Published on Dec 16, 2005
I’m curious as to whether or not the Beastie Boys of
today would condemn the type of album the Beastie Boys of 1986
made. Yes, the Beastie Boys have been politically active, women
rights-respecting, Dali Lama-befriending folks for almost a decade,
but they still showed some of their prankster edge on To The
Five Buroughs. Still, it’s doubtful that we’ll ever hear the
Beastie Boys ever put in a line like “I did it like this/I did it
like that/I did it with a wiffle ball bat” on any of their newer
releases.
No matter how much awareness the Boys raise to
horrific conditions in Burma, they can never erase the sloppy-drunk
legacy that was Licensed To Ill. Their major label debut
proved a rap album could be a monster hit (even though their
biggest hits, “Fight For Your Right to Party” and “No Sleep Till
Brooklyn,” were more heavy metal than rap). For many who came of
age in the ’80s, Licensed To Ill was their introduction to
rap (and who better to be the spokesperson of the emerging genre of
rap than a trio of white, middle-class, Jewish New Yorkers?).
You can graph the Beastie Boys’ maturation by
classifying their first three albums by the drugs most likely taken
to inspire their inception. Check Your Head was the Beastie
Boys’ “pot” album. And if Paul’s Boutique was recorded in an
acid haze, then Licensed To Ill was most likely recorded
under the influence of Schlitz, Spanish Fly and any other alcohol
you could buy with the change in your pocket. Drunken disregard is
the only explanation of kicking your album off with “Rhymin &
Stealin.” The album kicks off with one of the most sacred drumlines
in rock (Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks”) and a record
scratch pulls you into a beer-stench alleyway where Mike Diamond,
Adam Horovitz and Adam Yauch beat you down with repetitive
nonsensical lines like “Ali Baba and the forty thieves.”
Even though Licensed To Ill was a defining
album of the ’80s, its broad humor would have seemed in the
underground circuit of the 1950s. Take the Big Bopper “doo-wop”
harmony of “Girls,” the greaser storytelling of “Paul Revere” and
the baby-voiced whine of “She’s Crafty” and you’ve got an album
that would have most likely been in heavy rotation on Lenny Bruce’s
turntable. Still, the 1950s probably weren’t ready for all of what
Licensed To Ill offered, namely Slayer’s Kerry King’s
contribution to “No Sleep Till Brooklyn.”
It took Johnny Cash’s recording sessions to finally
bring many music critics to respect the production genius of Rick
Rubin. He made Licensed To Ill sound like a basement kegger
— complete with Mr. Ed samples and the aforementioned pillaging of
Led Zeppelin riffs. Rubin was able to keep things light, such as
the cowbell-heavy “She’s Crafty” and slow things to a molasses
crawl like “Slow Ride” and “Slow and Low” and make it all seem
totally cohesive.
Licensed To Ill helped introduce millions to
Run DMC, LL Cool J and Public Enemy. The album even created a bit
of an overexposure backlash for the band, which resulted in the
fairly cool reception that first greeted Paul’s Boutique. No
matter. The Beastie Boys survived the backlash that came with
having the very first rap album to top the charts. While the album
did little to convince people that rap was more than a fad, it did
help bring a genre that was generally still very much in the
underground to the forefront of mainstream culture.