The other night Anna and I went to see Beats, Rhymes And Life: The Travels Of A Tribe Called Quest.
I was only vaguely aware of Tribe back in the nineties. I knew them as the preferred hip-hop group for my white friends who were put off by the harder edges of Wu-Tang and the west coast gangsta rappers. I encountered “Scenario” and “I Left My Wallet In El Segundo” at parties, and found them entertaining, but didn’t feel compelled to go any deeper.
More recently, when I got into hip-hop scholarship in earnest, I started listening to Tribe for real. I downloaded “Check The Rhime” and was floored by the production.
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The beats hit hard and simple; the samples are mysterious without being inaccessible; and the frenetic chorus contrasts excitingly with the buttery-smooth verses.
As I’ve been digging into more Tribe songs, I’ve been consistently impressed by their level of musicality. The tracks are accessible and fun, but on close scrutiny they’re dense with ambitious ideas. I’m particularly fond of the six-bar loop in “Electric Relaxation.”
Anyone can use an unusual phrase length, but it takes real artistry to make it sound so smooth and natural.
As for the movie itself, I enjoyed it and learned a lot. Some longtime Tribe fans of my acquaintance complain that it focuses too much on the present and doesn’t spend enough time on Tribe’s prime back in the 90s. That’s a fair point, and I certainly wouldn’t mind having more context on hip-hop’s golden age. But I thought the movie did a great job digging into the complicated relationship between the members of Tribe. I agree with Rob Fields’ review:
By far the most moving core of the film is the peek that it offers inside the relationship between Jarobi and Phife. It’s rare to see examples on the screen of two black men who have such unconditional love for each other.
The movie confirms that Q-Tip was the central creative force behind Tribe, both on the production side and in setting the overall tone. But the other guys must have brought something to the table, even if it was just peer pressure. Tip’s post-Tribe music has been okay, but he hasn’t done anything on the level of “Check The Rhime.” When he calls himself “the Abstract,” Tip isn’t kidding. Phife and the others seem to have kept Tip’s ideas more down to earth, which helped make them stronger. The conflict between Tip and Phife is as much a part of their story as their creative partnership. Here’s an interview with director Michael Rapaport if you want some background.
One of the high points in the movie is Tip talking about his late father. He talks about getting the beat for “Can I Kick It” from a Dr Lonnie Smith record that he associated with his dad.
I’ve heard other hip-hop artists talk about sampling their parents’ music as a way of connecting to the older generation while still forging a new sound with present-day relevance. I know a lot of lame instrument-playing musicians who imitate the music of their parents out of an anxiety that they might deviate too far from what’s musically acceptable. Taking samples and transforming them makes for a healthier relationship to your ancestors.
Speaking of samples, I heard “Bonita Applebaum” for the first time in the movie.
I was delighted to discover the source of the sitar sample in the Fugees’ version of “Killing Me Softly.” And where did Tribe get that sitar from in the first place? A totally ridiculous song by Rotary Connection called “Memory Band.”
The real art of sampling isn’t just finding some great song and repeating the hook; it’s finding a hook in a terrible song and using it to build a new great song. But here’s the crazy thing. The main groove under the verses in “Check The Rhime” comes from “Baby, This Love I Have” by Minnie Riperton. Guess who the female singer in Rotary Connection was?
Q-tip seems like the exact kind of crate-digging sample geek who would know about the Minnie Riperton connection. A man after my own heart.
The film was also my first exposure to the concept of the pause tape, which is how a lot of hip-hop producers got started. Before digital samplers became so cheap and accessible, pause tapes were the easiest way to create loops. You’d put your tape recorder on pause and cue up the record to just before the part you wanted to sample. When the downbeat of the sample started, you unpaused the tape, and paused it again when the sample ended. Then you cued the record back up to the same spot, and repeated, and repeated, and repeated. Here’s a video of the process.
Tribe’s influence on present-day music can be felt in unexpected ways. Check out this remix of “I Left My Wallet In El Segundo” around the 0:35 mark.
That little phrase, slowed way down, became the basis for “A Milli” by Lil Wayne. Hear the process at work.
I hope this movie inspires more movies about golden-age hip-hop, and I hope they continue to dig into the nuts and bolts of the creative process. People hear so much hip-hop but know so little about where it comes from, what it means, what the connections are. That ignorance extends to many of the musicians I know. Keep the documentaries coming!