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"A damsel with a dulcimer/In a vision I once saw:/It was an Abyssinian maid,/And on her dulcimer she played,/Singing of Mount Abora./Could I revive within me/Her symphony and song/To such a deep delight 'twould win me/That with music loud and long/ I would build that dome in air/That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!/And all who heard should see them there/ And all should cry, Beware! Beware!" (From "Kubla Khan" by Samual Taylor Coleridge). As Buck 65 juggles and jiggles up quotes from both old skool and nu skool pioneers like Aceyalone and the Beastie Boys, The niggling synth-bass riff and vicious cuts during the thorough turntable work-out which introduces "Man overboard" gives the impression that the listener is in store for some no-holds-barred warfare. However, this belligerent tone and scaving sound is extremely misleading. Forget the brutal functionality of the type of rap which is like Bare-knuckle boxing because here the aim is to express a little more than brutal hatred and to impress a little more than knuckles on an opponent's face. When "Man overboard" reaches one of it's crests, listening to this album is like catching someone's gaze momentarily and then being able to gleam their dreams. Still, for each new wave to rise to a crest the one before it needs to come crashing down - and appreciation of a loquacious lul comes with the end the psychological storm. Bookending this PE-esqe aggressive opening at the other end of the album's first quarter comes a track portraying the oppressive sequestration of the artist as the monotonous string sounds on each note of track 1E evoke a sense of claustrophobic Misery for Rich Terfry. Locked in a metaphorical hot sweaty cage seemingly under duress to aqueous and make art but always starved of that which he most craves, despite imploring "all I need is inspiration!" The artist formerly known as Stinkin' Rich broods "how am I supposed to feel?/showing me a picture that isn't even close to real." During this artist's personal interpretation of sophomore blues, he remarks sarcastically on how expectations are so preposterously disproportionate to the provided stimuli to the extent that he declares "And I'm supposed to write the Great American love story? Why don't They sound trumpets and release flocks of doves for me?" Given how the first quarter of this album finds Buck 65 with his eyes blinkered on that pot of gold at the end of the daydreamer's rainbow instead of the proverbial ball at his feet, it's hardly surprising that he soon realises that "It's possible that I could be huge but I doubt it, because my phone's off the hook but that's about it." Consequently in spite of his sense of deprivation and alienation, the first quarter of this album finds Buck 65 always talking in terms of pledges and vows as Buck attempts to get his priorities in order and his locus of control back in centre. Indeed, the first vocal track finds Buck 65 supplicating to the "hiphop holy ghost" over a sombre beat, to "Give us this day our daily gift, of science to drop and knowledge to lift" here again, as the album builds up to it's peak, the tranquility of preceding tracks is disturbed by the Tantalizingly cinister -1f which, by comprising a knotted mess of lists and edicts is like a cross between a heist conspiracy and a game of consequences being conducted simultaneously by a paranoid schizophrenic. Now, this criminal minded mixture of inventory and itinerary does arguably contradict his solemn summoning of the strength to "As we vanquish those who tresspass against us, never trust those who must act as ganstaz." However, this gangstaism is the result of a case of "By any means necessary" or needs must when the devil drives pragmatism - and when one of the instructions during his conspiracy is "pay no attention to what yuur so called friends say" it becomes apparent that this deranged intrigue is a breakout not a break in - it's as if he himself is the contraband and his drapetomania has him subverting the mentality used against him to reassert his own spiritual compass Having successfully broken out of the haunted house of high expectations and hobbling reputation Buck 65 is finally able to hear what he is thinking, and the most prevailing thoughts baring on his mind are summed up by this chorus - "If I be myselfI'll be by myself but I don't want to be remembered by how the way I've been rendered." For the rest of the album, Buck 65 finds himself cut adrift. and in less capable hands, this could have ended in tears. Thankfully, this is not an album of one long rant about being misunderstood and not having inspiration - that's what Eminem, Jeru and Kool Keith's most recent albums were for. Likewise, this is anything but some self-indulgent sojourn in the wilderness by an albeit articulate omphalopsychite. In the words of Sage Francis, "the best way to get to somewhere you've never been before is to be lost" and so, Having already earned himself a reputation for being an unorthedox artist who not only Paddles his own canoe but also often against the tide, rather than simply rocking the tugboat complex, Buck 65 leaves the safety of the familiar in favour of going overboard in the hope that the super ego's devil and angel baring down upon each shoulder cannot swim.... And so, Having shed his Psychological straight-jacket , Buck 65's quest for self-actualisation amounts to one hiphop hermit's narcomantic odyssey. Always haunted by the perceived perceptions and reactions of others, this self-effacing "magic marionette" Commences his "agnostic pilgrimage" with a sprightly, Sanguinary Strut sauntering through a Labyrinthine manifestation of his own mind. Now, in the same way that Dante began his quest toward Beatification having to first pass through to the bottom of hell, Buck 65 first drifts across an arid desert and into a long time derelict "sunken city which currently wallows in the filth of it's own drunken pity" and here, he is forced to confront some home truths before he can progress. Subsequently, during this track which is lyrically reminiscent of Keats' "Ozymandius," track -3c- finds him compelled to confess "I used to be town cryer in a city of stone throwers..." " "so I press on" with this visceral Journey to the centre of the psyche of Buck 65 - or should that be Zorba the Geek?? - when during his unique blend of whimsical bravado and illusory soliloquies the Mediterranean-musaq sounding 2B finds him remarking "it's weird wearing two different shoes at once." Declaring in a theatrical whisper, "I trust my instincts and I follow my spider-sense," he soon surmounts the sunken city and so, having first slumped into the quicksand of ennui, things pick up as Buck recalls how he has always "found my escape in a melding of memories." This process of progression from regression finds him repopulating his imagination with the escapism of childhood fantasy so that "when the mob comes running with pitch falks and torches I'll be safe and surrounded by sound Inside my fortress" Subsequently, this former Dennison of despair becomes a demiurge of his own daydreamer's Domain who dodges depression with the instinct to "just climb trees and look for rhythm everywhere." The strands of his quest ultimately converge when "one day I wasn't looking and died by accident" which leads him to wander upon wonder during the "secretive splendor" of the Magical music-box-sounding 4b. This is so beautiful! Admittedly, the rhymes are a bit predictable but this adds to the childish charm as this hiphop Hans Christian Anderson contemplates what is the worth of miracles in the realm of the extraordinary. like a less self-conscious counterpart to Illogic's "Angel," having "descended to heaven cross-legged on magic carpet" Buck 65 passes through a series of fantastic visions including a lake of shapes and a sky full of words and music and culminating with his encounter with his soulmate who possesses exactly the same sized halo and whose presence provides him with the epiphanal revelation that "you are the space in between my exhales" Speaking of acknowledging inspiration, track 3a-a finds Buck 65 looping a cheapo sounding drum beat on a record by hand whilst he, sounding suspiciously like William S Burroughs (could it be him?) explains his inspiration and the method behind his madness; divulging "There's entropy at work but mostly it happened by accident." The album's central conceit is explained in terms of a determination to "document my dreams with as much detail as possible." given the way in which the majority of "man overboard" comprises one-verse tracks which drift off, it's as if he's recently awoken and must scribble down every detail of a dream before it avaids from awareness like an assailant absconding, leaving irregular footprints melting in snow under the rising sun of sensibility (hence the excerpt from "Kubla Khan").. Whereas listening to "Vertex" represented a mailstrem of memory and ideas aired The night before a thunder storm, "Man overboard" is like the morning after where one slides drowsily between levels of consciousness whilst the radio berbles in the background. Listening to "Man overboard" remains a pleasure but reviewing it....that's an ordeal because whilst for it's creator ""This collection of sketches, rough and scattered is arranged by instinct" the listener needs to ensure that they are in sync with the drift of this sparse soundscape and do not tune out at vital times. After all, across the album's duration Buck65 himself appears easily distracted, Disporting with many miniature audio contraptions comprising atonal pitch bending and turntable fiddling often accompanied by the sort of UFOlogy reportage you'd expect from a Sebutones project. I must admit, he's nearly lost me entirely on several auditions of the album when the album reaches it's lunatic peak with Track 3f whose purpose seems to be to syncopate a drum loop with the buzzing of a cricket. These contraptions of Surreal "Butchering of the wax" which link the album's more conventional tracks may work well in a live set, demonstrating that Buck 65 is both a superb deejay and emcee, but this is an album. I hear and accept Buck's explanation "for it to make sense you'd have to be me, and for it to make dollars I'd have to be something I despise" but I am something of a traditionalist so personally, Too often during "Man overboard," tracks feel like unfinished tracks for the next Sebutones project which were left incomplete when Sixtoo upped and left to join the rest of Anticon down in Westcoast America. I'm not against instrumental hiphop but a track like 2a (I believe it's official name is "Pope") is a criminal waste of a wicked instrumental! Please note that this review is a response to a pre-release Press-issue CD of Buck 65's album. To the best of my knowledge, it is the full album but it is the vinyl edit and so instead of 15 (or whatever) tracks, there are only 4 tracks. The retail version of the album which is set to drop later this month (February 2001) may not be identical to this promo. As it stands, given it's sparse lyrical content and emphasis on the maintenance of atmosphere, several tracks do stand out but you have to really appreciated as a whole. Aside from those insane intervals, "Man overboard" Could benefit from losing all those tracks where Buck 65 plays around with his records in the background as spliced and edited versions of answer-machine messages play in the foreground. Sure these messages and their accompanying atonal whaling and intermittent drum breaks are interesting the first time around - not least But as with one left by Dose One, they are no serious substitute for the collaborations the callers propose. The quest reaches it's climax when following his flights of fancy he comes gently back down to earth with the sardonic satire on mendacity 4E where he reveals how "the mask comes off and your face fades away, and you radiate 88 full shades of grey." Indeed, he deplores the way in which "in front of my face you spoke my gospel like an apostle but on the other side of town you've got coke in your nostril." However, in the absence of "new inventions that reveal peoples' true intentions, portable pride-protecter, affordable lie-detector," he deploys his skittish and tangential style to stress a need for a more relativistic appreciation of morality and sincerity - not to mention some humility and compassion. Speaking of reputations, keeping up appearances and never letting the mask slide, Buck 65 has earnt himself a reputation as a rap excentric and with lyrics like "The dance that goes with this is called The "Keep perfectly still"/ before your brain becomes burnt out like cheap circuitry will" some may think that his reputation is well-deserved. Still, reaffirming how "I'm famous for emceeing and cutting at the same time" the latter half of the album finds him leaving Anticon antics in favour of brandishing his 1200 hobo membership card. And getting down to some seriously cool tracks. For instance, -2d (aka "You know the science") finds a laid back Buck 65 casually talking about how "If you're anything like me you probably don't read the Source anymore and miss crews like the JVC force" whilst laying down a smooth rare groove vibe. Furthermore, not entirely able to shrug his reputation for being "wild at heart and weird on top" the wicked trippy drum & bass track 3e. And oh! Sole did say that Anticon were "The reinvention of Sugarhill" so it's apt that one of the pioneers of rap's avant guard movement should pay homage to one of rap's old skool pioneers by closing the album with a track based on the same instrumental originally popularised by Grandmaster Flash's "White lines." I think my favourite line from the entire album would have to be "and when it comes to being fat, the best kind of weight gain, has to be seeing your name up on a freight train." And if you're not feeling that couplet then there's no hope for you - and what are you doing at this site anyway!? I shall be buying the official release version of "man overboard" as soon as it drops in February and I eagerly await the release of "North American Adonis;" the collaborative project by Buck 65 and Dose One."Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country." (Anais Nin, The Diaries of Anaïs Nin)
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© CD Goldie for ukhh.com 2001 |
Buck 65 Man Overboard
LP