the essays: CONGRATULATIONSto our own LB, who became the proud papa of LB, Jr. on 11/28/07. The little guy will be a lead guitarist in no time! 12/10 @ 9:00 a.m. - It's good to see that fatherhood hasn't dimmed LB's fiery analysis. He's back with an open letter to will.i.am of all people.
Perhaps Mr. Black Eyed Peas' PA will find this site on his/her daily google-my-boss rounds. And if that happens : will.i.am, you're no OK Krupka.
In other quasi-LL Radio sound bites here's a link to Stones Throw records BADD Santa Mixtape. Song two uses LL's "Rock the Bells" beat and will surely get you into the Yuletide spirit. Yes, it's "Rock the Christmas Bells" and it must be heard to be believed.
12/7 @ 9:00 a.m. - Wags drops knowledge on LL's Radio giving the seminal album its just due while ably placing the album in its proper (and often forgotten) historical context.
11/26 @ 9:00 a.m. - A celebrity sighting and near riot in NYC! Was it Johnny, LL, or the Chili Peppers? Click here to find out.
the introduction (done with Johnny Cash's American Recordings and the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Blood Sugar Sex Magik): LL, the Chili Peppers, and Johnny Cash. Their Rolling Stone connection: Rick Rubin. Yes, all three albums were produced by that genre defying, Def Jam creating, minimalist producing workhorse. Two more of his hip hop albums and another Chili Peppers album appear on the list. That's right. No Slayer, no Danzig, and no System of a Down. Nevertheless seven ain't bad on such a 60's and 70's-centric list. And the man shows no signs of stopping. In the last two years he's recorded with eight more artists who made the RS500 list: Neil Diamond, U2, Green Day, Nas, KRS-One, Metallica, Weezer, and Jay-Z. Are those eight more disparate than the three albums we're about to hear? Let's see.
click here to read it all...
I saw recently where you had a beef with record buyers because your solo debut, Songs About Girls, registered “only” 20,000 albums sold in Sound Scan in the first week of its release, and that, since you founded the Black Eyed Peas and introduced the world to Fergie, you figured that you deserved to sell a comparable number of albums to what one of their releases would.
Dude, get real. What did Black Eyed Peas sell before you fired that other gal for Fergie? I’m sure that it was well short of 20,000 a week! And when I say “get real,” I don’t just mean it that logical sense, I also mean it in the musical sense. With all of the great emcees and producers out there, do you, really, really think that you measure up well enough to “deserve” better album sales than 20,000 in a week on your solo debut?
I was listening to L.L. Cool J’s classic Radio last week, and nothing that you have put out can compare to what happens on that 22-year-old album recorded by a teenager! You don’t have the passion, chops, taste, or coolness in evidence to touch a work like that.
There’s only one weak track on that album, “I Want You”, and that’s fine, because it’s the last one on there, and L.L. has already sold everyone on his greatness by then; your albums are full of filler crap like that with only a few hits. On Radio, he’s the type of guy who lays it all out there with no gussied up production and just kills, and you’re the type of guy with no qualms about just trying to sell as many albums as possible by dancing like a pussy on Best Buy commercials and shit.
Yeah, that’s fine, if that’s where your coming from, since L.L. obviously later went all sitcom star and shit, whoring himself out as much as you do these days, but the critical distinction is that you don’t have an album like Radio in your past in order to have earned sufficient respect from enough music fans to where you would give them a reason to check out anything from you without Fergie (or an equally huge star) on the cover.
Man, I would be stoked to sell 20,000 albums in a week! Do you think that Radio sold 20,000 in its first week?
LL Cool J’s Radio deserves the proverbial rock critic label of classic mainly from a historical point of view as it provides a concise summary of rap of the Old School variety at a time when Old School was reaching its commercial and artistic peak. Indeed, Radio effectively encapsulates the themes and musical stylings that made Old School so vibrant for a time and provides a chronological and musical bridge between the bubbling popularity of Old School in 1983-84 and the megastardom of 1986, namely with Run DMC’s Raising Hell.
Radio is strong, concise, and consistent statement of its time, an album that was rooted deeply in the urban geography of the boroughs of New York, where rap was essential born and nurtured, yet one that seemed to reach beyond its geographic scope and offer a boldness that went well beyond the simple, provincial bravado spewings that so characterized this period of hip hop.
The strength of the artistic work is due in part with the urgency and hunger of the charismatic voice, that of LL Cool J, a teenage phenom of sorts. The chiselled, taut, and semi-angered vocal delivery (contrasted with the more silky R&B style of later LL Cool J years) cuts through the stern minimalist beats and meshes well with rockier edge of the musical production of Rick Rubin, the another key element in the validity of the album. Indeed, Rubin’s production give Radio an overall artistic seriousness and endurance that outsizes novelty or one-trick pony acts of the time (think Fat Boys, Doug E Fresh) and outpaces most albums from contemporary Old School stalwarts. Put simply, Radio has weight and substance: a hearty beef stew versus the beef broth and tomato soup of many other artists of the time.
Despite its dated elements, Radio does display great historical importance as it marks a clear and coherent nexus between the best that came before it and best that was soon to come. With regards to its Old School foundations, Radio is clearly employs the DJ mode of the scratch as one of its key sonic weapons. As for beats, the album does not hesitate to borrow inspiration from Run DMC classics “Hard Times” and “It’s Like That” in songs like “I Can’t Live Without My Radio” (intro and foundation beat) and “You Can’t Dance” (a sped up “It’s Like That” beat). Rubin also seems particularly fond of the rockier elements of DMC first two albums and does not hesitate to use them to a minor degree in Radio and, of course, to a greater degree in his later collaborations with DMC and with The Beastie Boys on tracks like “Brass Monkey”. We see the Old School vibe in the thematic area as well. In numerous tracks, the jocular dis/cut/snap method prevails in several songs. And, “Dear Yvette” provides the humorous, although arguably semi-misogynous track that follows in the footsteps of UTFO’s classic “Roxanne, Roxanne”.
With its Old School roots and identity in tact, Radio effectively branches out and offers several musical statements that would provide a partial blueprint for one of Rick Rubin’s subsequent blockbusters. “Rock the Bells” is an obvious stand-out track thanks in large part to its devastating, arse-shaking polyrhythmic beat – a rhythmic structure that would foreshadow Run DMC’s stunning “Peter Piper” on Raising Hell. The only thing missing from the former track to make almost identical to the latter one is the cowbell rhythm slice, an element that is curiously found in the background of “It’s a Lie”, a track that also seemingly foreshadows another element of DMC’s megahit album. Put simply, “It’s a Lie” sounds a lot like “You Be Illin’” both musically and in terms of the comedic nature of the theme.
So, Radio is reverent and uniquely imaginative and bold at the same time. It is well aware of tradition, yet has a vision for the future. In this way, the oft-used label of “Middle School” for describing LL Cool J is appropriate as early albums like Radio helped cement him as a link between the recent past and fast growing future of rap. Still, I think it is unfair to exclude LL from the Old School moniker, especially when used in highlighting historical importance. Radio is one of the handful of albums that truly approach the classic level – mind you, classic singles abound in the pre 1986 period – and that so precisely summarize the feel and growth of a musical genre that was soon to explode both commercially and artistically. Unfortunately for LL and the artistic longevity of the album, the fast and dynamic changes in the hip hop spectrum, particularly with regards to the development of the album concept, would make LL’s and Radio’s impact on the scene somewhat blunted and short lived.click here to read it all...
It was a warm spring evening about nine years ago. I was in New York City on a date with the woman that would eventually become my wife. We were walking around Times Square in an attempt to try and find a good restaurant (something that I find to be surprisingly difficult in New York City).
The streets were crowded with tourists. As you walked towards an intersection you would begin to stand in a herd of people while everyone waitied for the beacon of safety known as the "Walk" sign.
As I walked across the street I was looking around. Instead of gazing up at the neon signs and flashing billboards I caught myself looking over at a flashy SUV that was caught at the red light. It was an immaculate black SUV which simply looked expensive.
As I walked closer I looked into the passenger seat. The window was open and the passenger was sitting with one arm hanging out the window. He was wearing sunglasses at night, which is always something that stands out to me.
Once I was within reach of the car I noticed that the passenger was LL Cool J. I was a fan of his music, but I do not think that I ever owned any of his albums. I liked his video for 'Doin' It', but that had nothing to do with him or his music. AS I stood there I realized that seeing LL Cool J was mildly interesting, but it simply did not call out to me or get me excited in any way.
I stood still for a moment in the middle of the crosswalk. LL Cool J slowly looked over at me and smiled. It was clear that I was the only person in the crosswalk that had noticed him. I could not quite tell if he smiled because someone finally recognized him or if he was simply entertained by seeing a goofy white dude staring at him.
After a brief pause I simply yelled out: "Hey, it's LL Cool J!". These simple words somehow broke through all of the commotion of New York City. The energy of the crowd completely shifted as everyone looked around. Moments later some girls could be heard shrieking. As I continued on my way to find dinner the beautiful new SUV was surrounded by a crowd of tourists as people all reached into the car to try and touch the celebrity that stood before them. The light turned green and it took a few moments for the crowd to clear enough room for LL Cool J to move on with his night.
The experience was enough to put a smile on my face. It also created a fun little story that I get to share with you today. I guess this also helps to describe how I feel about the three albums we are discussing this week. I can't get too excited about any of these albums. They are all by pretty good artists. They all contain some pretty good songs. They all fail to leave me with any type of lasting impression. They are all good enough that I would be able to recognize them, but I would just as soon let other people share their own excitement about these works. I would rather simply continue on my way and continue my quest to find a good restaurant in New York City.
LL Cool J was 16 years old when he recorded Radio. But when we listen to the album aren't we all?
I first heard Radio when I was 13. Just one of a number of hip hop tapes providing background music in my next door neighbor's basement during epic battles of Double Dribble and Mike Tyson's Punch Out. It wasn't Radio in particular but this exciting music, hip hop, made me feel older. Maybe not quite 16 but not a mere 13.
This new music was ours. It wasn't made for our parents or our teachers. It was made for us. For our pleasure and for our fun. We knew that they didn't "get it". Sure, they might try to listen and see what this new rage was but they never stayed. They would never put our tapes in when we weren't there. They could never understand. Just like our Nintendo. It was a separation that I cherished.
So when I listened to Radio again I was overjoyed to hear LL's youthful defiance and his charming innocence. Overjoyed because I wasn't sure it was going to be there.
It's been a 20 years since 1987. LL's had dozens of feature films, a sitcom, a workout book, and like three greatest hits albums.
Was my memory of a furious sucker-MC-stomping rhymer accurate? A teenager so angry at the status quo, at pop music, that the targets of his lead single weren't other rappers but Bruce Springsteen, Madonna, Prince, and Michael Jackson. Musicians that adults listened to and understood; music that was played on the radio.
Of course that's the irony of the album's title: in 1986 hip hop wasn't played on the radio. OK, maybe it was played in New York late at night and in other cities on small AM stations, like LA and even Harrisburg!, but that was it. Heck, pulling in the Harrisburg station was so difficult that I never even tried.
Back in 1987 the words "Hip Hop Lives" were graffitied on a brick wall that faced the Harrisburg midget football practice field. Our team practiced there once daylight savings ended; they had lights. The graffiti was so declarative but at the same time so desperate and defiant. It screamed that hip hop was not a fad and would never die out. But at the same time only those in the know would ever understand.
It didn't turn out that way. In fact it was going to be just like rock and roll. Yes, I had just seen La Bamba, Peggy Sue Got Married, Back to the Future. They were just out on VHS. Their parents didn't get rock and roll either. They said it would die. It didn't.
Now hip hop is everywhere. And so is LL. When you listen to Radio you know it's LL just like you know it's hip hop. LL's rhyme flow and voice are still shockingly similar. It's the same inflections that same cockiness and the same self-assuredness. The rhyme subject matter is a different story. On Radio he's so young and so innocent so sweet and just a little bit corny. His rhymes could only come from a 16-year-old...in 1986. There's no cursing and the malice is playful. Not that LL ever changed, he just grew up. Just like hip hop.
In 2007 LL's album title, Radio, is no longer ironic it's anachronistic. The boombox has become a dinosaur and FM radio is close behind. Hip hop isn't a music of defiance and youth, it's the stuff of McDonalds commercials and big business. I can't hate the route LL and hip hop took; it was only natural. I'm just happy I can cue up my mp3 player, hear the booming bass of "Rock the Bells", and be instantly transported to my neighbor's basement, his Nintendo, and a welcome generation gap.click here to read it all...
Radio, LL Cool J, Rolling Stone Magazine's #478
