Thursday, July 7, 2011

Yo alt rap: Where's the love?

Tribe's Phife Dawg, Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Q-Tip
A funny thing happened to me just a few days ago. Well, not funny. Just an unexpected nostalgia trip.

I was perusing my Twitter feed and came across an item on Slate about a new documentary by Michael Rappaport about one of my favorite groups of all time: A Tribe Called Quest. Right after I put the piece down, I got my Tribe all queued up and ready to go: People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm, The Low End Theory and Midnight Marauders.

All three albums still sound terrific. They could be brand new.  But in fact Tribe's classics are now 20 years old. The middle record in that trio, perhaps the best, was released in 1991. I had been thinking about doing a series on key overlooked rock records that were released in 1991 in response to what will likely be a great big nostalgia dump for the 20th anniversary of Nirvana's Nevermind this September. But I hadn't until that moment thought about the equally great rap records of that same period. In fact 1991 was as great a year for rap as it was for rock.

In 1991, as a number of thug rap acts were really beginning to go big-time mainstream (Exhibit A: Ice Cube's Death Certificate went platinum in less than two months), New York acts* that would later be collectively called alternative rap released a series of records that might arguably constitute a high-culture point for rap as an art form. Tribe Called Quest's The Low End Theory might be the best of the lot. Other terrific records include De La Soul's masterful De La Soul is Dead, The Black Sheep's debut, Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, and Leaders of the New School, which featured a young Busta Rhymes, released A Future Without a Past, which is an overlooked classic.

These acts -- and many more, like the Jungle Brothers, Brand Nubian and the Fu-Schnikens -- led a creative renaissance for rap. The musical foundation expanded into deep funk tracks and classic jazz -- The Low End Theory is thick with samples from Lonnie Liston Smith, Art Blakey, Gary Bartz, Jack DeJohnette and even Weather Report. The great Ron Carter even played live bass on a track. The drum beat was still there but tracks from these guys featured new musical sounds for rap: piano riffs, upright bass groves, slick horn themes. The sound lent the music a level of smart and hip cool that was unmatched in its time.

Tribe explains the mission of The Low End Theory with "We Got The Jazz," which runs into "Buggin' Out."


The subject matter of rap for these acts expanded as well, becoming at once more mundane and creative. Alternative rappers told stories, parodied gangsta rap, and would touch on political consciousness and dating in the same track. While they built on the great late '80s rap acts like Boogie Down Productions and Big Daddy Kane, De La Soul and Tribe Called Quest were not overtly "street." And they were not nearly as serious. In stark contrast to the hardcore scene around it, alternative rap was much more thematically universal. They never conformed to genre and were always, as a consequence, incredibly interesting.

Most of all, what makes these records great is that each maintained coherent themes and felt "complete" unlike the mess into which rap records devolved, weighed down by multiple guest stars and armies of special producers. They're records, not collections of singles and fillers. De La Soul is Dead is less focused, but its expanse -- 24 tracks (5 of which are "skits") over 1 hour and 13 minutes -- is one of the most ambitious rap records ever made. And like other records of the day, the music sampled is rich in funk, jazz and even rock. It makes contemporary rap seem thin and lifeless by comparison.



Despite how universal these groups were, the mainstream rap record buyers -- suburban white kids who were universally busy loading amplifiers and speaker cabinets into the trunks of their used cars when I was in high school -- oddly scooped up loads and loads of hardcore rap and the thoughtful records by Tribe and De La Soul didn't stand much of a chance. This became particularly true as the decade went on and Dr. Dre, 2Pac, Biggie Smalls and other purveyors of a so-called "thug reality" buried alternative rap in obscurity.

As musical appetites go, my love of rap is not terribly deep, but these early '90s records still sound terrific. It just might have been the form's peak. It's nice to see Tribe getting their due in a new documentary, but perhaps some reissues of these classics would be welcome, too. Amidst all the nostalgia grunge is likely to get in the next couple of months, a little love for groundbreaking works by Tribe and De La would be great. It's the least we can do.

*There were West Coast acts, too, including Del the Funky Homosapien, whose I wish My Brother George Was Here also came out in 1991.

1 comment:

  1. I hope so, too. My appetite for hip-hop is similar to yours and rather limited, but The Low End Theory is a huge favorite of mine and about half of Midnight Marauders is similarly great. I still play those records from time to time.

    The best hip-hop album of all-time is still Public Enemy It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, though! After that, it's a toss-up between The Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique and The Low End Theory.

    Also, I'd argue that The Roots, Lupe Fiasco and even Kanye West and Drake have taken the underground rap aesthetic into the mainstream the last few years.

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