Jazz in the Nineties

Be sure to check out the Best Jazz of the 1990s at Destination: Out. The weblog polled over a dozen jazz critics for their favorite albums of the nineties, and their replies are crazy diverse. Over the last few weeks, I collected an assortment of albums from a few different lists, and found revelations. I especially recommend Charlie Haden & Hank Jones's Steal Away, Andrew Hill's Dusk, Randy Weston's Saga, and Dave Douglas's Tiny Bell Trio and Constellations.

I consider Matthew Shipp, David S. Ware, Ornette Coleman, Sonny Sharrock, Henry Threadgill, Nils Petter Molvaer and Joe Morris my people, so I'm happy to nod in agreement with the critics polled. If you're less inclined, however, why not get acquainted? eMusic is a great place to start.

By the way, Tom Hull took the trouble to make lists for the seventies, eighties, and the new millennium. (If you don't see them, keep scrolling.)

Rhymes With Oranges

I listened back to The Eminem Show (2002) last night, and found the stanza in "Business" where Eminem rhymes “oranges,” with “hinges,” “syringes” and “I’m inches.” He places the accent on the second syllable of "oranges" for a cleaner rhyme. And if that’s not enough, he says each word as the first word in each line instead of the last word, though the last word rhymes, too, but with “plums” instead of "oranges."

Oh God, Saddam’s got his own Laden
With his own private plane, his own pilot
Set to blow college dorm room doors off their hinges
Oranges, peach, pears, plums
Syringes, [chainsaw sound] yeah here I come
I’m inches, away from you dear fear none
Hip-hop is in a state of 911

You can also interpret the “oranges” rhymes as one line of verse, alternating with longer lines rhyming with “plums.” That would be written like this:

Oranges
Peach Pear Plums
Syringes
Yeah, here I come

However, when rapped, these lines are unbroken, so neither transcription is accurate. Notice, too, how the first set of rhymes— “God," "Saddam," Laden,” “private,” “pilot” and “college”—share their first vowel sound rather than their last. It's not as evident when written, but it's obvious when heard. My god, this man is a monster!

Mixed Signals

I never listen to Rush anymore, but last month I was finishing up my semester at Rutgers and procrastinated by listening to Signals and starting this weblog. Now, I LOVED Rush in high school—I remember making a mixtape for a minor crush of mine that included only three bands over an hour and a half of tape: just R.E.M., Genesis and Rush. That poor girl! I love Document more than ever, but Genesis and Rush remain in my own private time capsule, beloved only for the memories.

I discovered rock criticism my freshman year of college, and was forcefully confronted by the cold truth that Rush was not the best band in the world. Critics hate these guys, and looking back, this was a profound moment for me because I needed to know why. And over the next fifteen years, I passionately devoted my time to learning why, by studying music and aesthetic theory, and now music history. I stopped thinking about Rush a decade ago, but the combustion that initial conflict created stays with me. I still love hearing why others love the music they love or hate the music they hate, and this is the reason why.

With that in mind, I was very surprised by the unexpected charge I got listening to Signals again after all these years. Rush is definitely a riff-based band, but unlike Led Zeppelin or AC/DC, they don’t have a particular aesthetic agenda: they’ll try anything. Listen to the keyboard riff from “Subdivisions,” the opening guitar figure from “Analog Kid,” or the faux-funk bass synthesizer from “New World Man.” Notice how each signifies as a novelty where other bands search for meaning or self-expression. I mean this as a compliment: a “novelty” can be clever, while “meaning” is often leaden or cumbersome—just because an artist wants to say something meaningful doesn’t mean that they ever do. I like the sound of musicians making shit up, and Signals is a mismatched hoot.

I also like Rush’s lack of taste: where Led Zeppelin is “cool,” Rush is “neat.” Think of Neil Peart moving the beat around underneath “Subdivisions,” or the deliciously overblown synthesized choirs of “Analog Kid.” If their melodies and riffs could be better, their heated group interaction sometimes makes up for it. And if the first six tracks win me over as sound, the unlistenable romanticized pessimism of “Losing It” reminds me songs have lyrics, and kills the momentum.

So, like my brethren, I obviously no longer think Rush is the best band in the world. But I’m thirty, and the world is complicated, and sometimes a thing can be both good and bad, and it’s okay to enjoy the good parts. But it's also hard to stomach the bad parts. Ain’t that a bitch.