Big Quarters

From The Home of Brown Babies and White Mothers
(Lake City Browns : 2009)

Apart from Seattle, Minneapolis is one of those unlikely havens where musical movements seem to stew. Naturally, one of the most notable Minneapolis acts is the royalty that is Prince. But the Minneapolis sound doesn’t stop with electro-funked-out-rock music. It permeates into all the genres, and the Minnesota duo, Big Quarters, proves that.

From the Home of Brown Babies and White Mothers, the second LP for the Chicano emcees, is a solid thirteen song project, complete with well produced tracks and hard-body, effortful lyrics that I would assume translate seamlessly to an amazing live show.

I could soapbox about what I love about every song on this album, but instead, I’ll point out some of the “close to perfect” songs. “Wipe the Dust,” for example is one of my favorites, only because Big Quarters do an awesome job of allowing the track to breathe. They leave ample space between verse and chorus, and keep the cadence simple yet poignant, while expressing life as an emcee, a topic that most emcees tend to overwrite about.

The dark and devious “Good Look,” is a guitar heavy track where the guitar riff resembles the awesome and ambient roar of Godzilla. Big Quarters begins the song with a bluesy vamp, that turns into a chanting mantra about how “it’s not grinding if it don’t feel like punishment.” Lyrically, they delve into the collapse of the music industry and the rise and plight of the independent artist willing to suffer to say something.

From the Home of Brown Babies and White Mothers can be described as pretty good, but not just pretty good. Something tells me that as dope as this record is, it pales in comparison to seeing it performed live. The writing is good, the beats are outrageous, and the energy is infectious. I could go on and on. But I wont. But Big Quarters will go on and on, hopefully. And if so, I’m sure there will be many albums, many fans, and many, many tickets torn at the stub. Once more, Minneapolis delivers.

- Jason Reynolds