I went through the obligatory "Ill-listen-to-stuff-my-older-brother-listens-to" when I was about 10 and my brother 15. His weapon of choice, other than the odd Def Leppard cassette (and I thought I was being old-fashioned with cds…), was to a large extent hip hop (then known as "rap"), a habit supported by an American friend of the family's.
This kept my brother in ever-fresh supply of whatever was big in the early nineties, with titles filled with angry/playful men and ominous "Explicit Lyrics" stickers. (It may sound funny today, but those stickers scared the hell out of me. Felt like doing something wrong.)
Groups like 3rd Base, The Pharcyde, Run DMC, NWA, Onyx, Public Enemy (a lot of Public Enemy) and people like Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, Ice T, and Guru were on heavy rotation back then. Needless to say, I did not think highly of any white person in those days, and believe me when I say that I'm one of the paler people in existence today.
The method was simple: Every time my brother got sick of one of his mix tapes he'd pass it over to me, and so on. Worked for everyone.
As time went on, and as I morphed into the awkward Alice-in-Chains-t-shirt-wearing, I'm-mad-at-the-world and not-bathing teenager, and parted ways with rap (now already "hip hop"), except from the odd meeting of the two worlds such as "Bring the Noise," Body Count's fine first album, and the very strange realization that that cool song I liked on the new Korn cd I thought was so current was in fact an Ice Cube song ("Wicked") I used to listen to during fourth grade school trips….
Years later I was forced to reevaluate my then non-existent stand as a result of my clash with two very special bands. One was The Roots, through an especially avid Roots man, with the other being Outkast, through the endless airplay Stankonia got at the time. Yes, I am sorry Ms. Jackson.
While it was Stankonia which got my attention at first, I found myself much more drawn to Outkast's back catalogue, which made me remember, in way, what it was I liked about rap/hip hop in the first place. They were raw, in your face and as explicit you would find outside a nudie bar (to quote the great Al Bundy) and as smart, brilliantly put together, self-referential, and accessible as any music I have ever heard.
While I never really hung around hip hop circles, I have a sneaky feeling that the "keepin' real" crowd would gravitate toward Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik and ATLiens, while the more hit-based crowd would prefer the safer albums that follow.
Obviously, there is no right answer. Both Southernplaya - listicadillacmuzik and ATLiens are fine albums, especially the latter, and are probably the best of the best when it comes to mid 90s hip hop and definitely the best in the so-called "dirty south" category, one which – the category, not the music – I always detested.
Stankonia? Stankonia was brilliant, with many authentic and beautiful moments (B.O.B. has one of the most crazed I-want-to-punch-your-mom-while-dancing beats ever heard, and ever to be heard). But - and this is a big one - it lacks the real force, call it desperation, truth, sentiment, rage that should always balance out the smarty-pants side of things. In other words, Andre was killing Big Boi.
But Aquemini is the point where the ying and yang meld in a varied and wonderful way, where opposites actually work off of each other, instead of splitting into separate and mutually exclusive entities (i.e. Speakerboxxx/The Love Below).
Everyone has something to choose from, with most finding everything they'll ever need in every single song. The old school crowd have their fill with songs like "Return of the 'G'," "West Savannah," "Y'all Scared," and more, while others can enjoy the bounce of "Rosa Parks," "Skew it on the Bar-B," and Synthesizer."
The albums is packed with amazing songs, which not only bounce and hop, but also provide a glimpse of Atlanta life, with amazing storytelling and poignant moments.
But the tracks in which Outkast really shines here are the kind of songs which you could only find on Aquemini, the kind of tracks that don't only make you dance or think, but blow you away, or let you into the Andre and Big Boi's darkest most vulnerable places.
Aquemini's tail-end alone (from "Da Art of Storytellin Part 1" onwards, featuring the insatiable Slick Rick) would make an amazing album. The storytelling and sheer magnetic Ska-like/slow-jam groove of the never-ending, spellbinding "Spottieottiedopaliscious," or the heart breaking tenderness of "Liberation," which features Cee-lo Green at his emotional greatest, not only give out a feeling of mid-90s Atlanta, but a rare and beautiful view into the soul of these two great artists.
Slap those tracks together with the ton-of-bricks full force and passion of "Chonkyfire," sex appeal of "Mamacita" and the eerie break of "Nathaniel," and you have a bona fide masterpiece.
It is, however, equally clear that "Liberation" would never work as well as it does if it wasn't preceded by the grit of "Return of the 'G'" or followed by "Chonkyfire." Outkast isn't just sensitive, or revealing, just like it isn’t just balls-out partying or fried southern beats.
It's their uncanny ability to blend the two into one oscillating and scintillating whole, revealing, hiding, prancing, crying – and everything through their wonderful verbal/poetic acrobatics – which sets them apart as a group, and which makes this album shine as brightly as it does.
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