Oregon Music News

by Chris Miller

For over eight years now, The Black Keys’ modus operandi has been making straightforward blues rock, playing on their strengths rather than pushing the boundaries of their comfort zone. Being enterprising without being audacious. Honest, yet devious. And it is worked out quite well for them so far. Guitarist and lead singer Dan Auerbach along with drummer/producer Patrick Carney have succeed on their instrumental abilities and soulful lyrics reminiscent of some of the great delta blues musicians of the past. This is their bread and butter and (arguably) no other band on Earth does it as well as they do–with as much alacrity and consistency.

In the last few years, The Black Keys have developed a large following amongst other musicians. Their appeal is hard to deny, gaining admiration from the likes of Robert Plant, Thom Yorke and Chuck D.

Understandably so. Auerbach’s guitar playing comes off so effortless, despite his complex riffs, while Carney provides the perfect tempo with his fundamentally brash drumming. It’s hard, almost impossible not to be sucked in by their sound. So it was only a matter of time until one of their peers stepped forward with a proposition to collaborate on an album.

Enter Roc-A-Fella co-founder and former Jay-Z BFF Damon Dash. Having spoken publicly about his love for The Black Keys (claiming they’re his favorite band), it was just a waiting game until the two parties sat down to discuss a blues-rap concept album.

What came out of these meetings was Blakroc: A side project with a revolving door of veteran rappers built around the Keys. Famous lyrical bangers like RZA, Mos Def and Ludacris make up an all-star cast of rappers on the eponymously titled album. Each one bringing his or her own flavor to the steady, sometimes homogenous, sound created by Auerbach and Co.

Combining rap and rock is something of a precarious venture. You take a risk of alienating some of your fans but also of finding an influx of new listeners who may have never considered buying your music. Therein lies the struggle of Blakroc. It’s a balancing act between two contrasting sounds, sometimes paying off, sometimes falling flat.

For this album to work effectively, one side of the spectrum would have to give a little slack for the other to flourish. On Blakroc, it turns out to be Auerbach’s guitars that are forced to take a backseat much of the time for the flows of the featured rappers and the thumps and shakes of Carney’s drums along with deep bass lines. No more is this evident than on “On the Vista” featuring Mos Def. Auerbach trades in his typical distortion and grit for hollow, piercing sounds. Clangy and thin like jazz rather than blues. This is a motif found throughout much of Blakroc.

On “Dollaz & Sense” with Pharoahe Monch and RZA, these same themes are found, giving it an intricate production sound, like every chord and bang was carefully placed by Dash and album co-producer Joel Hamilton.

On the flip side, there are tracks like “Ain’t Nothing Like You (Hoochie Coo)” featuring Jim Jones and Mos Def, where it hits you with a heavy, classic Black Keys vibe, with Def trading his typical lyrical style for singing instead. Even Jim Jones’ verse seems to come across as more bluesy than hip-hop.

Similarly, there is “Hope You’re Happy,” a just over two-minute track that’s short and to the point. It’s the best example of what a true collaboration between The Black Keys and rap royalty would be with Auerbach free to do what he does while Q-Tip and Billy Danze grieve and growl about lost love, which is what the blues are all about.

It is in these instances that Blakroc finds it’s stride and succeeds on all levels as a true-to-the-music partnership, rather than the give-and-take style that only demeans and holds back the musicians involved.

Lyrically, Blakroc is acceptable but mostly forgettable. Solid rhymes from solid rappers but nothing that stands out and impresses. This, combined with a uniform sound throughout the album, creates a seamless blending effect as you drift through the tracks. Unfortunately, there isn’t much of a difference between the flowing styles of the majority of the artists on the album. So when singer Nicole Wray steps in to change up the pace with her soulful, sultry voice, it is refreshing. She deftly manipulates the predominantly bluesy sound of “Why I Can’t Forget Him” to create something that sounds like a more R&B version of a goth-y Santigold track.

Ludacris and the late Ol’ Dirty Bastard provide a strong 1-2 punch on “Coochie” with a pleasantly strong flow, playing off of each other nicely. But these are just small portions of an overall lackluster lyrical output–surprising for such a star-studded lineup.

Clearly, Blakroc isn’t immune to the struggle of combining two diverse sounds into one. At times, it seems like everybody involved was more focused on the conception rather than the execution of the album. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s below par. Just beneath their par. When you take the top musicians from different genres of music, just “good” doesn’t cut it. So in that sense, this album is a failure. But looked at objectively, Blakroc is a solid piece of music highlighted by great tracks but lacking in diversity.

But I guess that’s what happens when your album is a glorified jam session between friends. Overall, I’d give the album a 3.3 out of 5.