Having found my feet again towards the end of last week on the blog front, the issues with the domain name and a hectic week have slowed my pace once again. I’m also off on holiday for just over a week as of tomorrow, so I’ll catch y’all again once we hit June. Sometimes, life just gets in the way. A good thing, no doubt.
I love the cover art on this.
O.C. - ‘Time’s Up’
taken from Word… Life (Wild Pitch, 1994)
O.C. - ‘Time’s Up’ (Original Buckwild Instrumental)
available on ‘Time’s Up’ VLS (Fat Beats Reissue, 2004)
Les De Merle - ‘A Day In The Life’
taken from Spectrum (United Artists, 1968)
What I’ve noticed about my beat deconstruction series is that it’s always the discussion of truly classic jams that seems to get people most excited (deduced by the highly scientific equation of more comments equating to greater reader enthusiasm). To be honest it’s understandable, because I know that for me there are certain cuts that will essentially always engage my interest, regardless of how many times I listen to them or how old they get. ‘Time’s Up’ is one such number, undeniably a key component of the boom bap canon with its deeply hypnotic vibe and devastatingly delivered lyrical attack on those endlessly criticised fake emcees. Eff ‘em: they deserve it.
In listening to the source material, the simplicity of Buckwild’s composition is immediately apparent, a straight forward jack of two two-bar sequences lifted and looped from drummer Les De Merle’s ‘A Day In The Life’. The song is of course a cover of the Beatles’ final cut from their Sgt. Pepper album, although De Merle and his band give it a complete overhaul that provides the track with a totally different and awesomely funky flavour. Finding out information on both De Merle himself and the Spectrum album from which it is taken is surprisingly difficult, particularly given that it appears to be a record much lauded by serious diggers due to several tight drum breaks. The only enlightening material I came across seems to focus more heavily on his release in 1978 on Dobre entitled Transfusion, home to ‘Moondial’ which has been sampled most notably by De La on ‘Stone Age’ and Shadow on ‘Entropy’. Spectrum however has managed to escape a listing on Discogs (an easily indexed one anyway), and De Merle himself is yet to be given even the relatively token glory of a Wikipedia entry. Sometimes even my most intrepid digital digging skills come frustratingly unstuck…
What I particularly love about ‘Time’s Up’ in terms of Buckwild’s production is that it represents a departure from his usual techniques. Although the DITC legend tended to favour loops and hard-hitting drums during his heyday in the mid-’90s (and this isn’t intended to discredit his later work), I can’t think of a single other instance in which all elements of one of his beats come from the same single source. What is ultimately so surprising about the groove here is that it still sounds so distinctly like Buckwild, even though for all intents and purposes there’s no denying that it does not demonstrate the layered craftsmanship that you can find in his production work elsewhere during the period. What it ultimately proves is not only can the man get deep in the crates, but also that he knows when he’s onto something: any messing around with this break would be entirely superfluous.
I’m also throwing up the original Buckwild instrumental for your listening pleasure, although I can’t remember exactly where I stumbled across it and am unable to find out conclusively at what point it received a release. The Fat Beats reissue of 2004 seems to be the most likely source, although I’d be surprised if it hadn’t found its way to wax at a much earlier date. Although I really enjoy the inclusion of the horn tracks from the De Merle original, I actually feel that the final LP mix is still better, as it provides absolutely no distractions from the intense, head-nod inducing groove that is so infectious on the officially released LP version. If you haven’t treated yourself to a dip back into this classic of the mid-’90s era then consider this your excuse: I dare you to just listen to it once. I know that for me, the intoxicating vibe of the joint makes the task prove completely impossible. Don’t front, I know you feel the same way.
You’ll remember that a couple of months ago FDB dropped the most recent of K-Def’s work in the shape of The Article EP with Dacapo. Care of richdirection, here’s what Chairman Mao thinks in July’s XXL:
On last year’s excellent instro LP Willie Boo Boo The Fool, veteran Brick City producer K-Def expressed his own concern with the rap game’s turns over the years. This year, Def teams with young blood DaCapo to form The Program and drop their inaugural EP, The Article (Ghetto Man Beats), reviving the sample-reliant, low-’90s-BPM vibe of the early ’90s. As expected, Def does his thing on the production side, whether generating fresh soundscapes (the joyous strings of ‘Free Speech’ and ‘Day Dreaming’) or tastefully repurposing the familiar (some ol’ Ed O.G. on the industry primer ‘Gotta Get Da Cash’ and a lil’ Latifah on the paean to lost rap cats ‘Fallen’). DaCapo, however, provides the nicest surprise, thoughtfully enunciating throughout like Large Professor or CL Smooth reincarnate. So when he says, on the title track, that he’s in it for “much more than the name or the fame or the change in the game,” it’s official. Genuine article.
Critical Beatdown, Chairman’s Choice. XXL magazine July 2008
There you go: makes me feel proud that I played a small part in it all. Keep an eye out for the official digital release of both The Article EP and Willie Boo Boo The Fool coming from the Ghetto Man Beats camp very soon.
Full post later on (for real this time).
You will do if you’ve tried to check in over the last two days or so. I won’t bore you with the details, but if you are the owner of a website make sure you check when your domain name expires, won’t you? It’s apparently rather important.
Apologies for the hiatus. The Dan Love blogging renaissance will continue later today.
Omar - ‘There’s Nothing Like This’
taken from There’s Nothing Like This (Talkin’ Loud, 1990)
Two things have struck me about my blogging habits of late. First of all, I’ve clearly been experiencing the notorious slump that seems to plague most people who spend untold hours emptying their thoughts for public consumption. Thankfully, this phase seems to now be coming to a close (three posts in four days: you’re kidding me right?!). Secondly, I seem to have been making relatively constant reference to the weather, a distinctly British trait that has caused me both joy and anguish since the spring season supposedly kicked in. The problem with Blighty is that after months of sustained darkness and rain any small glimpse of sunshine has you reaching for shorts, t-shirt and exclamations that the summer has arrived, only to be brought crashing down after 72 hours or so as the cloud recovers and the grey drizzle kicks in once again. Don’t get me wrong though, we wouldn’t have it any other way: take away a Brit’s right to a good moan and you’re essentially killing one of the cornerstones of our national identity.
Such has been the case over the last five or six days, with gleaming sunshine and warm air now stepping aside and letting the rain gods take control once again. Bollocks. However, one positive thing that came out of this brief spell of sun-drenched happiness was a rediscovery of the fantastic ‘There’s Nothing Like This’, which as far as I can tell is the only good song that British artist Omar ever put together (let me advise you not to get the album of the same name). The song is not only a great summer-infused cut in itself, but the back story behind the track is equally as pleasing. Having woken up on a sunny morning, Omar laid down the instrumental for the track before popping out to get himself a plush bag of high grade greenery. Suitably blissed out post-lunch he laid down the lyrics. One sunny day + fleeting musical genius + marijuana = summer anthem. Ah, if only things were always this easy.
So when the sun shines where you are make sure you indulge in this delicious slice of early ’90s British soul. In typical fashion I’m also going to blame the weather for Omar’s ephemeral musical greatness: my guess is that as he rolled out of bed the following day, the sky was as cloudy as his head. God I love hate like this country.
