For the Record

Sonic Delusion and redemption

Paul Wall

"The Peoples Champ"

(Riccio Records)

Time was, Houston hip-hop's charm lay in its ability to present the culture from which it arose as at once foreign and inviting, lacking in transparency from the point of view of the uninitiated but internally consistent and evoking a sense of comfort for those patient enough to learn the proper vocabulary. (Of course, in hip-hop the question of comfort is never simple—this is one of the reasons squares are so fond of comparing it to the blues.) This vocabulary reveals a deep sense of appreciation for life's simple pleasures: tricked-out cars, particularly candy-colored paint-drenched Cadillacs equipped with rims from 1984; platinum grills and piece-and-chain sets; and hydrocodone promethazine cough syrup, commonly referred to as "lean," or "barre," or "purple drank." Paul Wall's preoccupation with these things, apparent throughout The Peoples Champ, often suggests lack of creative range. The chorus of "I'm a Playa" sets the tone well, providing a list of the album's recurring themes: "84s, candy paint, switchin lanes, sippin drank." Unfortunately, Paul has more or less run out of original ways to express reverence for this list's elements, and many of the rhymes on The Peoples Champ come across as flat and formulaic.

Things weren't always this way. Get Ya Mind Correct, released in 2002 by Paul and his former rapping partner/BFF Chamillionaire, is one of the secret best hip-hop albums of all time: the beats are up-tempo and bouncy but also light and airy, like speeding through the city in a drop-top on a hot summer day; the familiar topics of Cadillacs, candy paint, and getting one's grind on are addressed in nearly every song, but Paul's indefatigable good-natured goofiness and Chamillion's astonishing verbal dexterity keep things fresh throughout. The rhyming style closely resembles that employed on the mixtape joints Paul and Cham used to drop on DJ Michael "5000" Watts' Swishahouse label. Classic Paul punchlines from this period: "I got more ice than Iceland and more green than Greenland;" "my mouth got more crushed ice than a slurpee / I stack my money in fat Klumps like Eddy Murphy;" "I'm more fly than a witch, more fly than an alien / I wear so much Coogi, people think that I'm Australian." Here, individuality and independence are, both implicitly and explicitly, stressed as virtues—whereas the Paul Wall of The Peoples Champ seems more interested in inventing stereotypes and subsequently applying them to himself in a bizarre attempt at self-legitimization within the hip-hop world at large.

One of the ways in which this becomes manifest is through Paul's attempt to place himself within the Southern gangsta tradition. This is particularly evident in "Trill," where Paul insists that he packs a glock "for all these jealous haters," and is sure to remind us that the block he calls home is also home to a booming crack trade. The guest appearances on The Peoples Champ further reinforce Paul's desire to be taken seriously as a voice of the streets—Bun B, Lil Wayne, B.G., and T.I. all drop typically brilliant verses (for the most part) attesting to a shared keep-it-gutter sensibility. Only DJ Paul, of Memphis's Three 6 Mafia, who appears on "I'm a Playa," is able to approximate the original Paul Wall aesthetic, mostly by stealing ideas from MTV's "Pimp My Ride." His closing remarks: "when them niggas see me they sayin everybody ain't able / cos I turned the back of my Caddie pickup into a POOL TABLE!"

Honoring the memory of the late DJ Screw, whose trademark slowed-down style helped draw the attention of rap tastemakers to the South in general and Houston in particular, is a responsibility taken very seriously by Houston MCs. On The Peoples Champ Paul is particularly conscientious in this regard-—Big Pokey of the Screwed Up Click appears on the single "Sittin' Sidewayz," and in "Sippin' tha Barre" Paul shouts out several other SUC members in addition to claiming to have been "bangin Screw since '92." At the same time, however, Paul seems to lose sight of what made Screw significant, namely his insistence on the viability of the South as an independent creative force. In some ways it's apparent that Paul has accepted this as his mission as well, but he also spends an inordinate amount of time reducing Houston rap to a series of clichés. It's also troubling that he gives props to Dipset, the clique that, more than any other, epitomizes New York rap's creative bankruptcy. (See also "Drive Slow," where Paul drops the most generic candy paint verse ever on a track by Kanye West, hailed by the media as hip-hop's savior in spite—or perhaps because—of his insufferable corniness.)

There are, to be fair, moments on The Peoples Champ which allow us to catch a glimpse of the Paul Wall of old (that is, pre-major record deal)—when he didn't smoke weed or sip syrup, drove an Impala instead of a Mercedes, and was able to get by through his enthusiasm for the game and sheer force of charisma. "Internet Going Nutz," for example, is about picking up girls on Internet message boards, a subject few other rappers possess the irreverence to do justice. Overall, though, Paul's attempts on The Peoples Champ to rep for his region tend to become subsumed by laziness and confusion. Yo—but at least he's not from New York.

Dillon Savage B'08 enjoys a fine purple drank

Cocorosie

"Noah's Ark"

(Touch And Go/Quarterstick Records)

In her previous life, before achieving marginal indie rock success, Sierra Casady studied opera in Paris. Her sister Bianca, with whom she had been estranged since childhood, sang gospel in bars around the Midwest. The sisters Casady reunited in a Parisian bathtub where they formed CocoRosie and recorded La Maison de Mon Reve. It is the music of eccentric, Old World, reptilian women. Their songs tremble with street-wise tragedy and forbidden love; the sisters bleed raw power and innocence.

Trying to pigeonhole CocoRosie into a single genre is nearly impossible. Their sound is original and eccentric, equally pop and avant-garde. It is littered with traces of Southern gospel's most hearty renderings, the Velvet Underground's pretensions and innovations, and Billie Holiday's soulful crooning. They are as urban as the rats that nibble on trash from dumpsters; they are as dense and gothic as a tormented Tennessee Williams belle. Like toddlers, they play with noisemakers-- except CocoRosie gets to hold their toys up to a microphone.

Bianca's voice is scratchy and small. She sings like a world-weary child who is too scared to cry out against the tragedy she's witnessed. She sounds innocent and raw as her voice cracks and scratches like that of an excessive smoker. In sharp contrast, Sierra's ghostly operatic voice warbles with cold, steely perfection. She is part banshee trapped in an abandoned chateau, part godliness and cleanliness, shining like a beacon of light during desperate conditions. Her voice cuts through the dense atmosphere and human mess that CocoRosie thrives upon.

Noah's Ark is their sophomore release. It is not a huge departure from, nor a significant improvement on, their debut. Much of the shock factor of their abrasively alien sound is lost, and so Noah's Ark is neither as loved nor as hated as La Maison de Mon Reve. Noah's Ark affords the luxuries of a band that has received marginal public exposure and indie scrutiny. It is graced by the presence of Antony (from Antony and the Johnsons on "Beautiful Boyz"), Devandra Banhart (on "Brazilian Sun"), and a full, all-female chorus (on "Armageddon"). Recorded while they were on tour, the album sounds slightly more diverse and reflective of their time on the road. The lyrics range from nonsensical images to narrative fiction, all the while dabbled with French. Noah's Ark lacks the sheer intimacy of La Maison de Mon Reve, but such is to be expected of music as it moves out of the Parisian bathtub and onto the American highways.

CocoRosie cannot hide their fondness for creating lo-fi collages of sound. In "Bear Hides Buffalo," they juxtapose the sounds of a cat meowing, a horse neighing, a bell ringing, and piano keys plonking. But through the jumbled and often chaotic noise, their essence is more eccentric than silly, and their seriousness is not lost. Rather, they maintain their haunting ambiance almost effortlessly.

The album title Noah's Ark is just one of several references to Judeo-Christian traditions. Christianity is a recurring theme in both this album and La Maison de Mon Reve. However, the Casady sisters both profess to be unreligious. In "Armageddon," when Sierra Casady sings that Jesus says diamonds are "'a girl's best friend / And hell, they'll last forever,'" it can safely be said that the band was hardly quoting the book of John. But to call their Biblical allusions ironic would be unfair; their brand of heresy does not drip of wry, sarcastic humor. CocoRosie evoke symbols from Christianity because of the strong historical, societal, and emotional connotations that they carry. Coupled with outlandish instrumentals and bizarre voices, the pseudo-religious lyrics morph into words of sacrilege. Their music illuminates Christianity's stranglehold on and contradictions with modern Western society—case in point: the juxtaposition of Christian icons with images of greed and commerce in "Armageddon."

Noah's Ark's release date is September 13. Since CocoRosie is growing more and more (in)famous, finding it should not be too difficult. Look for the album cover featuring three unicorns humping. One of them is vomiting multi-colored raindrops, another has a rainbow spurting from its horn, and the third one enjoys the pleasure of being on top. From this wildly appropriate little package, expect the music of two wayward women wandering through streets both treacherous and beautiful.

Shawn Wen B'09 has seen many a Parisian bathtub

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