Slum Village’s Fantastic, Vol. 2 is a reminder of home

I get homesick easily. I’m the type of person who sees something insignificant, like a brown leaf, and thinks back to every memory I have ever had with a brown leaf. These memories are usually related to growing up in Michigan. And while California’s weather does not change drastically, there are still plenty of brown leaves around, which means homesickness seems like a chronic illness to me during the fall.

To help with my homesickness, I listen to some local artists from Michigan to remind me of the sounds I heard while I was growing up. While every city has its local artists, there are some who unfortunately fall through the cracks and don’t get the recognition they deserve. Hipsters will be the first to brag about these artists you “probably haven’t heard of” like it’s their claim to fame. While Detroit has plenty of these artists, my favorite is, without a doubt, a group called Slum Village.

Slum Village started out as an unknown, underground rap group that nobody, save for a few hip musicians and artists, could tell you about. However, like most groups, one chance encounter led to another — mostly in part to their producer — and they finally got a sweet record deal. After stirring some commotion with their first album, Slum Village finally hit their stride with their second and best album, Fantastic, Vol. 2.

For me, this album has one of the key sounds that represent the culture and music scene of Detroit. Every time I listen to this album, it puts me back in the city. It puts me back in a car going down Woodward Avenue and seeing the cityscape of Detroit, and how there’s a clear divide between the more commercial sections and the sections that seemed to be forgotten about. It puts me back on the sidewalk of the downtown area, walking by the Fillmore and trying to choose from the myriad of local restaurants to eat at for the night with my friends.

Lowkey beats with a subtle, yet smooth baseline reinvented the head bump. Soulful claps on the twos and fours sounded like they were recorded in a Baptist church in the heart of the city. Rhymes jumped between being playful and conscious — these were all indicators of Slum Village’s self-aware but fun attitude. These elements are what make up the overall sound of Fantastic, Vol. 2, the quintessential album from this little known Motor City group.

In the city where Motown was born, it’s no surprise that R&B and soul are among the most popular styles in the Detroit music scene, and as time went on, it made sense that the city’s musicians were able to incorporate aspects of the two genres into the more mainstream direction music was going into: hip-hop and rap.

Songs like “Climax,” “Tell Me,” “Untitled/Fantastic” and the classic “Fall In Love” are all simply smooth as butter. The lyrics, truth be told, aren’t the most prolific, but Baatin, Jay Dee and T3 have voices that were made for these beats. The Midwest didn’t have too much to show for in the hip-hop scene at the time (except for everyone’s favorite bleach-blond rapper), but these three showed what one aspect of Detroit sounded like.

Every song on this album has a heavy-R&B and soul influence. “I Don’t Know” even features bits of a James Brown’s “Make it Funky.” Sound bits from the Brown jump into the rappers’ verses to finish out what they were saying and create an effect that sounds like James Brown is throwing in ad-libs with the group live in the studio.

It’s a fun song that contributes to a cool, calm and collected album. It’s perfect to listen to when you’re strolling around in the Motor City, providing a backdrop to the gorgeous urban landscape that’s humble but homey. Whenever I put this album on and listen to its soothing beats, it always feels like I’m listening to the heartbeat of the cities I grew up around. It’s one of those albums that truly makes me believe in the therapeutic aspect of music. It can take my blues and turn them into happy memories, which were never in short supply in Detroit during October.

I always consider this to be one of the perfect Detroit albums because of the amount of soul that you can feel from a group that doesn’t have the flash or wide appeal of other rap groups. Last week, I touched on The Slim Shady LP and how its dark humor reflects the ability of the city to rise above its problems. This album, on the other hand, represents Detroit in its natural state. To outsiders, it might look raw and unrefined, but give it a closer look and it will surprise you with the beauty it puts forward. It foregoes the extra to focus on the basics, and sometimes, that’s all you need.

Spencer Lee is a junior majoring in narrative studies. His column, “Spencer’s Soapbox,” runs every Tuesday. He is also the chief copy  editor of the Daily Trojan.