There are certain bands whose audience seems to be comprised of more musicians than laypeople. I have largely escaped the hype on Black Pumas, but I can’t ignore that just about everyone I’ve seen talk about them plays an instrument. So when I found a copy of Chronicles of a Diamond for $2 at a closeout store, it was an easy gamble.
In the summer of 2008, three of my best friends from college interned together at their church. Meanwhile, I was interning at a church in a city about 45 minutes away. Throughout the internship, two of them tortured the third, Josh, by singing the hook to “Rehab,” drawing scoffs every time.
The following semester, Josh and I were roommates, and I had drawn much delight from buying records that would annoy or confound him. His look of disgust as he asked, “what is this?” was almost as rewarding as the music itself.
One day, hoping to keep the prank going, I bought a vinyl copy of Winehouse’s Back to Black. To my dismay, he joyfully sang along with every word of the track that tormented him.
I sold the record a few months later, but not before it got its hooks in me. In the years since, I have wrestled with the choice to purchase another copy over and over. This copy in particular was in the “Buy it Later” section of my Amazon cart for months before I accidentally bought it alongside a bottle of conditioner.
Accident or not, I’m glad to have it back.
Q: What do the Sugarhill Gang and Queen have in common?
A: “Good Times” by CHIC, the rollicking eight-minute disco classic that was sampled for “Rapper’s Delight” and that inspired “Another One Bites the Dust.”
But if you think that that single infectious track is the only thing worthwhile on this disc, you’d be sorely mistaken.
For a moment, let’s forget about the plastic surgery, the Peter Pan syndrome, the dynastic marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, the allegations against him, and his bizarre persona.
Michael Jackson was the bonafide King of Pop. And no one else even comes close.
And while his studio discography has no shortage of straight bangers, Thriller was the album that cemented that status, and it remains the most consistent and rewarding listen. But hidden deep within the wall-to-wall hit singles is one of the most revolutionary albums for racial justice ever.
After ten albums of the sexiest R&B mankind has ever known, Marvin Gaye’s world fell apart.
His longtime writing partner passed away from cancer. His wife left him. He was caught between the IRS on one side and a stifling record deal with Motown Records on the other. He was troubled over his brother fighting in Vietnam, ande was fighting his own losing battle against his cocaine addiction.
He was a rising star internationally, but he felt like a fraud. After a night pondering over a handgun in his hotel room, he decided it was time for a change. He grew a beard, pierced his ear, and found religion.
Then he dropped What’s Going On, a masterful and poignant protest album.
In the mid 2000s, I’m not sure there was anyone who was safe from Gnarls Barkley and the earworm that was “Crazy.” It was a maniacal track driven by a dark bassline and Cee-Lo Green’s impossibly huge voice—not to mention a pretty great thesis on St. Paul’s writings in 2 Corinthians 2.
And, it was as infectious as all get out.
Janelle Monae is a chameleon of the finest form. She has been leveled comparisons to James Brown, Prince, David Bowie, and Jack White, and trekking through the monolithic The Archandroid, each one of them stands up to scrutiny.
Monae sets her feet firmly in funk and soul and gropes wildly in all directions grabbing a bit of hip hop, a bit of garage rock, a bit of disco, a bit of MPB, all dashed with a healthy dose of afro-futurism.
And the most telling of Monae’s talents is that such a disparate sounding record not only works, but excels, even with such a goofy premise behind it. Because let’s be honest: a genre-spanning concept album about a robot who is also the Messiah who falls in love with her maker in a city where dancing and love are outlawed should be ridiculous to the point of being unlistenable. But it’s actually one of the best records to come out of the last ten years.
No one disputes that James Brown is the Godfather of Soul. His legacy needs no summary here. But when you take him from the microphone and put him behind an organ, his songs lose a bit of their charisma. There might be some fine playing here, but ultimately there’s nothing that stands out the way his vocal performances do. Which is sad.
Here’s another record from that free stack taken from my in-laws’ house, but this one is quite a bit better than the last (Air Supply…ughhh…). Admittedly, this genre (R&B/jazz crossover) is a little out of my familiarity, but most of these songs just remind me of 80s sitcoms*, or post-break up montages from 80s rom-coms (My Old Friend, especially, could be played to shots of forlorn lovers staring out windows before fading out into a rain-soaked reconciliatory plea). Filled with jazz tinged love songs, this album has probably been put on by many a daddy after the kids had been laid to sleep.
The one thing that makes Jarreau stand out among the vaguely “funk” landscape of 80s R&B is his tendency towards scat solos, which makes for a much more entertaining listen on the more upbeat tracks. And while the first half is rather ballad heavy (but with much more success than my last entry), the B-side is filled with less mainstream offerings, all of which do a great job of showcasing Jarreau’s vocal acrobatics (see: Blue Rondo a la Turk) His mastery of his voice as an instrument is the largest contributor to the album’s success, but it also strongly benefits from the composition of the songs, which is littered with jazz-style chord changes. These two factors keep the slow songs from being boring, and the fast songs from being inane.
Allmusic’s review states that the record was “the standard bearer of the L.A. pop and R&B sound” of its time, which is what makes this record sound so dated in 2012–the album’s most prominent flaw. But what can you do?
All in all, it’s a fun record and significant cultural and historical piece, but it’s not something I’ll throw on to unwind.
*I found out after writing this bit that he wrote the theme song to the 80s dramedy Moonlighting.