The 500 - #138 - The Chronic - Dr. Dre

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #138
Album Title: The Chronic
Artist: Dr. Dre
Genre: West Coast Hip Hop, G-Funk, Gangsta Rap
Recorded: Death Row (Los Angeles, California)
Released: December, 1992
My age at release: 27
How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple songs
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #37, moving up 101 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Lil' Ghetto Boy

"Fo shizzle, my nizzle!"

There was a time when that phrase was the height of cool. In the early 2000s, the Grades 7 and 8 students I taught tossed it around like a linguistic VIP pass. Though they lived in a predominantly white, working-class neighbourhood their speech was steeped in the slang and swagger of West Coast hip hop. It was language that had traveled straight from a recording studio in California to our Canadian classrooms on cassette tapes, CD's and music videos. One student, especially fluent in the culture, even gave me a nickname. I wasn’t “Mr. Hodgkinson” to him. I was “Mitta H.” “Mitta,” of course, being his hip hop remix of “Mister.” Thinking back it still makes me laugh: his slightly pudgy, freckled face delivering lines with the confidence of a seasoned MC.

"Mitta H? Can I axe you sumthin' real quick?"

"Mitta H? I ain't gonna lie, I didn't do the homework, but lemme explain."

"Mitta H? I can't stay, I gotta bounce."

The phrase “Fo shizzle, my nizzle!”, made famous by rapper Snoop Doggy Dogg (born Calvin Broadus Jr.), gained widespread traction with his 2000 single Snoop Dogg (What’s My Name? Pt. 2) from the album Tha Last Meal. It was part of Snoop’s signature linguistic flair: a playful remix of English where he added the suffix or infix “-izzle” to everyday words, creating a kind of lyrical shorthand. In this code, a table became a tizzable, a chair a chizzair, and a house a hizzle. So naturally, “Fo shizzle, my nizzle” translated to “For sure, my friend” -- with “nizzle” standing in for the N word, which, in African American Vernacular English, is often used as a term of camaraderie and cultural solidarity.

Snoop Dogg in 2000.

I’ve long been fascinated by the etymology and evolution of slang, so diving into the origins and trajectory of “Fo shizzle” for this post was a delight. As it turns out, what sounded like a fresh catchphrase from my gregarious student in the early 2000s was, in fact, the product of a linguistic lineage stretching back over sixty years. While Snoop Dogg popularized the phrase in 2000, its roots predate him by several years. The “-izzle” infix first surfaced in rapper E-40’s 1996 track, Rapper’s Ball, where he dropped “fo’ sheezy” into the mix. But even E-40 was riffing on an earlier influence. He'd borrowed it from Frankie Smith’s 1981 funk hit Double Dutch Bus, which featured playful “-iz” speak as part of its lyrical style.

Cover for the single Double Dutch Bus, by Frankie Smith.

Smith, in turn, drew inspiration from the coded language of the 1970s African American street culture, specifically the cant used by pimps and hustlers to obscure their conversations from law enforcement, the same reason that East Londoners in the U.K. contrived Cockney slang in the 1900s. Similarly, the, slang “izzle” was a linguistic sleight of hand, much like Pig Latin, which can be traced back to the Harlem Renaissance (1918–1935), when young black girls are believed to have developed rhythmic, coded chants while jumping rope. What began as a form of playful secrecy evolved into a cultural cipher, one that would eventually echo through boom boxes, bounce off classroom walls, and land in the everyday speech of kids hundreds of kilometers away.

Girls jumping "Double Dutch" in Harlem, New York (circa 1940).

Before he was a household name, Snoop Doggy Dogg made his explosive debut on Dr. Dre’s 1992 landmark album The Chronic. With his laid-back flow and unmistakable drawl, Snoop appeared on multiple tracks, including the iconic Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thang, instantly becoming a standout voice in West Coast hip hop. His chemistry with Dre was undeniable and the buzz around this lanky Long Beach newcomer was electric.

Album cover for Ain't Nuthin' But A G Thang featuring Dr. Dre
and Snoop Dawg. 

The Chronic was the groundbreaking debut solo album from rapper, producer, and future mogul Dr. Dre (born Andre Young). Released in 1992, the album marked a bold new chapter for Dre, who had recently split from the pioneering West Coast group N.W.A. following a bitter financial dispute with their manager, Jerry Heller, and groupmate Eazy-E. Frustrated by what he saw as unfair contracts and mismanagement, Dre left the group and co-founded Death Row Records with former bodyguard-turned-entrepreneur Suge Knight.

Vibe Magazine cover (1996) featuring (clockwise l-r)
Snoop Dawg, Dr. Dre, Tupac Shakur and Suge Knight.

Determined to carve out his own legacy, Dre poured his energy into The Chronic, crafting a sound that would come to define an era. Drawing heavily from 1970s funk, especially the grooves of Parliament-Funkadelic (#177, #276 and #479 on The 500), he pioneered the G-funk style -- a laid-back, synth and bass-driven sound that stood in stark contrast to the aggressive, sample-heavy beats of East Coast hip hop. The Chronic became a cultural juggernaut, selling millions of copies and reshaping the sound of hip hop in the 1990s. Many consider it more than an album. Critics and fans have lauded it as a statement of independence, a reinvention of West Coast rap, and the beginning of a new dynasty.

Funk collective Parliament-Funkadelic.

Despite the six-decade journey it took for “Fo shizzle” to land in the vocabulary of my students, it took barely a year for the phrase to hit cultural saturation and promptly flame out. Like so many slang terms that bubble up from Black culture and cross into the mainstream, especially when adopted by white audiences, it lost its edge seemingly overnight. By 2005, when Michael Scott awkwardly dropped it on television’s The Office in a cringey attempt to bond with his younger, more diverse staff at the fictional Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, the phrase had gone from cutting-edge to a cartoonish punchline.

Steve Carell portraying "Prison Mike" in a classic episode of The Office.

By the early 2000s, even I was using it, but only with a heavy dose of irony, usually to mock my own attempts at being “down with the kids.” And yes, "they fo shizzle rolled dey eyes, son".

The 500 - #177 - One Nation Under A Groove - Funkadelic

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #177
Album Title: One Nation Under A Groove
Artist: Funkadelic

Genre: R&B, Funk, Rock

Recorded: United Sound, (Detroit, Michigan)

Released: September, 1978

My age at release: 13
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #360, dropping 183 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: One Nation Under A Groove

Researching Funkadelic's tenth studio record, One Nation Under A Groove, reminded me of a humourous anecdote from my first year in university. I was taking a psychology course with a charming, witty and engaging professor named Dr. Skinner (no relation to the famous Behavioral psychologist B.F. Skinner, although I did learn about him as well.)

B.F. Skinner (1904-1990) The Father
of Behavioural Analysis.

Impressing my interesting and erudite professor was on my agenda, eager to secure an excellent grade on my first paper and set myself up for honours B.A. Armed with Roget's Thesaurus and a dictionary, never more than a few inches from my keyboard on my first P.C., I hunted for the longest (and most obscure) words. Every bland sentence was infused with a poetic flourish, supercharged with every figure of speech in my literary quiver.

King's College - Silverwood Hall (Now Dante Lenardon Hall), 
My class was in the attached annex, not pictured, at rear.

Two weeks went by excruciatingly slowly as the class of nearly 100 students waited for their papers to be returned by the august professor. My expectations were atmospheric on the day they were delivered to our desks. However, much like nine-year-old Ralphie in the film A Christmas Story receiving a C+ on his Grade 4 essay, my dreams were dashed when I flipped to the front cover to see a grade of 70%, followed by two words..."Consider parsimony".

Ralphie, from A Christmas Story, realizing that his teacher
did not share the same enthusiasm for his essay, What 
I Want For Christmas.

It was good lesson advice; taking it to heart, my next paper received a more complimentary grade. In fact, Dr. Skinner was my professor for two more courses in second year and his feedback enhanced my writing significantly. His suggestions helped me understand the philosophical notion of Occam's Razor (sometimes called the Principle of Parsimony), which posits that "the simplest, most elegant explanation is usually the one closest to the truth.”

Parsimony and Occam's Razor did not seem to be considerations during the recording of One Nation Under A Groove. Band leader George Clinton and his multi-member collective seemed to be on a mission to create a collection of progressive, funky songs that clock in at an average of seven minutes in length, infused with the group's absurd sense of humour. In fact, the opening track on side two runs for 11 minutes and carries the ridiculous and weighty title Promentalshitbackwashpsychosis Enema Squad (The Doo Doo Chasers).

Back cover for Funkadelic's One Nation Under A Groove album.

Even the details on the musicians are a fascinating exercise in gibberish.

• One of the guitarists is listed as the Throbbasonic Funkgeetarist: Mike 'Kidd Funkadelic' Hampton. 
• The members of the rhythm section (bass and drums) are called the Rotofunkie Drum & Percussionatin' Thumpdans and the Bass Thumpasaurians. 
• Clinton and the twelve additional vocalists land under the banner The Funkadelic Blamgusta Vocaloids (Voices For Da Nation!)

Despite the ludicrous titles and goofy epithets, the record is a tour de force, straddling multiple genres and highlighting exceptional musicianship. It became the group's best-selling record, being certified platinum (one million units sold) in the United States and landing on multiple "best album" lists.

Certainly, there is a time and place for parsimony but, every once in a while maybe there should be room for a little indulgent, ridiculous linguistic and musical mischief -- especially when it's funky.

The 500 - #276 - Mothership Connection - Parliament

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #276

Album Title: Mothership Connection

Artist: Parliament

Genre: Funk, Funk Rock, Black Prog

Recorded: United Sound (Detroit) Hollywood Sound (L.A.)

Released: December, 1975

My age at release: 10

How familiar was I with it before this week: Somewhat

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #363 (dropping 87 places since 2012)

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Handcuffs

When I graduated from Teachers' College in 1996, I struggled to get full-time employment. I was fortunate in being hired as an occasional teacher by the London School Board (now Thames Valley) in Ontario. However, I continued bartending evenings and weekends to supplement my income. Cash was tight back then. In fact, I seriously considered moving to another country where teaching jobs were plentiful. At the time, the city of Las Vegas was booming and the state offered a generous package to Canadian teachers in an effort to lure them. I stayed put.

In July, 2000, after four financially difficult years, I finally got my shot. I was interviewed for a position at Lorne Avenue Public School. Half my day would be with a split Grade 5/6 class and the other half would be teaching music to Grades 4-8. I was cautiously optimistic. I had built a good relationship with the two principals interviewing me, but I did not have a music degree. I was upfront, pitching myself as an average saxophone player and hobby guitarist who was willing to take on the challenge.

Me (left) sitting in with my friends' band in 2007

To my delight, I got the gig. However, it didn't take long for reality to set in. How did I go about preparing for a split class and another in which I had no formal music training? Fortunately, I had the summer to plan and I registered for several music teaching workshops. To do that I had to drive 200 km round trip to a neighbouring city to learn a well-regarded approach to music education pedagogy called the Kodály method.

September was rocky. Many of the instruments in the music room were in need of repair, so we had to start the year with singing and theory. My naïveté and inexperience was obvious to my young charges, many of whom had difficult backgrounds and who were already jaded about the educational experience – particularly the arts.

The former Lorne Avenue Public School (demolished in 2016)

Recruiting help was a good start. Fortunately, I played hockey with a group of local musicians and, throughout the year, they generously donated their time to come to my music classes and perform. My thinking was simple. Inspire a love of music by showing the students what was possible. Eventually, I persuaded a few of the braver students with some music knowledge to join the bands on stage. I was most proud of an arrangement of Stray Cat Strut I taught to a group of saxophone, clarinet and trumpet players so they could accompany my pals’ group, Reverend Freddie and The Distillers, when they visited the school the following April.

Promotional poster from the Reverend Freddie & The Distillers 
performance at Lorne Avenue (April 6, 2001)

At the same time, my wife (girlfriend at the time) was working in a Blues and Jazz bar called Boomerz in our hometown of London and we had become friends with an award-winning Funk and Soul group dubbed LMT Connection.

LMT Connection (l-r) - Mark Rogers, Leroy Emmanuel and John Irvine 

One evening, as we all sat for drinks following a blistering set by the Niagara Falls-based trio, I asked how much it would cost to bring them in to play for my students. Rogers suggested reaching out to the Central Ontario Musicians Union for a grant. A plan was hatched. When the band was next booked to play Boomerz on a Friday night, they would perform at the school in the afternoon.

Beyond his exceptional musicianship, Emmanuel is also an incredible front man and story-teller. That afternoon, he captivated 150 cross-legged Lorne Avenue music students with his light-hearted and funny banter. Born in Atlanta, but raised in Detroit, Michigan, the now 76-year-old Emmanuel has been playing live music since he was 12, touring and performing with Gladys Knight, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder and Al Green.

The students loved every story and performance and were literally rocking in their places when the band broke into legendary funk hits from George Benson, James Brown, The Commodores and this week's featured artist, Parliament.

Parliament in the early 70s

Mothership Connection is the fourth album released by the legendary American funk collective, Parliament. Recorded between March and October, 1975, it was the first to feature saxophonist Maceo Parker and trombonist Fred Wesley who had been in James Brown's band. The record was produced by bandleader, singer and founder, George Clinton.

George Clinton

Known for his outrageous outfits and outlandish fashion sense, Clinton originally formed The Parliaments as a doo-wop group while working in a barber shop in Plainfield, New Jersey. For a short time, the group moved to Detroit and Clinton worked as a staff songwriter for Motown records. The Parliaments had a hit in 1967 with the song (I Wanna) Testify for Detroit- based Revilot Records. Shortly after, the record company ran into financial trouble and Clinton refused to record any more material until he received a settlement. While this legal/financial battle was ensuing, Clinton was not able to use the name The Parliaments.

Clinton's exploration into the world of psychedelia and his fascination with science fiction and surreal humour were a catalyst for a change in musical direction. Consequently, he recorded new material with the same group under the name Funkadelic (See Maggotbrain, #479 on The 500 Blog in May, 2019).

Later that year, he regained the right to use the name The Parliaments but wanted to switch to a different genre and combine elements of contemporary musicians he admired, including Jimi Hendrix, James Brown, Sly and the Family Stone, and Frank Zappa. The result was an eclectic, psychedelic form of funk that can be heard on Mothership Connection and the 10 records Parliament recorded between 1970 and 2018, as well as the 15 studio releases from Funkadelic or, as they are often grouped, P-Funk.

Partial discography for Parliament and Funkadelic

Funk music always puts me in a good mood and the sound of P-Funk is a favourite. However, hearing it always makes me think of a small gymnasium full of 9-14 year-olds bopping to the sound of Leroy Emmanuel and LMT Connection. I wish I had some photos or a video from that day, but this video from a performance in 2009 provides a taste of their work

Post Script: The 2000-2001 school year was the only year I worked as a music teacher. I moved to a Grade 6 classroom full-time the next year and my replacement was an exceptional educator named Joe Lee. He and I continued to bring musicians into the school and, over the next decade, he shaped the music program at Lorne Avenue into one of the best in the city. We even brought an Elvis tribute act in to perform for the school with our students backing on horns -- but that is a story for album #56 on The 500 -- Elvis Presley. Meet you there in about 4 1/4 years.

Thanks for reading -- all the blogs can be found here (just scroll down).

The 500 - #479 - Funkadelic - Maggot Brain

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

My plan (amended). 

• 1 or 2 records per week & at least 2 complete listens.
• A quick blog post for each, highlighting the important details and a quick background story.
• No rating scale - just an effort to expand my appreciation.

Album # 479

Album Title: Maggot Brain
Artist: Funkadelic
Released: July,1971
My age at release: 6 
How familiar am I with it: Not at all
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix:Wars of Armageddon
Great Lyric:
“I once had a life 
Or rather, life had me
I was one among many
Or at least I seemed to be…”

Without a doubt, this is the best new album I have discovered on this list so far.  It is not without its flaws and there are a few songs that are clearly the product of ambitious psychadelic drug consumption. Even the title track, although brilliant in its mournful delivery, can be jarring at times.

According to legend, the entire track, recorded in one take, was  created while members were under the influence of LSD. Guitarist Eddie Hazel was told by bandmate & producer George Clinton, to "imagine he had learned his mother had died ... but then, slowly, discovered she was still alive".   

The story on the song may be apocraphyl, but is exactly the kind of tale that would make a 70's high school stoner say "Whoa, that's heavy man."

The rest of the record is a mixed bag. Some of the songs are great uptempo funk ... either the acoustic-tinged, wall of sound, doo-wop sound of Can You Get to That to the smooth, gospel groove of Hit it Quick. From the Hendrix-esque guitar jams on Super Stupid to Wars of Armageddon which exists as a constant contradiction...sloppy but technical, earnest but silly, mature yet decidedly juvenile.

It was a distraction that came at a perfect time. I am currently interviewing for a classroom placement in September. I am fortunate to have enough seniority to guarantee me employment but, I also need to find an opportunity that is good for me and, by extension, best for my future students. Additionally, the final decision lands with Principals who really don't know me well.

After an unsuccessful first round, I needed some time to regroup. I didn't want to ruminate too much (and certainly not too negatively). My first listen to this record was at the gym on the elliptical. I escaped into it as I puffed and trudged my way through some tedious, but necessary, cardio. I then gave it a listen while working on some coding for a PD session I am facilitating this summer. My third listening is happening right now.

In my last post I acknowledged that I would probably never listen to the album (Raekwon - Only Built 4 Cuban Linx) again. This one is falls at the other end of the continuum. I'll play this one a few more times this week.

Give it a spin and, if you have time, listen to the excellent conversation about it on Josh Adam Meyer's The 500 Podcast. His guest, actor & comedian, Baron Vaughn is a natural and engaging storyteller.