Kurtis Blow: "I'm Chillin'"

22 October 1986

"This is the real art of noise."

— Simon Mills

Kayfabe is a professional wrestling term for protecting the secrets of the industry. In the pre-internet days, the magazines and broadcasters acted as if it were a real, competitive sport even if we either knew or suspected that it was all scripted. (I was in denial about the true nature of pro wrestling for much of my youth even though it did always make me wonder how the guy performing the airplane spin never got dizzy when it seemed to almost kill his opponent) Wrestlers were expected to strictly observe kayfabe and not just in the ring. Good guys and bad guys had separate locker rooms and it was considered a no-no for foes to be seen traveling or partying together. Just as the magician isn't supposed to give away their tricks, wrestlers had to act as though it were all legit.

There was a time when the makers of house and rap music observed their own form of kayfabe. Sampling was done liberally, without any thought to getting legal permission. Club DJs had spent the better part of a decade making their own mixes of danceflood favourites and this was carried over when they started to become pop stars. The sight of a young tech geek backspinning a 12" record on Top of the Pops may have looked cool to an entire generation of even younger tech geeks but it wasn't a great visual for the public at large. Mark Moore of S'Express had the idea to go on stage to mime their magnificent chart topping hit "Theme from S'Express" with a three attractive girls as they all "played" instruments and "sang" parts that were all sampled. Apart from this being more of an arresting visual, it also gave off the impression that acts like S'Express were proper bands just like Europe and UB40.

Take the promo for "I'm Chillin'". Opening with a closeup of Kurtis Blow in a trench coat, fedora and shades, he lipsynchs a very computerized "Transformers...don't come in disguise" before he introduces "Tee-Bone", one of three percussionists to appear on the record. Yet, they're joined on stage by a much fuller band. A guitarist, bassist and keyboardist are all present despite the fact that they aren't credited on the accompanying album Kingdom Blow (though the group Trouble Funk are thanked and credited in the video). Is it all sampled? A part of me reckons he's nicked the whole thing even though there aren't any of those cliche Funky Drummer/"ah yeah" sounds that would soon take over house music. Or maybe it was all created organically by Blow and his colleagues in the studio. I'm probably too jaded by excessive hip hop combos featuring rappers, DJs and an assortment of armed guards, spiritual advisors and anti-Semetic professors to recognize a time when sampling wasn't at its backbone. Go-go had been a branch of funk originating in Washington D.C. and had always had real musicians. In marrying (in the words of Simon Mills) it with rap, Blow could rely on the best of both worlds with some first rate percussionists working alongside mixers.

Speaking of which, this is pretty old school stuff. Blow is a unconventionally conventional rapper with a diction that could just about pass as his normal speaking voice. There's nothing in the way of goofball antics or put upon toughness and it almost seems like a novelty hip hop number like the "Super Bowl Shuffle". This was still a time in which rap's pedigree didn't go back especially far but neither was it held back by much. Adversarial relationships have always been a part of hip hop but it's refreshing to hear someone express disinterest in it all. Sure, he wants to take male rappers to task for how they diss women ("don't forget LaToya and the Real Roxanne") but he's not out to steal anyone's thunder only to give a boost to himself.

And that's another bit of the old timey rap to look back on with nostalgia: the self-obsession at its heart. Blow isn't trying to impress everyone by showing off his bling and/or the wide variety of female companions he has at his "disposal", only that he's pretty damn ace at what he does. Do I necessarily agree? Well, he's fine, doesn't dazzle the ear but neither does he make me want to hurl. Not much of a recommendation, I know, but there's something to be said for hip hop you can just listen to, enjoy and then switch off. I'm quite happy to be indifferent to a track like "I'm Chillin'" — just as I'm content to believe in kayfabe rap, convinced everyone's playing real instruments and that's Kurtis Blow himself doing the DJ scratching with his voice. You know, just like that guy from the Police Academy movies.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Spandau Ballet: "Through the Barricades"

Gary and Martin Kemp reviewed the singles last time round which means they missed their shot at trashing their latest by just a fortnight. What, they would've been complimentary towards it with Martin possibly even having it go over Lionel Richie as his SOTF? Given how they mercilessly bashed damn-near everyone (including each other's picks), you'd expect fair and impartial treatment of their own contribution. At any rate, Mills does his part in giving the Spands a good (and well-deserved) arse kicking. Having done a stirring three-song, twenty minute set a year earlier at Live Aid, they regrouped in '86 just so everybody could be aware of just how much they still care about stuff. In this case, it's Northern Ireland and (possibly) a Romeo and Juliet-esque tragedy about lovers caught on opposite sides of ver barricades. As Mills says, it's well-intentioned but horrible and the only guitar work of Gary manages to salvage it a bit. Tony Hadley sounds in over his head, though, to be fair, it's no worse than when Simple Minds gave peace in Ulster a go and they were brainy. Dead brainy.

Cameo: "Word Up!"

13 August 1986

"So prepare to Cameosisize (? - Ed.) yourself because things are looking very good indeed!"

— Simon Mills

A confession: I used to think it was pronounced 'ka-may-yo'. Down the hill from where I grew up there was (and still is) a Cameo Beauty Salon and for some reason it came up in conversation with my sister. In my defense, 'ka-may-yo' does sound like the name of the soap designed to cleanse your pores. For some reason, this falter on my part stuck and she never failed to remind me of it whenever we were in close proximity of Cameo Beauty Salon — which we always were — and she'll still bring it up to this day. But I think I prefer my mispronunciation and if the group of the same name had looked and sounded like Chic then it would have been a crime for them to be known as anything other than 'ka-may-yo'.

I long assumed Cameo amounted to an outrageous, sexed-up equivalent of Chic but that's really not what they were. Starting off as a funk outfit, the group evolved over time picking up disco, hip hop and synth pop influences. In Larry Blackmon they had a charismatic frontman, all intense eyes and a bright red cod piece to dazzle audiences. Though they were gradually making progress on the charts — 1984 "She's Strange" was the biggest of their modest early hits — they wouldn't truly cash in until "Single Life" nabbed them a Top 20 hit in the UK. (How it missed the US Hot 100 completely is beyond me) A great mash up of swing beat, electro-funk and European synth production wizardry, it's remarkable for how conventional it is. Blackmon sings on it for god's sake! The instruments and samples aren't piled on top of each other! "Single Life" could easily have been the foundation on which they built an impressive run of funk-soul hits but why stay still?

So, instead of more of the same, Cameo just went with more. Sampling themselves (unless they first cribbed the "whistled spaghetti western theme" from elsewhere before using it on "Single Life") the record momentarily baits the listener into thinking they're doing that retread that must have seemed so inevitable. But this one is hits harder, more like a Prince song that doesn't feel the need to launch into a bunch of gaudy guitar solos. Blackmon is sort of rapping on this one, albeit in a fashion that is campy. It's almost as if he'd only been told about hip hop and figured this is how you're supposed to rap. It's tempting to think what LL Cool J or Run-DMC would have done with this but in getting the raps right, they would've ended up getting the record wrong. A line like "wave your hands in the air like you don't care" is trite no matter what you do but, voiced by someone with the mannerisms of an aerobics instructor, it at least seems genuine done by Blackmon; keeping it real rappers of the time could never not care.

Simon Mills is absolutely riveted by "Word Up!" and it's easy to understand why. It's a culmination of everything great about black American music at the time and a tour-de-force performance by Cameo. On the other hand, I wouldn't go quite so far as to say its "a frighteningly good record". While I admire Blackmon's unique attempt at rapping, it takes some getting used to and it gives off a lingering feeling that we're in novelty song territory. Also "frighteningly good"? I'm one to over-gush a song or album I'm enjoying but not to this extent. Just off the top of my head I couldn't tell you if I've ever heard a song that I thought to be "frighteningly good". Anyway, the public weren't turned off by this oversell as it hit the Top 3 so what do I know?

Cameo milked their British success with three more Top 40 hits taken from their 1986 album Word Up! but they failed to repeat it with their next set of singles two years later. People had moved on and the charts reflected different tastes but I have to wonder if a part of their undoing was down to their biggest hit. They crammed everything into "Word Up!" and made it impossible to follow. They chose to keep moving forward from the superb "Single Life" but there was nowhere else to go from here. They had used up all their tricks.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Human League: "Human"

Mills complains that his colleagues tried to strongarm him into making this SOTF which makes me wonder if this was a common occurrence round the offices of ver Hits. Was the bulk of abuse faced by original reviewer Cliff White coming from his co-workers (which he then chose to blame on the kids writing in)? Did Dave Rimmer become the office pariah when he dared question the genius of "Billie Jean"? Did the staff conspire to torpedo Sigue Sigue Sputnik 's future after Martin Degeville and Neal X made such a mockery of the singles? Here, I think his chums have a point, even if I understand giving it to 'Ka-may-yo' instead. With Philip, Joanne and Susanne all well turned out for the video, "Human" is appropriately polished with the Jam & Lewis songwriting-production team giving it that (in the words of critic and chart analyst Chris Molanphy) 'rain on the windowpane' sound. Mills is having none of it, claiming Phil can't sing or something. Uh, and what of Larry Blackmon? Not exactly the smoothest of pipes either. Whatever, like "Word Up!", "Human" is a fantastic pop song but one that also saw them begin to lose their way a bit.