Disclaimer: this article was written with Monday Sept. 23 in mind, but its content is universal and timeless, so read on fearless denizens of Tuesday, Sept. 24.
Sept. 23, 63 B.C.: Augustus, first Emperor (and founder) of the Roman Empire, is born.
Sept. 23, 1215: Kublai Khan, fifth Khagan of the Mongol Empire and founder of the Yuan Dynasty in China, is born.
Sept. 23, 1909: “The Phantom of the Opera” (the novel) is first serialized in Le Gaulois.
Sept. 23, 1926: Andre Cassagnes, inventor of the Etch-a-Sketch, and John Coltrane(!) are born.
Sept. 23, 1930: Ray Charles is born.
Sept. 23, 1939: Sigmund Freud, preeminent psychologist, dies.
Sept. 23, 1949: Bruce Springsteen is born.
Sept. 23, 1959: Jason Alexander is born.
Sept. 23, 1973: Pablo Neruda, Nobel laureate/poet, dies.
Sept. 23, 2003: Outkast releases Speakerboxxx/The Love Below.
Damn. What a day.
This is a veritable potpourri of interest here. You’ve got the heads of empires. Not state. Empires. You’ve got three of the most talented musicians to grace the earth—and one of them is still gracing it. You’ve got a phenomenally talented poet. You’ve got George Costanza. You’ve got the inventor of the frakking Etch-a-Sketch! What more could you want?
Oh, you want an Outkast album? Well, strike me pink and stone the crows! You’re in luck.
Outkast was pretty big before 2003—2000’s Stankonia is pretty much mandatory listening for anyone wanting to understand music around the 21st century—but Speakerboxxx/The Love Below exploded them to titanic proportions.
What’s interesting is that SB/TLB is itself titanic: It’s really two separate albums from Outkast’s two great dynamos, Big Boi and Andre 3000. At first, you’d think this was an indication of some schism between Outkast, each other performer an outcast from the other’s aural landscape. But it’s not. SB and TLB are solo albums, sure, but even bifurcated, Outkast was still a group at this point.
Most criticism of SB/TLB has focused on the separate modes each album works in, though there hasn’t been enough focus on how similar these albums sound. That’s not an insult. Even though people make a point of how “out there” The Love Below’s sound is—a flux of genres including jazz, funk, rock, pop, hip hop, etc.—Speakerboxxx brings the weirdness home too.
This isn’t an issue of left brain/right brain here. Sure, Speakerboxxx has more rapping and The Love Below has more singing, but I wouldn’t make the case (such as it has been made) that these two albums are diametrically opposed to each other. I see no evidence of artistic acrimony. I see a group that has figured out how to go the same way on parallel tracks. Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, really, is a stab at syncretistic art.
Speaking of parallels, it’s interesting how many parallels to SB/TLB can be drawn from Sept. 23rd. Firstly, the album as a whole functions like some perpetual Etch-a-Sketch exercise. Out of the same tabula rasa rises the charged, jagged “Rooster” and ethereal Prince-rip “She Lives in My Lap.” Shapes spinning out from the twisting knobs, from song to song to song.
There’s the salmagundi Big Boi and Andre 3000 dish up that recalls Ray Charles (the first part of “Roses,” “Church”) and John Coltrane (“My Favorite Things” is an amped up version of Coltrane’s 1960 recording, replete with some of his messianic sax wrangling) among other styles. There’s a conquering swagger that moves through SB/TLB’s 135 minutes a la Augustus and Kublai Khan—little wonder this album was certified Diamond for 11 million units moved.
The frenetic funk of “Spread” recalls George Costanza in his worst rut and The Love Below as a whole would have been of engrossing interest to Freud, considering all the sex that runs through it. Just picture a modern day Freud, listening to TLB with his dog-eared edition of “The Brothers Karamazov” and a glass of coke. Give him gauges if you insist on some kind of verisimilitude.
Finally, give “Hey Ya!” or “The Way You Move” to Pablo Neruda, the great love poet, and see whether they wouldn’t have struck a chord with him.
Other albums released that day: Want One by Rufus Wainwright (2003), Screamadelica by Primal Scream (1991), No More Heroes by The Stranglers (1977) and My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky by Swans (2011).
Does this all make sense? Tell Sean at sreichard@wisc.edu.
