almost always frown on Greatest Hits compilations, the best place to start for a Roots virgin really probably is the 2-disc Home Grown set. It has most of the songs mentioned above (though some of them are the remix versions), and as I said above, it contains the best 16-minute hip hop jam session you’ll ever hear.

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