Workinonit
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Two Can Win
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Don’t Cry
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Album: Donuts (2006)

J Dilla’s Donuts isn’t for everyone. It has zero commercial aspirations, and would fairly be categorized as an experimental art project. But for those of us who like to deconstruct how producers dig for and manipulate samples, Donuts abounds with creativity and originality.

Donuts is sui generis: impossible to imagine anyone else creating it, and with no apparent influences. Sure, many others have started with the same set of tools — a diverse stack of vintage vinyl (most of it rare 45s), an MPC drum machine, a turntable, and a Mac — but no one synthesized these elements quite like Dilla.

Most of the time, sample-based productions extract a few seconds of a track, loop it, and layer a beat on top of it. But Dilla can chop up a track into precise chunks, then reform it into its hipper cousin.

Let’s compare a few tracks from Donuts with the original R&B records Dilla beatmined. (Sadly, I don’t have any of the original tracks to share, but YouTube was able to provide.)

“Workinonit” may be as close to a pop song as Donuts gets. At nearly three minutes, it’s the longest track on the record. I was surprised when I tracked down its source, the obscure 10cc track “The Worst Band in the World.”

Dilla magically wove together a bunch of elements from the record, sped them up, and added the occasional Beastie Boys chant. Even the percussion sounds appear to be mostly taken from this 10cc bit of weirdness. Hearing the original after getting to know Dilla’s version is a joyous, dissociative experience.

“Two Can Win” provides the most dramatic contrast from its predecessor, The Sylvers’ stealthily complex “Only One Can Win.”

I’ve heard a rapper or two attempt to rhyme on this, but I can’t imagine interfering with the interplay between the tight harmonies of the title phrase, the Michael Jackson-esque lead vocals, and those expressive, otherwordly howls.

P.S. Any idea why Dilla decided upon the title to “Two Can Win,” even though the vocals say “only one can win?”

As far as I can hear, “Don’t Cry” restricts its sounds to a drum machine and a 45 of The Escorts’ “I Can’t Stand (To See You Cry).

As the track starts, the vocal sample is straightforward and virtually unadulterated. But at the 40 second mark, Dilla starts messing with your head: see-sawing tempo changes, sung syllables emulating percussion, only to have it all dissolve as the song’s key phrase is delivered: “I can’t stand to see you cry.”

Tragically, Dilla passed away from a rare blood disease three days after Donuts was released. It’s impossible for me to listen to it and not think about how sick he was when he recorded it, how aware he was that he wasn’t gonna make it, and the urge for him to gift as many ideas from his soul as he could in the time he had left. Imagining his process deepens my appreciation for Donuts; I wonder if I would feel differently about this LP without its backstory?

Get A Hold
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1nce Again (w/Tammy Lucas)
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Keeping It Moving
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Album: Beats, Rhymes & Life (1996)

I’ll admit Beats, Rhymes & Life isn’t A Tribe Called Quest’s best album. Of the five original LP’s they released, I’d say it ranks around fourth. So why select this one over Peoples’ Instinctive Travels & the Paths of Rhythm, The Low End Theory, or Midnight Marauders?

Like other entries in the Crate Diggin’ feature, Beats, Rhymes & Life is a slept-on LP. Though none of the tracks is among the upper echelon of the Tribe’s best tracks (e.g. “Youthful Expression” “Check The Rhime,” “Electric Relaxation”, the list goes on and on), there are a few gems on Beats, Rhymes & Life that I still enjoy hearing. Ultimately, A Tribe Called Quest’s lesser tracks are still better than most rappers’ greatest hits.

Sonically, A Tribe Called Quest went in a different direction with Beats, Rhymes & Life, opting for a more laid-back mellow groove than their previous releases. The impetus for this was the inclusion of Detroit producer J Dilla, with whom Tribe members Q-Tip and Ali Shaheed Muhammad formed a producing collective called The Ummah. The Ummah was short-lived but successful, producing hits for Busta Rhymes (“Ill Vibe,” “So Hardcore”), Whitney Houston (“Fine”) and a slew of others during the late 90s. The tracks I selected to showcase are presumably among the beats for which J Dilla was primarily responsible.

“Get A Hold” features Q-Tip bemoaning the inescapable materialism that pervades hip hop. J Dilla pairs Tip’s diatribe to an obscure sample (“The Visit” by The Cyrkle) that results in a deep, haunting track.

“1nce Again” was the first single released, powered by a genius little vibraphone sample from Gary Burton’s “I’m Your Pal.” Though I’ve moved on, I gotta mention that flipping Check The Rhime’s iconic call-and-response (“You on point, Tip?”) was borderline sacrilegious.

My favorite track on Beats, Rhymes & Life is the jangly “Keeping It Moving,” a terrific union of head-nodding groove, verbal dexterity, and social commentary. Lyrically, Q-Tip’s delivers an impassioned diatribe against the pointless mid-90s east coast/west coast hip hop rivalry. I remember the first time I heard the final minute of “Keeping It Moving,” as Tip reels off a list of his favorite hip hop acts from both coasts. Months later, 2Pac would get slaughtered, and Biggie’s murder stunned the community shortly thereafter. You can’t say no one tried to stop it.

Playa Playa
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Devil’s Pie
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One Mo’Gin
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Untitled (How Does It Feel)
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Album: Voodoo (2000)

Where did you go, D’Angelo? The gossip says you had/have a drug problem, your MySpace blog chalks it up to you being “a deliberate guy,” and the pictures are disheartening, check the before and after:

With Beck, about a decade ago

2005 mugshot

After the monumental achievement that was 2000′s Voodoo, we’ve heard next to nothing from you. I hazily remember you getting arrested a few years ago with some weed and powder, but musically it’s been pretty sparse: choruses on unmemorable hip hop throwaways, one stellar track ("Water Get No Enemy" from a 2002 Fela tribute album), and a handful of other crap that was a waste of your blessings.

I’ll stop ranting atcha, D, but I gotta admit — it feels good to vent.

Despite my bitterness, I still haven’t soured on Voodoo. Others may have dropped more hits, but there are only a handful who put out a long-player that was coherent and listenable from start to finish.

Voodoo was the apex of the short-lived Soulquarians movement, a loose collection of producers, singers, musicians, and rappers that presented hip hop and R&B in a more organic light. Some of its members included Erykah Badu, The Roots, Mos Def, Common, J Dilla, Raphael Saadiq (who co-wrote “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”), and D’Angelo.

Voodoo was recorded over four years of sessions at New York’s Electric Lady Studios. Most of the tracks evolved from sprawling jams, prioritizing emotional grooves over catchy hooks (though there were some of those, too):

From four until seven in the evening, the crew would watch the treat of the day and eat. Then they’d turn on the recorder and begin playing an album or an entire catalog by one of the Yodas—the dominant influence of ’96 was Prince, in ’97 Jimi and Rev. Al [Green], ’98 Gaye and George Clinton, ’99 James and Nigerian star Fela Kuti. They’d jam and wait to see what the groove inspired.

Rolling Stone, May 2000, article by Touré

Incredible to think how tight that band became after playing track after track from Prince, Hendrix, Marvin Gaye, and Fela. I bet there’s some great, unreleased bonus material.

Throughout the record, D’Angelo lays down track after track of vocals, providing harmonies, counter-melodies, emphasis, and background noise. The effect — especially on the opener, “Playa Playa” — evokes gospel, in spite of the odd basketball metaphor (“Steal you with my two shot”?).

“Devil’s Pie” feels more urgent than the other tracks on Voodoo, with D’Angelo railing against the materialism that’s killing hop hop. Setting the tone is DJ Premier’s airtight production, epitomized by his intricate all-scratched chorus. Premier lays down a surgical array of samples, with choice bits from various rappers and the occasional horn blast. It also features what may be my favorite lyric from the record: “Fuck the slice, we want the pie.” (Basketball metaphor: bad; pizza metaphor: good.)

“One Mo’Gin” is a great selection for 3am, when the DJ needs to chill out the party. It’s sticky, melodic, and sounds great with the atmospheric hiss that only vinyl can deliver. In case one doubts the depths of D’Angelo’s talents, he provides all vocals and instrumentation (except for Pino Palladin’s bass) on this track.

“Untitled (How Does It Feel)” was the record’s (relatively) big hit, propelled by its infamous video. A 5-star classic rooted in a laid-back beat from Questlove and a Prince-ly falsetto, the track gains in power (and D’Angelo vocal overdubs) until the final, triumphant chorus. I still find the abrupt ending unnecessarily jarring, but I’ve learned to accept it.

Speaking of Prince, it’s fair to say that Voodoo feels like the Prince record he should have released instead of the dreck he’s been giving us since 1991′s Diamonds And Pearls. Prince was able to distill the history of modern black music — Jimi, James, Reverend Al, Sly, et. al. — into music that felt reverent and futuristic at the same time; Voodoo picks up on this same vibe.

Maybe it’s for the best that D’Angelo virtually disappeared after Voodoo. It set such a high bar and it’s been so many years that unless he comes through with something entirely different, original, and bangin’, whatever he releases will be greeted with disappointment or apathy. But I’ll keep an open mind — D’Angelo’s earned at least that.