Funki Porcini Fast Asleep

If Hed Phone Sex was the physical act itself, Fast Asleep is the moment of cuddling afterward, just before drifting off into hope-this-isn’t-a-mistake land-every bit as pleasurable, but not quite as bone-shakingly intense. Which isn’t a bad thing. Far from it, in fact, Funki Porcini’s latest release presents the best that the late, great, sorely lamented genre known as trip-hop has to offer, and it’s a dreamy, somnambulistic lullaby of rumpled sheets, remote controls and internal serenity fountains. Porcini’s usual grab-bag of tricks, which he winkingly unveils like a jeweler’s bag of gems, includes some glittery new additions-layers of church bells, a B3 sample worthy of Jimmy Smith, and a frighteningly gender-neutral weather forecast, as well as the indisputably breathtaking single “The Great Drive-By.”

MC Paul Barman Paullelujah!

Now that Eminem’s PR epic has cast him in the role of cuddly lunch-truck defender of gays and women, it’s time we nominate another smart-ass white boy to serve as the nation’s aural id. My vote-MC Paul Barman. Sure, rapping about agitprop and Liz Hurley isn’t nearly as titillating as trailer parks and baby-mama drama, but if we’re going to see (mark my words) white rappers popping up like Wal-Marts in factory towns, we may as well treat ourselves to the absolute best. Nothing’s safe from Barman’s stealthy wordplay (activists’ dress codes, contemporary teaching methods, NAFTA, celebrity sex, the vagina). Rife with indie-cred (a Matador 12″, a cameo on the Deltron 3030 album, a tour with Blackalicious and production assists by Prince Paul), Barman is poised as the bratty savior of a new era. Paullelujah!

Various Artists Mickey Finn: The Takeover Bid II

Londoner and Urban Takeover maven Mickey Finn flings us warped samples at hyperspeed on his latest drum & bass mix of frenetic wildlife at night. Special K and Darren Jay sport chirpy vocals on “In and Out,” Influx Datum feed on soul snippets during “Back For More,” and Basic Unit ‘verbs and squonks away on “Dub Principles.” Revved-up cheesy news intros spark Finn and L Double’s “When the Morning Comes (Peshay Remix),” spiffily complementing the mirthful tinkling of DJ Marky and XRS featuring Stamina MC’s “LK (Carolina Carol Bela).” Drunken Masters’ “Deep in the Underground (DJ Hazard Remix)” wields grumbly synths and flying-saucer settings before Danny C delivers a language lesson with “The Mexican.” And just when you thought it couldn’t get more peppy, nearly untrackable BPMs fuel Roni Size’s remix of JB and DJ Spice featuring Dark Angel’s “Me, Myself and I.” Whew-where’s the “Takeover towel” merch?

Beans Tomorrow Right Now

I approached this album with skepticism. How could this, the first release after the sudden break-up of New York experimental hip-hop trio Anti-Pop Consortium by the group’s more wordy, abstruse and mohawk-sporting member Beans match his former group’s mix of complex wordplay and minimalist electronic hip-hop beats? But Beans has recently been spending lots of time in the downtown New York avant-jazz scene, exploring broader territories, and performing at improvisational music venues like Tonic with such adventurous composers as Arto Lindsay. Still, with a title like Tomorrow Right Now, I suspected some kind of overly intellectual, DJ Spooky-style, hip-hop-to-experimental tomfoolery, the kind made for cross-legged head-nodders in art gallery lofts rather than the subterranean hip-hop arm-wavers of Anti-Pop’s dynamic realm.

But that’s not the case at all on Tomorrow Right Now. Rather, Beans-an unconventional rapper anyway-forges a widely varying sonic space that encompasses the avant-garde of both downtown New York and APC’s underground hip-hop-electronica, while also aligning himself with both electroclash and blacktronic trends via explorations into ’80s textures, technologies and tones. It’s the sound of Suicide and Bill Laswell reined in by Grandmaster Flash and Afrika Bambaataa. He holds all the music together through his ultra-abstract mic bravado, which has already found greater range since APC. Beans is now in control of his delightfully confusing cacophony of prose and unwieldy machine clatter.

New York’s downtown avant-garde jazz influence is most evident on Tomorrow‘s vocal-less tunes, compelling instrumentals that are replete with layers of freaky electronic noise. “Sickle Cell Hysteria” intertwines robotic clamor with erratic, Zorn-like drums, while “Rose Perriwinkle Plum” rocks a Roland 808’s flat drums and fluttery sine waves, both resulting in an upbeat chaos. Another instrumental, the dubby, spacey “Xon,” is a welcome respite from the intense noise, and bears resemblances to DJ Spooky or Berlin’s Rhythm & Sound. Beyond hip-hop and more “out” than leftfield dance music, this is more like free-tronica, a spontaneous pallet of frenetic, digital sounds.

Equally abstract but at least grounded in some recognizable past are Bean’s excursions into ’80s electro minimalism. “Phreek the Beet,” Tomorrow‘s most distinctive and memorable track, not only employs an emphatic and absurd female chorus, but Beans himself drops into a falsetto rap, a technique that nicely complements his already androgynous style: “Uh-oh, its the new wave vandal, we tell you to throw hopes on testicles, sing soprano.”Hot Venom” rocks a similarly tongue-in-cheek female hook, aided by spurting synth ambience, the same eerie resonance carrying “Walking by Night,” the same ooze that lurks in old sci-fi films and early electronic music. It’s these intentionally retrograde moments that ensure his underground status-a lo-fi minimalism that slides by through daring beat arrangements and off-kilter syncopation. Beans is a Lou Barlow or Beck for the geek-rap set, homemade recordings and all.

Even so, Tomorrow also becomes an unspoken tribute to early black electronic pioneers like Zapp and Cameo. If his endearing nerdiness prevents conceptual pretension, it’s his more straightforward hip-hop that, unlike nostalgia or concepts, simply bounces and grinds, daring originality still intact. On both “Raping Silence” and “Slow Broken,” he loses his wordy flow for a more confident, urgent, and visceral delivery that’s more like a yell, making lines like “Raping silence, my ego flies with eagles” simply incendiary. “Slow Broken” somehow balances a furious, bass-heavy beat with theremin-like washes, while Beans’s commanding vocals intone “symphonic tectonic plate, move crowd post-erotic.” Likewise, “Mearle” fiercely rumbles with grinding bass and clickety-clack hi-hats, while Beans alternates between an urgent yell and an intimate narration, giving his lyrics a cinematic presence, like Darth Vader’s disembodied voiceovers in Star Wars.

Certainly Tomorrow Right Now is all over the place-yesterday, tomorrow and more beyond a little right now. But Beans wants to separate himself both from all those other MCs that aren’t listened to, and from those sample-heavy producers who are. He succeeds, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse. More importantly, he holds his own, shining like he wasn’t quite able to do with Anti-Pop Consortium, exhibiting his range as a musician, singer and abstract thinker.

Various Artists The Biggest Ragga Dancehall Anthems 2002: Belly Skin

Despite its cumbersome title, Greensleeves’ annual dancehall collection delivers what it promises, with 40-count ’em-proven club favorites on two CDs. The majority of the selections are deejay-oriented, with the likes of Shabba Ranks, Lexxus, Capleton, Red Rat, Sizzla and Bounty Killer running the riddims raw. You won’t find any straight-up lovers-rock tracks here-too fassy for this one, seen? There are, however, several noteworthy singer/deejay combinations, like Jarvis Church and Elephant Man’s humorous “Run for Your Life” (which addresses the topic of celebrity stalking) and CeCile and Tanya Stephens’s warning to bass-and-treble Jezebels, “Buss Back Skettle.” Maximum respect to Elephant Man, who makes eight appearances and comes wicked every time. Meanwhile, Belly Skin is strictly for the selectors. Twenty different artists tackle the same G String-produced backing track (which also shows up a couple of times on the Anthems disc). The riddim’s insistent one-drop thump sounds great at first, but it’s too repetitive for home listening. Still, in a club equipped with massive bass cabinets, cold Guinness on tap, and herb smoke wafting through the air, tracks like Shaka Pow’s “Youths Hungry,” Wickerman’s “Stamp It,” CeCile’s “Cash & Carry” and Lady G’s “Nah Play Second” can make for an earth-shaking experience.

Various Artists Hi-Fidelity Dub Sessions 4

True, everybody and their Jamaican great-aunt has a dub album nowadays. But no matter how fiery your blood, you can’t front on Guidance’s ability to select cuts that progress more like an expert DJ set than just a bunch of licensed tracks. Hi-Fi Dub 4 starts out on a high note, with the Reggae Disco Rockers’ instant classic, “Baby.” The tune features Horace Andy pleading for his love to return his affection lest he “bring his guns to town.” Nicked from ESL’s DC dub laboratory, See-I’s “Why Not Tonight” also trods on recognizable, if not ubiquitous, terrain, with a nod to the dub-heavy roots vibe of late-’70s Gregory Isaacs/Roots Radics. Even on futuristic, avant-dub plates like the Groove Corp. remix of Daddy Ous’s “Hard Like A Rock” and the Groove Armada’s house-ish “Superstylin’,” the rhythmic simplicity that’s as essential to dub’s foundation as space-or, for that matter, bass-remains intact. “Essential” might be too strong of a word these dubbed-out days, but until Jim Nabors in Dub drops or Armageddon comes, it’ll just have to do.

Various Artists Tony Touch: Last Or The Pro-Ricans

First of all, let it be known that Tony Toca, a.k.a. Tony Touch, the Taino mixtape king, is down by law. Even when he had an artist deal on now-defunct Tommy Boy, he kept it real on the streets, circulating his mixes like oxygen throughout the Five Boroughs. Secondly, Touch has actual rhyming skills, distinguishing him from the legion of mix tape-mongers who bark out the same tired phrases (DJ ________ is on the mix! “Holla!”) way too often. But though Touch can hold his own, on the microphone, with the likes of Noreaga and the Beatnuts, Last of the Pro-Ricans is far from a classic effort. The song selection is tragically limited, with lots of thuggy, heavy-on-the-fronting East Coast rap that all starts to ooze together after a while. For what it’s worth, Touch and fellow Boriqua DJ icon Doo Wop pull off their star turns as the Diaz Brothers on “G’z Up,” but other than that and a new Gangstarr joint, there’s not much to recommend here. The first five times it maybe sounds OK, but it soon becomes an annoying one-trick pony, Tony.

Gareth Oxby Timewarp

Ooooh. A thumping couple of numbers here from half of the UK’s rollicking Tribalation. The simple and irresistible formula: start by fusing tough, organic percussion with understated synth and bass tones. Slide in dub-evoking vocal sample (title cut) or outlandish laser effects (the flip’s “Vacuum Dub”) and stand back as the floor sweats.

Metamatics Rewiredinmymanor

The first in a three part series of remix projects for Lee Norris, who-as an advocate of eschewing normal industry routes-puts his money where his mouth is and lets unknown artists remix his work. Meeting these artists through the internet, Lee sent them elements of his unreleased track “Pod,” and they have supplied their versions. The new talents, including Bauri, Verbose, Yasume and Sleepy Town Manufacture, have all stayed pretty faithful to Lee’s unmistakably warm, Detroitian sounds and melodically experimental electronica. Lee is an often unacknowledged master of mood, and here he has found some new disciples who have done him proud.

Shifted Phases The Cosmic Memoirs of the Late Great Rupert J. Rosinthrope

Another mysterious pseudonym for the Drexiciyans and another album of exactly what you’d expect from them. Don’t get me wrong, that isn’t a diss-after all, you’d hardly expect them to start experimenting with “nu-jazz.” But they do deliver their unerring brand of militant machine funk with an unswerving dedication to their causes of electro and techno. For the most part, this is gritty, dancefloor-aimed Detroit business. But in a couple of places (specifically “Lonely Journey Of The Comet Bopp” and “Flux”) their more reflective deep-space side sneaks through, providing welcome relief from the onslaught, and for my money, the album’s best moments.

Page 3773 of 3781
1 3,771 3,772 3,773 3,774 3,775 3,781