Pitchfork

A reporter from CNN telephoned the Pitchfork office a couple of weeks ago to ask questions about politics and music. After explaining why I thought pop and politics almost never mix well, she wondered if there were any recent pol-pop releases that I considered successful. The best I could come up with was Dr. Ring-Ding's "Bombs Over Baghdad", and then I did my best to offer the reporter a Jamaican dancehall primer. I later wished I'd mentioned dj/Rupture-- although that would've taken even more explanation.

The probable reason that Rupture had slipped my mind is also why his politically tinged tracks are successful-- because with rare exceptions they aren't overtly political. And unlike most music with a conscience, they aren't ephemeral, sanctimonious, or dry, either. In most cases, even though Rupture's multicultural "ghetto-to-ghetto" approach is infused with a love for and curiosity of a wide range of musical and cultural traditions, it's not necessary to catch the geopolitical undertones.

Rupture first came to relative prominence in 2002 with a pair of dense, glove-straddling mixes-- the previously download-only Gold Teeth Thief, and Minesweeper Suite-- and delivered a third, the split release (with Mutamassik) Shotgun Wedding Vol. 1: The Bidoun Sessions earlier this year. Those three mixes were audacious, eye- and ear-opening melanges of hip-hop, drum-n-bass, dancehall, North African and Arabic folk music, and splatter beats. Rupture connected the sounds of struggle and a yearning for respect on multiple continents, unifying folk traditions even when he was breaking apart sound.

On Special Gunpowder, dj/Rupture retains the spirit of his mixes but tosses out the process. Instead of mixing and assembling the sonics himself, Rupture's LP features Western and Arabic musicians, as well as tracks sung in English, French, and Spanish, and guest spots by artists ranging from producers Kit Clayton and Kid606 to dancehall veterans Sister Nancy and Junior Cat to Arnaud Michniak of French band Programme. Depending on where the needle hits the groove, Rupture's music also features a poet, a member of avant-metal group Oxbow, a violin and oud player, and a banjoist who sings an adaptation of the traditional American folk song "Mole in the Ground". Trying to replicate the scope and power of those mixes with the limitations of live musicians was always going to be a tricky and potentially messy proposition, but Rupture has gone some distance towards pulling it off because he knows when to pull his punches.

Sonically, Special Gunpowder is a surprisingly light affair. After trudging through the opening track, a performance of an Elizabeth Alexander poem, the next sound is a dead ringer for the Fiesta riddim. With Clayton and Kid606 helping to orchestrate a loping palette for Sister Nancy and a melodica to paint, the track harkens back to light, newly synthesized dancehall of the 1980s, a tone shared with some of the album's more Old World sounds, but not all of the other dancehall tracks. Both "Flop We" featuring Junior Cat and "No Heathen" with Wicked Act are nocturnal and steely, but no worse off for it.

Either of those tracks could have slid onto Minesweeper Suite, but for the most part, where Rupture used to obscure or bury a central melody or a groove-- and make you dig through sonic sludge to get at it-- Gunpowder's session players do the heavy lifting for you, creating a more accessible if slightly less engaging atmosphere. A Wayne Lonesome collabo "Dem Nu Know" comes courtesy of Shockout Records and the spirit of King Jammy; Lily's dusky exotica-folk vocals redresses Cocoa Tea's "Lonesome Side" in the Peanie Peanie riddim. Excursions into glitch-infused French hip-hop and a club remix of the Latin-tinged, Spanish-sung "Musquito" are also highlights.

Special Gunpowder may disappoint a lot of Rupture's fans, those hoping for something from the producer's first artist album that matches the tone, tenor, and pace of his mixes, but it's an unfair criticism. The methods are different, and even though the madness is now replaced by an increase in melody, and the pieces no longer fit into a cogent whole, there are still plenty of reasons to embrace the LP. If anything-- considering the variety on the record-- there could be too many for some listeners. As Jace Clayton's nom de producer suggests, he deconstructs music, but rather than leave his toys scattered and in pieces, Rupture re-assembles them in frequently thrilling ways.