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The state of scratch
A film, a soundtrack, and a tour
BY MICHAEL ENDELMAN

Turntablism is the new jazz. At least in the way the two genres have evolved into similar fringe forms. Operating on the edges of popular culture, both are populated by obsessive virtuosos, followed by small but intense groups of hardcore fans, and marked by an artistic splintering that confounds the casual listener.

Similar to the way the jazz lineage split and exploded into countless micro-blips — post-bop, fusion, free jazz, downtown skronk, groove jazz, and so on — after the 1960s, the world of hip-hop DJing has mutated from a funktionalist art form with the simple goal of making the crowd dance into a web of tangentially related musical bubbles. These days the scene is shattered into battle/trick turntablists, dance-friendly DJs, cut ’n’ paste collage artists, turntablist/MC collaborations. And each stylistic twitch asserts its right to the historical and moral center.

Neophytes looking to get their bearings should hope Doug Pray’s excellent new documentary, Scratch, hits the video shelves soon — it lays out the history and the artistic evolution of the style, from the South Bronx beginnings to the global present. Hardcore fans will dig it too, if only for the priceless footage of back-in-the-day block parties, a late-night jam session at Q-Bert’s crib, and DJ Shadow waxing philosophical in a basement overflowing with dusty vinyl.

Meanwhile, those looking to experience some wicky-wicky first-hand got their chance when the "Scratch" tour hit Avalon a week ago Tuesday, four hours that treated the near-capacity young crowd to a wide swath of styles. Jazzy Jay, Afrika Bambaataa’s wunderkind protégé, started the evening off with a set of dusty funk and disco that recalled the pre-drum-machine-era of hip-hop, when DJs turned slabs of vinyl into extended percussion jams and call ’n’ response improvisations. The Arizona-raised DJ Z-Trip represented the movement’s cheeky and rock-savvy new wave, cross-cutting Jay Z with Jane’s Addiction and Michael Jackson with Metallica. The 30-minute set from Bay Area–based DJ Q-Bert showed why he’s considered the most technically advanced DJ in the world. And Dilated Peoples topped it off with their purist if somewhat workmanlike take on the indie-rap sound. The inventor of the scratch, Grand Wizard Theodore, was the only disappointment; his set repeated the same few turntablist tricks over and over.

Attracting a mostly white, mostly male audience, the "Scratch" concert was surely the biggest turntablist event in Boston’s history. So, is this a major subculture about to tip over into the mainstream? How does one explain the sudden appearance of a turntablist documentary plus a heavily promoted 13-city tour (definitely the biggest turntablist outing to date) and an accompanying tie-in-soundtrack? Given the absence of any major artistic turntablist innovations over the past few years, you could attribute the "Scratch" tour/movie/soundtrack phenomenon to savvy synergy, but maybe there’s more than just cold marketing at work here. The idealist in me is hoping that the multi-pronged "Scratch" attack might bring a little edutainment to youngsters who think that A Tribe Called Quest is old-school and that Mix Master Mike invented the style.

There’s also the (small) chance that turntablism might reach a wider audience. Despite the genre’s cultural ubiquity, turntablist albums have never had much success in the marketplace. (Mix Master Mike’s prominent role on the Beastie Boys’ Hello Nasty and subsequent tour represent turntablism’s pop peak.) Blame the self-segregating snobbishness and repetitive-strain-injury-inducing density of most turntablist releases; the scratch-happy wrist flexing is as uninviting as Cecil Taylor’s piano wilding or Albert Ayler’s free-jazz fury.

New York’s thug-rap powerhouse Loud Records, however, is betting that the legendary New York DJ quartet X-ecutioners (Roc Raida, Mista Sinista, Total Eclipse, and Rob Swift) have a shot at garnering some across-the-board support, and it’s put its considerable clout behind the group. Slickly produced, Built from Scratch boasts cameos engineered to grab hardcore East Coast heads (M.O.P., DJ Premier, Big Pun, Kool G. Rap), underground fans (DJ Premier, the Automator, Large Professor), and some of that rock-rap crossover action (Everlast, Linkin Park). Dedicated turntablists are probably cringing by now, but Built from Scratch is actually one of the most listenable turntablist discs in recent memory, focusing more on tasteful MC/DJ collaborations than displays of needle-wrecking prowess. A clever deconstruction of Tom Tom Club’s "Genius of Love" brings some life to this sampled-to-death track; bare-bones instrumental tracks like "Choppin’ Niggaz Up" find the foursome fracturing a beat into a million pieces. In the rhyme-based tracks, they layer jokes, verbal asides, and extra beats underneath the MCs, as if these were live remixes. And the collaboration with new-metal dudes Linkin Park ("It’s Going Down") is actually soft compared with "Let It Bang," where the Brooklyn duo M.O.P. unleash their primal-scream rhyme schemes over a backdrop of pummeling scratches and fuzzed-out bass riffs. Will someone book these brothers on the Family Values Tour? (Meanwhile, they’ll be hitting Axis on April 20 as part of the Adrenaline Tour; call 617-423-NEXT.)

Built from Scratch displays an open-minded attitude that’s unusual for this clannish genre. Just compare it with Scratch: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (Transparent Music). A grab-bag mix of older DJ tracks, spoken-word snippets, live recordings, and newly recorded material, the Scratch soundtrack doesn’t offer anything new to turntablist diehards (a remake of Herbie Hancock’s "Rockit" is wicky-wicky wankery at its worst), and it’s not compelling enough to convert new fans. Unlike the film, the soundtrack doesn’t offer a historic or stylistic perspective; postmodern innovation becomes self-indulgent boredom with the flick of a wrist.

Maybe the problem is that turntablism is too wily and unhinged to be represented by official soundtracks and major-label product. It’s no secret that the hottest turntablist discs are self-released or import-only, or covertly pressed albums of questionable legality. Hip-hop DJs who don’t concern themselves with sampling fees or licensing costs can riff on the shared memories of pop-culture detritus, twisting them into short-attention-span slide shows for entertainment omnivores. Just look at the DJ Z-Trip/DJ P collaboration Uneasy Listening, Volume 1, which was recorded a couple of years ago and "released" sometime last year and is still trickling out through Internet sales and file trading. Combining advanced mixing techniques with a cringe-worthy track selection — Ratt and "Rhinestone Cowboy," Metallica and Midnight Oil, plus pretty much any cheesy ’80s track worth mentioning — Uneasy Listening would get most b-boys laughed out of the cipher. But these cheeky DJs thumb their noses at convention, reminding us that turntablism is more than just X-treme sport showboating — it’s arty conceptualism with a kick-ass groove, yesterday’s trash turned into now-sound treasure.

 

Issue Date: March 28 - April 4, 2002
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