[SET-UP]
For the majority
of my life rap was not my hot beverage of choice. Life, however, is
best approached as an ocean: nothing is static. Rather most every
life “given” is bound to change. As the urban philosopher Isaac
Hayes once said, “There a time and place for everything, children,
it's called college.” Horizons are imperceptibly expanded, tastes
are refined, and intuition, along with common sense, are abandoned at
a local fire station; all with an unsettling cocktail of fear and
excitement (and a lemon twist).
A map carefully
unfolds without any foreseeable stalling to its growing dimensions.
The brain, and Earthly herbs, are endlessly interesting.
And while it
should be stated that follows is decidedly not concerning the first
rap album I ever listened to or became enamored by, it is one of two
that shook me violently enough with the calls of marvelous
possibility to make an impression. While we are on the matter,
though: Wu-Tang Clan's Enter the 36 Chambers was
the album that initially sparked an interest within me for the raps.
Interplay and the battles of different styles, cryptic phrasesology,
and wide-ranging knowledge culled from beyond created something
altogether exciting for me. This made me realize that rap has much
more to it than adolescent metal-head generalizations. “Thoughts
sharper than a Japanese kitana,” mixed with with “Rootbeer
thoughts, here's a tennis court for your birthday”1
Enter the 36
Chambers ultimately evolved from
a novelty to a genuine piece of work worth consistant revisiting. I
would try and distinguish what made each speaker different; determine
who took most advantage of a given beat. The beats. The beats! RZA's
beats: bare and dialectic. No flash, just bang. Boom.
So in college an opportunity arose. With the need to subtly express
my individuality in high school having vanished, this next stage of
pseudo-society allowed for more ambiguous limits to being “that
weird kid.” Electronica, folk, hip-hop was all music that could now
be readily explored without sacrificing reputation. After all, it is
all for the sake of maintaining conversations with others.
Unfortunately no one at my college radio station was well versed in
mainstream hip-hop or the underground variety; a self-education would
have to suffice. The only hurdle was finding out what I like.
Wikipedia was used and abused in my quest for ultimate metal
knowledge; Pandora would be my co-pilot in this rap journey. Producer
credits, emcee features, label changes: all of it is readily
available for the reaping.
Tech
N9ne was the first rap concert I attended out of sheer pragmatism
even though Del Tha Funkee Homosapien was the first non-Wu rapper
that significantly stood out for me. Appropriately, then, Dan the
Automator's work on the Deltron 3030 album did unspeakable and
obscene things to my ear canals.
Golden
transition:
Today's
subject: Kool Keith's (a.k.a. Dr. Octogon) Dr.
Octogonecologist as produced by
Dan “The Automator” Nakamura. An album embodying the culmination
of everything I had been looking for. Fiction was not only possible,
it was excelling. Weirdness is not compromised, it is improved upon.
Dr. Octogon only has one side effect to his prescriptions: your
perceptions and expectations virtually succumbing to ruin.
[REVIEW]
The record was listened to once and a half prior to the writing of
this review.
Dr.
Octogonecologist is not a Sgt.
Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band type
record, but it is an epiphany of sorts for mainstays of left-field.
If rap is about self-expression within the adaptation of already
established and altered creations, why should fictional works be
excluded? Creativity has no need to be limited to journalism and
commentary. In this, his 1996 opus, Kool Keith validates to the minds
of so many weirdos that rap can in fact be a legitimate creative
vehicle too.
The
main reason for this is the overall full album feel of Dr.
Octogonecologist. The totality
is neither a mixtape collection spontaneous inspirations now a record
collage filled with singles, female pandering songs, male pandering
songs, and miscellaneous artist favorites. No. This album is a
soundtrack: a plotline sans pictures. Words and sounds coalesce to
create mental images with very real consequences. Remember: the main
character and narrator in this scenario, Dr. Octogon, never hides the
fact that he is an alien imitating human life. Experimenting.
Observing. A creature getting to know the native species whilst on a
educational excursion on the third planet from this galaxy's sun.
This album, for all intents and purposes, is a final report of the
Gill man's exploits; the returns on a scientific investment. This is
an idea painfully evident following an introduction to the Bad
Doctor's 204 year old uncle, Mr. Gerbik. Doc Oc is most certainly
psychotic, destructive, and has no awareness, but he acts rationally
given his mission. The other man? Pure chaos and anarchy.
Personality
wise, think Blowfly anachronistically meeting Danny Brown. Gross out
lyrics through a character mouthpiece. “Doctor Octo, mental
disorder, person in alias.” Octogon is not an emcee, he is an
auteur. He is not the man in charge of keeping Afrika Bambaataa's
party bumping or the talent accompaniment to a beat. His delivery is
not regional and has no clique stamp. Dr. Octogonecolgist
is stubbornly individual and painfully unique. The flow is
characterized by near stuttering, slant rhymes, and off-beat, almost
syncopated rhymes. Take for instance the line: “Your homey's tape
deck gets wet / You my pet, my poodle chicken noodle's on the rise.”
Also consider, “All flows rose and have a tweakin speakin / Puerto
Rican the powerful machine gun stun.” It is simple to call this
“wack,” or experimental,” for that matter; but the truth is
that is is nothing more than challenging. The real world purpose is
to instigate the next hotshot to try and outdo the strange.
Unfortunately,
character proves to be a a double-edge sword of sorts – likewise
for shock lines about rectums, fecal matter, and anal sex – as it
becomes worn near the end. Luckily, this is one of the few negatives
The rhymes, however, never slow down. The frightened head of normalcy
appears occasionally, but not for long. This is a strong possibility
as to why in a rapidly changing landscape Kool Keith has managed to
hold his own against time.
“As I move in rockets, overriding, levels / Nothing's aware, same
data, same system.”
Simply put, this album rarely sounds dated. Dr. Octogon is the
Stephen Colbert to MF Doom's John Stewart; a verse chorus hook
structure is adhered to rather than criticized. Deconstruction is
posited as an inside job rather than attacking from the outside.
On the opposite side of the music is Dan the Automator: the ultimate
straight-man of producers. Nakamura does more than provide a drum
track with window dressing. An environment, an atmosphere, is
painstakingly layed out by the producer/science officer so Dr.
Octogon can survive on this planet. A means of survival by way of
layering. The drums and bass inhabit their thowback pre- booty bass
roles (except for on"Halfsharkalligatorhalfman"), followed
by an infusion of foggy background, and topped of with instrument
samples (vibraphone, piano,guitar, horns, flute, etc.). This is not
to say that at any point the production becomes formulaic. Even drum
'n' bass makes a presence on “Real Raw.”
Most
interestingly on the technological side of things is DJ Qbert's
scratching. A simultaneous source of future sounds and past
obsolescence, DJ Qbert serves as both the hypeman and soloist. The
instrumental tracks are dizzying and has sent a number of females
from Kansas running for storm shelters; and their little dogs too.
And why would the sounds of a machine, computer, or record not be the
appropriate? Chuck D raps about human problems and has a human
hypeman. Dr. Octogon is an alien, why no rely on a machine as a
source of excitement?
At
the end of the day, Dr. Octogonecologist
is a cult rap album. No matter how many Rocky Horror Picture Show
fanatics claim Dr. Frankenfurter's escapades are a landmark piece of
American cinematic creation, the majority of folks will deny it
vehemently. The same goes for this album. Some people will get it;
some people will not. But to those adventurous enough to try and find
out which type of these people they are, I commend you. The pay off
will be handsome, or rather, unforgettable.
Jonathan Cohen is a
recovering college radio DJ,discover-er of Jimmy Hoffa Tourettes, and
once lauded expert on shrubbery. You can follow him on Twitter
through the handle @BoggleUrNoggle
1Yeah
Wu nerds, I know neither one of those is from the 36 chambers. Go
back to the slums of Shaolin.
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