These tracks play nice with other genres in the sandbox, too: HavocNdeeD’s thumping dubstep remix of “Camos Theme” would fit smashingly into a Rusko set, while LOL Boys’ take on “Foundation Style” edges into UK Funky territory, with a wonderfully skippy 2-steppin’ beat and samples chopped up Todd Edwards style. All in all, “The Kool and Deadly” demonstrates the enduring power of the Camo UFOs steez: not to quote myself, but as I noted in a previous post, Camo UFOs “bring the same post-modern rude bwoy lunacy to d&b/jungle that Major Lazer did to dancehall, reinvigorating it in the process.” This isn’t so much retro jungle as it bass music made with a love of sampling art and kicking rhythm, imbued with fresh hip-hop attitude, humor and a knowledge of what works in clubs today. The title is truth in advertising: Camo UFOs are so kool, they’re definitely killing it…

Notoriously hard-to-please Pitchfork called Drift “gorgeously haunted,” and the same could be said to its follow up, Drift Remixes. Here, Chung steps aside to allow a variety of today’s most innovative sonic technicians deconstruct his masterful grooves; unlike many remix projects, however, the revisions on Drift Remixes both keep enough of the originals to keep the connection organic while at the same time taking them to unexpected, uncanny realms. Postal Service producer Dntel creates a subtly insistent, syncopated swirl out of “Us” that proves instantly hypnotic, creeping up on the listener like an earworm ghost; Eno collaborator Jon Hopkins creates the most compellingly glitched-out effort on his ominous sci-fi twist on the same song. Low End homey Teebs, meanwhile, creates a swinging yet melancholic banger out of “Caves” that, despite its sensitive touch, still bangs with a deep rumble. The album’s highlight, however, is undoubtedly Jamie XX’s slow-build dissection of “Fog”: over nearly five minutes, the young production mastermind behind indie rock’s most innovative group The XX builds a symphony of skippy 2-step beats and soundtrack noir, each movement creating a new sense of dark drama. By compiling such an intriguing cast of remixers, Nosaj Thing has truly done a service to his own material: on the one hand, they are largely simpatico to the experimental bass culture Chung has come out of, which provides a critical connective tissue, yet each puts his own distinctive stamp on the tracks. As a result, unlike so many similar projects, Drift Remixes ultimately becomes a truly worthwhile companion piece to the classic original that spawned it.

Nosaj Thing performs in Los Angeles on Thursday, 11/11 at the El Rey.  More dates & locations here.

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This tiny bit of memery is a fine place to jump into Shatner’s record Has Been from 2004, a supremely overlooked piece of culturo-pop. Ben Folds behind the boards (and the instruments, and the mics) resulted in a lush, confessional, humor-flecked collection of off-kilter drive time songs, all anchored by Shatner’s not-as-incredible-as-he-thinks voice in full lament. Below is “Together,” one of Has Been’s many honest, possibly overpoetic, retrospective and truly lovely little ramblers.

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As matter of fact, apparently it wasn’t.  These most recent re-releases have been tied to commemorate what would have been Lennon’s 70th birthday on October 9th, and seem to have accordingly been given more respect. For one, they’ve reissued his entire discography—John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (1970), Imagine (1971), Some Time In New York City (1972), Mind Games (1973), Walls and Bridges (1974), Rock ‘n’ Roll (1975), Double Fantasy (1979) and the posthumous Milk and Honey (1984); as well, they’ve re-compiled those albums into three additional releases, the single disc Power to the People: The Hits, the four-disc Gimme Some Truth collection, and the the 11-disc John Lennon Signature Box (which also contains significant rarities, in addition to all the other new reissues).  What proves so revelatory at first is the sound: these albums have been remastered immaculated—they at once seem more present, yet full of new detail and nuance. As well, most importantly, they seem newly relevant: John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band’s ruminations on heavy issues like “God,” “Working Class Hero,” and “Isolation” seem tailor made for our tumultuous times; the rawness of the recording feels as vital as ever. Yet, however deep Lennon goes here, the melodies remain incandescent, keeping you hooked to the song no matter how personal and uncomfortable the subject matter may be.

The rest of the albums prove less consistent, although Imagine really seems like Lennon’s great work in the lens of hindsight: “Jealous Guy” proves just utterly timeless and memorable, while “Gimme Some Truth” is another anthem that echoes with relevance in today’s society. “How Do You Sleep?” seems as gloriously poisonous as ever in its depiction of Beatle betrayal. The remaining albums are spottier, but they showcase Lennon as a searcher above all else; one gets the sense that his albums are a real barometer of his life, swaying from the inspirational to the mundane often in a single album side. Checking out Lennon’s work in context, however, makes the greatness of each individual album less important—it’s the overall simulacrum of the work taken together that feels most important, and in this, Lennon proves one of our rock’s fascinating, active personalities. In some ways, hard as it is to believe, he may have been somewhat underrated; even at his weakest, his material belies a compelling, conflicted inner life and intensity.

Gimme Some Truth has received some critical eye-rolls due to its idiosyncratic order: there’s one disc marked “Working Class Hero,” featuring Lennon’s “conscious” songs, another labeled “Woman,” a third called “Borrowed Time” (suggesting his most personal work), and a fourth titled “Roots,” featuring largely covers. While such categorization might be considered leading or pretentious, in fact it ultimately serves to remind that Lennon had a catalog weighty enough to segment as such. Those themes did exist in his work, and while it may seem heavy handed to underline it as such, doing so reminds the listener how rare artists who go there, to those places that seem so scary, are today. Gimme some truth, indeed…

The original space-age flower child, Bolan is perhaps best known for T. Rex’s biggest hit “Bang A Gong” and its accompanying album Electric Warrior; The Slider, however, is arguably the better album, an eccentric boogie wonderland that exudes silver-platform boot attitude and English eccentricity. Over the years, The Slider has proven wildly influential—original Goth group Bauhaus covered the album’s hit “Telegram Sam” memorably, and everyone from Devendra Banhart to Guided By Voices has borrowed from its glittery grooves and insanely catchy hooks. Meanwhile, Fat Possum has given The Slider a befittingly royal treatment: the tracks have been fully remastered, and in addition to ye olde iTunes and CD formats, The Slider will also be released on 180g vinyl! That’s right, quality just like the olden days… The thing is, music as good as The Slider never gets old, but just seems more and more timeless…

At first, that’s what makes his latest mix, Diplo Presents Dubstep: Blow Your Head, seem like an underwhelming idea at first. Dubstep appears to be a pretty known quantity almost everywhere in 2010—far from, say, the favela sound in 2004. Indeed, the collection could serve as a primer in the genre, but what it really does it provide a glimpse into what Diplo appreciates in the sound—where he connects with it; he’s not a purist dubstep DJ, of course, but a dancefloor diplomat, reshaping the funk in his own image. That, and of course Diplo’s immaculate taste, make this an essential listen.

There are a lot of familiar anthems on Diplo Presents Dubstep to anyone following the genre. Joker & Ginz’ Bristolfied g-funk on album opener “Re-Up” makes you wish Dr. Dre would import them to work on Detox. Rusko’s “Cockney Thug” is also a classic example of the sound that broke dubstep through to a larger audience, and in its remix by the similarly inclined Caspa, even more so. But Diplo also brings in American variations via 12th Planet and Starkey to what began as a strictly British sound; as well, the style’s iconoclasts like Zomby—someone who’s hard to pigeonhole in any way whatsoever—and, on the other end of the spectrum, current low-end it boy James Blake, are also represented (Blake by two tracks, even). And then Diplo presents his own productions, but only in remixed form, spanning his solo joint with Lil’ Jon “U Don’t Like Me” (given a Datsik re-rub) and his dancehall project Major Lazer (revamped by Skream). He’s also not afraid to showcase the female voice, like on the Stenchman remix of Jennifer Mauboy’s “Burn” included here, amidst all the macho snares ‘n synth darkness.

What this all indicates is that Diplo appreciates what is truly the best thing about dubstep: it’s not that it’s scary, or has fat basslines, but that it remains a constantly mutating form. Diplo clearly takes pleasure in dubstep’s perverse ability to absorb other sounds, or just reflect the idiosyncrasies of its creators, with a fluidity unknown to other dance-music genres; as Pitchfork lucidly pointed out about this compilation, it’s probably the first and last time Lil’ Jon and a member of the Dirty Projectors have ever appeared on the same record. Diplo’s never been about the purity of the sounds he favors—hence Major Lazer’s obviously inauthentic yet still utterly compelling dancehall twist: he just wants stuff to be interesting, potentially a bit funny, and bang on the dancefloor, genres be damned, be it dubstep or Dutch house or whatever. Diplo Presents Dubstep doesn’t even end with a dubstep track, but in fact SubFocus’ ace drum-and-bass remix of Rusko’s “Hold On,” featuring the aforementioned Dirty Projector, the empyreal voiced Amber Coffman. On the one hand, Diplo’s signifying with this choice that he knows what the roots of dubstep are; on the other, he’s signifying that what record bin the groove comes out is irrelevant as long as it makes the crowd move. In other words, he’s the smartest of smart party DJs that’s come to blow your head. Mission accomplished.

Eno comes from willfully perverse art traditions like pop, dada and fluxus, so it’s no surprise that, right when he seemed all but retired from, say, any music making other than cranking out the occasional U2 production job, he returned with a solo effort of writing and performing his own music. Small Craft… is actually a collaboration between a top-billed Eno and two of his frequent creative partners, Jon Hopkins and Leo Abrahams. What’s curious about that, however, is that it sounds like a compilation of Eno’s greatest hits—or rather, their fictional dopplegangers from another dimension. The first three tracks on Small Craft…—“Emerald And Lime,” “Complex Heaven” and the title song—recall his classic, groundbreaking ambient period of the ‘70s; “Flint March,” “Horse” and “2 Forms Of Anger” showcase Eno’s louder, rockier side a la “Third Uncle,” a masterpiece that was once covered to great effect by Goth rockers Bauhaus; the noisy motorik-driven climax of “2 Forms of Anger, meanwhile, evokes Eno’s love for (and participation in) Germany’s krautrock movement. “Bone Jump,” meanwhile, signifies the twitchy, deracinated electro-funk that Eno captured on his landmark collaboration with David Byrne, My Life In The Bush of Ghosts, one of the first albums to really explore sampling.

And yet, while Small Craft… does seem to sample from Eno’s many famous eras where he defined himself as an artist, it’s no nostalgia trip. Put Small Craft… up against any of today’s most adventurous music, and it still sounds as challenging as ever. What’s most intriguing is, as many envelopes Small Craft… pushes, the album remains compulsively listenable, the sheer inventiveness of the mix and quality of the sounds bringing you back over and over again to puzzle its nuances. The tracks often feels cinematic, like a soundtrack to a movie that never existed. That’s a gambit that Eno has tried before in his Music For Films album and Passengers project with U2, but this effort comes off even more whole, more fresh, more invigorating—like it’s a soundtrack to a much, much better movie. Totally oblique, yet takes the listener in with a very clear strategy—that’s what Eno does best historically, and that’s exactly what he does here, but at new levels of confidence and passion. Yes, it’s another game changer, from the very man who on some level invented this game…

Small Craft on a Milk Sea will be released on Nov. 2 in the US, and Nov. 15 in the UK.  Order yours here.

Rolling Stone has compared Warpaint to Throwing Muses, and it’s not a totally off comparison—there’s a light modernist screech that’s similar in Warpaint, and both bands come from a deeply homemade, feminine place (the members of Warpaint are all women). To me, however, there’s less strident dogma to Warpaint, and more druggy, sensual pleasure: if THE FOOL is a feminist statement, it doesn’t play by anybody’s rules or manifesto, men’s or women’s, wandering where it will without any bounds, but never rushing… Song after song, the band’s three vocalists—Emily Kokal, Theresa Wayman, and Jenny Lee Lindberg—swerve into each other in slow motion, and it’s a somnambulist thrill. There’s definitely a Goth vibe, but cast in tie-dye, not basic black: Kokal, Wayman, and Lindberg howl together like like if Siouxsie was American, and grew up somewhere sun-baked and stony, like the Mojave, as opposed to dreary, wet London, or if Elizabeth Fraser from the Cocteau Twins was a little more of a California hippie who liked to wake and bake and listen to Nina Simone. A lovely acoustic ballad like “Baby” splits the difference between Joni Mitchell, Nick Drake and a Led Zeppelin ballad, and it’s freakin’ awesome, the essence of melancholy left out to dry on hot beach sand. If anything, Warpaint’s three voices evoke Nico more than anyone else—there’s sexuality and eroticism here, but it’s, well, vague, experimental, and flecked with dread, making it all that much more alluring. Deerhunter may be the closest comparison, not so much in sound as in both bands share a willful inclination to turn sonic expectation on its head, all in a gloriously mind-expanding, psychedelic way.

Organic is a critical cliché, but it applies here: Warpaint’s music is lovingly unquantised, shifting subtly like a valley of dry reeds blowing in the breeze. The music captured on THE FOOL is deeply cinematic, but it’s a cinema of scratchy 16mm experimental film, not blockbuster widescreen indie like, say, Kings of Leon. “With my hand in my pocket, I feel like a shadow”: so goes a lyric from “Shadows,” which may or may not be titled after a John Cassavettes film, but is an absorbing, emotional, filmic experience of sound. Tribal drums, spectral synths, and droning guitar chimes rise and fall like a swampy tide throughout THE FALL; once you dive deep into the amorphous bliss of a Warpaint song, it’s hard to see the bottom, and you can’t really be sure there is one. There aren’t really hooks per se as much as a lot of atmosphere, yet each song proves ultra-catchy in spite of itself. “Now I’ve got you in the undertow/Now I’ve got you, so…” is a lyric from THE FOOL’s first single, “Undertow,” and it perfectly describes the experience of listening to Warpaint: you just want to get sucked in, over and over again…

‘When I’m In Awe’, featuring the gravelly timbres of Gonjasufi, is the lead track and finds The Sufi in a curiously upbeat mood over what sounds like a Mulatu beat all the way from Addis Ababa. The rest of the EP is just as merciless. With a non-stop barrage of blunted breaks, the Killer just got iller.

From Burial to its founder Kode9, the Hyperdub label has been famed largely as the one-stop shop for all that’s adventurous and forward in dubstep and related bass-driven dancefloor subgenres. That’s why the beloved imprint’s latest release, North, the debut album by the band Darkstar, proves initially so startling.

Originally a duo comprising Aiden Whalley and James Young, Darkstar first gained notice for “Aidy’s Got A Computer,” which felt like a fractured, rippling UK garage twist on “A Forest” by the Cure—hardly the stuff of dubstep wobble cliché. For North however, Darkstar adds a proper lead vocalist in James Buttery, who has that kind of way with spooky melody that makes Thom Yorke and Miike Snow so memorable. Indeed, “Gold” has that Radiohead-does-IDM gloriousness, but with an almost guiltily pleasurable hooks: its got little glitchy noises piled on top of each other like the inside of a box of treasure, all glued together with an infectious vocal melody. That it’s a cover of a fairly obscure Human League song makes it even cooler. “Ostkreuz” evokes cosmic Eno-esque ambience, while “Deadness” recalls the Beatles’ weirder moments scrambled inside a software program recovered from the future; on the other hand, “Under One Roof” and the title track exude a wonderfully melancholy ‘80s Peter Gabriel vibe—understatedly anthemic, yet simultaneously experimental. Those qualities pretty much sums up North’s best aspects that make this an album-of-the-year contender—you won’t find a release both as catchy and unexpected as this one.

That said, this year’s Cosmogramma many might think is the standout, and it is a stone classic, startling and free of genre much like, say, Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew was. On Cosmogramma, Flying Lotus’ style transcended mere beatmaking into something innately musical and intrinsically fascinating. Above all, FlyLo here manages to balance seemingly contradictory elements, able to balance smooth and jazzy with atonal and discordant simultaneously, often in the song. As well, using real jazz players like his cousin Ravi Coltrane (yes, those Coltranes) with serious grooves created a thrilling play between the organic and the synthetic.

Despite having already released the most ambitious album this year, FlyLo dazzled heads yet again by recently dropping the new seven song e.p., Pattern+Grid World, which we prepared you for in August. At first, Pattern+Grid World seems like an anticlimax after Cosmogramma’s expansive brilliance, but it’s really more of a continuation of its genius. As on his previous records, FlyLo’s tracks here are surprisingly short—the longest one here isn’t much over three minutes—but you wouldn’t know that from listening to them: like a DMT trip, he packs more journey in their abbreviated grooves than a song five times as long. Pattern+Grid World also dazzles in how lighthearted and fun it can be despite all the serious muso action at hand: the synths on tracks like “Physics For Everyone!” and “PieFace” are seriously funky, and it’s hella cool how the unhinged, abstract percussion of “Jurassic Notion/M Theory” is followed by the classic b-boy breakbeat underpinning “Camera Day.” That range is really the only pattern defining FlyLo here—the only grid boxing him in is the span of his seemingly infinite talent, which, as is obvious, ain’t no box at all.

Unfortunately, Stateside heads are missing out on not just one of the great lyrical stylists of our era, but one of the great b-boy eccentrics, with cred to burn regardless if he’s from across the pond. One of the London MC’s enduring obsessions is his love affair with the sounds of West Indian sound systems, a omnipresent local specialty in his hometown. Mr. Manuva clarified this on songs like “Dub Styles” on his 2001 breakthrough album, Run Come Save Me; he even released a dubwise re-imagining of that album, appropriately titled Dub Come Save Me, which proved both more propulsive and atmospheric, stripped down to its rhythmic essentials yet more expansive than ever. His latest album, Roots Manuva Meets WrongTom: Duppy Writer, follows that same path but even more radically: drawing tracks from all of his albums, it’s a career retrospective, yet radically deconstructed with Carribean dub science. Wrong Tom is a Brit dub studio wizard hailing from the town of Staines (i.e., where Ali G is from) with an endearing checkered career tweaking delay knobs for ska legend Lynval Golding, Trojan Records, and rock band Hard-Fi (Manuva himself also turned in a memorably fragmented, bass-booming remix of Hard-Fi’s “Cash Machine”). Wrong Tom and Roots first worked together on alternate versions of Manuva’s last album, 2008’s Slime And Reason, the collaboration proving so fruitful that the pair embarked on Duppy Writer’s ambitious project.

Image by Oliver Daniel Barnes

Here, Wrong Tom manipulates the rhymes spanning Roots Manuva’s career to tell a history of classic, dub-influenced sonics. Indeed, this is classic dub evoking the prime era of Lee “Scratch” Perry and King Tubby (the fantastic album art is even courtesy Tony McDermott, who created classic album covers for the likes of Mad Professor during that very time). Wrong Tom takes Roots down all the right avenues: Manuva is best rough, rugged and raw, his rhymes becoming meaty flesh hanging off the skeletal, low-end-enhanced minimalist soundscapes here. Wrong Tom willfully tries to approximate earlier eras in each song, recalling the classic kingpins of the original dub wars. While “Proper Tings” rides a vintage early-dancehall riddim, “Big Tings” recalls the great Scientist with its space-invader sounds poking through the mix. Duppy Writer is most exciting when Wrong Tom’s mixes edge towards the most edgily abstract and deconstructionist; the album makes clear Roots Manuva’s brave example—more artists should be more free to take apart and reassemble their music if the results prove this good.

Indeed, the Glitch Mob’s innovative head-nod side has come back with a vengeance in their new mixtape, a genius companion piece that redefines Drink The Sea’s moodscapes brilliantly.  It does so by pairing the album’s instrumentals and beats with a cappella vocals and grooves from the likes of Lil Wayne, M.I.A., Nas, Jay-Z, Daft Punk, Dr. Dre, Mobb Deep, Freddie Gibbs, Young Jeezy, Busta Rhymes and more. It’s like Drink The Sea has entered a new dimension—as if the radio actually had something decent and adventurous to listen to. One of the highlights is Glitch Mob’s take on La Roux’s smash “In For The Kill.” “In For The Kill” has proven a resilient remix foil—dubstep king Skream had an absolute smash with his tweaked, low-end friendly version —and in the Mob’s hands it really swings anew, La Roux’s melodic hooks clashing excellently with their sonic swerves. This is real future funk, the sound of tomorrow today, all with a beat you can move to. Download everything here, and thank me in the morning…

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“Shutterbug” is one of the singles of the moment—catchy as hell, weirdly idiosyncratic, a smash but also a game changer. “General Patton,” the second track that’s bubbled up from Big Boi’s upcoming album Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty, is also epic and operatic and funky as hell. Unfortunately, Big Boi has indicated that, while there won’t be any verbal duets with his usual Outkast partner-in-rhyme, the equally adventurous Andre 3000, there will be one track on Sir Lucious produced by Andre, and probably some internet leaks of other tracks with the pair sharing the mic as well. Either way, it’s clear Big Boi is getting hip-hop back on the good foot with his next-level summer jams.

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Regardless, I was brought back to the odd swag era by a recent package I received from Anti- Records: a large poster featuring, on one side, all the lyrics from “The Best of Times,” a song by rapper Sage Francis off his new album Li(f)e; the other side featured twitter testimonials and the like from people about how great and meaningful the song is. Now, such a presentation would usually induce the gag reflex, except for the fact that “The Best of Times” is a surprising, fantastic song, both a high water mark for both hip-hop and for Sage Francis as an artist. “The Best of Times” is one of those songs, like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana or “Welcome To The Terrordome” by Public Enemy, that you will always remember the first time you heard it (it was a Sunday, and KCRW was playing in the background…). What set it apart immediately was its length and sprawling ambition: starting with minimalist electronic keyboard bells before evolving into a kind of swirling, painterly indie rock that evokes Grizzly Bear or Arcade Fire over its near six-minute length, “The Best of Times” proves that rare ambitious in hip-hop (Ras Kass’ “Nature of the Threat” comes to mind, but this is a far more multi-genre experience); indeed, “The Best of Times” evokes songs like experimental epics “Paranoid Android” or “Stairway To Heaven” more than, say, anything by Soulja Boy. Over this backdrop, Sage Francis delivers the performance of his life. I have to admit, I was never a huge Sage Francis fan before this song; perhaps unfairly, I found his style mostly a strident combination of Slug from Atmosphere and Zach de la Rocha from Rage Against The Machine—admirable, perhaps, but a little obvious and short on the inspired magic that makes classic hip-hop indelible. Well, with the “The Best of Times” he’s surpassed himself.

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Dropping lyrics spanning both a widely critical view of where we are in society (“technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping our distance/’Til we just stayed distant and never touched, now all we do is text to much”) and the deeply personal (“Tone Loc was talking about a wild thing, I was still caught up in some child things/Scared of a God who couldn’t spare the rod, it was clearly a brim-stone and fire thing”), Sage Francis really goes there on “The Best of Times.” It’s deeply confessional, but more Dylanesque than emo; probably only in the truly devastating era we live in could a rapper forego the bling and notice what was blowin’ in the wind other than blunt smoke. Well, Sage Francis has, and he’s to be commended. This would be a very meaningful effort in good times or bad, but I suppose we need it now more than ever.

Sage Francis plays this Sunday, June 6, in Los Angeles at the The Music Box.

Hark! Here once walked Laurie Anderson, Shankar, Germans, and Game Boys. Only recommended if you like thinking deep about shit. Maybe allegories.

High Places – “When It Comes”

High Places relocated from Brooklyn to LA, and the change fits like a glove. When they first appeared they seemed little more than a sort of Caribbean appropriation attack by two urban whites. Yuck, right? No more, methinks. Extensive touring and work has struck out and let their chill mode approach breathe and sharpen. Lovely.

Tobacco – “Sweatmother”

Banger, banger, banger. It’s over as quick as it starts…perfeck.

Peaking Lights – “Silver Tongues, Soft Whispers”

Meandering lovely sine-pop from a Madison pair I had the pleasure of seeing at a friend’s house two days ago. Way way back guitars, way way up front low-end, disemboweled Casio, soft mumble singing, front-of-eyes sine waves and two extremely gracious people.

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Murs is better than your favorite rapper. The 32-year-old born Nick Carter (his moniker alternately stands for “making underground raw shit,” “making the universe recognize and submit,” and “most underground rap sucks”) has been the face of West Coast independent hip-hop since he released his first single (as part of the group the 3MGs) back in 1993. Murs has been a part of every significant independent hip-hop label that matters (Def Jux, Rhymesayers, you name it) as well as legendary groups (Living Legends, Felt – a duo with Slug from Atmosphere, among others); he can hold the stage with everyone from “undie” rappers like Aesop Rock to overground gangsta stars like Snoop Dogg and Xzibit, make genre-defying tracks with the likes of Ed Banger’s Busy P and dubstep producers Chase and Status, and namecheck indie bands like Vampire Weekend alongside the likes of DJ Quik as influences. He’s best known as a solo artist, however: over the course of his past ten (!) solo albums, the prolific lyricist has earned a rep as one of the greatest MCs working today. Murs is like a cross between Tupac, Tracy Morgan, Too Short and Spike Lee: he’s full of gutbusting profane humor, wildly personal confessions, social consciousness, and a provocative take on male-female relations – often in the same song.

Right now is a big time for Murs. On April 3rd, he hosts the fifth edition of Paid Dues, the acclaimed one-day festival he founded to celebrate the best of independent rap past and present (indeed, no major-label artists are allowed). This year’s lineup is unparalleled, spanning heavy-hitting headliners (Ice Cube, Raekwon, The Dogg Pound), adventurous Southern rhyme styleers (Jay Electronica, Curren$y), top Midwestern mic killers (Tech N9ne, Doomtree), indie stalwarts (Necro, People Under The Stairs, R.A. The Rugged Man), classic California underground talent (Del Tha Funkee Homosapien, Psycho Realm, Freestyle Fellowship) and wild cards (hot producer Jake One performing with ex-Roc-A-Fella Philly-based MC Freeway). Soon after, on April 13th Murs releases his latest solo album, Fornever – actually his fourth collaboration with the great, soulful producer 9th Wonder (Little Brother, Beyoncé, Nas, Jay-Z), who has been responsible for landmark Murs releases like Murray’s Revenge and Murs 3:16: The 9th Edition. Fornever is actually Murs’ best album yet: it finds him boring deep into his L.A. roots, featuring guest spots from the likes of major West Coast talent Kurupt, Suga Free, and Sick Jacken, and features his most blazing, assured, funny, trenchant verses yet. This is just the beginning of Murs World Order circa 2010, as Kspace found out in a candid conversation.

Kspace: Paid Dues has been in existence for half a decade. How did you start it in the first place – what was the original concept, and how has it evolved since then?

Murs: Six years ago, I had made my first film, Walk Like A Man, and needed to make the 25,000 back it cost to make. Soon after, Chang Weisberg, the founder of Rock The Bells, gave me a call: I pitched him an independent music tour, like Warped but for independent hip-hop. He was like, “We’re gonna be partners, and I’m going teach you how to do it from the ground up.” I’ve definitely learned the business with Paid Dues in a deep way. The first year was really dramatic – we had to change venues three days before the show because of a riot at a punk-rock concert at the original venue.  We’d sold 2,000 tickets, so everyone had us by the nuts! Original ideas was to combine all independent scenes – Rhymesayers, Def Jux, Rap-A-Lot, Living Legends; I wanted a place where UGK, Devin The Dude, Grouch, Atmosphere, Mr Lif and Aesop Rock could coexist. Of course, we had no connection to the South, so the only Southern rapper we had that first year was Chingo Bling from Houston. Since then, it’s evolved into something bigger than the scene; some people are with it, and some people are not – If Atmosphere’s not a part of it, it’s not underground hip-hop for some people. But to me, indie rap started with Ruthless Records and Eazy E! And Ice Cube doesn’t do everything: that he respected what we’ve built enough to do it means a lot. Kurupt, too, said he needed to do it, and I love that. Even though I started it, this is actually my first time on the Paid Dues bill as a solo performer – all the other years, I was on a major label!

Kspace: Each year, the lineup of Paid Dues has painted a picture of what’s happening in hip-hop, building bridges between various scenes – old school, commercial, underground, backpack, horror, Dirty South. What does this year’s edition say about hip-hop today?

Murs: I think it’s saying there’s a lot of activity in terms of West Coast hip hop is what its saying. And that I love rappers from New Orleans: Curren$y and Jay Electronica are really happening right now. And the face that you thought was indie hip-hop is changing, and that face might be a little bit darker than you thought. Raekwon’s album was a game changer this year – it was too powerful to ignore: for him to sell 70,000 albums first week blew me away. Tech N9ne is a new face have to respect – he made it on 106th and Park this year. Jay Electronica is huge off one song, which is something you might typically say that about a ringtone rapper like Souljah Boy, but rarely an independent artist. A lot of the people on the bill have  gone from major to indie, too: Del was one of the first to do that, but there’s also Freeway, too; Del was actually at the forefront of online marketing with hieroglyphics.com. Having Freestyle Fellowship there is heavy for me – I don’t know if kids realize how important they are, but to OGs it’s really important: I hope they continue to claim what’s rightfully theirs. Doomtree brings the Rhymesayers-affiliated Midwestern element in there, representing the next generation of backpack MCs. We’ve also got the female element covered with Nessa from Doomtree and Hopie Spitshard, and my connection to Living Legends is there in Afro Classics.

Kspace: What’s next for Paid Dues?

Murs: I wanted to do a dubstep room, but it didn’t happen. I would like to incorporate more dubstep, some drum-and-bass type shit, graffiti, b-boying, djing, add some battles. Skateboarding will be in there, too: I’m working on that with guy who does a thing called the Hood Games. And Paid Dues needs to turn from a one-day event into a weekend festival, into a traveling tour. I found out it’s not a true festival unless it’s multiple days – until then it’s just a concert.

Kspace: Let’s talk about your new album, Fornever. To me it’s your best album – in fact, it sounds like the California G-funk album you always wanted to make.

Murs: I think it finally is – except for one of my favorite songs, which is “Asian Girl,” it’s as close as I’m going to get to it, in the best way. I think in a way 9th came to me instead of me coming to him. It’s all about the drums – they’re not clean current Dre drums: I told the guy who mixed it, dirty everything up so that it feels like Dr. Dre 2001, but with RZA and Premier beats. It’s not hook heavy – there’s a lot of rapping. A lot of West Coast songs are about sing-songy choruses, but Fornever is what it is: real minimal, a lot of 24-bar verses. I’m keeping this one for me. The whole thing reminds me of a Dr Dre b-side like “Drinking Tanqueray,” a twelve-minute song where Kurupt, Rage and Daz all rap forever without a chorus. Having all those great West Coast MCs made it complete – it was like having your friends come by and introducing them to your other friends
When Kurupt came through it was over the top exciting. Suga Free was a bit much for a good Christian family man like 9th, though. Ultimately, though, I wanted to give East Coasters everything they love about West Coast rap on this album.

Kspace: On Fornever, you cover Common’s “I Used To Love H.E.R.,” which is a song that when it came out was a big statement about what was going on in hip-hop at the time. As well, it also had a controversial West Coast beef angle. Why cover that now?

Murs: I’ve been waiting years to do that song – to set the record straight. I didn’t want to update the West Coast element. My comment on hip-hop right now is that, in a way, there’s still a problem. People see hip-hop as a job: it’s okay to make money off your art, but people don’t love it like I love it – I love it through the good and the bad. I mean, Nas tried to kill hip hop! Hip-hop is dead? What? You don’t say that about someone you love! Hiphop can be about skinny jeans and “808s and Heartbreak” as long as you’re doing it to be dope. I don’t think Common in 1994 saw himself starring in Terminator movies. I wonder if he feels any less hip-hop today, because that’s what he was criticizing Cube for then. I mean, everything has changed. Lil Wayne is very innovative, yet he sells millions. Kid Cudi now has his own tv show on HBO! Slum Village had a car commercial!
You can say they’re commercial rappers, but they’ve all been in commercials! But that doesn’t mean what they do is not hip-hop.

Kspace: Where are you lyrically on Fornever? There’s conscious tracks, confessional songs, ill lyrics about women… It’s all over the place, but in the best way.

Murs: I always do what the music tells me. I don’t go with a set plan. On the female tip, the black male has a complex relationshop with women, and hip-hop in general does even more so. Lately it’s been heavy on the side of misogyny, and I always try to counter that; at the same time, my records always document where I’m at in my head. On Sweet Lord and Murray’s Revenge, 9th and I were trying to make clean records, but I still cuss and say the n-word every day. And of my solo stuff, people just like albums like 3:16 more, and when we were making Fornever I was in that zone – smoking and drinking and fucking around. This past year, I started smoking again, I had a new SL 500 convertible, I was fucking around a lot with girls, and doing a lot of things people dream of. It was time to get back to being loose. Recording with 9th here in L.A. as opposed to North Carolina felt more comfortable. We weren’t around his mother: I was in my house and I could say what I wanted to say. We wanted to make 3:16 on steroids, talking about motherfuckers, bitches, niggas, and Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles; at the same time, I also wanted to show the conscious, Death Certificate side of West Coast rap in songs like “The Problem Is…” and “West Coast Cinderella.” People love it when I tell stories, so I did that – besides, I always get a story vibe from 9th’s music.
It has so much character, it doesn’t always need an obvious hook.

Kspace: The songs about women, like “Asian Girls” and “Vikki Veil,” are up there with your best, like “Freak These Tales.” I’m guessing they’re going to be equally as controversial, too.

Murs: 9th is out of his mind. He called me and was like, “I got this beat called ‘Asian Girl’!” I was like, “Are you shitting me? Are you serious?” He was, though – he wrote the hook and his rap. To me it doesn’t fit the record, but I like it: it definitely recalls the “Freak These Tales” It’s funny: 9th never saw no Asian girls in North Carolina – not until he came to L.A!    As for “Vikki Veil,” that’s “The Pain” meets “Freak These Tales”: it’s definitely autobiographical about what I went through in past year, when I was dating a few porn stars. It’s my wife’s least favorite song: she knows there’s some truth to it, so she doesn’t like to hear about it.

Kspace: You recently got married, indeed. How did it change your life?

Murs: Ask me in a year! Seriously, I was done. I always wanted to be married, anyway. Besides, I felt like if I waited until I was well over 30 to have a baby’s mom, get herpes or have an illegitimate child, I would be disrespecting my homeboys – it would just be stupid. Up to this point, I’ve lived a life no one has lived and been a glutton for punishment, but by last year I was skating on thin ice. Finally, though, I met the right person – I found someone that met a lot of the criteria. And at some point I was like, fuck it! I’m just going to do it!

Kspace: You mentioned Lil Wayne earlier, and I think in 2010 you might  verge on being as prolific as him, with all your projects. What’s up next?

Murs: I was trying to do ten albums this year, and put out a record the last week of every month, but Fornever was delayed two weeks, which screwed up my whole schedule. I did an album with this punk band Whole Wheat Bread, but the lead singer got shot, which halted the tour we were supposed to do. I’ve got an album called Melrose, which is more uptempo, ghetto electro shit, and a Werd2Murs album coming. I’ve also got a project called White Mandingos with members of Bad Brains and [famed journalist/Ego Trip founder] Sacha Jenkins: it’s going to be an epic concept record, like Tommy, but for the black punk rock/hip hop generation – afro-punk, if I can borrow the term. I hope to do a dubstep album, a collaboration album with Sic Jacken from Psycho Realm, and Varsity Blues 2, too. There won’t be any more Felt albums, though – we’re done. I honestly feel like motherfuckers are not putting out anything. People are dying to be entertained and I could put out a high volume of work and be received well. I’m also starting a new website, Mursworld.com, where people will be able to find everything. I have a podcast that goes up every week, Werd2murs, which I record usually every Sunday at my little brother’s tattoo shop. I’ve got a comic book called Merch-Girl, where I’m going to release a new song with every chapter. Yeah, I’ve got a lot of work coming out.

List of Gayngs members (had to):

Ryan Olson (Digitata), Zach Coulter (Solid Gold), Adam Hurlburt (Solid Gold), Joe Westerlund, Phil Cook (Megafaun), Brad Cook (Megafaun), Michael Lewis (Happy Apple), Justin Vernon (Bon Iver), Ivan Rosebud (The Rosebuds), Stefon LeRon Alexander (POS), Mike Noyce (Bon Iver), Jake Luck (Leisure Birds), James Buckley (James Bukley Trio, Mystery Palace), Nick Ryan (Leisure Birds), Shön Troth (Solid Gold), Danny Krzykowski, Chaney Moon Cassell (Roma di Luna), Katy Morley, Maggie Wander, Maggie Morrison (Lookbook, Digitata), Joe Mabbott (Passions), Grant Cutler (Lookbook), Xander

You can hear the first release, “The Gaudy Side of Town”, at Minnesota Public Radio’s website.

You can read more about the beginning of the project here.

The Gayngs Sign

Raising the Gayngs Flag

Tan Lines

It’s not prom without Gayngs

The Gaudy Side of Town (NC-17)

Of course, much of the audience wasn’t entirely familiar with Black Light at the band’s first Los Angeles show in half a decade, but Groove Armada had a secret weapon to help them go along with the program: SaintSaviour, the vocalist who provides many of the intense, soulful vocals making the album as great as it is. The moment SaintSaviour came on the stage littered with pulsing lights, awe-inspiring green lasers and mirrorballs, flanked by Groove Armada main men Tom Findlay and Andy Cato, as well as guitars and drums and synths, it was clear the crowd was in for a ride. Wearing a gold outfit Grace Jones might wear to a Native American ceremony, SaintSaviour embraced her sequined camel toe, and let rip into “Look Me In The Eye Sister” with a vivid non-stop performance full of angular dance moves and virtuoso vocals. In concert, SaintSaviour comes off as a cross between Annie Lennox, Robyn, Karen O, Siouxsie Sioux and Fever Ray, and truly made Black Light come to life even more than the recorded versions. She more than held her own on the male-vocalled songs, but was helped out admirably by Ben Duffy of Brit buzz band Fenech-Soler on Black Light’s slamming “Paper Romance,” giving the song a jolt of jilted-lover authenticity (Fenech-Soler’s earlier electrotastic set was good, too).

Groove Armada acquitted themselves admirably on the older material, too, busting out a live trombone for the chill-out classic “At The River” and bringing the band’s dope toaster/M.C. M.A.D. for a number of songs. M.A.D. proved a real party-starter, his bubbly charisma a fine contrast to SaintSaviour’s edgier vibe. And when M.A.D. ripped into his vocal on “Superstylin’,” Groove Armada’s biggest and finest hit, for the encore, it proved a perfect climax, bringing the nostalgia of yesteryear smack into the band’s innovations of today. All in all, Groove Armada provided one of the shows of the year to follow up one of the albums of the year.