A film about Northwest hip-hop from 1994
I have to say from the git, the first time I heard Digable Planets I didn’t just sleep on them, I called in sick. Digable Planets? What kinda name is that? They call themselves doodlebug and wha? Fuck that shit is corny. Hearing them wasn’t better. The music’s all right, but it was the way they chanted their choruses like mantras, and sounded like they was on Actifed. I guess it just reminded me of too many bad poetry readings.
So, what do I think of their newest? Blowout Comb? I’m sorry to admit, it’s well, a Blowout Comb (or a pick as we used to call them in Colorado). Their chant thing still gets to me (“May 4th”), but the music on this album is so…beautiful.
“Black Ego” with its Roberta Flack cello and bass, noodley-blues guitar is !!!!!, and the lyrics fed my hed. They follow it up with “Dog It”-sax, vibes and… Damn! “Dial 7 (axioms of creamy spies)” has Sara Webb breathily singing “Black people, Black people, steal your mind back/don’t die in their wilderness. fuck that.”
“Dial 7″ is one of my favorite songs since the Young Disciple’s “Freedom Suite.” “The Art of Easing” samples Bobbi Humphrey (!). OK, OK, OK. I might’ve been wrong. (This review originally appeared in The Rocket and was written by Carlos Walker.)