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:::Music Review:::
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The Roots - "The Tipping Point"
by William Ashanti Hobbs
author and co-owner of Meroen Press
July 2004
Lucky me to have gotten the album cover version that
has Malcolm X in his "Detroit Red" hustling days on
it. Not that I have a clue as to why it’s there as
opposed to the similarly staged photo of Black Thought
on other copies of the CD.
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Perhaps a bonus to those who cop the first thousand
copies. The question immediately came to mind as I
walked out of the store: is this love shown for folk
who buy the album instead of getting burned
knock-offs, or is this a reward for buying another CD
as hard to wrap the mind around as 2002’s
"Phrenology"?
Like Lucerin lotion, The Root’s "The Tipping Point"
takes a while before it settles into the skin, though
nowhere near as much effort required for the likes of
the ultra-ambitious "Phrenology." We find
Philadelphia’s finest more accessible and settled in a
funk mode throughout in this latest offering.
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"Star" sets the mood with a steady bump and groove,
accented with a sample of Sly Stone’s "Everybody is a
Star." This proves that the hip hop band is not averse
to sampling. In all actuality, the sample gives more
depth to the lingering guitar and rhythm section.
Black Thought’s lyrics take you on a walk in the
scuffed Air Force One’s of urban America’s youth
struggling to make names for themselves the hard way,
as well as a few lines on the always popular topic of
artists maintaining a sense of self in the face of the
image-driven music industry.
"Pointro" is a cerebral electric exploration into the
artistic dearth of our times. No, "Pointro" is not
danceable. This marriage of synth and spoken word is
meant for black lights, meditation and incense. "I
Don’t Care" is a more uptempo groove, with an intense
"Shaft" edge made for a soundtrack. Here, Black
Thought is upfront and authoritative. The chorus,
which has been a weak spot with previous material, is
simple enough and delivers.
"Don’t Say Nuthin’" keeps an understated, almost
sinister synth groove. The keyboard sprinkles at the
top of the skull and rounds out a nocturnal,
bending-the-corner-in-something-with-tinted-windows
vibe. Black Thought locks in on it spitting a “Detriot
Red”, gangsta-related mindstate on how Geffen Records
needs to show love to the album. "Guns are Drawn"
speaks on the hypocrisies of post 9/11 America, most
notably the Patriot Act. The vocal reverb Roots
freaked lovely on their debut album comes on strong.
It gives this a garage, almost traditional dancehall
demo feel. "Stay Cool" offers the Al Hirt sample made
famous by De La Soul’s 1993 "Ego Trippin’" (Part Two).
Interesting rhythm breaks and 60’s psychedelic
keyboards give contrast to a chorus that dips into
soul meant for Organized Noize’s Sleepy Brown to rock.
(Yes, another step up in the chorus department.)
Black Thought’s lyricism is out front like never
before in "The Tipping Point." "Web" is an ideal
example, where BT comes with a malt-liquored,
Rakim-voiced delivery running loose with metaphors and
similes. The sparse bass and drum bring to mind jazz
meeting up in a smoky pool hall with seasoned
old-schoolers in shiny, tight suits, derbies and Stacy
Adams. "Boom" goes long the same line, featuring Big
Daddy redoing a few lines of his "Wrath of Kane."
"Why (What’s Goin’ On)" speaks on the poor being sent
to die in the military for oil, sweat shops,
systematic oppression. Two of the biggest jewels lie
in the two hidden tracks. The first hidden track has
the energy of the early leaders if the new school. It
keeps the raucous sound of a frat party throughout,
but packs a thoughtful treatise on the love for hip
hop. It has a sense of humor not normally found in
Roots material, thanks to the hook by aided by the
irreverent Dave Chappelle.
Then there’s the "Din Daa Daa" jam session that
follows, bringing back breakdancing days of auld
langsyne. This is one of the most intoxicating moments
of the CD and is guaranteed to be missed by impatient
track jumpers. ?uestlove gives the percussion of the
George Kranz hip hop classic more of a jazzy
interpretation. If you were born between 1970 and 1978
and get catch The Roots playing this live in some
club, you will find it damn near impossible not to put
your drink down to tick or bust a sideways moonwalk.
You can imagine Detroit Red scrambling through the
back alleys of Boston amidst the reverb-treated
scatting. A Fela Kuti’s war-like bark even comes to
mind when the cut reaches its fever pitch. The Roots
are a spinning merry go round that you’ll pull your
shoulder out of socket with by standing still and
trying to grab a spinning handle to jump onto. This is
a group you’d better run a few paces alongside before
taking hold and jumping on with. The organic nature of
the band’s real instruments, lyricism and artistic
daring is a dizzying ride and can make those used to
hit-oriented, corporate black radio sink to the
platform and piss on themselves.
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