If spoken word were ever to hit the masses effectively, Saul Williams would be throwing the blow. Giving lectures throughout the states, offering performances the globe over, this name is taking on a meaning far beyond its signifiers. Known for his spits commenting on current culture, from musical to political movements, his most recent release, Saul Williams, lends itself to a reinforcement of his mad ability. Though critics carp on this album as lacking the clean production and focused direction of his debut disc Amethyst Rock Star, his self-titled new album is an acceptable follow-up. He returns with just as much fervor and insight as his new school experimentation allows him to demonstrate.
The album opens with some of the most powerful lines the hip-hop culture will likely never hear with “Talk to Strangers.” Backed up by a simple bass clef piano line, Williams speaks, “Though I grew up in the ghetto and my niggas all sold drugs/And though that may validate me for a spot on MTV or get me all the airplay that my bank account would need/I was hoping to invest in a lesson that I learned.” Setting the stage for what is to come from spinning this disc, he not only presents bites of his views on religion, rap and relationships in this culture, but does so with a lyrical beauty that is astounding.
With his criticism of the missteps of hip hop over the years, Williams infuses different musical genres, calling up the assistance of System of a Down’s Serj Tankian and Rage Against the Machine vocalist Zack De La Rocha. This is just another way Williams reminds that his sound is rooted in a history that once relied on words as promotion. In fact, typical hip-hop sounds are rarities on this record, though the ideals that made hip-hop revolutionary are not. Case in point: “Telegram.” Over an intense battery of heavy guitar riffs and suggestions of high-pitched tunings, Williams releases his anger against his culture with “Dear Hip Hop/Stop/This shit has gone too far/Stop/Please see that mixer and turntable to Kool Herc/Stop/The ghettos are dancing off beat.” He cannot endorse the growing number of ‘artists’ that are unable to either say something of substance or drop a worthy beat and bass.
Oftentimes, Williams can be difficult to decipher. The house-influenced sounds of “Grippo” or “List of Demands (Reparations)” may make for some of the album’s most fun listening experiences, but true appreciation of Williams comes only after deep study. It’s too easy to let the beats flow over the dome, disregarding the poignancy of the poetic “No one listens to no one/Alone on a mountain top/Uprooted from the earth/Drifting beyond normalcy.” Like the attention given when reading Pynchon or examining Picasso, every aspect of Williams’ dense art needs to be absorbed.
In an interview with Rolling Stone, he said: “I think more artists are realizing the importance of saying something that is relevant. I think that Bush has been good for the arts, no, not in the funding…but overall I think it’s been good because it’s made us think. And it’s a great time to think and apply it to our music.” And think he has. The zenith of Williams is found in his lyrical attack on politics in “Act III Scene 2 (Shakespeare).” Not only does he have a firm understanding of the situation, but he can project it without distortion. His style may not be for every listener, but the words, “If they ask you to believe it/Question whether it’s true/If they ask you to achieve/Is it for them or for you/You’re the one they’re asking to go carry a gun,” are not bound by sounds.
The intensity of the first half of the album fades by the end. The fairly forgettable tunes later on lack the driving beats that draw attention to the beautiful poetry and brilliant politics of earlier ones. The intense beginning that engages is let down by an ending that seems to become numb. The somberness of the closing “Notice of Eviction” forces a turn up in volume not because it is so inspiring, but rather because Williams’s words are so hard to detect.
Although this album is not his best attempt at challenging and changing the social conscience, it begins to touch the void. What the music community needs is more artists willing to put it on the line for something real. And there are few things in all the rough production and raw assertions more real than Saul Williams.
Grade: B
