This week: A DJ retrospective, some Hotlantan funk, and Willie's blues
Various Artists
Xen Cuts: Ninja Tune 1990-2000 (Ninja Tune)
British DJ/producers Jonathan More and Matt Black weren't on hand to carve when pop first sat down to start eating itself, but they have since been among the most assiduous and inspired servers. They helped change the tastes of a generation with their freestyle, beat-crazy, sample-delic cut-ups under the Coldcut banner in the late '80s, and later started the Ninja Tune label to promote likeminded Ginsu masters. Xen Cuts celebrates NT's 10th anniversary with a three-disc, three-course serving of the house B-boy bouillabaisse.
The first disc features previously released tunes concocted around the Ninja posse's staple ingredient, hip-hop. But Ninjas such as Mr. Scruff and Kid Koala add so many odd flavors to the mix (check out Koala's Sino/ghetto breakdown "Emperor's Main Course") that the old-school masters they revere would probably recognize nothing but the beats. The second disc soothes the palate with past treats from the chill-well side of the label's aesthetic, as Clifford Gilberto, Amon Tobin, and Funki Porcini blend Brazilian and Latin musics with jazz and hi-fi-era influences til smooth. The third disc provides the piece de resistance for dedicated Ninja consumers as the producers scoured the label's pantry for all manner of rare, unreleased, remixed, and live tracks.
Neither a definitive megamix nor a comprehensive history, Xen Cuts is probably a bad vantage for a long view on the label's oeuvre and overall significance. What it does serve up is a generous smorgasbord of NT's trademark beats and pieces, infused with its inimitable wit, flair, and funk. Tasty and filling.
—Lee Gardner
Outkast
Stankonia (Arista)
"I stink I can, I stink I can. The funky engine that could. Yowski wowski peaceski weeski, all aboard the Stankonia Express. The underground smellroad. Everybody's lookin' for an excuse to let loose. What's your locomotive?"
Oh yeah. It's been a good long while since I heard anything as flat-out fun and funky as Stankonia, the fourth album from Atlanta hip-hop duo Outkast. From Dr. Dre on, dozens of MCs and producers have raided the bootsylicious musical vaults of George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic. But Stankonia is the first album in ages to channel the spirit of P-funk as well as its burbling synths and popping basslines.
Starting with the intro, a vocoder speak-n-spell followed by some dripping coital moans, rappers Big Boi and André 3000 offer an updated mix of the same things that powered Clinton's original Mothership: lubed-up sexuality, spaced-out lyricism, pointed politics, and musical settings that range from butt-shaking bounce to psychedelic soul. "Gasoline Dreams" opens with a burst of angry guitar and a personalized assault on the drug war ("My cousin Ricky Walker got 10 years doing Fed time/ On a first offense drug bust") and charges into a chorus of "Burn, muthaf—-a, burn American dream." The title of the first single, "B.O.B." is an acronym for "Bombs Over Baghdad." I'm not exactly sure, but it sounds like American foreign policy as a metaphor for impotence (or vice-versa): "Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang/ Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something." In any case, the song's frenzied rhyming, machine-gun drum machine and Miami Vice synth runs make it a bona fide dancefloor freak-out.
Then there's the soul-drenched, catchy-as-hell "Ms. Jackson," with its "Here Comes the Bride" piano line. And the Erykah Badu-assisted "Humble Mumble." And, maybe to balance out the helplessly funny "We Luv Deez Hoez," there's "Toilet Tisha." Can you think of another song that puts you in the empathetic perspective of a pregnant 14-year-old girl sitting on the toilet, trying to perform an abortion? Me either. Stankonia, no offense intended, is the shit.
—Jesse Fox Mayshark
Willie Nelson
Milk Cow Blues (Island)
When you stop and think about it, blues and country music aren't really that different. Both take their roots from folk music and over the years have influenced each other. Hank Williams said that he learned how to play guitar from a black blues guitarist in Alabama. B.B. King said that he never missed the Grand Ole Opry growing up.
Willie Nelson's newest CD, Milk Cow Blues, is proof of that connection. The CD features Nelson singing blues classics along with legends Dr. John and B.B. King and up-and-coming blues artists like Kenny Wayne Shepherd and Susan Tedeschi.
Nelson also has thrown some of his own compositions like "Rainy Day Blues" and "Crazy" into the mix. The duet of Nelson and Tedeschi on "Crazy" is one of Nelson's best pairings in years. The slow blues piano and soft drums accentuate the sadness of the song. Nelson's trademark awkward phrasing and Tedeschi's sexy, bluesy voice work brilliantly together and you can almost see the two styles merging.
Nelson's version of "Texas Flood", which features Shepherd on guitar, is by far the best song on the disc. Nelson's voice and Shepherd's solos keep the song moving despite its almost nine-minute length. Shepherd's guitar sounds like the ghost of Stevie Ray Vaughn is playing lead on the track. And Nelson's vocals ring out in a desperate cry for his baby.
Nelson definitely knows what the blues are. A guy who has been through all he has—multiple divorces, possession charges, and the IRS knocking on his door—should. Back in 1978 with the album Stardust, Nelson took old standards like "All of Me" and made a timeless, classic album. With his newest disc he once again breaks down musical genres and just plays great music.
—Brad Ridenour
November 9, 2000 * Vol. 10, No. 45
© 2000 Metro Pulse
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