Get your lessons

Common Market - Common Market

Weather: Any

Time: Day

Action: Work (the kind where you move)

Being put to work is usually the only way it starts. But sometimes not even that's enough. Inertia reigns almost every time with me, which is why mostly non-chores win, and why once I finally do start, I wind up living in a place with dishwashers that clean silently without leaking and floors sterile enough for crazy people to sleep on.

So, the other day, when I was asked to get a scooter running and stop a door from sticking, it didn't take right away. I loped around and found excuses (like three different sandwiches). Needed to move my feet.

Common Market is DJ Sabzi, who some might remember from Washington's best contribution to hip-hop (apologies to Sir Mix-a-lot and Gabriel Teodros): Blue Scholars. Taking the mic this time is RA Scion (who just recently changed his handle to Victor Shade -- reasons unknown). Sabzi's beats are what he's always done. On slower tracks, straightforward, basic drum kits provide a nice kick-snare to accent almost unbroken, deep synth bass lines. The kit's the same for more upbeat songs, but electric bass is supplemented by looped horns borrowed from 60's and 70's R&B. Almost every beat uses some vocal loop, whether it be female choruses or male spoken word, but generalizing like this doesn't really give full credit to how well the borrowed words anchor the actual lyrics of the song. This is a point worth pausing on.

"Crossbow" begins with a crackly sample of MC Geologic (Sabzi's collaborator in Blue Scholars). To my knowledge, there aren't many examples of DJs borrowing the work of former partner MCs, and probably for good reason. The more popular the sampled MC, the more s/he'll stick in a listener's head to the detriment of the new MC. People will be listening to the new song, thinking abut the old one. But, what if the new MC is adding to what the old one was talking about? What if it's same book, next chapter? Maybe I'm making this all up in my head, but it feels like Sabzi heard what Scion was saying, realized it was an important piece to Geologic's older puzzle, changed the beat enough to let you know something new was coming, but tagged the front end to remind you it wasn't brand new, just more developed.

Point is, whether the DJ's thinking too hard or not, the music on this album just drives the day. From the sounds of a (elevated?) train at the album's start, straight through to the pat-you-on-the-back celebration horns at the close, you can get started and get finished with a little push. But what of Scion?

The vocals on Common Market are in line with Northwest hip-hop generally. Sharp enunciation; more jabs than uppercuts. The hooks are almost catchy, but you likely won't catch yourself repeating them once the album's turned off. The format is more spoken word, with a chorus thrown in (probably) in efforts to make it commercially viable. But, this isn't to take anything away from Scion's voice. What it lacks in distinctiveness, it makes up for in assuredness. And that comes from confidence that he's telling the truth.

I'm not going to take a post either way on content here, but we could all stand to learn something. And Scion is an able teacher. He's quick and well-spoken. Rarely do his words seem picked for rhyme value. So, keep your ears open, because this is more lesson than entertainment. But it's got humor enough to keep you interested. Puns for miles. And you might learn a thing or two about Seattle business and culture. This is an album without a real defined framework, spanning topics from public education to love of (not lust for) women. Yet, it flows nicely.

Use the words to keep yourself honest (and motivated), and the beat to keep your hammer pounding.

Desertification

Real Estate - Real Estate

Weather: Sunshine and Heat

Time: Sunup to Sunset

Action: None

I'm in Boulder. And it is good. Three days ago, I was finishing up my second year in Phoenix and the noontime news reported a brisk 114 degrees. Only a resident of downtown Phoenix can understand how woefully inadequate such a report can be. You see, the desert wasn't hot enough. 21st century spacemen laid miles of asphalt and raised miles of reflective glass to ensure that the sun could be used to its fullest baking potential. The lethargy comes in waves. Boiling waves.

Strapping everything I own into the bed of my truck, I headed East and -- more importantly -- North. We drove through the night and the windows down in the Arizona high country let in the promise of a life more suitable to a Polish/Irish/Serbian/Welsh. But, with the sun's welcome, Boulder stood to prove a heat wave is not so easily run from. Don't get me wrong, a 20-degree drop is real glory, but come on: 102? Welcome back, exhaustion. What took you so long?

Thankfully, Boulder summer nights are as consistently comfortable as worn-out boat shoes. But, I knew I had to prepare for Saturday -- another 100-plus -- as soon as that evil ball of fire came back. I needed music that would energize me in the morning, and leave me alone when the heat started pulling on my shirttails. (I wear what I want.)

Real Estate's only full-length album belies its geographic roots. Maybe I shouldn't say that. My experience in New Jersey is limited, but it certainly hasn't left me with an impression that shimmery, indie surf-pop defines the state. Yet, that's exactly what the Garden State quartet perfects: a collection of lo-fi tracks featuring Matthew Mondanile's layered, steady guitars with a 60's west coast fuzz that corral Martin Courtney's drifting vocals. Alex Bleeker and Etienne Duguay fill their roles nicely and add time without driving the music. The effort results in a progression not unlike that from socks to jeans hanging from a clothesline.

The album's opening track draws the volume up to get you out of bed (hopefully late, and without a thing to do all day) and features a recurrent lead guitar that's enough to get you moving happily, but not to shock you out of sleep. It sounds almost as though the band is hoping you'll set your computer's timer to wake you up with their work, some time around 10:30. Assuming this was the case, I started my morning to please the artists. The next three tracks are reminders. Of the day, of the time, of the weather. Flop on the couch, or start burning breakfast, head out to the porch. And just about the time you're sipping the halfway portion of your coffee, you realize the temperature of the air is approaching that of your drink. Cue groans. And the record delivers. The first instrumental track carries an understanding like a significant other who knows you well enough to keep quiet while you silently blame the world for everything. And the lyrics resume to explain it's not that bad as you clean up to go out. What follows is one of the best drive-into-town songs in recent memory. There's a distinct difference between a roadtrip song and an errand song, and the contrast is not lost here. No matter how good your breakfast was, or whether you did a bunch of cocaine in the bathroom when you told everyone you were going to wash your hands, another long intro track and another instrumental will lure you back home to a comfortable spot in the shade. The now-Brooklyners leave you with a track called Snow Day. The point being: kick your feet up; you're not in Phoenix anymore and this will end.