Posted on 03/12/2008

It takes only two tracks into Thorns before Beans refers to himself as the "Ornette Coleman of this rap shit," an obvious correlation I was a little annoyed I hadn't thought of myself. Beans has built a catalog upon the experimental, from classic Antipop releases on Warp Records to collaborations with Hamid Drake and William Parker. By the time Ornette's The Shape of Jazz to Come hit New York, the jazz canon had long ago been elevated to Himalayan heights of sophistication, with Duke and Count's big bands, Diz and Bird, and Miles' first quintet. Ornette tried to expand by breaking open harmonic constraints based on his "harmelodic" theory, which early critics assumed meant he couldn't play in tune or in time. If you listen to the rhythm of Beans' delivery, there is a similar divergence from the children of Rakim. A break with the past that, to be honest, I'm not always comfortable with. But that discomfort is the defining element of something new, and that is why I keep listening.

 

What I love about this self-proclaimed comparison is not the arrogance of relating to a legend, it is that the legendary reference is probably little more than a question mark to most hip-hop fans. Beans isn't saying "If I'm ain't better than B.I.G./I'm the closest one." He's relating himself to an artist few ‘Lil Jon fans could tell you played saxophone, let alone a white plastic one.

 

Beans takes just one track before proving his point too. On "Best of the Losers" he forgoes beat, melody, or even constant rhythm to deliver an autobiographical recounting in a rare glint of honesty for an art form obsessed with appearance. On record here Beans doesn't come off cool, smooth, tough, pick your clichéd theme. It is a life each of us can imagine not through the cinematographic lens of a storyteller, but through our own awkward coming of age experiences.

 

One of Thorns' funkiest moments comes during "Fingers." A stuttered 15/8 beat that Beans delivers lines over deep into the pocket including one of my favorites:

 

"Despite the critics and my relationships retail store response to FEMA/ I persevere like a rubber duck during Katrina"

 

"MVP" takes the sensitive stance of classic LL Cool J without the schmaltz. Really the track has the depth of "Me and My Bitch," except I picture Beans trading Big's Mac-10 for a Netflix copy of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and a bag of Orville Redenbacher. Wrapped in airy synth melodies, Beans drops the disjointed phrases that come so easily to him:

 

Look at me/ Saying your name gave me heart palpitations/
Before you I used to view relationships as consensual castration

 

Thorns is a record that toes a line in hip-hop between the comfortably recognizable beats, and the brutally confessional lyrics more familiar to Joni Mitchell fans. Five stars leave wide tolerance levels that don't account for all of the necessary variables. And as a result I'm often left to judge a great artist not on the same criteria as their peers, but on my expectations for their talent. Thorns is a terrific album from a talented artist. But I am still waiting for Beans to release his Shape of Hip Hop to Come. The record I expect to drive a rift through our community and force hip-hop towards a new incarnation.

 

- Brian Hull