Copacrescent: So Selective (self-released)

[March 26th, 2008] [SOUL-HOP] With so much hip-hop produced digitally these days, groups utilizing full bands stick out in the studio as much as they do onstage, where the pang of an organic drum kit and the zip of fingers along bass strings add musical humanity to match the flow.

Like the Roots and Sacramento-based Portland-regulars Al Howard and the K-23 Orchestra, Copacrescent tackles live-band hip-hop with a decidedly different flair on its debut, So Selective. Copa MC Chaucer Barnes flows gritty and eloquent over precise orchestration that ventures between riff-heavy guitar anthems, Latin jazz, funk, blues, reggae and lounge.

Were it not executed so seamlessly, Barnes’ street-hardened spit flow might sound like a stoned MC trying to jam with hippies. Instead, Copacrescent’s give-and-take compositions highlight a collectivity, from Steve Aman’s Wonder-ous keys to Rod Nightingale’s intricate drumming and Dan DiResta’s soaring guitar.

Like Black Thought or Common—or KRS One, for that matter—Barnes is a verbose poet and historian without delusions of grandeur. On “More Worser,” he talks money. Unlike other rappers, he talks about having none—and it’s refreshing as hell.

The album hits a tremendous stride with the Latin-tinged “Same Ting Twice,” featuring Barnes spitting ferocious over Chris Ponti’s bounding bassline, going where few hip-hop groups have ventured since Tip left his wallet in El Segundo. As if that world-music backbeat weren’t ambitious enough, “50 Ways” uses Paul Simon to punctuate Barnes’ compelling and meticulous family history: “My moms lost her pops so she read Booker T’s Up From Slavery...My dad coulda been any one of the others...he beat out more that 49 others/That’s proof there’s at least 50 ways to leave your mother.” The song then builds into an all-out sonic assault.

That’s not to say it all works: Tracks like “The Times” seem a tad contrived (we know very well it’s hard out there for a pimp). And while lyrical filler occasionally distracts from the band’s instrumental forays, longer midsections seem better suited for the stage.

But that’s simply nitpicking. By the time the final track—a surprisingly touching love letter to Stumptown titled “Portland”—rolls around, it’s tempting to hit “play” again. Amid the generic hip-hop populating our airwaves, Copacrescent manages to sound fresh by embracing its roots—flesh, blood, soul and all.