In 2000, Dan the Automator, Del the Funky Homosapien, and Kid Koala teamed up to present a futuristic dystopian vision of a rhyme spewing hero rescuing society from the clutches of the 22nd century version of Big Brother. Seven years later, El-P is stepping into the hero’s shoes, often reluctantly, as the Orwellian vision seems to have materialized a bit sooner than the year 3030. It’s not 1984, it’s Brooklyn in the Bush-Bloomberg era.
Whereas Deltron 3030 was high-minded science fiction with a sense of humor, I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead is smack you in the face reality. Apparently things get a little more serious when you’re actually living it. As his mind bounces back and forth between dissecting daily realizations and fending off nightmarish visions of the not so distant future, El spits vehemently about war, drug addiction, misdirected youth, politicians, the culture of oil, celebrities, religion, sex, critics, other MCs, and the many different manifestations of slavery and those that accept it. It’s the soundtrack of the back alleys of Babylon on the eve of the end of the world as we know it. It’s also one damn good hip-hop album.
You can’t save the world by yourself, and El’s friends from a variety of genres have come out in full force on this set. Though, unlike most hip hop records where the guest stars seem to outshine the basic tracks, the guest spots on I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead are presented subtly, meshing organically with El’s overall vision, and sometimes not even credited. Sure, it’s easy to spot Trent Reznor’s contribution to Flyentology, or Chan Marshall’s (Cat Power) in Poisenville Kids No Wins, but it becomes a bit more difficult to pin-point the James McNew (YoLaTengo) basslines, the Matt Sweeney guitar splashes, the Mars Volta’s involvement in Tasmanian Pain Coaster, or what exactly Tunde Adebimpe (TV on the Radio) added to the mix. It’s a communal approach to art at its finest.
The great thing about El is that even when he’s being facetious or roll playing he sounds more genuine then most of the past and current ilk of bragadocious MCs. Like he retorts on the third track, he may “have been born yesterday” but he’s “been up all night.” El’s flow has matured along with his craft and the head bobbing beats are sicker than ever. Layers of noise are piled on and peeled away again as tracks evolve and flow seamlessly together. Especially tasty is the air raid siren interacting with the helicopter like beat on Smithereens, the complexity of the drum rhythm that anchors Up All Night, the cowbell infused EMG, the post-millennium gangsta vibe of Drive, and the ambient opening to The Overly Dramatic Truth. There are at least five straight-up, put them on repeat, classics on this record highlighted righteously by the El-P/Aesop Rock race against time interplay of Run the Numbers.
Right from the opening beat of I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead, El puts you in a chokehold and pulls you through the looking glass, until the next thing you know the album is over. You’re not quite sure what happened, but you know you want to do it all over again and again and again. There is complexity in sound and words, unfolding and revealing more with each listen. Personally, I can’t stop listening to it. To quote my good friend Mike in an email discussing the album, “the dude is a genius.” Indeed. This is not only the most relevant hip-hop album of the year so far, it may be one of the best albums of the decade...at the very least.
