| Nowadays most rappers appear almost to relish practicing the art of self-parody, slipping further and further into the murky depths of commercialism, whilst remaining entrenched in the shallow end musically. Of course, there are exceptions. Doseone is a member of cLOUDDEAD, a combo of alternative emcees who released a record last year that managed to be truly challenging, emotionally stirring and a hip-hop record all at the same time. This man possesses a vocal style that needs to be heard to be believed, at times coming on like an ultra-intellectual Beastie Boy trying to fit three tunes worth of flow into one. And succeeding, to bewildering effect. This collaboration with Boom Bip, an envelope-pushing beat-maker was actually recorded three years ago, and came out Stateside in 2000 before being licensed by Leaf for a European release earlier this year. To hear it is to witness the sound of utter freedom from external pressure, with its twenty-nine tracks endlessly splintering into sub-sections that render picking standouts a pointless exercise. Doseone is truly let off the leash, riffing around a multitude of themes with wit, verbosity and quite staggering honesty. Subject matter as diverse as religion, his own childhood (in painful, personal style) and the joys of placing tennis balls atop tiny ramps is covered. And I didn't make the last one up. Boom Bip's musical prompting is suitably scattergun, with quasi-tribal rhythms segueing into fierce, dirty breakbeats and then into nothing, perfectly complementing the eccentric ebb and flow of Doseone's delivery. To cap things off, they've even managed to incorporate some of the finest instrumental grooves you'll hear all year, actually sculpting moods and feelings at a level The Private Press never truly reaches (to these ears anyhow). As a further indictment of most modern hip-hop, it seems as if Boom Bip and Doseone have utterly upstaged all the bland bling-blingers without even adhering to any particular game plan. As Doseone confides with tangible pleasure at one point: "Don't tell anyone now, but I'm making this whole thing up as I go along - and it feels good." For a simple, sweet riposte to the cynical manufacture of mic-toting rudeboys with trendy producers to iron out the creases, what could be more apt? What's more, for all its willful, awkward complexity, it sounds pretty damn good too. - Big Chill |
2XLP/Out Of Print