The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.
I’d been meaning to listen to this album for a while and when I finally did, it did not disappoint. The record that propelled Lauryn Hill into superstardom and brought hip-hop into the musical mainstream is rightfully regarded as one of the best albums of the 90s, if not all time. Hill projects her experiences of love, motherhood and religion through a collection of unique songs that defy genre boundaries: her soulful vocals on “To Zion” as she contemplates her pregnancy and parenthood, accompanied by a gospel choir; her incredible rap performance on “Final Hour”; her range on the Wu-Tang sampled R&B soul anthem “Ex-Factor”, to name a few. The album was largely recorded in Kingston, and the Jamaican influence can be heard throughout; whether it’s the reggae elements that are littered in many of the songs, or Hill’s vocals that become twinged with a Jamaican dialect as on “Lost Ones”. This album is so good in fact, that I’m afraid any review I’m capable of writing would not do it justice; it is one of the greatest R&B/hip-hop/soul artists at the height of their creativity, producing an enduring masterpiece that continues to influence popular music today.
Moon Safari.
Capitalising on Daft Punk’s debut album “Homework” released the previous year, Air rode the crest of the French electronica wave by releasing their own debut in January 1998. While Daft Punk’s brand of electronica is more house oriented, Air’s “Moon Safari” is a chilled out downtempo record that would influence the next generation of electronic musicians throughout the 2000s. Air experiment with various genres throughout the album, from the string ensemble heavy “Talisman”, to the mainstream pop of “Sexy Boy”. The latter is probably the most well-known single of Air’s career, if you’ve seen a slow motion montage of a male celebrity (probably Gino D’Acampo) on daytime TV, “Sexy Boy” is most likely the song playing. All songs on “Moon Safari” are unique, yet Air create a soundscape that reverberates through the album by the recurring use of whatever synthesiser or instrument they happen to find. The sound at first appears minimalist, but the complexity of each song’s composition becomes apparent upon closer inspection.
Moment of Truth.
Shit be poppin’. The review of Gang Starr’s magnum opus, “Moment of Truth”, by someone who wishes to remain anonymous. And to be fair, they’re not wrong. Every song on the album is uniquely brilliant, which for a record that contains over 20 songs is no mean feat. The hypnotic beats and sampling perfected by DJ Premier, are so in sync with Guru’s lyrics and flow that they combine to produce the ultimate hip-hop album. Further on Gang Starr’s lyrics, they use their platform as a hip-hop artists to question society. Whether that is by directly confronting other hip-hop artists in the outro of “Royalty”, or more subtly expressing their views on social change as per “Robbin Hood Theory”. What else is left to say? Rightly regarded as one of the greatest hip-hop albums ever. Shit be poppin’.
Music Has the Right to Children.
David Lynch lying in the bath. Memories from his childhood float by as he drifts off to sleep. This is the image that Boards of Canada’s debut album conjures; a nostalgic journey into a past never experienced. The stand out track on the album is “Aquarius”, and yet I’m not sure why I love it so much. It could be the funky rhythm guitar; the groovy bass-line; the mischievous childish laughter; the man repetitively saying “orange”; the woman’s robotic counting; or the euphoric key change half way through. In actuality it is probably all of these components and more; Boards of Canada pushed the boundaries of what music can be, and they did it beautifully. What your parents would probably label as “just noise” is in fact a mesmerising, breathtaking, groundbreaking album that gets better each time you hear it; I should know, I’ve played it several times in the space of a week.
XO.
This is my first Elliott Smith album, and I’ve got to say it’s a pretty bloody good place to start. It’s difficult to pin down to a single genre; at times the album is of a Jack Johnson-esque folk/acoustic/indie pop style, at others, such as on “Amity” a more rock definition seems more appropriate. The lyrics, meanwhile, are so dark and melancholic it’s impossible not be moved and to feel a connection with the clearly troubled genius of the artist. The two songs that stand out most are, coincidentally, the two singles that were spawned from the album, “Waltz #2 (XO)” and “Baby Britain”. The latter sounds like an homage to The Beatles’ “Getting Better”, while the lyrics are the mirror opposite to that of The Beatles’, as the quality of life for the subject is deteriorating; Smith simultaneously raises political issues as well as his own problems with alcohol. “Waltz #2 (XO)”, meanwhile, is an ode to his mother and his abusive stepfather. The simple piano riff and Smith’s sorrowful vocals create an atmosphere of depression and beauty that wouldn’t be out of place in a Wes Anderson film, it could well be in The Royal Tenenbaums and I just didn’t realise at the time. Hopefully another year in which Elliott Smith released an album will appear fairly soon, because this one was amazing.
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