Songs You Should Know: Silent Treatment

Do You Want More is not The Roots first album, but in terms of the public eye outside of their home base of Illadelph, it might as well be. As a young underground head always with my nose in the air sniffing for the new hotness, I never got wind of their debut Organix, but songs like Proceed, Distortion to Static, The Lesson et al. converted me and all surrounding heads in hip hop's motherland of nyc. The approach wasn't totally unprecedented — we enjoyed a one-off taste of the live band feel via the Brand New Heavies and Heavy Rhyme Experience Vol. 1 — but they were the first real-deal hip hop band, and thus immediately recognized as heralds of a new era in the genre.

The crystalline boho-chic sensibility of Do You Want More now sounds a bit anomalous compared to their contemporary sound. Much like Three Feet High and Rising for De La Soul, it evokes a sense of hippie free-loving hip hop that was understandably replaced with something more mature, nuanced and robust. But while Proceed and Static were critically acclaimed lead singles, I would argue Silent Treatment as the most important song on the album, and considering the import of the album, possibly their careers. Silent Treatment is the song most responsible for The Roots Paradox.

The Roots Paradox is an allusion to a conversation every hip hop head has had. In short form it can be phrased as: What’s up with The Roots?!!? Other variations might include: why are The Roots not on some Rolling Stones ish? And if comparisons are unseemly: why are The Roots not more commercially successful? These questions are consistent and universal because The Roots now have a legitimately legendary position in hip hop. While we may wonder about a Talib Kweli or a Common, those of us interested enough to wonder are also intuitive enough to deduce the answer: their music is limited in its appeal. But The Roots are different. They’re big time. And if like Kweli and Common, they're limited because they make music primarily for educated black people, that niche is balanced by their position as hip hop’s band. And when I say hip hop I mean in the largest sense, hip hop in all its young international multicultural splendor. When Jay-Z needs a band for MTV, he gets The Roots. When Chappelle at the peak of his powers needs a band for his film project, he gets The Roots. If George Bush or the Clintons need a hip hop band, they’d be advised to book The Roots. If hip hop were as small as grunge, The Roots would be Nirvana. But hip hop is so much larger in scope than grunge, yet Nirvana, I suspect, holds more space in the public eye.

And while a lot of time and energy is spent these days trying to disengage hip hop from the black identity, there should be no mistake: to attack, or lack respect, for hip hop in general is to attack, or lack respect, for our young black generation (as David Banner flailingly tried to communicate recently). So the struggle of hip hop artists from 50 to Kanye to Common is the same struggle of our young black people. Even those who don't like hip hop must accept that it shapes their identity, the same way an expatriate who dislikes America must still accept it as part of his international identity. And in the case of The Roots, we are looking at the struggle for supreme mainstream success, but on our own terms, and as such their narrative has primal importance. For a group of their caliber and credentials, everyone should know their name, but everyone clearly doesn't, and so, fearful of the answer, we are compelled to ask again and again: why haven't The Roots blown? Because if The Roots can’t blow, it may very well speak to our overestimation of hip hop’s place on the American landscape. If The Roots can’t blow we may be learning, in fact, that impossible is something, and the American Dream remains rife with caveats and conditional restrictions. In short: If The Roots can't blow, then maybe black people can't blow. The Roots have some status and cachet as hip hop’s band, but they also represent the POTENTIAL of the assimilated American negro identity. They have in essence played the game the way it should be played, at the highest level, yet have seemingly not reaped the highest level of reward. And so we wring our hands wondering if it's a matter of time, or something else ... this is the paradox of The Roots.

But the reason the paradox is a conundrum, and not a call to action, is because there are chinks in the armor. Namely their songs. The above status can almost be established independent of a listen to their music. The Roots are the heavyweight champions in a one-team league (this is not intended as disrespect to the many quality hip hop bands, but no one has their HOF resume). And while no one would deny their talent, there may be legitimate grounds to deny their ear for mainstream sensibility. So if some songs only serve to knock them off their lofty perch, then Silent Treatment is the platform, high in the sky, on which they can rest at night.

Now seen in context, Do You Want More is an experimental album, and Proceed and Static are hip hop songs, which is to say, they require more effort for the average layperson to appreciate them. But Silent Treatment, quite simply, is the song you can put on to make anyone understand The Roots, immediately, and without explanation. It's a love song that makes you fall in love with the band, and Roots fans can express their affection through the song's lyrics, "like some sh*t from out the flicks, we've been in love ever since." It's a beautiful song, eloquently simple, lyrically accessible, and what great songs are supposed to be. A song that should be covered by bands of all genres, and sung in full by throngs of fans, because we all can relate and understand. In other words, it's a song you should know.

Powered by AOL Video