Published on Jun 12, 2003
As my mind becomes tired of the same old poses on the small
screen, the same four chords on an album, and that
verse-chorus-verse tedium, I reach for something as far-removed
from the dimension as possible. I had a friendly row with a friend
the other day when he and I were weighing the sustained but dubious
validity of genres of music after they’ve been done, in the exact
same way, for decades. I cited the blues as an example, saying
that, as the Latin language has been declared
morté, isn’t it time we all stopped listening to
artists like Kenny Wayne Shepherd, who looks ready to cut heads
with Ralph Macchio in
Crossroads 2, but hasn’t had a single innovative concept in
his short career? It’s awfully rich how white folks will have
extensive blues collections in their houses. They haven’t a speck
of culture anywhere else, but over by the turntable. There John Lee
Hooker rules the roost, with stack after stack of forgotten
classics.
Yes, I agree that it
was a great form of music — just like the dinosaurs, JFK,
and Vanilla Ice’s career were once similarly interesting things.
Now you’ve got cartoons to remind you that it would have not been a
good idea to throw rocks at a tyrannosaurus rex,
Profiles in Courage by the late president, and that movie
Ice did where he’s some kind of renegade snowboarder. What I’m
trying to say is, their time has come and gone. All things, good or
bad, eventually must end, and the blues passed away a long, long
time ago. Rock is next. Before long (I hope).
Meanwhile, hip-hop music is just building steam. Again, I’m not
referring to commercial (c)rap music. I’m talking about hip-hop —
another species altogether. Boom Bip has not only been (too) aware
of this, but he’s one of the reasons the format is making
everything else around it seem incredibly boring.
Boom Bip is a producer and sound collage scientist
extraordinaire. He’s able to produce a seamless music. Even though
it’s made up, generally, of dozens of strands and fibers of “found
sounds,” it becomes its own entity when he’s done with it.
Insects appear to strike a buzzing execution lamp on “Third
Stream,” and a subdued telephone conversation unfolds as you
eavesdrop, hoping they won’t notice. “U R Here” is my favorite
track overall, with Robotron drums tying up the ending. “The
Unthinkable”
diiieeesss like the batteries in a six-story automaton. Buck
65, one of my favorite emcees, provides the impeccable raps on that
song. There’s also mic control coming via Nacky Koma and Dose One
(who seems to work with our friend regularly), but for the most
part, the album is Boom Bip unaccompanied.
Seed To Sun is a clever, but subtle and understated album,
and it’s one that will stand the test of time, still sounding good
when hip-hop has gone the way of polka.