In My Changer, 12/11/03

A good trio (well, trio plus a fraction) now holds it down in my changer, and I'll have to break it up soon to accommodate the music of the holiday season, so I wanted to memorialize it in prose:

The Notorious B.I.G.

Ready to Die

Bad Boy/Arista

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and

"One More Chance" (maxi-single)

Bad Boy/Arista

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It's always a thrill to pick up an album that spawned four or five hot singles and hear yet another track that could have been a hit had not chance stood in its way. Maybe "Machine Gun Funk" wouldn't have been a monster smash — I always overestimate the public's taste for somewhat austere productions with sloppy drum tracks, because I like them so much — but its sampled chorus of "I live for the funk/I kill for the funk," its down-n-dirty dancin' bassline courtesy of Easy Mo Bee, and Biggie's typically athletic, inventive rhymes on that cut have been drawing me back for days.

Strange but true: Prior to the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I had never owned a Notorious B.I.G. album, content to remember his genius from a few singles and MP3s. But CD/Game Exchange had this one used for $11, and it's as much a revelation as I had hoped. No MC since Biggie has been so adept at establishing his own verbal rhythm that interacts with a beat while maintaining its independence from it. Some MCs use their beats as crutches, or perhaps as guidelines, with gratuitous-sounding rhymes the result (the MC obbligato); some MCs ignore their beats entirely, substituting verbal fireworks whose virtuosity references only itself. Just as no one after Beethoven has really balanced the piano and orchestra in a concerto for those instruments, no one after Biggie has really danced along the fine line just sketched and come up sounding gangsta still.

Of course, Biggie is remembered as much for his content as for his flow. The album's a bit harder than I expected for something that sold as well as it did, but his narratives of the larcenous life leave you hanging on the next verse and his existential-thug deliberations sound sincere rather than contrived for sales (see: 50 Cent). "Me and My Bitch," a tale of doomed romance, is (as you may have guessed) full of ambiguity, and Biggie doesn't let us figure out exactly how he means it; you have to respect that in this overdetermined world. Add in some nice Mo Bee beats, a few precocious Puff Daddy beatjackings, one ill Premier track built on a three-note jazz organ sample, and you've got a hip-hop classic.

The only problem is the sex track. That would be "One More Chance," which on the album is embarrassingly ribald (and followed by something called the "F@%! Me Interlude" featuring Lil' Kim as the object of Biggie's affections, which turned out to be true in the end). The radio version of the song, necessarily shorn of the messy details, is more a statement of playa methodology and results, and an unstoppably entertaining one at that; it is captured on my newly acquired Maxi-Single, which was way overpriced but who cares.

Two mixes dominated the airwaves. One version tried to get in the way with Total cooing and a now-famous (because much-reused) piano sample, but it didn't work: Biggie still came off nicely. The other was Puffy's greatest work of genius: the "Hip-Hop Mix," built around a tangy six-note bassline (previously discovered by Moe Bee for a remix of Craig Mack's "Flava in Ya Ear"), some subtle vocal hits, and a hint of sonic dirt in the mix. Apparently this track played in the clubs over and over when it came out, no intervening songs, just "One More Chance" dozens of times. I completely understand. "One More Chance" in the hip-hop mix will forever live in my memory as the track that made me understand why it's fun to drive around at night during the summer, windows down, blasting music: there are very few finer feelings in the world than having your current favorite song on the radio, going wherever you want, and telling people by example what your favorite radio station is.

Einojuhani Rautavaara

Cantus Arcticus; Piano Concerto No. 1; Symphony No. 3

Laura Mikkola, piano; Royal Scottish National Orchestra conducted by Hanna Lintu

Naxos

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The piano concerto and the symphony both stand as excellent examples of Rautavaara's modern yet accessible style: they don't pander to the listener with sweetness from the distant past but recognize our need for melodies and moments of beauty; the musical motion provides drama, not hysteria; and the sonorities are carefully calibrated in all cases.

But the Cantus Arcticus is just astonishing. It's written for taped birdsong and orchestra, and I realize that sounds incredibly cheesy, but once you've heard Cantus Arcticus you'll be amazed that a whole bunch of other people haven't tried to write works for taped birdsong and orchestra. Rautavaara realizes that for the birdsong to have any impact at all, it must come through clear and undisturbed, so the textures he uses are thin and simple, but he also realizes that you can't really depend on arctic birds for your melodic impact, so the thin, simple textures pile up mostly to build and then unspool gorgeous themes that speak to the unspoiled beauty of the far North. The birds then occupy the same place in the musical landscape of Cantus Arcticus as they must occupy in the visual landscape of the Arctic: soaring above it, in swirls unrelated to it yet somehow resonating with it. The performances of all three works are exemplary, and the CD costs $8 because Naxos is cool. Buy this record, and you'll know why I gave Rautavaara a shout-out in my "review" of "Strung Up." You'll also want to hear a lot more Rautavaara.

Rare Essence

Doin' It Old School Style

Rare One Records

Buy it here

Rare Essence is go-go, and go-go is awesome. This CD collects live versions of a bunch of classic RE joints (unfortunately, not all from one performance, though all live from Club U). The sound is good enough; it would be nice if the vocals and instruments were better-integrated with the drums and if the sound as a whole were a bit thicker and warmer, but a little playing with the balance knobs helps (turn up the bass!). And the performances are as spirited, skilled, and enthusiastic as any human being could desire.

All these songs are songs you hear snatches of if you're in DC — the unlikely vibe-driven relentlessness of "Lock It," the ref's-whistle polyrhythm in "Hey Buddy Buddy," the rich harmonies and driving beat of "One on One" — and nowhere else. You just move through the city and recognize them. I'm at the point now where I'm thinking seriously about moving away from here — not soon, but in a year or two. One of the things I will miss most if I go is go-go. At least, wherever I move, I'll have a changer and CDs to put in it.

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