Bob James - Hands Down


Alright, i had a stack of records going until my trip to Ames invited The Birds of Satan to interrupt us. We probably don't need to rehash Metallica or Green Day, but Motörhead could certainly have a night to shine in the near future. For now though, let's return to the old stuff. I've got two more Robin Trower albums to peruse, plus i found a copy of Street Hassle (you remember i mentioned it back when we heard Lou Reed's Rock and Roll Heart), but tonight i think we'll go even weirder and listen to a mildly obscure, but historically important Bob James album. Bob James. Smooth Jazz guy. Godfather of Hip-Hop. Why are you all vacantly staring off into space? No, no, trust me this will be interesting. 


The Birds of Satan was contextually morbid, but da fuq is up with the album concept for Hands Down? Splotchy hands on the cover are one thing, but wait 'til you gaze upon the gatefold spread. Yeah, no joke, anatomical drawings of skeleton sections. Again i repeat, da fuq? This is going to be some form of Jazz? 

Actually, yes. In fact, it's one of the first albums to specifically embrace Electronic Jazz. There's only one track without some form of synthesizer and/or Fender Rhodes on it, and that's pretty radical for any kind of Jazz in 1982. You can call me crazy, but there is definitely something macabre ala Oing Boingo going on here. Bunch of kooky Xylophone playing Skeletonus Buffi enjoying the Luau here (that's a hardcore inside joke for my OG readers). Some Bob James fans say this is one of his most mediocre albums, but i'm not sure what their criteria might be. This is pretty perky and interesting for Bob James as far as i'm concerned. Plus, the arrangements don't suck. If that doesn't register as important then you might need a refresher on just how much terribleness early 80s Electronica produced across every genre that accidentally stepped in a puddle of it. Cheesy sounds are par for the course, note that these aren't brand name synthesizers, but i wouldn't consider any of them out of place for Bob James. His schtick is Elevator Jazz, so that's hardly much of an insult. 

Roberta, probably the most well known track from the album, finally gives us what i think the real concept is: Romanticism. Not the Danielle Steele, Fabio portrait kind of romanticism, the haunting infatuation with the mystical/metaphysical/esoteric occult. Granted, this is the department-store Muzak version of said occult, but it's nevertheless audibly comprehensible. It's also the least "wine-cooler, kids away at Summer camp sexy time" of anything i've heard by Bob James, so i am definitely not complaining. Also, and this is pure coincidence, a lot of these early cheap synth sounds just immediately put me in mind of Doogie Howser, MD, so that's immediately the lens through which i view the artwork. Pre-pubescent genius kid trying to learn how adult humans work. 

Pretty sure this album isn't supposed to be funny, but i'm not gonna lie and say my brain isn't giggling. All in all i'd say this is the least uncomfortable Bob James album i've heard, so give it a whirl some time.

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