First and foremost, I am a lover of music and a fan of those who create it compellingly. Secondly, I am a creator of music who happens to be African-American, therefore beholden, I believe, to a particularly special tradition of expressing humanity and compassion through all genres of music.
It is with this in mind that I write this blog about one of the most prolific and compelling composers of my generation, who died four years ago today: James Yancey aka J Dilla.
I first heard his music in 1995, while I was home from college for a visit and riding around Tidewater with my friends. Somebody put in a tape of “Runnin’” by The Pharcyde and I was immediately entranced. My jaw dropped — “What is this?” I asked again and again. “And who made it?!?”
My second encounter occurred upon the release of Busta Rhymes’ debut solo album “The Coming” in 1996 and my hearing of the album track “Still Shining.” The track itself is skeletal: one sample of a suspended chord swimming around an elastic beat — a beat which sounds as if it were created after transcribing Busta’s verses. Simply put, this record is two minutes and fifty-eight seconds of absolute ingenuity.
My third encounter with his genius occurred in 1996 when I was in New York City for Betty Carter’s Jazz Ahead program. It was there that I met a young drummer named Karriem Riggins, with whom I formed a friendship. After rehearsal, Karriem and I began to talk about his work with Jay Dee (who eventually became a true mentor of Karriem’s) and later, he played me several tracks that Jay had done for upcoming projects (one of which was Common’s Like Water For Chocolate)…
… which brings me to my fourth Dilla experience. While I was living in Richmond, I created a little bedroom recording studio in my apartment and made music all day and all night. One of the records that I studied throughout that period was Like Water For Chocolate (released in 2000). This record changed the way I thought about electronic music production. There was so much resourcefulness, humor, and life embodied in the music on this album. Hearing it sent my imagination soaring. “I didn’t know that was possible,” I thought.
The music he produced — the way he manipulated the air in front of and around us — is nothing short of brilliant sonic art created by a man with intense longing in his heart.
What is it that he longed for? What is the dream that he communicated so effectively to us?
I think he was dreaming of a truly free and independent black music — music that makes good use of all of our gifts and allows us to share them freely with all who will listen. I think he was trying to capture that feeling of discovery when creating a new piece of art from an existing one — the way that a sculptor must feel as he starts to chisel at the stone. I think he was trying to communicate to us the power of our own ability to reshuffle the disorder of life into — as James Baldwin said — “that order which is art”.
And what an artist he was. Rest in peace, brother.
James Dewitt Yancey 2/7/74 – 2/10/06. American Artist.