Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814, 1989

If I were writing a top ten list of albums that shaped me as a kid, I might as well start by putting this record on top.  So forgive me if I wax nostalgic.  No matter what song is played from this album, my first mental image is of being in my older brother's basement room, using his double bed as a stage and a deoderant bottle as a microphone, trying my darndest to be Janet.  Before spending countless hours in front of the tv, trying to memorize her brother's "Thriller" dance, I was taking lessons from Rhythm Nation 1814.

I won't attempt to talk about this album with mentioning the videos associated with it because very few of us who have ever seen this, can listen to "Rhythm Nation" without being transported to the stark setting of the streets or the sparse warehouse where militant dancers are being trained to transform the world.  Janet has a long resume of impressive music videos with high production quality (and costs), however what I love about the videos connected with Rhythm Nation is that they are all very simple ideas and settings allowing the focus to remain on choreography and narrative.

As soon as the bell tolls, opening the album, I am there - one of Janet's army - and to be honest, I've never counted myself out of this number since first hearing this record.

The first three tracks set the foundational concern towards social injustice, calling for a new formation of people along the same line as George Clinton's One Nation Under a Groove.  Here, Janet reminds us that there is still a place for the protest/socially conscious song in R&B that was established in the 60's and 70's by Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, ect, but had been missing for nearly a decade.  Janet is young here, but with the New Jack Swing fathers, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis she is able to deliver a call to justice and equality that packs a punch, and keeps us dancing.

After reminding us of the "State of the World", and delivering her thesis that only "The Knowledge" can conquer the likes of prejudice, ignorance, bigotry and illiteracy, she moves the album along with:
"Get the point?  Good.  Let's dance..." and continues to encourage movement with two power dance tracks, "Miss You Much", and "Love Will Never Do (Without You)".  For someone with such a light wispy voice, she sure knows how to energize her listeners.  Still, she never let's us get too far away from the issues at hand, reminding us to think of the children in "Livin' In a World (They Didn't Make)".

I recently bought this on vinyl, and "Living in a World..." appropriatly concludes the chapter that is side A.  When I turn it over I'm thrust back into the action with the brilliant anthem, "Alright".  This song could alone define New Jack Swing with its street class swagger, and marriage of R&B melodies with heavy hip hop beats.  Not to mention it boasts one of my favorite music videos of the time.  I'm going to go ahead and imbed this one...

Together with "Escapade" these two tracks offer two attempts to hide from the harsh reality, the first with imagination and friendship, the second with flight.  "Black Cat" instead faces the danger of the streets as a warning to her lover.  Written by Janet herself, I'm not always sure how the harder rock-inspired track fits into this dance record, but it's an example of decent songwriting that sounds eerily like Michael. 

There is a very small part of me that wishes the album ended here.  However, the last three tracks prepare us all for Janet's sexual revolution that is to come.  We can't say she didn't warn us.  I read a review somewhere that said "Lonely" is the sexiest song about not getting any that ever existed.  That's probably true, at least as of 1989.  As in any new nation, love is never left out of the equation entirely.   Still, when she takes it all the way to the anticipatory "Someday is Tonight", I just feel dirty.  For some reason, this song is so much worse than her way more explicit stuff that comes in the 90's.  I don't know why, maybe her age, or how it fits on Rhythm Nation...  but however I might justify it, this is my favorite track to skip for sheer awkwardness. 

A brief Interlude followed by the same bell tolls that open the album asks us not to allow our eyes to deceive us, since it is only our "knowledge and wisdom that separate us".  If I were to critique her philosophy here, I might say we need more than darkness to be blind to our differences, but brighter light to see how deeply we are the same.  But that's not what I'm here to do.  The real point is that this unlikely young Jackson does exactly what she sets out to do: inspire us to dance in the darkness and invite everyone to join in, regardless of race or status.

Paul Simon: Graceland, 1986

I could take a year to write a blog post on such a great musical landmark as this.  Graceland.  I think I could research and analyze and compile enough material to write a small book (or at least a chapter) on the album's cultural, social and political significance/implications.  Because I have enough trouble keeping this updated as it is. 


So I have decided to try to keep this short, in order to primarily point you to spend a bit of time with this experiment-gone-oh-so-right.  And if you get a real tangible copy, Paul Simon has included plenty of interesting details about the instrumentation and composition about the pieces. 

There is something about this album, and hearing the married styles of American rock and roll with the people's music of South Africa... yes, there is something distinctly flavored about this record, but it doesn't leave the awkward after taste of forced fusion for the sake of concept.  It's SO much more than a concept.  It's a love story that transcends all prejudice.  It's Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending.  Paul Simon fell in love with the music of South Africa - it equally felt to him foreign and familiar - so he made an inspired album using local musicians and their traditions, crossing a metaphorical barrier into a country that was being culturally boycotted by America for anti-apartheid convictions.  However Simon, far from supporting apartheid, managed to expose a music that had been hidden from the world under a racist regime.

And when finally uncovered as a mash-up with Simon's own folky American rock-and-roll style, the overwhelming feeling this record communicates can only be described in one word: happy.

I am sure once someone described the music on this record like floating.  And it does float: it grooves along a slow canal under hot sun.  It bounces up and down and never loses the momentum.  Nothing can get me down, even as I unload my dishwasher and notice a layer of grit left on all the bowls.   I have probably already said too much, and I haven't said a thing about a single song.

Ok, well hold on tight through The Boy in the Bubble.  It always sounds a bit messy to me, and I have to be in the right mood for it, but I never regret letting it play out into the title track, Graceland, which still is not my favorite track, but sets the tone as a strong story of journey and pilgrimage to where "we all will be received".  And then we start to have fun.  I can do anything while I listen to I Know What I Know, as long as I can sing along, and Gumboots keeps me doing it.  Activity preferred.

Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes is the smoothest track, going down like a latte from Cafe Artigiano, and I do tend to pour myself something to drink at this point of the record to relax a little, just in time to turn it over for the superior side of the album.

If you don't have this on vinyl, I would encourage you to take a 30 second break before you start the second half, because I'm convinced it's supposed to be there.  You Can Call Me Al sounds like it's starting over somehow, and Under African Skies is maybe the most stereotypical nod to the motherland, but it's so perfect, and prepares us for the accapella Homeless that follows.

And what else can I say?  Three more songs (on the vinyl edition that I have) and they are all fantastic.  Crazy Love Vol II makes me passionate, That Was Your Mother makes me smirk (it's the one song I feel Paul Simon could have maybe left off), and All Around the World or the Myth of Fingerprints makes me want to dance, and leaves us feeling hopeful for the world.

Hopeful.  An album made in the thick of Apartheid debates in traditional South African styles that remains full of hope is nothing short of a Paul Simon miracle.  Maybe he should be made a saint.  If he can ever successfully reunite with Garfunkle, he just might.

U2: "War", 1983

Yep, I began my little project with U2. Not a huge surprise – they have made a lot of albums to choose from, and I have been listening to them for as long as I can remember. I still have a school assignment that I did in grade 4 that states if I could be anything when I grow up it would be Bono. Interesting.

So War was an easy choice because it has always been one of my favorites for its high energy and ability to stick to one theme without ever boring me.  In 42 minutes, we – along with Bono, The Edge, Larry, and Adam – explore a whole gamut of aspects and effects of the album’s namesake: war.

Setting: one morning getting ready for work. Sunday Bloody Sunday woke me up quickly, rattling off machine-gun-esque snare beats and painting clear pictures of physical and relational pain (“bodies strewn across the dead end street…” “mother’s children, brothers, sisters torn apart…”).

Justifiably angry and loud, SBS gears up our frustration just in time for Seconds, which reflects more particularly of the prospect of nuclear war in a similar fashion. I’m up, making coffee, getting dressed, and sporadically punching the air in time with Larry.

Next comes New Years Day, with the first glimmer of hope on the record (“though torn in two, we can be one”). There is a reason it became the album’s first single and most successful track: It’s full of passion, and begs to be sung along with. I break from all routines at this point, turn up the volume and pull out the liner notes to sing along more confidently.

With such a tough act to follow, Like a Song… falls slightly flat, and I take a bathroom break. I guess album listening takes a bit of patience, or maybe it makes me appreciate the other songs even more. Something’s got to keep the album moving I guess, but this feels forced and moralistic. Some decent lines, but I don't need any more convincing – I’m ready for something else.

Drowning Man vies once again for my attention, and I sit down to finish my coffee. There’s something eerie and refreshing about Bono singing low in his range, and it creates a dramatic moment when he finally does jump back up to that more familiar octave. I love how the most depressing track title gives way to lyrics that are possibly the deepest expression of love and promise on the album.

I’m going to fast-forward through the next couple, but not because I skipped any tracks. The Refugee, Two Hearts Beat as One, Red Light and Surrender keep a high enough energy for me to get some breakfast and pack my stuff without asking too much of my attention. The one exception is a few minutes in to Red Light during the trumpet solo, and when it continues to scream out as Bono sings out repeatedly, “I give you my love”. Surrender is actually one of my favorites songs on the album, partially because it fits so well without being so directly about a literal war. I haven’t heard this song in a while, since I’m not likely to hear it outside of the album context.

Finally, “40”. U2 demonstrates here that they really know how to tie an album together. Starting with a bang, and ending with space for contemplation, a formula they also use on The Unforgettable Fire book-ending with A Sort of Homecoming and MLK.

But on War the relationship between the first and last song is much more than a shaping of album mood. Sunday Bloody Sunday and “40” both contain the album’s driving question: How long do we have to sing this song? But the difference is that at the start, we can’t see beyond today (“tonight we can be as one” is the most hopeful line in the entire song), and by the time we journey through War, “40” is confident that though we may not know when, we will eventually sing a new song.

Peace,

Danice