Today is the birthday of one of the most gifted, successful and still conflicted artists to ever walk the face of the earth: Sylvester Stewart, better known to us as Sly Stone. An iconic figure in rock, pop, soul, funk and even Hip Hop to a certain extent (being that much of his music helped to shape lots of funk that would come after it, which would subsequently influence Hip Hop), we would be remiss to not give credit where credit is due.
I mean, think about it: what if Sly Stone had never been born? What if we had not been exposed to the rowdy, soulful and psychedelic music that he created in the 60s that would lead to darker and yet just as brilliant material later on? What it there wasn’t a Sly Stone that found his way to California all those years ago and had the courage to combine the elements of so many different kinds of music, as well as to front mixed race and gender band during the height of unrest and social change in America? I personally would like to perish the thought all together. So today, March 15, while there’s still some time, let’s take time out to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY and thank you to Sly and all he did to influence, push and change music as we know it. Peep some of his greatest tracks below.
Yesterday we remembered the tragic murder of Christopher Wallace, better know to many of us 90s-era teenagers as The Notorious B.I.G. Biggie left a lyrical and musical legacy that’s still matched by few and quoted by many, and having only release two albums during his short 24 years. There are far too many classic songs by B.I.G. to include in this post alone: “Party & Bullsh*t”, “Everyday Struggle”, “The What”, “Unbelieveable”, “Warning”, “Mo Money Mo Problems”, “Kick In The Door”, the list goes on and on. And sadly, that voice was taken away from us inching closer to 20 years now. Not only that, we’ll soon be celebrating the 20th Anniversary of the release of Ready To Die, the seminal and essential debut album from Big. But one of the things I’ve always found so cool is that a song that Big was featured on sampled some very progressive, avant garde jazz from Herbie Hancock, hence the reason for this post! The 1993 song “Dolly My Baby” by Dancehall artist Supercat, featuring a young Biggie and Puffy rhyming over the track int he infancy of the Bad Boy era, samples Herbie Hancock’s “Watermelon Man” from the 1973 jazz fusion album Headhunters. And while the former is a gritty pounding early 90s Hip Hop classic kissed with just enough Reggae flavor to appeal to the two different genres, the latter is a classic funk-jazz hybrid that opened up a whole new world for Herbie Hancock after he had been part of Miles Davis’ ensemble for so long. Biggie’s verse on “Dolly My Baby” is playful, rugged and unkempt, but also would give a glimpse into the harsh yet clever and intricate lyrics that would make Ready To Die one of the signature albums of 1990s Hip Hop. Check out both songs below!
On this second to last day of Black History Month, I thought it would be appropriate to highlight an uplifting and prideful song by one of the greatest soul music artists ever who left us far too soon. Donny Hathaway, though not always as celebrated as Stevie Wonder, Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye and many of the other big names 1970s soul music, made some amazing contributions to the genre. One of his greatest accomplishments has got to be this tune. In the same vein as Mayfield’s “Move On Up” and Wonder’s “Black Man”, “Some Day We’ll All Be Free” is a composition that’s powerful and haunting. This is mainly due to the fact that there is so much emotion and candor in Hathaway’s voice from beginning to end. But what makes it even more ironic was the singer’s own struggles with depression and self doubt that would unfortunately cut his life entirely too short. Though he’s no longer with us in the physical, he left us a bevy of classic music, this being one of his most inspired and positive statements, and one that future generations can definitely use.
Few albums have come along in the last few years that have been as major, as monumental, and crossover ready yet authentic, and as melodic as 1997’s Buena Vista Social Club. This is the album that propelled some of Cuba’s most fervently experienced music artists back into the public spotlight with the help of world music impresario Ry Cooder. The album made the rounds on popular talk shows (including Oprah) back in the late 90s and gained tons of mainstream appeal, but that’s a whole other story in and of itself. One of the most iconic tracks from the album is “El Cuarto De Tula”, a tune that’s deceptively festive and upbeat, until you really sit down and read the liner notes, or just look up the meaning of the words online. Roughly translated, the chorus reads: “At Tula’s room, the candle knocked over. She remains sleeping and never put out the candle.” So while plenty of people were probably dancing around thinking this was just another Cuban song of sexuality and freedom, it’s actually a very somber tale. But then again, as with any song, it’s all in how the listener hears it and what they take from it. The voices of the singers are twinged with a weariness and an expertise that can only come from years and years of ups and downs, triumphs and disappointments. The music, again, as up tempo and amazing as it is, disguises what can be read by as real hurt and loss by some, and some tongue in cheek sexuality by others. “El Cuarto De Tula” is certainly a song that has the potential to get any party started, but also has an even greater potential to make us think about life, love, loss and community many different ways.
In 1999, Hip Hop stood on the edge of a new millennium, just the same as the rest of us: full of promise, potential, growth and uncertainty. The music had become more fragmented and sub-cultured than it had been in recent memory, with mainstream coming to the end of an amazing run in the 90s, and underground Hip Hop gaining more and more steam as we headed towards the turn of the century. One of the record labels that stood at the forefront of the underground, backpacker movement was Rawkus Records, and one of its greatest and most charismatic artists was Pharoahe Monch. And on the ultimate underground Hip Hop compilation album from 1999, Soundbombing II, Pharoahe dropped a single that to this day is truly unforgettable with “Mayor”. One thing to understand is the climate of New York city at the time. Before he gained the pristine, patriotic image of “America’s Mayor”, Rudy Guiliani was arguably one of the most hated and polarizing figures in New York politics, mainly due to policies that he passed that pretty much waged war on poor people and people of color. And Hip Hop took notice, with lines from Nas like “Guiliani is the 6-6-6…”. Pharoahe’s fictional account of a man racked with desperation and nothing to lose killing the leader of a major city may not name Guiliani specifically, but one can look closely enough at the times and decipher that the mayor was at least somewhat of an inspiration behind this tune. At only two verses, Pharoahe vividly paints a harrowing tale of a man that knows what he’s about to do will ultimately lead to his own demise, but doesn’t give a crap, as evidence by the final bar: “A dead man walking, destination: Devil’s lair/ F*** it if I’m gonna die, at least I shot the Mayor.”
It’s interesting to see that N.W.A., the Hip Hop group once deemed to offensive, macho and negative to be considered part of mainstream culture, has now been nominated for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, along with the legendary LL Cool J. Time was, it seemed as if Hip Hop itself was being excluded from the RRHOF all together. But considering all of the musical folklore and heroism that surrounds N.W.A. these days, still one of the only acts ever to be publicly condemned by the F.B.I., it actually stands to reason. Just the same way rock icons like the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan, who were also at one time considered too naughty and risque for the public during their respective hey days, it’s the same for N.W.A. The rebels of the past eventually always become the iconic pioneers of the present and future. That’s just how it works in music. Anyone reading this that’s too young to remember N.W.A. or may not be familiar with them in the least, here’s a video that will get a history lesson started for you.
I must apologize to begin with…this is the first post I’ve made in a LOOOOOOOOONG time due to lots of extenuating circumstances, and for that, I am truly sorry. However, I’m picking myself back up and trying to get back on the horse once again, so to the followers of this blog: THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT!
Earlier this year I posted an article on the Website SoSoActive.com about the 40th Anniversary of the landmark album Catch A Fire by The Wailers (some say Bob Marley and the Wailers, but in keeping with accuracy, this of course was the name they were known by before Peter Tosh and Bunny Livingston left the group for good.) Well, October marks the 40th Anniversary of the group’s classic follow-up album, Burnin’. And though Catch A Fire is steeped in glorious music nerd/Rock Doc glory with stories of how Chris Blackwell gave the Wailers’ the money to record the first album and could hear that every single penny had gone into creating a bona-fide masterpiece that stands the test of time, it was Burnin’ that helped put Bob, Peter, Bunny and the band on the road to musical super stardom, especially Bob himself.
Many of the songs found on Burnin’ are reworks of older Wailers tunes, some from their days with Lee “Scratch” Perry, including “Small Axe” and “Duppy Conqueror”. The sound that can be found on Burnin’ follows in the direct footsteps of Catch A Fire, though in a few places, much more desperate and militant that its predecessor, especially at the very beginning of the album. Where CAF starts of with the equally smooth and rough “Concrete Jungle”, Burnin‘ intentionally begins with the more pronounced, unforgiving and uncompromising classic, “Get Up Stand Up”. The song is a classic call-to-arms to the oppressed throughout the world to fight for their very right to live, and has become arguably the most recognizable song in the Bob Marley/Wailers catalog. Comprised of funk, rhythmic and potent words of anger and an overall message of breaking the chains, both physical and figurative, “classic” doesn’t to the song justice.
One of the most curious differences between Burnin’ and Catch A Fire is that we hear the voices on lead vocals of Bob, Bunny and Peter throughout. Peter can be heard taking the lead on “One Foundation”, while Bunny’s high-pitched wail can be found on “Hallelujah Time” and “Pass It On”. Bob, of course, gets the majority of the lead vocals on the rest of the album per Chris Blackwell’s successful attempt to make him the center of the group, much to the behest of Peter and sometimes Bunny, according to legend. And of course, the album included a number of additional notable songs, including (as previously mentioned) a masterful reworking of “Small Axe”, a traditional Rastafari chant to end the album, and another song that has become synonymous with the legend of Bob Marley, “I Shot The Sheriff”.
Soon, both Peter and Bunny, frustrated with the direction of the band, would leave to pursue their own solo careers and become Reggae legends in their own right. Their backing vocals would be replaced on the next album, Natty Dread, by Marcia Griffiths, Judy Mowatt and Bob’s wife Rita Marley, collectively known as the I-Threes. And though the original line up of The Wailers was no more, the focus shifted immediately to Bob, and soon his legend would be cemented. However, it would not have been possible without the timeless creation known as Burnin’.