When I was young, maybe 12 or 13, I remember watching the Chicago Bulls in the NBA playoffs. During one pre-game show an anchorman interviewed Dennis Rodman in the locker room. Rodman was wearing headphones; he looked focused, like a man ready to save twelve children (and their pets, of course) from a burning, twelve-story tenement.
The anchorman asked Rodman what he was listening to, and Rodman replied that it was Pearl Jam's album, Ten. Rodman said that Ten helped him to get energized before NBA games.
Since that time I've searched for my own album that would help me focus – an album that would act as a sonic gateway to purification before a head-on confrontation with reality. Now, I believe I've found that album in Saul Williams' latest release, The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust. Well...the first eight tracks anyway.
For those who missed Williams' first release, a 2004 self-titled album that acted as his formal debut in the hip-hop world, there were many remarkable tracks and plenty of original ideas. On that album, Williams exposed his lighter side. He took a song that began with a description of how he used to hump his pillow during his youth and turned it into – among other things – a "thank you" to all the women who made him dream of bigger, better things.
He layered abstract poetry with distorted guitars on "Telegram," and he rapped/sang about grassroots organization and the concept of tolerance as punk-rock beats pulverized human apathy on "List of Demands."
No, Williams' first release was not only about fun and games; there were serious overtones on nearly every track and plenty of political commentary, especially on "African Student Movement" where Williams' chanted, "Downtown, on the block/ At the club, steamin' hot/ Dancin', talkin' shit/ Tellin' lies, like a pimp/ Meanwhile, underpaid/ Read like, second grade/ Uncle Sam, sign you up/ Benefits, and a gun." One of Williams' recurring messages on his 2004 release was for people to quit acting, quit faking, and be themselves without offering apologies or excuses. His lyrics also dealt heavy blows to individuals more concerned with their appearance than their education. In fact, the first lines on the album are: "No I wasn't raised at gunpoint/ And I've read too many books/ To distract me from the mirror/ When unhappy with my looks."
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The ominous feel of Niggy Tardust most likely derives from producer Trent Reznor, best known as the electronic guru behind Nine Inch Nails. In fact, a few of the tracks on Williams' new album sound like they could have come from Reznor's past albums The Downward Spiral or Fragile.
Altogether, Niggy Tardust is a concept album based on a mythological character or - more likely - an urban superhero whose delicate introspection and thirst for knowledge lead him to intellectualize his situation. The situation I speak of is not necessarily that of a black man raised in the projects, but something broader, more encompassing. Williams' Niggy Tardust circles the globe, touching every continent, then whizzes through the nebulae and finally returns to your headphones with interstellar wisdom to unleash.
Through this invented character, Williams philosophizes on various political and personal subjects, such as the government's attitude toward the poor, national stereotyping of African Americans and black culture, and the world power structure's ability to perpetuate certain lies that somehow become flawed common knowledge.
Niggy Tardust is a character that transcends time and place. He is sexless, yet sexual; he is demanding, yet vague; he's an invisible iron fist that deconstructs the lies of greed-infested institutions and exposes bunk policies for what they are.
On the title track of Niggy Tardust, Williams names the direct consequences that Niggy Tardust has on individuals with whom he comes into contact.
"You might win the chance to hang with Niggy for a day/ Side effects may include: simply doing what you say/ Hey, Niggy Tardust, no guitar/ Ghetto gothic millionaire, a super duper star/ Side effects may include: simply being who you are/ You are yourself, my darling dear, and were never a nigger."
On track 7, "DNA", Niggy exposes himself as primordial being and "god of the streets" unleashed by the coding (DNA) of the beat. Niggy calls himself the "shepherd of a bastard flock that grazes in the streets," and chants: "Dear Mary, mother of God/ I got a whole host of angels shuffling in my iPod."
Williams' education background (he holds a B.A. in philosophy from Morehouse University) is apparent in his spoken word performances, his books of poetry, and on all three of his hip-hop albums. The lyrical content on Niggy Tardust is difficult to grasp upon the first listen. It may take days, or even weeks, before you think you understand his message. Most likely you'll give up after a few weeks, deciding that it's okay to only half "get it."
His acting background – Williams also holds a Masters degree in acting from NYU – plays a large role in his live performances, but it also shines through on his albums. As with any great stage performer, Williams has the ability to transform his voice (often naturally, but sometimes with electronic effects), giving the impression that several characters from different worlds are collaborating. The vocal overdubs on Niggy Tardust are thick, and they bounce and slide off one another like a room full of rubber sumo-chickens wearing oil-slicked clogs.
But, as I hinted at the beginning of this piece, the entire album is not that interesting; the second half does not compare to the first. In fact, after track number eight, I usually just start the album over again. It seems like tracks number nine through fourteen were thrown together like a slow-cooked stew made from the combined leftovers in your refrigerator – yeah, it's food all right, and it'll keep you alive, but it's not something you'd choose to eat if you could afford pizza delivery.
I'm still undecided about Williams' cover of U2's "Sunday, Bloody Sunday." It's difficult to understand why he chose to put a cover of this song on an album. Was it his attempt at commercial recognition? Is he just a huge fan of U2? Regardless of his reasons, Williams sings the lyrics word for word with only two exceptions. First, he sings "tonight" instead of "today," as in "We can be as one TONIGHT." Second, he adds a brief spoken-word interlude during the breakdown of the song, but those added lines are probably the least original lyrics that I've ever heard from Williams.
I can't really say that I like Williams' cover of "Sunday, Bloody Sunday," but I will admit that the familiarity of the song helps to ease some the tension on an otherwise very deep, semi-moody album.
Finally, quit reading this and go download it yourself. Anyone can download this album for free by visiting (http://niggytardust.com/saulwilliams/menu) and clicking on the "ORDER" icon. Williams decided to follow the path paved by Radiohead, who allowed fans to download their album "In Rainbows" for free earlier this year. The role of the money hungry middle man (the record label) has thus been stripped of its purpose. "We need no priests to talk to God," Williams once told an interviewer.
In Williams' case, listeners can choose to download Niggy Tardust for free or they can pay five dollars if they want to download with superior sound quality. To all who are still reading this and wish to download: Don't be a cheapskate – pay the five bucks; it's very little cash to drop for an album by a thoughtful artist (a rarity) who has not, and probably never will, become a commercial giant. After all, the more money Williams makes from this album, the more time he'll have to begin work on his next release.
While you're waiting for the album to download, check out this stellar performance of Saul Williams' live poetry: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzY2-GRDiPM. If you're not some kind of sick bastard, you'll really enjoy it.
Copyright 2007 Metropolitan Community College