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Brambled verbal density
iTunes was a strong early purveyor of celebrity playlists, but more often than not it merely yoked the music to the selling power of celebrity (Josh Hartnett’s playlist demonstrates no especially compelling sensibility) or was some highly silly voyeurism (Alan Greenspan). Formats that are sounder musically — Bob Dylan or anyone else’s radio show — can sustain a self-contained body of referenced materials with grace and ease, but the interstitial talk is usually perfunctory. Attempts to provide substantive commentary with the music, at equal strength, are relatively rare.
Luc Sante’s playlist, which appeared in June on a New York Times blog, is more perceptive than most but still basically fits the tinny skip-jump style familiar in the format. (Unfortunately he uploaded the songs on Muxtape, which is presently suffering from the attentions of the RIAA.) His subject — a fitting one in this case — is the interaction between words and music, or, perhaps, a vocal-centric attitude towards primarily verbal music: where the track exists to be played against, and the vocal part is never less than its privileged partner. He outlines a focus on “brambled verbal density”, and his selections, veering between Big Youth and Rich Boy, are handily illustrative. And I think, when the conditions of the pop music market drive a song with almost nothing to offer except “brambled verbal density” — Lil Wayne’s “A Milli” — to every Escalade stereo in Brooklyn, something said from that perspective is interesting, beyond chin-stroking to the tastes of Luc Sante. He says,
I can’t listen to music when I write. Rhythm plays a big part in how I construct sentences, and even if I don’t actually count syllables, music — any kind of music — throws off my cadence. On the other hand, I like to listen to music when I’m thinking about what I’m going to write. I enjoy almost every genre, but for the purposes of propitiating the prose gods I prefer sounds with a strong beat and a brambled verbal density. Unsurprisingly, many of my favorite sides — some of them road-tested over many years — are by talk-over artists, in reggae, dancehall and hip-hop. It doesn’t hurt, either, that these genres deal in language that swings between the street and the Bible and throw rhythms that alternately dance and fight with their backing tracks.