Matthew Shipp hasn't reached his teeth-baring potential. Yes, he's the greatest pianist of the modern age, blending diverse atonal qualities with an unequivocal spryness and an effortless range of emotion, and all those other things that come with being a brilliant player. (Free cocktails?) But when you compare the sentiment in a record like Nu Bop to that of most 20th Century composers with a similar vision, Shipp's stuff just doesn't hang on the low end of the friction enough. I want his music to punch me in the face with its dramatic, chaotic authority. He is for the advancement of jazz. He is supposed to be the Edgard Varèse, the Charles Ives of our generation, goddammit, interpreting the city sounds around him through improvisation and a sensitive, reflective ear. Unfortunately, the purpose of his recordings-- evolving jazz by including its urban peers in hip-hop and electronics-- has always stopped a hair short of success. The performances are airtight, but the crust is soft.
As it turns out, one thing that was missing was Antipop Consortium, and more specifically, their unequalled, futuristic, split-atom beats. Up 'til now, Shipp's beat programmers have been all wrong. Past collaborators DJ Spooky and FLAM are decent from an electronic and an emotional standpoint, but what they've offered hasn't ever defied expectations. If Shipp truly wants to advance jazz into the realm of youth-popular urban culture, he's gotta break bread with the crazy funk, collaborate with the most innovative musicians.
Antipop vs. Matthew Shipp opens with a brow-furrowed block of Shipp's piano chords cut into the boom-bap of the bass and hi-hat. It's an imposing, rhythm-heavy intro, and while not a complete song, its neon spritzes of keyboards and backwards-looped cymbals offer a clear theme of what's to come: future jazz in the most definitive sense. From there, Shipp's piano turns backflips all over APC's swimmy, electro-alarms. William Parker's bass and Shipp's low-end counter each other as Beans and Priest holler, "Stereo! Stereo, Stereo! It sounds so fresh, I'll sing it once and repeat!". From here, the mix alternates between rap solos, piano solos, some loose drums, chunks of chords, sample of dogs barking (two breeds), keyboards on the holodeck. Shipp's piano is sampled for melody and rhythm, as much as it solos-- and even the high-end, winky optimism with which Shipp sometimes flirts holds up way deffer as a platform with a little electro street beat.
There's not much of that froufy shit, though; it wouldn't be an Antipop joint without their cold, twitchy vision: "Svp", "Stream Light" and "Coda", specifically, feature their marble-clinking rhythms and bleak, controlled atmosphere, M. Sayyid rapping with a resigned wateriness in his voice, and blooming with heavy-footed atonal melodies. "Monstro City" has a cigarette-burning be-bop vibe, lyrics unfurled like spoken word in tandem with clicky bongo and, yes, more gaping hunks of piano chords, teetering into a dark chasm of a future. This is true-blue street jazz, and you can tell it comes straight from the heart and head.
Okay, but the thing is, this is billed as an Antipop Consortium record-- their absolute last release, as a matter of fact, since they broke up last autumn. (R.I.P!!!) And while this is a step forward for Shipp, for APC, it's a side-step from their gleamingly tricked-out, beat-tweaked and freaky Arrhythmia. Antipop vs. Matthew Shipp is solid, yes, but the experimentation doesn't always work in their favor, and it often dilutes the propulsive fire beneath their final release. Then again, maybe it's appropriate that their last hurrah-- Antipop's final track, "Free Hop", has them melting scratches and turntables backwards over a charged improv session, marking a deflated and untimely end, for eight years was simply not enough.
