Stuart Hall, a British intellectual who was one of the first people to

help develop the field of "cultural studies" back in the early 1960s, has

discussed at length the concept of "articulation." Without taking an

entire graduate course dealing with his writings it may be difficult to

"get it" immediately, but it basically means the following. To

"articulate"--according to a definition given in the Merriam-Webster

dictionary--means to "unite by joints." What this means within the

context of culture is that during various stages of history different

areas of society work together to generate basic social formations. The

rise to power of the borgousie after the French revolution is an example

of this. Basically articulation is a different way of talking about

determination. Thinking about changes in society in this way allows us to

understand the course of events not as a pre-determined plan, but instead

as the result of a variety of factors that may or may not come together to

create--to give a musical example--rock & roll.

What does all this have to do with Crooklyn Dub Consortium: Certified

Dope, vol. 2? Well, the music contained within is a perfect example of

articulation. As we near the coming of the next millennium all sorts of

musical boundaries are falling apart and many different genres are coming

together. On this disc--and on other recent discs associated with the

Wordsound label--a variety of musical elements are being united to create

what sounds and feels like a cohesive whole. At least for the moment.

That's the exciting thing about the music that is orbiting around the

hinterlands of what once was called "dance music"--which has lately been

distinguished by constant sonic innovation.

For years what was considered dance music was ruled by a steady--sometimes

syncopated, sometimes monotonous--beat. As time marched on that beat

became faster and more machine-like, culminating in the rapid fire

ecstasy-drenched music of techno. By the mid-1990s that beat had skidded

off the track, burst into flames and sputtered into many fragments. Some

parts shot off into the stratosphere, picked up a hip hop breakbeat, sped

up past 200 bpm and became "jungle." Other parts held onto that hip hop

beat and slowly disintegrated into what is now labeled as "trip-hop."

Still more evaporated into thin air and evolved into "ambient." The list

goes on and on.

The reality of the matter is that there are so many fragments, so many

potential combinations, and so many audience interpretations that labels

have become utterly meaningless. Trying to label the music contained on

Certified Dope, vol. 2 is an exercise in futility simply because to do

so is to put it in a box, which is exactly what this music--at its very

core--rails against. What we have here is the articulation of many

different sonic elements that have come together to create a totally new

kind of music. Don't get me wrong, these are not completely alien sounds

that you have never heard before (if you have experienced a wide range of

music). For instance, rock n' roll probably didn't sound completely

exotic to those who had closely followed R&B, hillbilly music and the

like--but it did sound new and exciting.

Just in the same way that no one might have predicted that such seemingly

dissimilar elements as R&B, country, the blues, etc. would merge and come

to be articulated as rock n' roll, many were unprepared for the melding of

hip hop, dub reggae, noir film soundtracks, jazz, ambient, "found sounds,"

and more that is increasingly becoming common in today's music. I'm not

proposing that an earth-shattering monolith like rock n' roll has been

born, but Certified Dope, vol. 2 is part of a "movement" that has freed

dance music producers, rock and pop musicians, and DJs to wildly

experiment with noise while still keeping at its core a fundamental

element: repetition. This is music for what some people have called

"horizontal dancing," a very intriguing term because it brings to mind

both sex and a dreamlike state.

A standout track is O.H.M.'s "Put Me On" which aurally sums up everything

I have tried to put into words thus far. The song is built upon a slow

moving bass track, echoing drums, ghostly horn fragments in the

background, and a creepy keyboard sound that steadily rises and falls like

breakers in the ocean. An icy female voice repeats "I'm going to touch

you, don't be afraid...trust me, it's good for you." The album opener,

"The Joust," is similar--though in the place of the eerie keyboard there

is a faint distorted guitar which wouldn't sound out of place on Isaac

Hayes's Hot Buttered Soul. While this is basically a compilation album

it doesn't at all suffer from the lack of cohesiveness that most comps

fall prey to. One reason for this is that many artists featured on

Certified Dope, vol. 2 are part of the "Wordsound collective"--a loose-knit

group of instrumentalists, DJs and vocalists who are exploring the

general vibe given off by dub reggae, though not necessarily the exact

sound.

While this collection does not contain any real "star power" (aside from

the omnipresent Bill Laswell and the Codeine spin-off project HIM), this

is not a flaw. It gathers together some of the most innovative and

cutting-edge sound sculptors on this hemisphere and packages them in a

form that cannot come any more highly recommended. One more thing... to

fully experience the bliss of this record it must be heard at least once

at a high decibel level on a monster bass system.