HOVA'S HOME

"Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosphy. Music is the electrical soil in which the spirit lives, thinks and invents."- Ludwig van Beethoven

I was (and still am) a HUGE Darryl Strawberry fan. My brother Al and I used to sit in his Queens Village home leaning towards the TV when the NY Mets’ lean lefty stepped-up to the plate. If he singled, advanced the base runner, walked, stole a base or had a successful sacrifice—all positives in baseball speak—we looked at each other deflated that the larger than life Straw Man didn’t hit one over the Whitestone Bridge. Unrealistic, perhaps, but that didn’t change our anticipation. My brother is married now, so rap music is regulated to an un-repairable irrelevance in his house.

Personally, I thought the Black Album was Jay-Z’s walk off home run. Uncharacteristic and irrelevant as a formally announced rap retirement seems, the three-year anticipation had me fending like a Simpson verdict for Jigga’s Joint to drop—and oh did it drop!! Kingdom Come is here, a 14-track jewel; and judging from all of the red light head nods in the jeeps and coupes, not to mention million-plus swiped barcodes, BEYONCE can safely anticipate a present-filled holiday season. I wouldn’t invite Free to any egg nog celebration, if I was her… And, as usual, I digress.

Right from the start, track one “The Prelude” will have you adjusting the EQ. The extremely sick Rick James sampled, “Kingdom Come” will rattle the clubs for months. My neighbors are going to hate me for that one. They’ll move by the 14th track, “Beach Chair,” which is my favorite. Carter’s collection clearly has something for everyone—including a lyrical tribute to his mom, which truly illustrates his unique, two-fold position between pop (music) and popular (culture). He may be both, which is simply unheard of.

Severed friendships, gut-wrenching relationships, mourning the lost of a loved one, yeah, Kingdom Come poetically strokes it all. The self-dubbed mythical metaphoric, yet sometimes misogynistic man even has a wack duet with Princess Pop; probably just to keep peace at the house. Who knows, I may stuff my brother’s holiday stockings with this one and shake things up in his “Queen’s” home. Or is that what NAS came to do?

1 love,
Ray Lewis

A Legend In His Time

In this country, America means white. Everyone else has to hyphenate.
--Toni Morrison

One of the varied reasons that I am so critical of black culture is the fact that we allow this rich history to be exploited by ill-valued, inane, and immoral members of the spin-wheeling press. The media’s monolithic goal is to tightly seal our treasured music tradition into a bunch of gun-tooting, pants sagging, video-jiggling; jewelry blinging retired drug-dealers. But enough about Puffy, his Press Eject CD actually speaks for itself. Refreshingly, John Legend’s latest album takes the lid off America’s conventional and convenient wisdom jar and ventures through our historically paved rock and roll path. A road that is now perfected by the Justine’s and Brittany’s better known to most as the poster children of pop culture. Is it any “wonder” why Stevie abandoned the life of Sound Scan’s sinking ship for the more appreciated music scene abroad?

IN THE STATES
Nowhere is the versatility of our music history displayed more than on John Legend’s new LP, Once Again. Legend’s 90 beats-per-minute, Motown throwback track, “Slow Dance” is by far my favorite. This roll-your-window-down, two-steppin’ blue light in the basement joint is a candlelit dinner delight. Just add the wine. One eyes-closed journey through this single and you’ll feel that Marvin and Mavis are somewhere swaying to this one.

Legend chose to abandon the trunk-thumpin’ bass lines of his first classic to unleash a 13-track, pianist’s delight. Somewhat risky, in this day and age, but something true music enthusiasts should appreciate. You’ll be equally thankful that you cannot even sniff the label mate production from track master, Kayne West. Which, I imagine is a small victory for humility. In fairness, the more modest side of West is certainly showcased on “Heaven,” a head-nodding single, probably better suited for Legend’s first LP, but a treat, nonetheless.

Being Jamaican-bred from the Boogie Down, I actually prefer that bass bumpin’, lyrical-laced, drums and loops of reggae and hip hop. However, I also love the jazzy strings, piano taps of blues too. For me, it is that duality that makes black life worth living—yet regrettably absent from pop culture’s stained windows. I really thrive on the versatility of a culture that can add the fresh flavor of a Barack Obama to politics and the channel blocking of The Flavor of Love to reality television. It certainly takes all types, shades and voices to make this black culture go ‘round. And, if you give John Legend’s new one a spin I think you’ll enjoy this culture too. Who knows, you may even learn something.

1 love,
Ray Lewis