Tuesday, March 10, 2009

suffer the vanguard youth

after Vernacular practice, i sat back and listened to a few records, hoping to catch a sample or four- thinking about all the wonderful musicians that have made records, thinking of a jazz cats nightlife- of the mystical voyage of Archie Shepp's record- SONGS FOR MY PEOPLE.  all of that made me want to listen to Madlib. 

a true genius when it comes to the beats, Madlib lives for the dig, the search- but more than that it seems from afar that fear, or rejection never factors in. he knows that an artist is judged by the body of work, not the one off. this is a philosophy that is not celebrated in the instant world we live in. 

a little boy is playing with a balloon, it lasts all afternoon, and the boy never contemplates that it might burst. he is enraptured by the balloon, the float, and come down, the fragility of air. it is magic, and he wields its journey. the balloon bursts. the boy cries. his mother picks up the deflated body of the balloon, puts one end on her index finger, pull back on the tatter end.

she shoots, the boy laughs, and tries to do it. he cannot at first, but as his tears dry in the late afternoon glow, he gets it. tragedy is averted, definitions are re-worked. 

Madlib reworks definitions. he is of a generation that was birthed under the boom bap. what makes him special though is his understanding of history and folklore. history is a mighty palate. those who ignore it suffer the vanguard youth. make war out of flowers, deny progress for fear. they are relicts of a far gone animalism. they are my enemy.

and the needle hits the record.

No comments: