Music Debate

With the recent release of their double album Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, Outkast have become somewhat of a hip-hop R.E.M. The similarities speak for themselves: André 3000 and Big Boi have followed a path strikingly parallel to Michael Stipe and the boys—rising from underground success (both in the South, no less) to the top of the charts and pushing the boundaries of their sound even at the height of their popularity. Casual radio listeners are hooked by the catchy singles; more are captivated by their engaging lyrical content and constant musical experimentation; and college students everywhere find a new standard-bearer.

Although there have been rumors of a feud, Outkast have dispelled any notion of a breakup, claiming instead that they had to keep their sound fresh by recording different albums. Although this “was a challenge” according to Big Boi, he overcomes it far more gracefully—albeit less experimentally—than his “eclectic” companion, the notoriously flamboyant André 3000.

On The Love Below, André takes an unconventional route—adopting the role of a singer and often neglecting his formidable mic skills. More often than not, these attempts to innovate result in patchwork soul and other, even more frightening musical mutants. Without the dedication to fully develop many of his musical ideas, André seems to bounce aimlessly through his playground of influences.

He does occasionally hit the mark: The first single “Hey Ya!”, more seductive than distilled ambrosia, reads like a psychedelic, post-hip-hop take on “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).” While much has been made of André’s exhortation to “Shake it like a Polaroid picture,” the neglected “Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor!” passage displays much more subtlety (and less product placement).

Another isolated glimpse of genius on The Love Below, the mounting intensity of “Happy Valentine’s Day” culminates in one of the most gorgeous passages in hip hop history. Piano trills, washes of sine waves and a heart-baring verse build and fade away, before snapping back into a refrain that conjures up visions of flight through kaleidoscopic stratospheres.

Big Boi takes a far more traditional path, but manages to show that there is plenty of room for creative expression within the “constraints” of hip-hop. From the opening shouts of “GhettoMusick,” it’s clear that his Speakerboxxx is a force to be reckoned with, with its frantic bassline accompanied by wailing synths and piercing organ. His flow is as smooth as ever—witness “The Way You Move”, which starts “ready for action, nip it in the bud / we never relaxin’ Outkast is everlastin’....”

It isn’t until “Unhappy,” however, that Big Boi reveals his emotional flexibilty, a far more noble goal than mere stylistic variation. The track is a gilded prison of sumptuously layered electro-orchestration and bongo breaks, distant blips and nostalgic raps (“When I found that Santa Claus was nothing more than Vanilli, it was silly...”) riding on booming bass swells. Finally, the inclusion of Goodie Mob veteran Cee-Lo on “Reset” shows far more design than most of the posse collaborations on Speakerboxxx (the Jigga-enhanced “Flip Flop Rock,” being a polished exception).

Although there are stumbles along the way (a moratorium on cliched intros and interludes seems long overdue), Outkast still manage to pack more innovation, musicality and enjoyment into these two albums than most rappers do in their careers. It’s clear, however, that Big Boi has served as a much-needed anchor for some of his partner’s wilder musical tendencies. —Will B. Payne

Everyone knows that André 3000 is the crazy one. After all, he wears the fuzzy boots, right? But now that Big Boi isn’t reeling him in, the question is whether André will go off the deep end.

Both halves of Outkast have created albums worthy in their own right. While Big Boi stays at home on Speakerboxxx with a star-studded roster of guests, André paddles alone into uncharted waters of modern pop, finding treasure in The Love Below.

Big Boi’s standout, “Flip Flop Rock”, features a twangy guitar riff and hi-hats that fade out every measure.  It’s a beauty of a battle-rap track, no doubt, but what makes the song is Jay-Z’s rhythmically irresistible hook: “Young Hov in the place to be, Big Boi in the place to be / André 3000 … Shout out to public housin’ … I brought the whole hood with me! Yeah! Yeah!” Apparently, Jigga isn’t the only one missing Boi’s better half. Big himself feels compelled to remind us that he and André “Ain’t no ‘uno’—we’re a duo, deuce, dos, two, a pair.” It’s one of several times Boi refers to his partner, where André only refers to Boi in the context of telling his life story.

André’s all over the map, singing like Frank Sinatra, Jimi Hendrix or Billie Holiday when it suits his fancy. The masterpiece of his genre-bending adventure is “Hey Ya!” The hook is sticky sweet, with André crooning over an immaculate loop—hand claps, nylon guitar strings and xylophone synths.

“If what they say is ‘Nothing lasts forever’ / Then what makes love the exception?” he asks. Every song on The Love Below is about relationships, but the bottom line is sex—giving 3000 the chance to gush without being too serious. When he adlibs, we hear what’s really on his mind: “Don’t want to meet your daddy, just want you in my Caddy / don’t want to meet your mamma, just want to make you cumma.” How can André, hornier than a tenth-grader, still be so damn charming? The music is so unexpected, and works so perfectly, that we lose ourselves entirely. The misshapen 22-bar chorus goes down like a spoonful of sugar.

André missteps on the instrumental “My Favorite Things,” a poorly executed drum and bass remix that leaves us dying for Coltrane’s version. But most of the time André stands unparalleled in the musical landscape. “She Lives in My Lap,” boasts live bass and watery organ against a drunken wheezing loop and André’s scratchy voice.  Over jazzy brushed snares and live piano, “She’s Alive” spins a haunting falsetto yarn about a young single mother.

Maybe it was a sense of irony that led André to end his album without live instruments or singing. In any case, “A Life in the Day of Benjamin André (incomplete)” is both disturbing and beautiful. Pieces of metal and plastic collide in padded rooms, and the chords float by like they’ve been released from some haunted Wurlitzer. As André describes his exploits he finishes each thought at the beginning of the next line: “…to getcha pants was a mission impo… /  …ssible we were both the same age but I….”

This device forces the listener constantly to ask, “What’s coming next?” Let’s hope that he sticks to his old ways, continuing to believe that “Changin’ my style [is] like relief for the primitive beast.”