IP-HOP fans love to bemoan the state of the art. The genre, it seems, will never sound quite as good as it did whenever you happened to be in high school. But perhaps even hard-core curmudgeons will agree that 2004 has been great fun, thanks in large part to the vociferous Southern hip-hop stars kind enough to take over the pop charts. Over the past year, radio stations across the country have been hijacked by a string of rebel yellers - Petey Pablo (North Carolina), Lil' Flip (Houston), Young Buck ("Cashville," Tenn.), T.I. (Atlanta), Juvenile (New Orleans), Trick Daddy (Miami) - bearing one exhilarating hit after another.
This is isn't a new trend: Southern accents have been ubiquitous in mainstream hip-hop since at least the late 1990's, and the biggest Southern hip-hop acts, like Missy Elliott (Virginia Beach) and OutKast (Atlanta), have been so successful that many listeners don't even think of them as Southern rappers: they're pop stars now.
But whereas they once worked to join the hip-hop mainstream, now Southern rappers are the hip-hop mainstream. A recent article in Vibe magazine found that they accounted for 43.6 percent of hip-hop radio spins this year (through October). The once-dominant East-Coast hip-hop establishment accounted for only 24.1 percent. Even the most proudly parochial New York City street vendors do a brisk trade in Southern hip-hop mixtapes. And from Britney Spears, who hired Atlanta's Ying Yang Twins, to the Roots, who recruited Houston's Devin the Dude, acts from all genres have decided that their albums aren't complete without a cameo appearance from a guest star with an aversion to terminal consonants.
No one has done more to help this year's Southern takeover than Lil Jon, the screaming, pimp-cup-holding Atlantan who also happens to be one of the country's most exciting, and most successful, electronic composers. His huge, whizzing synthesizer lines helped Petey Pablo score one of the most exuberantly nasty Top 10 hits of all time ("Freek-A-Leek"), turned a new singer named Ciara into an overnight celebrity (her brilliant single "Goodies" was one of the summer's biggest hits), and helped launch Usher into the stratosphere (blame Lil Jon the next time Usher's "Yeah!" becomes stuck in your head).
Now that he has helped other people make hits all year long, the time has once again come for Lil Jon to help himself. His terrific, reliably frenetic new album is "Crunk Juice" (TVT), and like just about everything he does, it's a collaboration. The disc is credited to Lil Jon & the East Side Boyz (those are his backup shouters). To ensure the album's success, Lil Jon recruited some two dozen guest stars - make that three dozen, if you spend the extra $5 (as you probably should) for the deluxe edition, which is packaged with a remix disc and a DVD.
Like many Southern hip-hop stars, Lil Jon knows the importance of a great party chant, which is just as well, since he doesn't really rap. Instead, in an example of just how radically Southern acts have rearranged hip-hop's priorities, Lil Jon has built his performing career around infectious call-and-response refrains, retrofitting a centuries-old African-American tradition to match the hyper-aggressive atmosphere of an Atlanta nightclub. The current Lil Jon & the East Side Boyz single is "What U Gon' Do," where the titular question is posed again and again. The one-word answer can't be printed here, nor can it be broadcast on the radio, where you are likely to hear, instead, a half-recognizable blur: they could be shouting, "Shoe!"
Ten years ago, when Lil Jon was an Atlanta club D.J. and midlevel record executive, for Jermaine Dupri's So So Def label, he was intrigued by the Miami-bred hip-hop offshoot known as bass music. In 1996, he put together the bass-music compilation "So So Def Bass All-Stars," a classic of the genre: it's a riot of nearly infrasonic bass lines and furious drum-machine beats. That same year, he also released his debut single, "Who U Wit," which helped turn the rather chirpy sound of bass music into something slower and meaner and more volatile. Some people called this new subgenre "crunk." It was music meant to evoke, and sometimes accompany, drunken nightclub brawls. And it was thrilling.
Lil Jon certainly didn't invent crunk by himself. But he did a lot to perfect it, thickening his beats by adding unexpected synthesizer lines: a raucous roar here, an unexpectedly dainty whistling sound there.
For their 2001 TVT Records debut, "Put Yo Hood Up," Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz further improved their formula by inviting an impressive list of rappers to join them; the album spawned a hip-hop hit, "Bia' Bia'," in which Lil Jon's shouted provocations (the only one that can be printed here is, "You scared!") alternated with pugnacious verses from Ludacris, Too $hort and Chyna Whyte. The group's 2002 breakthrough album, "Kings of Crunk," had an even better guest list, and it included Lil Jon's first mainstream hit, "Get Low," with the Ying Yang Twins, which congealed around Lil Jon's typically efficient refrain, "To da windooooow! To da wall!"
Since then, crunk has been everywhere. The Ying Yang Twins became stars in their own right; that's why Ms. Spears called them in. And when he wasn't making hits for rappers like Petey Pablo and Youngbloodz, Lil Jon was minting new crunk stars through his record label, BME, which is distributed by Reprise Records. In February, the label released its first CD, a 21-track split. There were 10 tracks by the tough-talking Atlanta trio Trillville, including the riotous, chest-pounding hip-hop hit "Neva Eva." Even better were the 11 tracks by the so-called prince of crunk, Lil Scrappy, who turned a set of eerie, theremin-inspired Lil Jon beats into a marvelous mini-album that has spawned two hits so far, "Head Bussa" and "No Problem." In August, BME released the addictive self-titled debut from a young, co-ed sextet called Crime Mob, whose absurdly belligerent rants evoke the gleeful mayhem of an out-of-control classroom. Crime Mob has a hit with the marvelously titled elbow-throwing anthem, "Knuck if You Buck."
Somewhere along the way, Lil Jon made an unexpected discovery: crunk beats work for lovers as well as fighters. With "Yeah!" Usher proved that Lil Jon's monstrous synthesizer lines were surprisingly well-suited to mainstream R & B, and Ciara's "Goodies" was even bolder: a high, gleaming keyboard note slid down an octave and back, then up an octave and back, while Ciara's multitracked voice half-whispered the lyrics. In the background, you could (barely) hear an artful arrangement of hums and sighs and false starts. Lil Jon, whose many talents include shameless self-promotion, declared that he had invented a new genre: crunk & B. (Hmm. The sound is great, but the name needs work.)
All the while, Lil Jon was becoming more firmly entrenched in the celebrity constellation, and if his shtick seemed a bit one-dimensional - a gleaming pimp cup, some gleaming sunglasses, those gleaming teeth - it was certainly effective. He received a big boost when the comedian Dave Chappelle parodied his mane of dreadlocks and his monoverbal outbursts: Mr. Chappelle, as Lil Jon, would bellow on his show "Yeah!," "O.K.!," or "What?" Many parodies rely upon exaggeration, but that wasn't possible in this case.
So it's reassuring to hear, on "Crunk Juice" - the name is an advertisement for Lil Jon's energy drink - that the peripatetic star remains an inventive, detail-obsessed producer who is pleased to know that he can shred nightclub speakers and seduce pop listeners with the same filthy keyboard line. That lead single, "What U Gon' Do," has a bass line that sounds like a telephone book being ripped in half. When Lil Scrappy shows up to rap his verse, Lil Jon runs the first few lines through a metallic-sounding voice processor, as if Scrappy were emerging from the guts of one of the producer's synthesizers.
Suffice it to say that this isn't exactly a concept album. In fact, the track sequencing is sometimes willfully perverse, as when a head-banging, Slayer-sampling rant (produced by Rick Rubin) crashes headfirst into "Lovers & Friends," an almost comically light piano ballad sung by Usher. Among other things, this album is Lil Jon's calling card, meant to inspire the next round of freelance work, which should keep him busy even if "Crunk Juice" isn't another commercial smash. That explains the head-spinning eclecticism: it's good for business. Whaddya need? A lighter-than-light slow jam? A terrifying scream-fest? Call Lil Jon, and be prepared to fork over the keys to your Bentley.
In the salty scramble to avoid predictability, Lil Jon rushes from one beat-driven experiment to the next. "Da Blow," with the Memphis rapper Gangsta Boo, is an appealingly disorienting ode to intoxication. "Aww Skeet Skeet," with DJ Flexx, is a startling foray into the Washington-based genre known as go-go. The album's grand finale - it's called, um, "Grand Finale" - lets five great rappers have a go at one of Lil Jon's squelchy creations, with predictably impressive results. (The lineup includes Ice Cube, and if you think the hip-hop legend and movie star is doing the king of crunk a favor, then you've got it precisely backward.) Best of all is "One Night Stand," featuring Oobie, Lil Jon's crunk & B protégé, who croons a slightly dazed-sounding come-on, interrupted every four bars by a muffled snarl that sounds like a bomb exploding underwater.
It's hard work to keep up with Lil Jon. If you make it through all 75 minutes of this CD (including three skits starring Chris Rock, who instructs women on the dance floor to get "lower than a pregnant ant's stomach"), you're still not done: there's also the DVD, and the remix CD, which includes two collaborations with the ferocious reggaeton star Daddy Yankee as well as Lil Jon's wildly popular remix of Fat Joe's "Lean Back," starring Eminem and Ma$e.
And if, after all that, you happen upon a recognizable but unfamiliar sound on the radio - a brutal crunk track, but with sugar replacing the grit, and with Lil Jon's snarled exclamations orbiting around a woman's breathy singing voice - don't be alarmed. You're hearing "Okay," Lil Jon's latest crunk & B confection, starring an Atlanta singer named Nivea. And you may also be hearing the opening salvo in his campaign to make sure 2005 belongs to him, too.
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 07:32 (twenty-one years ago)
― chuck, Monday, 29 November 2004 09:10 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 09:27 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 09:28 (twenty-one years ago)
― artdamages (artdamages), Monday, 29 November 2004 19:22 (twenty-one years ago)
― Alex in SF (Alex in SF), Monday, 29 November 2004 19:24 (twenty-one years ago)
I didn't actually see this in the paper, i just copy+pasted the KS article.
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 20:43 (twenty-one years ago)
Lil Jon, who hails from Atlanta, is an inventor of crunk, a Southern hip-hop style that has emerged as one of the most radical developments in the last few years of pop music. And with numerous hits to his name - with his own group, the East Side Boyz, and with songs he has produced for artists like Usher, Ciara and his Atlanta protégés the Ying Yang Twins - Lil Jon has become the latest super-producer to challenge hitmakers like Timbaland and the Neptunes. He has succeeded in large part by operating outside hip-hop's sonic rulebook.
On the surface, crunk doesn't sound radical. Its hallmarks are spiky drum-machine rhythms, shouted one-line choruses, and Lil Jon's growled interjections of "Yeah!" and "O.K.!" But strip away the yelping, and the real centerpiece of crunk is revealed in the form of buzzing keyboard melodies - a kind of sound that has never really been welcome in hip-hop before.
On "Get Crunk," a spindly, sickly tone wobbles between major and minor keys. "Salt Shaker," which Lil Jon produced for the Ying Yang Twins, uses a bouncing, synthetic bass line and falling glissandos: weird, electronic sounds that would be more at home in underground German techno than in chart-topping hip-hop. And while the vocal refrain to "Yeah" is heady, the real hook is that plaintive three-note riff, which cuts through the air like a bomb-shelter siren.
Lil Jon's keyboards aren't just surprising. They're perverse. He breaks from hip-hop tradition by choosing a sound and a technology borrowed from European rave music and from English new wave artists like Gary Numan and Thomas Dolby. Hip-hop culture has often positioned itself at odds with electronic dance music (in "Without Me," Eminem dissed Moby with the line, "Nobody listens to techno") and the antipathy has created a technological divide.
While synthesizers - electronic instruments that manipulate electrical signals to create sounds that mimic instruments or that are brazenly artificial - often anchor dance-music forms like house and techno, hip-hop has relied almost exclusively on the sampler, a device capable of reproducing any sound, whether recorded or played live. Sampling has allowed artists as diverse as De La Soul, Public Enemy and Kanye West to harness the history of popular music for their own reinterpretations.
As royalties required to clear popular samples have skyrocketed, perhaps Lil Jon's preference for drum machines and vintage-sounding keyboards is nothing more than an economic decision, a way of making beats without paying big bucks to copyright holders. But his unabashed reliance on sounds so alien to hip-hop culture seems like a turning point. Making no secret of his sources, Lil Jon claimed in an interview with Scratch, a hip-hop production magazine, that he was influenced by the rave music he heard in Atlanta strip clubs.
Eminem might have been right, up to a point, when he mocked Moby. But thanks to Lil Jon, techno may have the last laugh.
― Alex in SF (Alex in SF), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:16 (twenty-one years ago)
― latebloomer (latebloomer), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:17 (twenty-one years ago)
― Alex in SF (Alex in SF), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:18 (twenty-one years ago)
― Shmool McShmool (shmuel), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:19 (twenty-one years ago)
― Alex in SF (Alex in SF), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:21 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:22 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:25 (twenty-one years ago)
― chuck, Monday, 29 November 2004 21:25 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:28 (twenty-one years ago)
― cinniblount (James Blount), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:29 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:30 (twenty-one years ago)
xp
― chuck, Monday, 29 November 2004 21:33 (twenty-one years ago)
All those points are OTM. There was actually a lot that didn't make it into the final cut, including long bits about not only Miami bass and electro but also Los Angeles G-funk (which, to my ears, has done the most with squealing synthesizer leads) and, indeed, "Planet Rock." But those bits got edited out. Ultimately the hook came down to a dichotomy between synthesizers & samplers, but unfortunately that'd be a complicated story to tell in a production magazine much less in a sidebar in the NYT.
Anyway, I'm not trying to pass the buck, and I don't mean to slam my editor over there at all, because she had her reasons for angling the piece as she did. (ILM readers may read the NYT, but most NYT readers are not detail fanatics of ILM proportions, for better or for worse.) But a lot of these things were at least touched upon in the first draft (including a reference to that Mobb Deep "She Blinded Me With Science" song that I wish had been preserved as well).
Thanks for listening and please don't take my Kompakt-4-Life chain!
― philip sherburne (philip sherburne), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:34 (twenty-one years ago)
― philip sherburne (philip sherburne), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:37 (twenty-one years ago)
― Alex in SF (Alex in SF), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:39 (twenty-one years ago)
― cinniblount (James Blount), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:40 (twenty-one years ago)
― Haibun (Begs2Differ), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:40 (twenty-one years ago)
― cinniblount (James Blount), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:41 (twenty-one years ago)
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:42 (twenty-one years ago)
― philip sherburne (philip sherburne), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:42 (twenty-one years ago)
― philip sherburne (philip sherburne), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:43 (twenty-one years ago)
― cinniblount (James Blount), Monday, 29 November 2004 21:46 (twenty-one years ago)
― martin turenne, Monday, 29 November 2004 21:57 (twenty-one years ago)
― Haibun (Begs2Differ), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:08 (twenty-one years ago)
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:09 (twenty-one years ago)
― scott seward (scott seward), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:14 (twenty-one years ago)
― The Lex (The Lex), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:21 (twenty-one years ago)
― Alex in SF (Alex in SF), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:22 (twenty-one years ago)
(actually there is one in the sitting room but it's my flatmate's and I don't know how to use it)
― The Lex (The Lex), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:23 (twenty-one years ago)
― Haibun (Begs2Differ), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:28 (twenty-one years ago)
― Alex in SF (Alex in SF), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:29 (twenty-one years ago)
It's relevant to bring this up because it helps to recognise how crunk is different from a lot of its forebears. To simply reduce crunk to either bounce X rave or just part of the electro-bass-bounce continuum is to elide over what makes it particular and unusual in and for itself. I think taking a too rigid position about what is at stake sonically in crunk can only distort and skew yer listening somewhat.
(one thing I would say is that crunk is not entirely anti-sampling and indeed the possibilities of crunk + sampling strike me as potentially very exciting - see "Rubberband Man" obv)
(also the correct dance music reference for crunk isn't german techno but K-Klass's "Let Me Show Ya Love" k thanks bye)
― Tim Finney (Tim Finney), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:54 (twenty-one years ago)
Good point! In that same David Banner interview in Scratch, he talks about how when he was starting producing he would look for really weird sounds to sample, and even mentions Sun Ra I think!
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:57 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 22:59 (twenty-one years ago)
Probably won't get any broadsheet column inches for journalists but, nevertheless, is quite an attractive take for someone beyond the BS of wanting to over-analyse and intellectualise everything (the mere fact that people are trying to intellectualise the most instinct-driven form of hip-hop for years is itself quite quaint).
― Pikmin, Monday, 29 November 2004 23:36 (twenty-one years ago)
The MOST techno crunk album I've heard, by the way, is probably the second Ying Yang Twins one (as far as extended electronic parts with no words go, anyway). Though I'm sure there's many I've never heard.
Also, I'm wondering whether what Tim says about Miami bass here applies, in his mind (if he's ever heard it) to Maggotron's stuff (which seems pretty thick and viscous to me, though I have no idea whether we'd be using those adjectives in the same way): "Miami Bass isn't really synthy in the same way as crunk. What appeals about crunk synths are how thick and viscuous they are, sorta flushed (with lust? drugs? hypnotic?)."xp
― chuck, Monday, 29 November 2004 23:38 (twenty-one years ago)
see, ya really need to hear some baltimore trax. crunk fits nicely for me in the bass/bounce/whatever continuum. bass always sounded like music from mars too when put up against nyc/cali rap.like planet rock's baby bro and then some. and i always heard lots of techno in it. (and bass was and is all over the place soundwise. i often wonder what people are thinking of when they mention bass. what era. what performer. ya know? also a music with a rich and varied sampling history.)
― scott seward (scott seward), Monday, 29 November 2004 23:39 (twenty-one years ago)
― scott seward (scott seward), Monday, 29 November 2004 23:46 (twenty-one years ago)
And I think everyone here likes crunk because of its instinctual elements, no one is trying to take that away or overintellectualize it, just figure out where all these crazy alien sounds are coming from.
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Monday, 29 November 2004 23:49 (twenty-one years ago)
You ever wonder why mentasm stabs and rave noises wind up in hip hop? The reason is that after 10 years of those sounds being on records they are all presets on the rompler those guys are using. Lil John sounds ravey because he is using an Emu XL-1 instead of just the Planet Phatt or Mo' Phatt rompler which the hiphop guys are *supposed* to use.
Go to guitar center and scroll through the presets on a Fantom, or a Triton, or most importantly a Motif, and you will find all these really familiar bread and butter dance sounds. The crossover isn't coming from the records, producers are just grabbing patches from the "dance" banks instead of the hip-hop r&b banks.
― Disco Nihilist (mjt), Monday, 29 November 2004 23:57 (twenty-one years ago)
― djdee2005 (djdee2005), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 00:04 (twenty-one years ago)
I haven't heard any Maggotron stuff Chuck! I'm fully prepared to revise all my statements if they turn out to be way off-board.
I should note that I love Miami Bass but for mostly different reasons to why I love crunk - crunk rarely strikes me as interesting rhythmically but miami bass almost always does. It always annoys me that more dance producers don't take their cues from miami bass more - apart from random stabs by Basement Jaxx or Layo & Bushwacka etc. there's precious little. The entire breakbeat community would improve a gazillion times if they started to take more cues from Quad City DJs etc.
― Tim Finney (Tim Finney), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 00:10 (twenty-one years ago)
― juiceboxxx (juiceboxxx), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 00:24 (twenty-one years ago)
still, the feature on him from Scratch mag deals with all that, at least briefly, and is definitely worth a read.
and yeah, i didn't mean to discount the sampling in lil jon's music either, especially since the new one is the most sampling-intensive records he's done yet, if i'm not mistaken...
― philip sherburne (philip sherburne), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 02:01 (twenty-one years ago)
― artdamages (artdamages), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 02:23 (twenty-one years ago)
― Shmool McShmool (shmuel), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 02:33 (twenty-one years ago)
― Andrzej B. (Andrzej B.), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 03:06 (twenty-one years ago)
― Sterling Clover (s_clover), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 05:06 (twenty-one years ago)
the popularity of these alien sounds have less to do with their origins, and instead on the present context. specifically, in a post-pharrell/post-post prince world, don't lil' jon's productions sound disorienting enough to stop tracing their debts to one particular influence?
― youngn (ndeyoung), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 08:09 (twenty-one years ago)
― youngn (ndeyoung), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 08:13 (twenty-one years ago)
― Tim Finney (Tim Finney), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 08:35 (twenty-one years ago)
― martin turenne, Tuesday, 30 November 2004 17:44 (twenty-one years ago)
as IF lil jon figures making r+b necessarily requires GOING soft.
― martin turenne, Tuesday, 30 November 2004 17:46 (twenty-one years ago)
luckily there isn't a problem w/those tracks!
― artdamages (artdamages), Tuesday, 30 November 2004 17:51 (twenty-one years ago)
Original Draft:
"The rave is back – at least on record. But what strange records: the buzz and howl of archaic synthesizers, played with a teeth-on-edge timbre last heard in London's acid house clubs of the early '90s, today come from hip-hop – especially the Southern variant called "crunk," which is essentially the invention of the Atlanta producer Lil' Jon.
Synthesizers – electronic instruments that manipulate electrical signals to create sounds ranging from the simulacral to the brazenly artificial – often anchor dance music forms like house and techno, but they have rarely been the centerpiece of hip-hop. Although Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock" famously sampled the German group Kraftwerk's proto-techno keyboards, and Los Angeles "G-funk" soared on Dr. Dre's squealing tremolo lines, hip-hop's cornerstone is the sampler, a device capable of reproducing any sound, whether recorded or played live. Early hip-hop tracks accompanied rappers with drum machines, but those fell out of favor as the break beat – a sampled drum fill generally lifted from vintage funk, soul, and even rock records – became hip-hop's gold standard. [Note: I'm aware that this is way reductive. -PS]
Lil' Jon, whose productions have underpinned some of the year's biggest hits – Lil' Jon and the East Side Boyz' "Get Low," Ciara's "Goodies," and most notably Usher's ubiquitous "Yeah" – has reintroduced the synthesizer to rap music. Lil' Jon's signature may be the group chants of songs like "Who U Wit?" – shout-along choruses that recall the macho bonding rituals of East Coast hardcore punk – but it's the synthesizers that make his hits so infectious. The vocal refrain to "Yeah" is heady, but the real hook is a minor-key riff that cuts through the air like a bomb-shelter siren. The staccato figure is a dead ringer for the "stab," a classic techno ornament immortalized in the detuned wobble piercing Joey Beltram's rave-era tune "Mentasm."
What's most intriguing about Lil' Jon's icy pokes and glissandos is the raw, unprocessed quality of his sounds, which often hover just out of tune of each other, creating a delicious friction. While the programmer-musicians of electronic dance music and most current hip-hop alike spend hours tweaking their patches to mask their sources, Lil' Jon's tones sound like they come straight out of the box. Anyone might come up with the same unvarnished kazoo sounds within five minutes of sitting down at a keyboard store's display model, but the roughness only adds to the devil-may-care quality of crunk, in which spontaneity is expressed not in tricky wordplay but in the brute force of barking in unison.
Lil' Jon's productions lean heavily on Miami bass, a regional strain of rap music that overlaps with techno in its preference for sharp, spiky rhythms programmed on primitive drum machines and bass synthesizers. Like Chicago's acid house music, which was born with the Roland TB-303, a single instrument was responsible for the development of the Miami bass sound, the Roland TR-808. (In England, a pioneering rave group paid homage to the instrument by naming itself 808 State.) The 808, with its crisp handclaps and dull, trunk-thumping bass drums, is at the core of Lil' Jon's tight, mechanized funk, in which hi-hat rolls uncoil like springs.
While hip-hop culture has often positioned itself at odds with electronic dance music – in "Without Me," Eminem dissed Moby with the line, "Nobody listens to techno" – Lil' Jon makes no secret of his debt to rave culture. In an interview with the hip-hop production magazine Scratch, he rhapsodized about the Novation Bass Station, a staple of dance-music production, claming that he was inspired by the synthesizer sounds of "rave/dance music" he heard playing in Atlanta strip clubs.
Lil' Jon's new album, Crunk Juice, deviates somewhat from his work so far, sampling the heavy metal band Slayer and the punk group Bad Brains – and employing, on one track, the jerky, futuristic rhythms of the Neptunes, a group whose hyperkinetic, cut-and-paste productions blur the lines between the synthesizer/sampler dichotomy – but on tracks like "What U Gon' Do," unapologetically canned strings and otherworldly bass frequencies reassert the primacy of vintage gear. While Lil' Jon and his collaborating vocalists are shouting out an unholy racket, he lets the machines do the talking."
― philip sherburne (philip sherburne), Thursday, 2 December 2004 00:18 (twenty-one years ago)