LIFESAVAS

Gutterfly

(Quannum Projects)

1/2

Seventies-style blaxploitation has long been ripe for a hiphop makeover, and Lifesavas slam-dunk the concept with Gutterfly. The Portland duo of MC Vursatyl and producer/MC Jumbo the Garbageman take on the characters of Bumpy Johnson and Sleepy Floyd, a pair of streetwise hustlers struggling to rise out of the ghetto of Razorblade City by any means necessary. The album is both story line and soundtrack—Jumbo's velvet-funky, soul-sampling production bumps with syncopated guitar licks, buttery horns, and swaggering drums, all evocative of picked Afros, alleyway dice games, and stick-it-to-the-man-itude. Lyrically, the pair is just as prodigious—especially Vursatyl's slickly musical delivery—taking on themes of police harassment, inner-city violence, and economic inequality; by framing their keep-ya-head-up activism in Gutterfly's fictional context, Lifesavas render it unpretentious and even more powerful.

Several well-chosen cameos are deliciously appropriate—surprises like George Clinton lending head-tripping jive talk to the psychedelic "Night Out" and Fishbone's Angelo Moore blowing bluesy sax on the slow-thumping gospel of "Dead Ones," plus like-minded MCs Ishmael Butler of Digable Planets, Dead Prez, and Bronx duo Camp Lo on the standout title track. Their choice guest spots span the last 30 years of black music and emphasize the fullness of Lifesavas' own style rather than fill gaps. Of particular note is Vernon Reid's blistering guitar solo at the end of the politically oriented "Freedom Walk." Vursatyl raps "Remember strange fruit hung from the Mississippi tar trees/Nowadays brothers hang from their chains and their car keys" as strings swell in the background and Reid's fuzzed-out wail creeps up on the beat. It's a moment of natural crossover reminiscent of the best moments of Outkast's Aquemini and leads into the aptly titled, feel-good album closer "Celebration."

Gutterfly is the rare concept album that you want to sit through in its entirety, not necessarily to follow the story line but because the world it depicts is so finely detailed and so damn funky to dwell in. It's been slim pickings for hiphop so far this year, so to call out Gutterfly as one of 2007's best would be a bit backhanded. Still, the album would stand out in any era—in part because it spans so many. JONATHAN ZWICKEL

Lifesavas play with Strange Fruit Project, Cancer Rising, and DJ Marc Sense at Chop Suey Wed May 9, 8 pm, $10 adv, all ages.

APOSTLE OF HUSTLE

National Anthem of Nowhere

(Arts & Crafts)

1/2

Score another musical victory for those crafty Canucks: Toronto-based Apostle of Hustle's National Anthem of Nowhere brightens the eerie, experimental shadows of their first album with a broader palette of instruments and emotions. You might not guess that AOH bandleader Andrew Whiteman is Broken Social Scene's lead guitarist—guitar is hardly the dominant sound here. Whiteman is unafraid to challenge expectations, equally elegant and eloquent with percussive Latin jazz, tight-jeans garage rock, arch indie, and romantic singer-songwriter fare. Intricately textured compositions like "My Sword Hand's Anger" and the Spanish-sung "Rafaga!" hide their hooks behind shapeshifting song structures and layers of rhythm, but linger in the head. Vintage-sounding indie-pop nuggets like the title track and the giddy, organ-driven "Chances Are" make no bones about their flagrant catchiness. And while those tunes are instant pickups, Whiteman follows up with moodier, muddier suggestions and intimations, deeper and more-nuanced shades.

Throughout it all, the common thread is Whiteman's Cuban influence: open guitar tunings and a jam-session looseness. Whiteman was born in Havana and returned to spend a couple of formative months there before spinning off from BSS to launch Apostle of Hustle. The fact that his exotic chords and strumming style don't sound gimmicky attests to his subtle mastery of the instrument and his genuinely unique approach to songwriting. JONATHAN ZWICKEL

Apostle of Hustle play with Andrew Bird on Fri May 5 at the Showbox, 8 pm, $17.50 adv/$20 DOS, 21+.

SLY AND THE FAMILY STONE

Stand!

(Epic/Legacy)

SLY AND THE FAMILY STONE

There's a Riot Goin' On

(Epic/Legacy)

SLY AND THE FAMILY STONE

Fresh

(Epic/Legacy)

As attested by the sun-spangled, red, white, and black flag that adorns the cover of their masterpiece There's a Riot Goin' On, Sly and the Family Stone were an American band of a different color. The first multigender, multiracial chart act in pop-music history, their music was as much a melting pot as their makeup, embracing elements of psychedelia, jazz, gospel, and blues to midwife soul's transformation into funk. No other group embodied so completely the sound and spirit of the civil rights era, or was as outspoken or eloquent in its political and social sloganeering. Ultimately, the arc of Sly and the Family Stone mirrors the trajectory of the flower-power generation as a whole, evolving from the peace-and-love euphoria of Woodstock to the chaos and disillusionment of Altamont in the span of a few classic records.

Of the seven remastered discs that compose Epic/Legacy's long-awaited and much-needed Sly and the Family Stone reissue campaign—launched just last week—the recommended point of entry is 1969's commercial breakthrough Stand! Not so much an album as a jukebox—no less than five of its eight songs resurfaced the following year on the group's Greatest Hits compilation—it veers with dizzying intensity and finesse from power-to-the-people soul anthems like "You Can Make It if You Try" and the title cut to serpentine acid-funk jams like "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey" and "Sex Machine." Positive music created by fierce pragmatists, its hallmarks—the call-and-response vocals, the diamond-hard grooves, the slap-and-pop bass rhythms of the inimitable Larry Graham—essentially outlined the blueprint for a generation of black music to follow.

Its 1971 follow-up, There's a Riot Goin' On, is the quintessential funk album—if by "funk" one means a state of severe depression, panic, and dread, that is. Far too bleak and fucked-up for classification under the James Brown–approved definition of the term, Riot is equal parts watershed and waterloo, the product of a beautiful mind turned ugly by addiction, fame, and paranoia. Recorded by a drug-addled Sly Stone in a Bel Air Drive home across the street from the mansion glimpsed in the opening credits of The Beverly Hillbillies, its minimalist, monochromatic approach is drained of all optimism and energy—the melodies bubble and creep like a puddle of bong water spreading across a Persian rug.

Because Stone was still nowhere close to hitting rock bottom, it's difficult to fathom just how he bounced back with 1973's Fresh. The last Family Stone recording worthy of the imprimatur, it's even leaner and meaner than Riot, to the point where it becomes impossible to guess whether the syncopated, skittering production is yet another creative breakthrough or simply all Sly could be bothered to muster in his narcotic haze. "If You Want Me to Stay" was Fresh's big hit and the epitaph for Stone's career: "Count the days I'm gone, forget reaching me by the phone/Because I promise I'll be gone for a while." Three decades later the man remains a lost cause, but his music is more present than ever. JASON ANKENY

Over the Top

Rhinestone

Cobra

Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot