Jazz music has been called the only art form to originate entirely within the United States. Coincidentally, it's also the only art form to have died entirely within the United States. Following the birth of jazz in the early part of the 20th century, the genre hit its stride during the 40s, 50s and 60s. Although traditional jazz had faded by the 70s, it still had Herbie, Miles and others innovating and developing fusion and funk. But by the 80s, funk was all-licked out, and jazz appeared to be on life support.
Zorn and his cohorts managed to draw new life and new sounds from the genre in the NYC underground of the 1980s, but smooth jazz pulled the plug clean out as far as the mainstream world was concerned. Led by Dave Koz, Kenny G, Spyro Gyra, David Sanborn, and other assorted white people, its soothing, inoffensive approach made for a peaceful, if undignified death for jazz music's public acceptance. Workaday music unenthusiasts were so entranced that they failed to even notice its passing. But one look at DownBeat, or one glance at the jazz section in your local Tower, and you knew-- jazz as we once knew it was through. Finished.
What defined the new crap was also the clever adjective that described it: smooth. In order to reach the desired level of smoothness, each artist aimed for perfect equilibrium. Every musical element lent to a delicate balance, and the idea of extending oneself from that balance was strictly verboten. Each instrument was always to be locked-in, locked-down, and airtight. The ideal result was flawlessness in execution. The nasty side effect was remarkable inanity.
Hip-hop producers The Herbaliser's newest release, Something Wicked This Way Comes, doesn't nearly approach the sins of smooth jazz, but their shortcomings are similar. The Herbaliser, like smooth jazz, is clearly in the game to pump out product of the baby's-butt variety. They feature a polished, precise production approach that delivers exactly what it promises-- near flawlessness. Unfortunately, organizing pieces into common and predictable templates, and utilizing familiar, hackneyed hooks and grooves is more often than not a pretty boring idea.
Loose, buttery R&B; basslines drive this disc, with simple breakbeats and a cast of blaxploitation- and disco-era accoutrements (including string/horn sections, harpsichords, vibraphones, mellotron, and that old standby, scratched upon porno percussion) tossed in to add some 'flavor.' The grooves are solid enough, and occasionally pretty fierce-- "The Turnaround" borders on New Orleans funk, and yep, it's awfully tight. And on a few tracks, MCs show up to rhyme, ranging in success from the hot ("Time 2 Build" [feat. Blade] and "It Ain't Nuttin'" [feat. MF Doom]), to the merely passable ("Verbal Anime" [feat. Iriscience of Dilated Peoples, as well as an illogical chorus]), right down to pure gag-me putrous ("Good Girl Gone Bad").
But at the end of the day, Something This Way Comes fails to distinguish itself. The beats are just fine, but they lack the risk or innovation that could potentially make them truly engaging. Moreover, it's old music; every beat on here is something you've heard before, be it in a bad 70s flick, a New Orleans jazz club, or your own hip-hop collection. In fact, there's little on the disc that can't be supplanted with a spicier funk or jazz collection. No, those records might not boast today's hottest and hippest underground MCs, but they aren't bogged down with wack 1997isms, either. I'm just sayin'.
