Word: beatboxers
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...late 90s and changed popular music for the better—seeks inspiration from two acts that exemplify everything traditional, comforting and safe about modern pop (Yorke et al excused). “Real” musicians wouldn’t have come up with the android beatbox hiccupping under Missy’s “Supa Dupa Fly” or the schizo, kitchen-sink groove powering Bubba’s “Twerk A Little” or the stoned and surreal erotica of Tweet’s “Oops...
...wave mix of “Baby Doll,” to the smooth groove and psychedelia of “Provider,” to the booming rock of “Rockstar/Poser,” all backed by tight drums, electric guitar and insistent, almost desperate human beatbox. The Roots similarly blend genres into an album which always captivates me with the music of a rock band, the beats of a rap group and the fiery, contemplative words of poets. But it’s not the fast tempo of this music which reinvigorates me. The spitfire style...
...they glide across the stage to the sound of a live five- piece chamber orchestra. Aaron Tanaka ’04 and Natalya Davis’ ’04 hip-hop inspired dance is next. The music, provided by a bassline and Neal Ellingson’s human beatbox, appears to act as a puppeteer on the dancers, dancing as if completely controlled by the music. The first act closes with Hawkins’ and O’Brien’s dynamic tap and step number. After a short intermission, the fun will start up again with...
...yields fabulous results. The first four tracks are unstoppable. After a dizzying intro, rapper Large Professor spits raw battle salvos over spine-cracking drums and a sick guitar lick on “XL,” followed by a whirling display of beat juggling and a multi-movement beatbox piece. The guest emcees are also a major step up from their previous album, featuring the inimitable Biz Markie on a Tom Tom Club remake, and the combined verbal torrent of Pharoahe Monch, Xzibit and Inspectah Deck on “The X.” Even everyone?...
...full hedonistic effect. They are the genuine article, unlike Moby and BT, who seem obsessed with making comfortable, bite-sized pop confections . Yet the beats are nearly buried under lush tapestries of melody and the human voice: sweet guitars, soaring strings, flutes and whistles, tinkling piano keys, sung choruses, beatbox, random chatter. Their incredible prowess at arranging complex layers of unorthodox and delightful sound-bites with satisfying house and breakbeats amounts to amazingly compelling dance music. With a better command of both funk and melody than your average Tall Paul van Oakendyk, one wishes the Avalanches would take over Ibiza...