All The More Hardcore

In hope that he will see this tribute before he departs into the woods for the next several months, I am posting the latest Nick Persons album now. I apologize for interrupting my occult Italian trilogy but one must Goethe with the floweth. With the terminal defunctness of his group Fucked Butter, rap antagonist Nick Persons has had to keep busy creating his own brand of fucked hop. 2012 has so far seen the release of his primarily instrumental debut 66 Cents and more recently his return to the mic in Depart. Produced largely in bed in the wee hours of dusks and dawns, Depart captures the various altered states which occupy the mind at such times. "My House In Compton Is Off Limits" sounds like Prince on crack at 5AM after a wild house party in the 80s that Foreigner showed up to with some bad blow that gave everyone bloody nostrils. A hit to be sure. "Popular Kids" coins the proverb "we all know how to party, just clap" and makes one believe they do so much so that they will. "Yellow Drink" sounds like a stoned and tense philosophical conversation between Nick himself and Pizza the Hutt. "All the Hardcore" closes off the strange trip with the only sample Dilla was not lucky enough to pick up. All in all, Depart is an incredibly strong effort from a frighteningly deranged mind and deserves to be lauded as the truly innovative take on the hip hop idiom it is. Word up Persons.

Agony Ecstasy Discipline Harmony    

What's a boy to do?

In returning to my "great over-looked local records of 2011" theme I am realizing that, in trying to cast a far-reaching analytical gaze beyond my city's borders, I have, on two accounts now, overlooked the closest & earliest influence on my musical tastes: my older sister. While in my adolescence it was her years ahead that benefitted me greatly with an early knowledge of life-changers like the Ramones and the Cure, in recent times I've become exposed to amazing Montreal musicians she happens to know personally. Ensorcelor are one such case, as are tUnE-yArDs. The latter's 2011 release is truly a marvel. An extremely dynamic and ecletic pop record that weaves words and themes as intricately and effortlessly as it does complex rhythms and soaring melodies, W H O K I L L is a trip, to put it bluntly. It is a trip through a neighbourhood, through the minds of the people and the events that make it one like no other. It is a trip through a bleeding heart's arteries, showing us where personal indifference dead-ends and where emotion derails political meaning. I certainly have yet to and doubt I ever will hear a record that so perfectly captures the simultaneous socio-political claustrophobia and expressive freedoms that intersect haphazardly in this city. Merril steps on toes lovingly, shouts revolution unforgivingly and all to highly rhythmically complex and frenetic arrangements and lush melodies. Her current explosion onto the larger North-American "indie" scene comes as no surprise when I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that a little city like Montreal contained such a larger-than-life artistic persona this long. If you haven't heard this yet you probably already have a friend who loves it, get ready to join in the fun.

Doorstep

She Was Different

   

  Git In There!

  

Anti-Love 

Even with the recent renaissance of interest in her highly innovative musical output, Betty Davis remains one of the most underrated figures in music. Leave out the all-too-talked-about marriage to and influence on Miles Davis (we get it), being backed by some of the funkiest line-ups ever (among their ranks former Family Stone members, Herbie Hancock, Alphonse Mouzon...) and an unmistakeable image, Betty Davis should be praised for the sexual revolutionary that she was. Her in-your-face "I don't give a damn" lyrics were light years ahead of the misogynistic implications of the free love movement and waspy conservatism of second wave feminism. Betty took the female objectification being glorified in male musical circles at the time and threw it back in the mainstream's face. She showed that seduction, sexual deviation and promiscuity have implicit power and were not simply tools for gender oppression and championed other taboo sexuality like masturbation ("In The Meantime"). As for the music, it reminds us pungently of where the term funk comes from. You can practically smell these bass and guitar licks while drums and keys stay a throbbing pulse to keep your hips gyrating. Betty soars over it all with a vocal approach half-way between Sly Stone and Patti Smith. By the time of her third album, Nasty Gal, her vocals had grown into their own commanding raspy bellow of bedroom domination. Start with these two classics and see if you don't start sweating.

Two sides of Gene / left rev MCD

Gene side - Popular, commercial, smooth, "vanilla", straight, orchestral,  patriarchal, crooning.

Strangely I came to know the identity of this incredible voice through his not so sappy, yet not so subtle Jack Nitzsche arranged hit "Walk With A Winner". The overtly competitive machismo that defined this musical seduction of sugar mamas the world over, coupled with Gene's vocal bravado, won me quickly, helped by a few well-placed tubular bell parts from Jack. I quickly sought out his discography, which at first disappointed me with its over-saturation of (A. Nobody) writer credits and chart fluff as well his credit for penning forgettable Yardbirds hit "I'm A Man" ("that's spelled M-A-N"). However my further discoveries of this fascinating figure's pedigree sowed seeds for whats become a longtime appreciation for both Gene's smaltzy beginnings and his Hip-Hop championed self-reinvention...

left rev MCD side - Unhinged, political, funky, dark, stoned, fused, radical, unnerving.

This is the artist that lands himself as one of the greats to be remembered this and every month. The indescribable feeling of hearing "get it together... SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING!" in its original musical context as well as the "Jagger the Dagger" groove will never leave me, having redefined my teenage ear as profoundly as Q-Tip and the Beasties defined my adolescent one. Headless Heroes is one of those extremely unique early moments after jazz's heydey in which you truly get to see the black indivdual in total unabashed, political, social and artistic expression, all synthesized into a truly experiential album. The unmistakable textures on this record would inspire a generation of disciples to the vinyl statements of black cultural consciousness of which MCD was at the fore. Even his adoption of the Master of Ceremonies abreviation began a tradition that became central to hip-hop and rap culture. The ease with which the left rev spins something like Jesus' love, supermarkets and discovery of the americas into fever-pitched, politically charged lyrical landscapes is impressive in light of the climate of media repression around such issues. Mention must also be made of one Alphonse Mouzon who's performance at the drumkit here is unrivaled by any other. Playing with bold character and wild abandon, Mouzon's deep grooves and chopped polyrhytmic breaks shape the percussive backbone of hip-hop to the present day. I have no doubt anyone who hears this will fall head over heels for the bleeding heart radical that Eugene McDaniels became and produced his most influential work as.

GET IT TOGETHER