Don't Believe A Thing About The New Jack Swing

So there I am strolling through the soul aisle of Amoeba Music on Sunset Boulevard and what band name catches my eye … Yup you guessed it … The one and only New Edition … I had to stop … I just had to and sure enough within a few seconds I found myself staring at what could quite possibly be the best CD ever compiled … The Best Of New Edition … Now before you call me out on this stop and listen … This CD isn’t just a collection of the band’s best tunes like Candy Girl, Mr Telephone Man and I Can’t Stand The Rain which quite frankly would be fairly orgasmic in itself … It’s got all the solo hits on it too … Bobby Brown’s On Our Own from Ghostbusters II, Ralph Tresvant’s Sensitivity which is just so massive it really deserves its own post on A Story To Tell, Bell Biv Devoe’s Poison and Johnny Gill’s Rub You The Right Way to name but a few … Seriously this is the best $5.99 you could ever spend so do yourself a favor and get down to Amoeba as soon as possible … Sorry for the pun but My, My, My …#

My Lovin Is Digi

The word genius can be bandied about with careless abandon in the musical world and, in the rap game, where hyperbole is often the language of success, it is easy for the term to become debased. There are a few true masters of their art, however, and in my mind one of the figures who really deserves to be heralded as a cut above is none other than the Rza-razor-Rza-razor-sharp Mr Robert Diggs, aka RZA, Prince Rakeem, the RZArector, Bobby Steels, the Abbott, Bobby Digital, and probably a whole host of other monikers swirling around his deranged mind.

His rhyming style might not be to everyone's taste, nor indeed his production, but surely even the must curmudgeonly of heads would give credit where credit is due to his supreme mastery of the studio sound board. Indeed, talking of credits, have a look at the guy's discography and credit list, and you will be amazed at the sheer volume of the output, a prodigal work rate. Look closer, however, and you will find very few duds amongst them. The beats-for-hire approach of many of his contemporaries does not really apply to the RZA and when he applies himself to a project you seem to get the whole dedication of his talents. Reel off the Wu albums and affiliated solo projects (has there been a richer vein of form than that which produced Enter the Wu-tang, through Gravediggaz' Six Feet Deep, Tical, Cuban Lynx, Return to the 36 Chambers, Liquid Swordz, I could go on!), the soundtracks (Ghost Dog especially is an unheralded gem), the man's own solo output, and it all adds up to a canon of work that is quite simply stunning in its size, quality, and unceasing innovation. If further proof is needed, go and dig out 2000's Bobby Digital in Stereo album again. You know the one you shelved as you just didn't really feel it at the time. Listen again. Then again. Then a few more times. Then tell me it's not incredible.

Just A Little Bit

There are those magical times when a song that you know that you have heard and loved before comes booming out of a P.A and an evening of fun becomes one of pure joy. Maybe you remembered it from a past life, maybe just in some long ago mish mash of an evening out, or even a dusty old mix-tape that the girl who got away made for you back when life was so much simpler. Whatever the case, your unconscious is screaming out to you that this tune is ringing a melodious bell in your grey cells, and as the smoother than brushed velvet intro segues into the first verse you begin to realise what is going down. You're already nodding your head of course, and beginning to pull that scrunched up face depicting some serious trainspotter mathematics going on behind the visage, that face that says, this tune is good ... Hang on, I think I know this tune ... Wait this is that tune again ... Jesus I've got to discover who it is this time ... Who knows when I'll hear it again!!

By now you're doing the greasy shoe shuffle, and are, as some might say, lost in music, let alone caught in a trap, feeling the groove like a raw stylus. The chorus comes in, you're now officially what doctors might term "in raptures" as you eye the DJ hungrily, for his is the knowledge you seek to attain. As you get closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch, it hits you. Blam! It's Slave's "Just a Touch of Love". Of course it is. How could it not be, with the relentless "just a little bit" refrain, and the marvel that is Floyd Miller's vocal. You spin around, the scrunched face relaxes, and the beat goes on.

Maniac

As a keen collector of music and pseudo CD jockey, I am occasionally called upon to provide musical entertainment for parties and increasingly weddings. Don't ask me why as I am certainly no Sven Vath, but I seem to have developed a knack for getting the party started right and quickly. Give the people what they want is my motto. After all, who really wants to hear a nine minute Tall Paul remix of some repetitive bleep fest, when you can get down to the incredible Maniac by 80s pop rock maestro Michael Sembello. Don't try to tell me that this little number, taken from the massive selling 1983 Flashdance soundtrack, isn't an absolute classic. I know it is, and further proof was provided when I dropped it on Saturday night sending the good time crowd into, well, maniacs. If you are still doubtful, dig it out, pull on your tube socks, get the lycra on and pump up the volume, and you'll be reminded of how good this dancefloor filler is. Or is that just me with the lycra?

Shake, Shake, Shake. Shake your Boutique

I was musing, the other day, on my favourite lines in rap tunes. Not as easy as it sounds without aural stimulation to get the grey matter working (you try thinking of some lines off the top of your head and see how you get on, or maybe it is just me with shocking short term memory). However, one which immediately sprang to mind comes from Car Thief on the Beastie Boys' seminal 1989 LP Paul's Boutique - "I'm a writer, a poet, a genius, I know it. I don't buy Cheeba...I grow it!" Not a cutting metaphor, not a cleverly worded threat, not a diss or a witty sex-rhyme, but clean, simple, perfectly weighted and delivered in the slightly nasal whine that only the Beasties can make appealing.

Swift memory retention of the line was no real surprise as Paul's Boutique is one of those albums that you never really get tired of hearing and as such is never far from top of the playlist. And it is no surprise when you consider (a) how groundbreaking the album is, particularly surprising following the fresh but one-dimensional Licensed to Ill that precedes it in the Beastie canon, and (b) just how many samples are stuffed in there and covered with varied and relentlessly fresh vocals to create an epic soundtrack to the best party you've never been invited to.

As we all know the Dust Brothers' production on the album changed the landscape of hip-hop in many ways, breaking ground in the use of multi-layered samples as a musical art-form in itself. The sample-heavy approach, diversity of selection and frenetic pace could well have been a jumbled mess, but instead it is nigh on perfection. As Chuck D remarked at the time, it was the dirty secret among the black hip-hop community that the album had the best beats around at that time. So why not dig into your own crates again for a slice of beat mastery that opens a window to an eclectically wonderful musical world. And while you're there, try to count the 14 sampled tunes on Hey Ladies. Impossible.

Can I Be Frank With You?

The answer to the above question on this occasion is not "okay if I can still be Garth", but rather the suggested new style of parental advisory note that might best be stamped on the recorded output of London's own Amy Winehouse. Calling her 2003 debut Frank was a strong hint at the likely confessional subject matter for this ballsy singer and songwriter, but still the tale of broken heart dismay and soul-searching proved remarkably raw and punchy, albeit with an eye for the quick wit that often marks these shore's true greats out from their transatlantic cousins.

The debut is loved by many, but was partially lost also in Winehouse's search for her true voice and style, as well as release in the middle of the road jazz glut that gave us Katie Melua, Norah Jones and Jamie Cullum amongst others. Not great company you'll agree. But Winehouse surely is now emerging as one of our greatest musical treasures, testified by her late 2006 offering Back to Black, as pure a slice of soulful pop as you will hear in this or any year.

Ignore firstly the superstar production of beat man du jour Mark Ronson and Salaam Remi, although this truly is worthy of attention also with not one wasted note of retro fur-lined harmony throughout. Forget even the plush 60s soul styling and the wonder of the voice of a UK-born twenty-something coming out like the bastard love child of Martha Reeves and Motown-era Marvin, with the conception arranged by Phil Spector, remarkable as it is. No, what makes this offering worthy of celebration is the fact that it proves there is a place in popular music for British soul music of real class. Rightly heralded as an instant classic in the British soul canon, to me this album deserves all the praise it garners and more. It is not easy to make a retrostyled album that still sounds fresh and innovative and relevant to the hip-hop age, timeless yet of it's moment in time. It is not easy to have a massive selling crossover hit record that still deserves real critical acclaim. It is not easy to sing like you are in Muscle Shoals in 1967, when you are in fact in Camden Town, and pull it off so naturally. So stand up UK and celebrate a true talent. Like the lady herself I prefer a smoke of my homegrown.

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday Part II

First of all Happy New Year to everyone and thanks for your support for Twelve Bar and A Story To Tell over the past year. The 07 is going to be a big one so please keep supporting us and watch the sound!

Secondly remember what I was saying a few days ago about sometimes it’s not that hard to say goodbye to yesterday. Well here are some pictures of New Year’s Day in Los Angeles which pretty much speak for themselves.

















This is where Chapter One starts.