For Florida's sole remaining sex surrogate, love is a many splintered thing.
It's not just giant companies cashing in on America's defense industry.
How a throwaway idea at the Barkley ad agency became the "Sonic Guys."
A diner's guide to Texas's oldest Mexican restaurants.
Remixers who tinker with something that was recorded in years past aren't just altering BPM, musical beds, and melody lines. They're fucking with powerful intangibles: upper-case cultural and lower-case personal memories, and the point where the two meet; the moods, aesthetics, and sounds of eras gone by, as captured by the technology and production techniques of the day; the deeply embedded expectation of when a singer's ecstatic whoop is released, of when and how the bridge kicks in, and of when the aural money shot (always determined on a listener-by-listener basis) is delivered. Studio technological facelifts might imbue a track with youth and contemporary relevance, but they also run the risk of erasing the accrued weathering that makes art resonate across the ages, creating, in effect, Botoxed beats and grooves, unable to move...the listener.
Motown Remixed, whose knob-turners include ?uestlove, King Britt, Hank Shocklee, Jazzy Jeff, Z-Trip, and Mocean Worker, ranges from the inspired to the insipid. The latter is encapsulated in Tranzition's version of the Supremes' "My World Is Empty Without You." Even with the long-overdue critical reassessment (and elevation) of Motown's artistry that came in the wake of the 2002 documentary Standing in the Shadows of Motown, it's still common practice to discount the subtle, often brilliant musicianship of classic Motor City tracks. The original "My World" opens with an insistent, brooding bass line that flowers into drums, skittery guitar, and an impassioned lead performance from Diana Ross. The mid-tempo groove is a shimmering contradiction of dark emotional impulses and pop flourishes, perfectly capturing the rush of chemical currents that break through minds and bodies caught in the throes of emotional withdrawal. The remix takes a too-literal approach to the song title, resulting in a lugubrious dirge that places the lead vocals slightly off the beat to no good effect.
On the flip side, Easy Mo Bee's "Just My Imagination" is as wistful and lovely as the original, with only surgically fine modifications; King Britt's "War" has been given an irresistible Carnivale feel. Da Producer's mechanized shuffle-beat for "Let's Get It On," which anchors silky instrumentation and Gaye's own sexy vocals, is fine, but by being so of-the-moment, it's already--ironically--more dated than the original. And while Salaam Remi's self-explanatory Krunk-a-Delic Party Mix of the Jackson 5's "ABC" is a lot of fun, it's Z-Trip's "I Want You Back" that breaks your heart. Opening with an extended guitar solo that then retreats for that signature thumping bass, this mix places both (hardened) drums and Michael's vocals a little higher in the mix. It's a funky re-imagining of the tune, underscoring how scarily good young Mike was. Preadolescent Jackson was one of the top male soul vocalists of all time, armed with an unbridled eagerness to match his idols (James Brown, Jackie Wilson) and the intensity to pull himself within whispering distance of their greatness. Z-Trip's handiwork places studio outtakes and ad-libs back in the mix to remind you how that tabloidy creepy white woman with a predilection for preteen boys was once the coolest black male on the planet.
The Curtis Mayfield Collection, a dance-floor-centric overhauling of classic Mayfield recordings, shouldn't work at all but it absolutely does. (This is also the collection most likely to give soul purists a stroke.) The highlight is Louie Vega's opening cut, "Superfly." In the original, the gritty urban landscape of '70s inner-city black America was captured in both the lyrics and instrumentation. Vega's Latin-inflected house track (deeper emphasis on horns and percussion) respectfully moves the musical frame into the present, managing to make the point that while so much has changed in the world, too much hasn't: Tryin' to get over, indeed. Grandmaster Flash's two-step version of "We're a Winner" achieves an old-school hip-hop effect via go-go. The Stonebridge club remix of "People Get Ready" repeatedly isolates the title phrase and loops it for a soulful, tentatively hopeful chant.