The power pop-rock group of the past eleven years, Weezer turn up the guitar amps on this one, as Cuomo and company try their best to give us their version of a Kiss cock-rock anthem, and they succeed, as "Hash Pipe" comes across like "Lick It Up" with more imaginative yet sillier lyrics about (I think, though I'm not sure, as Cuomo's lyrics are often inscrutable) drugs and transvestite prostitutes (there's precedence from Kiss, though--go listen to "Black Diamond").
Cuomo could have sung the ingredients from the back of a cereal box, and this would still be a great, stupid, head-banging rock song. Some time the world needs stupid rock songs, and Weezer is here to oblige.
At first listen, this song seems to be just a tossed-off blues shuffle, a laid-back skiffle, and it is those things, but it's more, too. It's another Dre rumination (two in a row, and the third one on this chart--so far) on personal, spiritual, political, and musical freedom.
After several choruses of doo-doos; a warning to the lawmakers practicing the politics of disharmony; a shout-out to people to follow his lead in correcting society's ills; a couple of sympathetic lines to his parents that he must do his own thing; and a line to Sally (ooh, that girl) that though this mess is troubling him, he'll put on the public facade of painlessness and soldier on through for the good of the people; Dre then tells his audience/conregation (because here, for Dre, preaching and performing--the personal and the spiritual--are intertwined) that he's following their lead--leading by following the will of his constituency, the mark of a true leader (and a good politician). Dre addresses all these concerns much more succinctly than I have here, and he follows them with a statement of purpose that effectively serves as the manifesto of every musician there ever was, as well as a statement of why music exists at all: "We gon' play until you're happy/Till there ain't no more blues."
At first listen, this record doesn't seem to be much more than some disparate and dynamic rapping atop a great sample ("I Choose You" from '70s Motown singer/songwriter Willie Hutch)--a fine little radio song, but essentially nothing more than background music. At least that's what I thought the first several times I heard it. Then one day I (for no real reason) started paying attention to it, and I grew more and more impressed with the song...because of the lyrics.
Most of the time, I pay little attention to lyrics because--most of the time--song lyrics (at least ones I can easily discern) are terrible; in almost every case, the worst part of a pop song are the lyrics. Musicians aren't poets, and lyrics aren't poetry (and don't even mention Jim Morrison). Musicians are musicians--the lyrics are there for the way they mix with the music. Words work because of their rhythm and meter, not because of their meaning. Exceptions exist, though, and Andre 3000, Big Boi, Bun B, and (the late) Pimp C prove that here.
"International Players Anthem" contains not only a great story, but also a subtle (and ultimately complex) lyrical structure as well as a surprising underlying message. The story's about a man (OutKast's Andre 3000) standing at the alter, soon to be wed, and his friends* are making a last ditch effort to convince him to reconsider. At first, the groom talks of having to email his past girlfriends that he's off the market. Then, one friend (Pimp C) reminds him that his bride-to-be used to turn tricks, another (Bun B) tells him he ought to keep a woman as fine as his should be working for him, and yet another (Dre's partner Big Boi) friend warns him of the dangers of alimony should the two ever divorce.
Throughout all four verses, ladies are singing, "I choose you, baby." In between the verses, a male voice (Hutch) sings the same. Why's this significant? The entire drama is playing through the groom's head. The friends' voices represent one part (the bachelor side, wanting freedom and wary of commitment) of the groom's psyche, the ladies' voices representing another part (the matrimonious side, wanting love and stability) of his psyche, and the solo male voice--the one that sings "I choose you"--represents the groom's ulitmate answer and decision. Despite all his fears, despite his buddies wanting him to remain free so that he can still roll with them, the groom chooses to marry. Considering the musical subgenre here, that's a darn-near revolutionary concept.
NOTES
*If you're wondering if real friends would try to make one reconsider marriage at so late a date just because they're solely concerned about their friend's welfare, then the answer is no. Only family members (such as a sister) would do that.
Retro-chic...mostly, I'm not a fan of the idea/movement. Like Eddie Vedder sang in the Mike Watt song, "The kids today should defend themselves against the '70s/It's not reality/Just someone else's sentimentality," I don't see the need to immerse one's self in the surface and aesthetic trappings of a culture two generations removed of one's own, especially when one doesn't consider the failings of that previous era. However, every now and then, someone time travels and gets it right.
Six years ago, singer-songwriter released an album he titled 1972, with the hope that the music therein would reflect the music of the '70s. Well, he achieved his aspirations, as every track on that album--and it's a fine one--sounds like it's a re-mastered track from some here-to-fore unknown and unreleased album originally recorded thirty-five years ago. The best of those tracks, "Comeback (Light Therapy)," moves with one of the most fluid bass lines of the past ten years. Rouse adds a tight R&B drummer, strings, vibraphones, horns, and flutes, his own laid-back, light-soul vocals, and a melody not far removed from John Sebastian's "Welcome Back." With music as fine as this (and with a groove this inescapable), Rouse is excused for revelling in the AM sounds of the '70s. This one here would have been a top ten hit back then, arriving somewhere among Neil Diamond's "Song Sung Blue," Bill Wither's "Lean on Me," Looking Glass's "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)," and Johnny Nash's "I Can See Clearly Now"--all #1 pop hits in 1972.
And speaking of 1972, I've a buddy who also took a liking to this song, and decided to make a trip back in time as well. His 1972 Project is here, and you should check it out, man. It's righteous.
It might not come as a surprise to many that the pop music charts are often ruled as much by catchy songs with great dance rhythms and slick production as they are by talented singers and musicians. That's the case here, as Rihanna isn't a great singer: she doesn't have powerful chops, she's not a distinctive stylist, she's not innovative, and if she has a unique personality, it doesn't display itself on record. Two things she's got going for her, though, are--as far as I'm concerned--are as equally important as those traits she lacks. One, she recognizes her vocal limits, meaning she doesn't oversing, letting her voice serve the song rather than letting the song serve her voice. Two, she (or her manager or someone from her record company, but--especially at this current stage of her career--it's most likely her) knows a great track when she hears one. And "Pon de Replay" (she didn't write it) is a great track.
It's catchy as all get out; the production is appropriately high and tight, allowing the synths and the hi-hat and the handclaps and the deep bass/kick/808 (or whatever it is that keeps the beat on the one) to pop; and doggone but that's a great beat, reminiscent of late drummer Earl Palmer's seminal sounds on Fats Domino's "I'm Walkin'" (one of the ten greatest opening drum beats in pop/rock/rap/soul history). Cark Sturken and Evan Rogers produced (and co-wrote) this one, and they've been in the business for twenty years now, and they've never created anything this snazzy. Don't know what got into 'em. Maybe it was Rihanna. Could be. Cause though it was Sturken & Rogers who wrote that "Run-run-Run-run" part of the verse, but it was Rihanna's Barbadian accent and cadence that makes it sing like nobody's business.
The power pop-rock group of the past eleven years, Weezer turn up the guitar amps on this one, as Cuomo and company try their best to give us their version of a Kiss cock-rock anthem, and they succeed, as "Hash Pipe" comes across like "Lick It Up" with more imaginative yet sillier lyrics about (I think, though I'm not sure, as Cuomo's lyrics are often inscrutable) drugs and transvestite prostitutes (there's precedence from Kiss, though--go listen to "Black Diamond"). 
Posts
