Blogarhythms

A lot was said in Friday’s Records at Random post dedicated to the 13th (despite its rep thirteen is one of my lucky numbers) anniversary of Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx about the qualities I admire a Hip-Hop album. Dirty sample-based beats imbued with the crackle-and-pop of vinyl, emcees who are creative, intelligent, raw and more than a little left-of-center, and a diversity in vocabulary and subject-matter were some of the features I mentioned. And since I’m not one to front like Hip-Hop artists are incapable of mastering those traits now-a-days I’m gonna shine some light on an album I recently discovered that possesses them all.

It’s the debut long-player, titled The Beat-n-Path Vol. 1, by Maxilla Blue, a three-man group comprised of emcee Asphate Woodhavet (a.k.a. Skatterbrayne), producer Aeon Grey and DJ TouchNice, from the unlikely locale of Des Moines, Iowa. I wouldn’t normally peg Iowa as a hotbed of Hip-Hop talent or fandom for that mAtter. Nor does it strike me as the sort of place that would have a vibrant arts scene teeming with urban renaissance men, ghetto bohemians and the like. But what do I know from Iowa, right? Apparently they have their act together enough to produce a group of dudes capable of producing music that not only made me take notice, but has me ready to label it one of the best Hip-Hop releases of the year!

Yeah, The Beat-n-Path Vol. 1 is that good. Aeon Grey’s beats (which heavily favor eerie guitar, woodwind and string loops) channel late-’90s Wu-Elements and the producers responsible for the nervously cinematic, regretfully melancholy sound of the formative Hustler/Mafioso Rap records like Reasonable Doubt and Doe or Die. But through some form of beatmaking black-magic he breathes those spirits into the terrestrial shells of indieground staples like Blockhead, Joe Beats and RJD2. And Asphate Woodhavet’s authoritative rasp and breathlessly syllabic flow makes me think him a student of The Roots‘ own Black Thought and former Artifacts member Tame One among others. While his ruggedly intellectual lyricism and esoteric imagery betrays him as a graduate of the post-Rawkus school of Indie/Backpack Rap.

As a whole the album is something of a flashback to the underground Hip-Hop scene in the years between independent heroes The Wu-Tang Clan’s (remember, their first 12” was self-released) triumphant release of OB4CL and Liquid Swords in 1995 and the culmination of the “internet era” around the turn of the century. In that respect it may put listeners who remember that epoch in mind of the likes of Mannish, The Last Emperor, Mood and the Fondle ‘Em Records movement. But track-to-track Maxilla Blue exhibit appreciation for a diverse cross-section of Hip-Hop styles, from that of legendary pioneers to under-appreciated underground underdogs.

The choppy drum programming on the intro to “Bamboo” immediately had me thinking of Boogie Down Productions, but the Far Eastern flute & string loop and plunking guitar samples underlying Asphate’s “super-scientifical” rhyme schemes made it feel more like late-’90s backpack joints “Fortified Live,” “Universal Magnetic” and “Definition” that payed homage to the same style. “EasyFlowGoodFlowBadFlowIntheWater” boasts a standout performance from Asphate who furiously spits sociopolitical observations and non sequiturs like the aforementioned Riq Geez and the Knotty Headed Terror doing an Ultramagnetic M.C.’s tribute over a filthy boom-bap beat, ominous piano and a ghostly wailing that sounds like an early Sunz of Man b-side sped up significantly. And the bubbly organ figure and murky, repetitive bass loop on “The Art of Selection” make it sound like Daily Operation-era DJ Premier producing Business as Usual-era EPMD, while Asphate puts in some gruff-voiced Heltah Skeltah-meets-Artifacts-esque mic-ripping.

Maxilla Blue “The Art of Selection”

All of which makes for a surprisingly well-rounded, well-informed, well-intentioned and, most important of all, well-crafted album which fuses hyperbolous braggadocio, surreal jargon, guerrilla sociology, street corner journalism, media-overloaded references and an authentically crate-dug production aesthetic like only the best type of Hip-Hop albums can.