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wil.i.am=gen.i.us
By robertzavala in Turn it up!
May 10, 2009

Song: Boom Boom Pow Artist: Black Eyed Peas

Listening to the new offering by the band that is Fergie's day job naturally got me to thinking about George Jones. Although there doesn't seem to be any thematic connection between these two artists and they have never performed together, (but I can dream, can't I?) it is the similar talents of the producers behind their respective best recordings that bond these two acts together in my mind. When it comes to great pop music there is always talk about great singers, songwriters, albums, singles, guitarists etc. but I think that producers have had just as much impact on our culture.

Don't believe me? Let's take apart the 1980 George Jones classic "He stopped loving her today", arguably the greatest country record ever made, in-arguably one of the best.

This over-the-top, sadder-than-sad song written by Curly Putnam and Bobby Braddock was an excellent distillation of unrequited love that would've sounded good and would have probably been a hit had any top-rated singer of the era chosen it. Luckily for us, the Possum got a'hold of it and injected it with a depth and resonance that would bring every pipefitter, truck driver and waitress in America to their knees in tears. Old George is everyman's Pavarotti and this was his finest hour. But as good as the song is and as great a performance as our boy from Saratoga gave, the man behind the boards, Billy Sherrill, is the coach that got this team to the pop Superbowl.

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The spare, traditional acoustic guitar and the accompanying pedal steel and harmonica opening tastefully takes a back seat to Sir George as it should, but when the the chorus kicks in and the orchestra swells behind him, the listener is given an inkling into why this mopey dude really did stop loving her today. When the angelic choir swoops upward at the end there isn't really any question left for the listener. As Dr. McCoy would say, "He's dead, Jim" Yep, he's dead all right and that choir makes me think he's headed north, not south.

Billy Sherrill is from that school of great music producers who, like Quincy Jones, specialize in well-thought-out, tastefully-created sound blankets that wrap around wonderfully talented vocalists. We need these guys--our world is a better place because of them. But the producers that really shake things up are the whiz-kids who revel in the gadgetry and artistic electro-solitude of the studio. People like Les Paul, Brian Wilson, Beck, Brian Eno, Prince, Phil Spector and Todd Rundgren come to mind. The Beatles (with George Martin) of course are in this category because the Beatles are of course, in every great category in pop music. Listen closely to "I am the walrus" and explain to me how they recorded that piece with the technology of the 1960's. Butch Vig, wunderkind producer behind Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins and Garbage says he can't.

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wil.i.am is a card-carrying member of this overachieving club and takes his fellow Peas to a level with "Boom Boom Pow" that wouldn't be possible without his playful futuro-tinkering. The song itself is ho-hum and about half as deep as anything from the KC and the Sunshine Band catalogue. The rapping is passable, Fergie's vocals are fairly muscular and although the lyrics are a cut above most (I'm so 3008, you're so 2000 and late) that's all really kinda beside the point. It's the production, great googley-moogley, the production baby, that's what makes this thing stick in your head like a piece of crack-infused Double-Bubble.

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The backing beat switches from dry, obviously-sampled handclaps to bottom- shaking sub-woofer-testing beats so big and wet they are "steppin' on leprechauns". The vocals are stretched and Auto-tuned within an inch of their lives in a way that makes Kanye West and Cher seem subtle and restrained. Eight-bit retro synths pop and lock, sharing audio turf with Kraftwerkian vocoders. This whole concoction constantly sounds as if it's about to implode under it's own self-conscious weight. But Mr. i.am, the star of our show, somehow keeps the whole mess in control with a deft hand and a playful ear. Whether or not this recording will become the cut-and- paste generation's anthem remains to be seen but it should definitely be on the short list. This is not a case of style over substance, this is a case of style being the substance.