I really, really dislike rap music. It has nothing to do with it being a hugely successful genre, or with it being enjoyed by friends in High School. I just can’t align myself with any of the artists’ messages, and I believe almost all of it sounds really, really stupid. That’s not to say I’ve never enjoyed rap music. In fact, there was a period when it was nearly all I listened to. I’m 24 years old, I have a pretty sizable record collection, and there is only ONE rap record in there. One totally perfect, hilariously funny yet poignant record that brings me pleasure whenever I give it a spin.
My rap phase reached it’s acme in the summer of 1994. At the time, I owned Doggystyle, Enter the Wu-Tang, Check Your Head, The Low End Theory and…man, there was one other CD I wore out, but I don’t remember what the hell it was a the moment.
Before I get into discussing that single greatest rap album I’ve ever heard, let me take a step back. When I was young, I learned a lot about music from counselors at the overnight camp I attended beginning when I was nine years old. In hindsight, I probably learned more about really bad music than really good music, but it worked out well because I figured out at an early age what I didn’t like, and was able to avoid it in the future. My counselors took pride in introducing us kids to new music, most of which was popular college music at the time. For example, Dan (nickname: “Chile”) made us memorize all the words to “Fluff’s Travels” from the Phish album Junta in 1992. I soon learned I didn’t like Phish very much. Someone–I can’t remember who–would NOT stop PLAYING that STUPID Dave Matthews album with the carnival ride on the cover. Long (I don’t remember where he came from, but he was Asian American) introduced us to Nine Inch Nails and KMFDM in 1994. Seth introduced us to Moe. in 1996. The only person who I remember fondly for bettering my musical taste was the Scottish counselor, Colin, who spurred my Brit Pop phase in 1997. That one I’m actually proud of…
Ok. Back to 1994. If ever there was a perfect moment for a rap album to come along and find me, it was during that 1994 rap phase. I was on the phone this morning with my friend Jon trying to figure out exactly which counselor owned the album, and neither of us could recall. It’s taken on sort of a mythic quality through the years whose origins are unknown. But man, when I saw that incredible comic book album cover I knew I was in for a life-changing listening experience. Move over Doggystyle, make room for Goats – No Goats, No Glory.
Maybe it was the live backing band, maybe it was the copious marijuana references…whatever it was, No Goats No Glory blew me away from the opening strains of “Wake ‘N’ Bake,” whose lyrics I still have a tendency to quote ad nauseam.
Technically an alternative rap group, the Goats began an interracial trio from Philadelphia who spouted political messages, silly stories, grass smoking anthems, and mixed them with a sound that could be described as heavy-metal-funk-rock. By the time No Goats No Glory was released in 1994, they were down to a duo, and much of the political discourse from their first album Tricks of the Shade had disappeared following the exit of member Oatie Kato. Still, they manage to take plenty of shots at conservatism and express extreme hatred for bigotry (although I guess that’s not really a revolutionary concept). The record showcases two rappers with great lyrical skill who could easily survive outside the group, and pairs them with an immense backing back capable of catapulting tracks into completely new sonic dimensions. So many different aspects of the record can blow your mind, it takes several listens to digest it all. The one downside of this record is that it’s frequently hailed as a predecessor to what would become the late ’90s rap/rock scene, which birthed some of the absolute worst music ever committed to tape. I don’t know how responsible the Goats were for elevating that movement, but let’s not let it detract from their monstrous beats and classic rhymes.
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Last, but not least, another field recording from my series of cross-country sound captures. This one is from the Cherokee Trading Post on I-40 between Tulsa and Amarillo. Listen for funny background noises, and, of course, the part where I almost knock over an entire display case of wind chimes. Then listen as I stand around like a total idiot while the woman standing behind me snickers like a bitch.
Field Recordings (04-28-07 to 05-05-07)
04 – Cherokee Trading Post (Walkin’ ‘Round)
