God is not a DJ, because if He exists, Our Dude Who Art in Heaven surely leaves music selection to the critics. Don't blame me, it's in Deuteronomy. But for a little while there-- whether as the result of media hype, mere youthful exuberance, or some perfect confluence of cultural and technological trends-- the humble disc jockey did indeed take on near-celestial significance. "Are DJs musicians?" thinkpiecers mused, late and cringe-worthy as usual, and you know only something pretty big-- a beat, say-- could get them even to consider the possibility. Right about 1997. A former bassist for an 80s indie-pop group. Check it out, now.
The new Fatboy Slim compilation, The Greatest Hits: Why Try Harder, shows that the DJ who originally named himself Norman Cook was, as his detractors alleged, a product of his time. Sure, the erstwhile Housemartins member's formula-- eclectic samples, sloganistic vocal snippets, and an all-around drunken good-time spirit-- was just that, a formula, but it befit an era of peace, blowjobs, and Men in Black. Yes, it was a cheap trick to slow vocal tracks down until they crumble like a worn-out robot, then accelerate them until they blare like a police siren. But the formula was deadly effective, the trick frequently worked.
Slim's best original tracks on Why Try Harder are as universally recognizable as pop gets these days, familiar through films and commercials as much as dance clubs. Favoring mass appeal over chronology, naturally, the latest disc opens with "The Rockafella Skank", an international smash featuring a surf-tinged 60s guitar lick nipped from the John Barry Seven and an incessant spoken-word hook from the Just Brothers' Northern Soul song "Sliced Tomatoes". Next up, and also culled from 1998 sophomore LP You've Come a Long Way Baby, piano-driven love song "Praise You" reworks Camille Yarbrough's soulful 1975 "Take Yo' Praise". Breakthrough single "Going Out of My Head", from 1996 debut Better Living Through Chemistry, introduced a new generation to the Who's "I Can't Explain".
Slim was older than his big-beat contemporaries, the Chemical Brothers, and had been spinning records under various guises since the late 80s; his vast collection and his colorful, unlikely juxtapositions help set him apart. More recently, the Avalanches, the Go! Team, and Rjd2 are among the few acts taking a similarly broad-minded, fun-oriented approach to sample-based compositions.
Despite its enigmatic title, Why Try Harder doesn't stop at the obvious hits. The strongest elements in Slim's own work-- pace, rhythm, stupidly catchy samples-- aren't so different from the makings of a fine remix, so it's no surprise he excels at the latter. His free-wheeling, uptempo take on Cornershop's whimsical "Brimful of Asha" far surpasses even the 1997 original. Slim also improves upon Groove Armada's 1999 groove "I See You Baby", though he can't make it less annoying. (Slim's posthumous remix of Wildchild's 1995 "Renegade Master" is sadly absent.) Other unexpected inclusions are less engaging, such as the cerveza-splashed wah-wah and whistles of "Everybody Loves a Carnival", itself a tepid remix of Slim's excellent own "Everybody Loves a 303". Anyway, where's early B-side "Michael Jackson", which appears as a bonus track on the U.S. version of the debut?
As the world has gotten shittier and the shtick has gotten staler, Slim's visibility has diminished. That's in part with good reason: "Weapon of Choice", the hit from 2000's Halfway Between the Gutter and the Stars, was half-futuristic lounge-funk, half-"Mambo #5", saved only by Christopher Walken (in the video), while that album's Jim Morrison-sampling "Sunset (Bird of Prey)" and Macy Gray gospel "Demons" are fucking dire. 2004's Palookaville was even more disappointing, and it's represented here by tracks like past-date Internet joke "Slash Dot Dash". An execrable, Bootsy Collins-fronted cover of Steve Miller Band's "The Joker" is mercifully left off the compilation, but then so is beachy-keen "Put It Back Together", with Damon Albarn. The two new tracks here don't change Slim's downward trajectory, either. Single "That Old Pair of Jeans" lopes along with organ groove and a chorus akin to "Na Na Hey Hey (Kiss Him Goodbye), while faster-paced "Champion Sounds" bounces on squishy synths, and both feature sing-songy, awkwardly worded rapping by Lateef the Truthspeaker.
While the party may be over, much of Slim's catalogue meets a critical standard which, like his music, updates an old cliché. It's got a good beat, and you can dance to it. And drive to it. And watch commercials to it. And cook pasta to it. And work out to it. And, well, I wouldn't recommend making love to it (how would you do that?), but some of this stuff was pretty ubiquitous for a while there. Why try harder, indeed.
