Common Sense

Common Sense (Lonnie Lynn), a rapper from Chicago, boasted lyrics that were above the average for shunning the usual stereotypes of machoism and violence. The first album, Can I Borrow a Dollar? (1992), was still childish and clownish rap of the kind that was popular at the time, but Common reivented himself several times as an ever more conscious and even spiritual rapper. The sound on Resurrection (Relativity, 1994), his first mature statement, produced by Chicago's Dion "No ID" Wilson (formerly known as Immenslope), was a mellow jazz-hop that well counterpointed the verbose outpour of acrobatic wordplay. No ID's sample-based production works magic: organic, warm, smooth and elegant. The fluid jazzy lounge piano of Resurrection sets the tone for the rest, matched later on by the summery organ theme of Thisisme. This is atmospheric hip-hop of a classy kind. No ghetto alienation. Common has a gift for a colloquial tone that the producer matches with goofy electronic effects, as demonstrated in Book of Life and In My Own World. Common's wordplay is certainly captivating, even hypnosis-inducing, notably in Watermelon and Sum Shit I Wrote (that is further uplifted by an eerie bass and piano combination). He chisels intriguing rhymes even when they are just nonsense. Common's biographical tales can be even somnolent and bluesy, emanating a sense of boredom, appropriately so in Nuthin' to Do. Another highlight, Orange Pineapple Juice pits more lounge piano against vocal histronics. The lively Chapter 13, produced by Anthony "Ynot" Khan, has the feeling of a street band. I Used To Love H.E.R., his first signature song, is a cinematic poem. No ID's production is as protagonist as Common's rapping.

One Day It'll All Make Sense (Relativity, 1997), credited to Common (no Sense anymore) and mostly produced again by No ID, marked a quantum leap forward in lyrical maturity with heartfelt, "conscious" messages delivered in his distinctive multi-syllabic style. The mood runs the gamut from the anthemic Real Nigga Quotes (with Duan Eddy-esque guitar twang), to the tough Food For Funk and to lively 1'2 Many (with goofy effects). G.O.D. (Gaining One's Definition) and the seven-minute sleek All Night Long, punctuated by Erykah Badu's sensual female crooning and funk-jazz organ, No Id's sample-based production is still outstanding although not quite jazz-hop. The focus this time is on the rapping, but the rapping climbs to a different dimension in the most complex songs: the prayer-like Retrospect For Life, the most lyrical song (with Lauryn Hill's spiritual-like crooning, a gospel organ and stately piano notes), the gentle G.O.D. (Gaining One's Definition) (with male choir, strings and intricate piano patterns), and the three eccentric Stolen Moments (notaly the third one, with a captivating piano riff and romantic strings). No ID even engineers a spartan jam of the free jazz for the spoken-word piece My City (with a disorienting coda of orchestral funk-jazz). In some ways this album is even more revolutionary than the previous one, although the previous one felt more groundbreaking.

At this point Common became a member of the Soulquarians, a collective formed by D'Angelo, J Dilla and producer Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson, that later included Erykah Badu, Roy Hargrove and some of the Native Tongues collective (A Tribe Called Quest's Q-Tip, Common, Mos Def and Talib Kweli).

Thanks to that affiliation, the 78-minute Like Water for Chocolate (MCA, 2000) featured several producers (like Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson of the Roots, D'Angelo, Christopher "DJ Premier" Martin of Gang Starr and especially J Dilla ) as well as several jazz instrumentalists (trumpeter Roy Hargrove, keyboardist James Poyser, bassist Pino Palladino and drummer Karriem Riggins) that turned his raps into austere musical pieces. Elegant laid-back instrumentals, with sleek, multi-layered and catchy beats mostly constructed or inspired by J Dilla, embellish the African-tinged jazz-hop of Time Travelin' (a tribute to Fela Anikulapo Kuti), the tough and funky Heat, and the eccentric disco-music of Geto Heaven Part Two. The mellow ballads, The Light (a smash hit that crosses over into neo-soul) and The Questions, ration the intelligence of those beats. More interesting ideas shore up the orchestral cacophony Cold Blooded (courtesy of Roy Hargrove) and the vocal cacophony Funky For You (another throwback to the early "disco" years). There's an intriguing, if overlong, attempt at constructing a suspenseful narrative in A Film Called (Pimp), a duet with MC Lyte, and in A Song For Assata, with gospel organ, choir and orchestra. Musically speaking, this is perhaps more of a Dilla album than a Common album, an intricate collage of nostalgic echoes of soul, jazz and Afro-pop of the 1970s. However, the more contorted 6th Sense was produced by DJ Premier. By then, Common had become the poster child of "conscious" hip-hop. However, lyrically speaking, this album is an inferior product as he often sounds childish or derivative. And it contains too much filler compared with the lean and mean predecessors.

Culminating his work with the Soulquarians, Electric Circus (MCA, 2002), ostensibly dedicated to Jimi Hendrix, was a daring and eccentric opus, reminiscent of psychedelic soul and progressive rock, with a cast of guests that included Mary J. Blige the Neptunes, Laetitia Sadier of Stereolab, Jill Scott, etc, and another vast cast of producers (J Dilla, Questlove, James Poyser, Pino Palladino...). The overture, Ferris Wheel is already pure surrealism. Standout Soul Power is a kind of dadaistic dance that one would expect from Pere Ubu. Aquarius feels like the hip-hop remix of a spiritual hymn from the hippie era. Electric Wire Hustler Flower (featuring nu-metal singer Sonny Sandoval) is a loud and pounding chant that has demonic overtones. The Hustle (a creation by drummer Karriem Riggins) evokes an electronic hip-hop vaudeville. Common gets conventional again in Come Close, produced by the Neptunes, a tribute song to Erykah Badu featuring Mary J. Blige; but then he turns gritty and visceral in New Wave, another standout (contrasted with a delightful lullaby by Laetitia Sadier of Stereolab) and in the booming I Got a Right Ta (produced by the Neptunes). The mood turns almost comic with the charming electronic charleston I Am Music (sung in a childish register by Jill Scott). That's a last gasp of eccentricity. Instead the elaborate Between Me, You and Liberation leads to the more cerebral part of the album. The eight-minute Jimi Was a Rock Star (featuring Erykah Badu) hangs between psychedelic trance and ghostly horror, a tribal and infernal dance in a babelic vortex of voices. The ten-minute Heaven Somewhere pulls together the whole cast of neosoul singers for a choral celebration of soul music.
Musically speaking, this is one of the peaks of the Soulquarians, the culmination of an aesthetic vision that had matured via the Roots' Things Fall Apart (1999), D'Angelo's Voodoo (2000), Erykah Badu's Mama's Gun (2000), and Common's own albums (all of them recorded in the same studio with approximately the same personnel). Not surprisingly, it was less commercially successful than its predecessor.

Be (Geffen, 2005), a Kanye West production, was a product of "easy-listening rap" (and relatively short by Common's standards at 43 minutes). Apart from the anthemic The Corner (featuring Kanye West and the Last Poets) and the convoluted Chi-City, most of the album is lazy and bland. When it's not pure filler, it feels more like a neo-soul album than a rap album (Faithful, Love Is, and It's Your World Part).

Finding Forever (Geffen, 2007), another collaboration with Kanye West, was more trivial and marked the beginning of Common's decline (despite The People). Universal Mind Control (Geffen, 2009), produced mostly by the Neptunes, targeted the dancefloor. The Dreamer/The Believer (Warner, 2011), produced again by No I.D. after a 14-year hiatus, in a completely different style (less electronic and more soul-oriented), contains the Nas collaboration Ghetto Dreams.

Nobody's Smiling (Def Jam, 2014), again produced by No ID, a bleak concept album about Chicago, a major disappointment both in the lyrics and the beats. Common tried to adapt his lyrics to the age of the Black Lives Matter movement (following several high-profile killings of Black people by White cops and White vigilantes) and of racist politician Donald Trump with Black America Again (Def Jam, 2016), entirely produced by Karriem Riggins. The decline accelerated on Let Love (Loma Vista, 2019), A Beautiful Revolution (Pt 1) (Loma Vista, 2020) and A Beautiful Revolution (Pt 2) (Loma Vista, 2021), all of them produced by Karriem Riggins.