Portland hip-hop fans missed out last week when the hot Brooklyn
MC Mos Def skipped the city, opting for a show at the University
of Washington in Seattle. This principled artist's refusal
to perform where alcohol is served likely made it hard to
book Portland, where few big venues go without the sauce.
We have cause to mourn, because Mos Def's late-'99 album
Black on Both Sides showcases his instrumental ability
and versatility on the microphone to profound effect. Most
importantly, it's an underground joint on an independent
label, Brooklyn's own Rawkus.
The record made many critics' year-end lists, demonstrating
the power and success of independent imprints in hip-hop
culture.
Major record companies' reluctance to acknowledge the art
form during the '70s and '80s sparked the formation of numerous
small companies, ensuring that the streets would receive
well-produced albums by talented DJs and MCs. They typically
concentrated on artists from their own regions, spreading
the product across the nation. In Portland, for example,
the Jus'
Family crew started dropping discs in the mid-'90s.
Many of these labels' steelos now stretch beyond hip-hop,
spilling over into professional sports, movies, fashion
and pop music. No Limit's soldiers bounce on urban blocks,
the hardwood of the NBA and the NFL's gridirons. Bad Boy
enabled Mase to become a favorite of the shorties and Puffy
to hobnob with Donald Trump. LaFace blew up the spot with
the city of Hotlanta's lusty R&B, while Death Row strictly
represented the streets until Tupac Shakur's death devastated
the company.
None has attained the lofty status of New York's Def Jam,
home of LL Cool J and Slick Rick, as well as Method Man
and Redman, two MCs leading the way into the year 2000.
Some have tried by releasing hardcore bangers that might
reach gold-record status at best. Rawkus, in fact, appears
to want to follow this path beneath the surface, shining
light on underground heavyweights like Mos Def.
The label's Soundbombing mix-tape series and, to
some extent, the Lyricist Lounge compilation showed
promise by sticking to hip-hop's tradition of simplicity--well-selected,
grimy loops rocked by battle-tested MCs. Mos Def and others
praise the label's willingness to give artists control over
everything from lyrics to cover art to liner notes, often
points of contention with major labels.
Sadly, the fledgling company lacks a consistent standard
of quality, and its albums usually sound like throwbacks
to the '80s. 1998's Mos Def and Kweli Are Black Star
conjured remembrances of A Tribe Called Quest and Brand
Nubian, pouring positive, pro-black messages in your earhole.
This album was offset by the complete wackness of Company
Flow's Funcrusher Plus. Despite the strength of "B-Boy
Document '99," the High & Mighty followed up with the
so-so Home Field Advantage. Even my copy of Pharoahe
Monch's Internal Affairs, despite a few notable cuts
like "Rape," "Queens" and "The Light," will end up back
in a used bin some day.
Black on Both Sides, on the other hand, hints at
Rawkus' potential and has set the standard. On "Rock N Roll,"
Mos Def's hook--"Elvis Presley ain't got no soul/Chuck Berry
is rock 'n' roll"--imparts the true history of pop music.
Mos Def captures the essence of hip-hop on a live disc amid
the duds on Rawkus' roster.
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Willamette Week | originally
published January 26,
2000
|
