De La Soul: "Say No Go"

28 June 1989

"Forget bragging about who's got the fattest wallet, and the most Louis Vuitton accessories for their swank mobiles — these boys rap peace and love."

— Harriet Dell

It was 1968 and pop music was going through yet another sea change. The Beatles released the so-called White Album. The Byrds put out the influential Sweetheart of the Rodeo. The Beach Boys delivered Wild Honey at the tail end of the '67 and followed it with Friends, both of which had dialled back from the days of 'pocket symphonies' "California Girls" and "Good Vibrations". The Kinks offered up The Village Green Preservation Society, their highly unsuccessful masterpiece. The Band emerged from the shadow of Bob Dylan with Music from the Big Pink. Dylan himself ended '67 with the sparse and Biblical John Wesley Harding. Meanwhile, Elvis Presley was returning to relevance with his hugely popular comeback.

These albums (and, in Elvis' case, performance) don't share much in common with each other but they are typically described today in a similar manner. All of these acts, the story goes, were going against the psychedelic grain of the time by serving up gritty roots rock, passionate R&B and/or simpler folk and country-influenced material. This, then, begs the question: if all of these rock giants were turning their backs on acid rock by this time, who was still persisting with it? (Actually, there were plenty but that's not the point)

Hip hop acts faced a not dissimilar reputational disadvantage in the late-eighties. The image of rappers as proudly showing off their bling and boasting of how great they and their money are was difficult to shake. Thinking off the top of my head, I can recall a lot of groups signed to Def Jam and most of them failed to fit in with that image of the narcissistic rap star. Public Enemy (see below) and NWA put out some extraordinary records that also placed them as hard hitting civil rights spokesmen. LL Cool J was cut from a similar cloth only he chose to be a more positive voice. Run-DMC were entertainers, Erik B & Rakim were artists and the Beastie Boys were clowns sending up macho rap posing. If they were all going against the bling grain, just who was keeping it going?

And, yet, this idea of rappers being obnoxious show-offs wouldn't go away. Graeme Kay named Run-DMC's "Mary, Mary" the Single of the Fortnight, praising it as "refreshingly free of all that guff that rappers usually go on about i.e. "Look how tough, wonderful and fabulously rich I am"". Ten months later and it's the same scenario: De La Soul were supposedly flouting the conventions of a hip hop movement that wasn't nearly as commonplace as people believed.

Still, even alongside the likes of LL Cool J and Run-DMC, De La Soul stood out. If rap had a downside it was in its near-universal earnestness. Hip hop had a message and its purveyors would be damned if they weren't going to express it. Kelvin Mercer, Dave Jolicoeur and Vincent Mason took on stage names but they eschewed the usual M.C. prefix, initial suffix and none of them claimed to be a professor. In choosing to go with the monikers Posdnuos, Trugoy and Maseo respectively, De La Soul were marked out as playful and silly — and even as hippies, even if the trio denied themselves.

Their first hit came out in the UK in the spring of 1989. "Me, Myself and I" was a head turning single but one that listeners didn't know quite what to make of. British rap had been the preserve of more boastful types who at least had pop hooks to make their records — Derek B's "Bad Young Brother", the Wee Papa Girl Rappers' "Wee Rule" — appear to be better than they were; "Me, Myself and I" had something to it but it lacked the immediacy of these lightweight hip hop affairs. It was going to take the kids time to get used to De La Soul.

As if acknowledging that their previous hit was a bit of a throwaway, the trio got serious for follow-up "Say No Go". Normally whenever a band goes from lighthearted to painfully glum it becomes clear that they're heading for the dumper but the opposite happens in this case. While "Me, Myself and I" tried a little too hard to be witty, the serious subject matter of hardcore drugs on the streets better suits the rapping talents of both Posdnuos and Turgoy. Much more earnest individuals have tackled narcotics in song but their achievement is to deal with it in a fashion that is relatable but never hectoring. Verses roll off their tongues in a manner that few in rap could hope to replicate. They don't trivialize the experience nor do they go over-serious. It's all very matter-of-fact.

The heavy subject matter of the lyrics is nicely contrasted by a relentlessly catchy tune, complimented by a memorable sample of "I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)" by Hall & Oates, with added touches from the likes of Sly Stone and The Detroit Emeralds. The practice of borrowing from sources outside of hip hop and its antecedents was still relatively new at the time and it showed that De La Soul had catholic interests. If they had wanted to prove that they could go against the grain of macho hip hop head games then using smooth eighties' white soulsters was a genius move.

"Say No Go" showed a modest improvement on "Me, Myself and I" and gave De La Soul their first UK Top 20 hit and set a trend by which they turned the law of decreasing returns on its head with the four singles taken from the 3 Feet High and Rising album. The LP was getting very encouraging reviews and the public were beginning to accept them. They were so much more than comedy goofballs and nutty hippies — and, indeed, much more than chroniclers of strife in the ghetto. They were able to do whatever they wanted within rap and they weren't even above a bit of posing, even at a time when hardly anyone was doing it anymore.

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Also of some cop

Public Enemy: "Fight the Power"

Hip hop wasn't my cup of tea back in '89 which only makes me wonder why not. (Oh right, it was all the obnoxious white people hung up on its "message" that turned me off) Public Enemy are perhaps the most well-remembered rap act of the time but they manage to combine all that is wonderful and annoying about the genre. Their early work is the most effective and by the time of "Fight the Power" it was as if Chuck D was far too caught up in his role as a voice for his generation to be bothered much with crafting great records. The more spotlight-friendly Flava Flav joins his nibs in a display of unity but it isn't quite enough to inject some much needed fun. Exciting but it could've been so much more. But, hey, it has a message!

Billy Idol: "Hot in the City"

30 December 1987

"Accompanied by a thumping drum beat and a manic accordion, the world's Greatest Living Englishman growls and snarls menacingly, strutting his "stuff" to maximum effect."

— Sue Dando

Part 3: Billiam Woos America

Billiam sat in the Pam Am lounge, sipping on his Jack and coke. No one else cared that he was a world famous pop star but, then again, he had been in the UK for just over a week and hardly anyone in the whole country gave a toss. It hadn't been all that long ago that he began looking forward to trips back home. He'd see some old mates, wander around London like he used to and indulge in some proper British chocolate. But lately he had begun looking forward to being back in New York. He didn't grow up there but it's a city with everything. Plus, no one in his hometown cared about him anymore — either that or they cared too much.

A woman in her late twenties entered the lounge. She sat down, ordered cup of coffee and looked at a newspaper. Billiam looked over at her but she was unaware of him staring at her. She looked professional and these were typically the sort of women he steered clear of. The ladies would throw themselves at him so much that he couldn't recall the last time he approached one...

~~~~~

I give up! This is now the third time round for Billy Idol on this blog (with at least one more to go!) and I can't bring myself to keep this short story idea going any longer. It began as a laugh, with a piece describing what I might do with the so-called Just Billiam stories (which was, in truth, just an opportunity to avoid having to write something approximating an actual review); I didn't bother composing story for that entry. I would return to the "series" for the next post covering Sir Billiam in which I tried to describe how a very fictionalized facsimile of the star would have gone about living a rock 'n' roll lifestyle. I don't know if I succeeded but it was good fun to write. Still, that's enough of that. It's time I gave Sir Billiam of Idol his "due" with some legit "criticism".

~~~~~

One of the most striking features about Billy Idol was that he often did better the second time around. He had initially been part of the so-called Bromley Contingent, a pack of punk hangers-on who were a vital part of the genre's image. While chums Siouxsie Sioux and Steve Severin would go on to form Siouxsie & The Banshees, the former William Board put together Generation X, a group of little renown beyond their charismatic frontman. Members would come and go before Idol decided to try his luck Stateside. It would be a good move even though it would take time for American audiences to warm to him.

He smartly snapped up Generation X's final single, "Dancing with Myself", and did it again on his own. The record didn't sell but it became a signature number and it would open the door for future hits. The Don't Stop E.P. followed. It featured a cover of the Tommy James & The Shondells hit "Mony Mony" and closed with (imagine that) "Dancing with Myself" and gave the singer his first entry on the American Hot 100. Six years later, live recording of the former gave him a US number one and a British top 10 hit. UK success was slower than in his new homeland. Singles like "Hot in the City" and "Rebel Yell" did no better than "Dancing with Myself" while they and "White Wedding" all did well in the US. It was only with "Eyes Without a Face" that Idol could lay claim to a single that hadn't been a flop — and even then, it was something he wasn't able to capitalise on.

Idol's British salvation wouldn't emerge until the following year and it would be via that most unlikely of mediums: the remix album. As LP types go, remix albums are low priority, reserved mainly for dance acts to collect various 12" mixes as a supplementary release. Hardcore fans scoop them up just as they would a live album or a Christmas record but casual listeners tend to stay away. But they didn't with Vital Idol, which became his first top 10 album. If Neil Tennant had been sufficiently charmed by the Rebel Yell album with its "blend of disco, rock 'n' roll and daft horror-movie imagery" then the public only craved more only dancier, louder and longer. Billy Idol had always been a caricature of a punk but now he was only just starting to embrace it.

This image of Idol as a buffoon didn't travel. He was a bona fide rock star in the US and he played the part to the fullest extent. His appeal crossed genres, with metal heads, pop kids and old school rockers all finding something in his records. American music in the late eighties was getting older and more mainstream and it's to the credit of fans that they made room for someone like Idol to stand in contrast to all the roots rock and MOR.

As 1987 began to wind down, Idol's record label Chrysalis released Idol Songs: 11 of the Best. Yes, it's a chintzy number of tracks for a greatest hits but it wasn't as if his discography was overflowing with golden greats. The live version of "Mony Mony" had just been a hit and his British popularity had never been greater. It was here that "Hot in the City" would get its second shot at chart action. Sue Dando reckons punters were fools to pass up on it the first time round but Sir Billiam was much to close to the punk action from which he was "birthed" to be taken seriously. From the distance of ten years since his pals uttered some naughty language in the company of Bill Grundy, he could be gauged more accurately as a chancer trying to make the most of his modest talents.

The single itself is standard Idol, if less catchy than "Rebel Yell" or "White Wedding". It drips with Americana, something that, again, might not have appealed to Brits in the early eighties but was just what people in the decade's latter half were craving. The Rolling Stones never seemed more English than when they tried to be as American sounding as possible; Idol actually seemed to pull it off better than most of his compatriots. It would be nice if it had more of a dance sound (the 'Exterminator Mix' on Vital Idol is superior to the original single) but '87 was all about getting back to basics so he had that going for him too.

The genius of Billy Idol was his ability to square the circle of people's expectations. Americans took him as a real, blood 'n' guts rocker, the British wanted him to be more of a pantomime act and somehow he managed to be both. And this is something a far more talented individual would never have managed to accomplish. Well done, Sir Billiam!

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Public Enemy: "Bring the Noise"

Sir Billiam tried to be the punk that is all things to all people but he didn't reckon with the real sound of the streets. And it's just as well since an Idol rap tune would be appallingly bad — possibly even worse than the Public Enemy/Anthrax version of "Bring the Noise". This original version, mercifully, is free of guitars but bursting with Chuck D's raps and a metric ton of samples. At a time when hip hop was bursting with boastfulness, Public Enemy were something different and well ahead of all that 'keeping it real' nonsense that would come along in the next decade. They were never really my thing but that's much more on me than them.