{"id":39707,"date":"2006-04-06T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2006-04-06T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dailyvault.adishjain.in\/index.php\/reviews\/donuts\/"},"modified":"2006-04-06T00:00:00","modified_gmt":"2006-04-06T00:00:00","slug":"donuts","status":"publish","type":"review","link":"https:\/\/dailyvault.adishjain.in\/index.php\/reviews\/donuts\/","title":{"rendered":"Donuts"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

Though no LP can quantify what J Dilla (aka Jay Dee)
\ngave to hip-hop, Donuts<\/i> is an appropriate final word.<\/p>\n

There are no lyrics on this record, though, only
\nsounds — tweaked to perfection — by a master of the medium.<\/p>\n

As the anchor of Detroit trio Slum Village, he gave
\nthe underground group relevance at a time when Eminem and his
\nbrethren were defining an emerging scene. His cut-and-paste soul
\nstylings and deep bass grooves gave reprise to luminaries like A
\nTribe Called Quest, Common and Pharcyde.<\/p>\n

James Yancey died at age 32 on a hospital bed in his
\nmother’s arms, just three days after his birthday and the release
\nof Donuts<\/i>. He loved music, sound, dreams, whatever you call
\nit. These 31 sweet, circular jams comprise only a chapter of his
\nstory. Jay Dee had a mental jukebox stocking about a gazillion
\nrecords. His art came from organizing those vinyl slabs into
\nsomething meaningful. He was a hip-hop scientist.<\/p>\n

I once read that if you stop a melody halfway,
\nthree-quarters of the way through a cycle, your brain — the
\nnerves, synapses and blood swimming in your skull — fills in the
\nblank spaces. Dilla’s trademark experiment is sprinkled generously
\nthroughout this volume.<\/p>\n

Using the vehicle of soulful exclamations and
\noutbursts of yore, Jay Dee seizes the opportunities to pause and
\ninject a drug in split-second doses — yelps, choruses, a quarter
\nof a half step — when your brain least suspects it. In his own
\navant-hop style, pieces were sewn together ends to middles,
\nbeginnings to silence, fuzz to flourishes.<\/p>\n

On Donuts<\/i>, Dilla uses his signature deep,
\nrolling bass as the control and encyclopedic knowledge of music as
\nthe x factor. The result is a sometimes dark, always pleasant and
\nunmistakably Detroit style worthy of front porch perchin’, quiet
\nreflection and backyard barbecues alike.<\/p>\n

The album crawls forth from the ironically named
\n“Donuts (Outro)” with a wavy taste of repetitious crooning. With
\nmost cuts ranging from 30 to 90 seconds, it feels like Dilla has a
\nfew crates of records he wants you, just you, to hear, but only 40
\nminutes to get the job done.<\/p>\n

If they were any shorter, you’d be annoyed. If they
\nwere any longer, he’d be pretentious. Cuts like “Lightworks,”
\n“Stepson of the Clapper,” “Twister (Huh, What)” and “One Eleven,”
\nare a fine introduction to Dilla’s sound. Things really get cooking
\nat the climax of “Anti-American Graffiti,” “Geek Down,” “Thunder,”
\nand “Gobstopper” around track 20, but the remaining bites wither in
\ntheir shadow.<\/p>\n

Of course, with the clunkers hogging up all of about
\n10 minutes of this radio station-change style mix tape record,
\nwho’s complaining? There’s still a good two dozen treats in this
\ncollection.<\/p>\n

The spirit and style of this piece was enough to make
\na 17-year-old white kid from the suburbs throw $9.98 down for the
\nJ-88 (Slum Village’s alter-ego) EP in 1999. It’s enough to make me
\ndisappointed over the loss today.<\/p>\n

Donuts<\/i> will serve as the period on the run-on
\nsentence of his life. Dilla’s body of work, including the essential
\nFantastic, Vol. 2<\/i> by Slum Village, promises to inspire many
\nmore generations of sound artists and aural scientists.
\nDonuts<\/i> is an ending and a beginning, much like its circular
\nnamesake. Rest in peace, James Yancey.<\/p>\n

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