The writing was good, but perhaps not suited for a reader like me, much more interested in the interpersonal relationships and social dynamics that led to the mythos of J Dilla than the musical theory itself. I would have believed the influence of Dilla time without understanding its strict definition; the various diagrams were clear and easy to read, and I even participated in the vaguely pedantic exercises, tapping thirds and fourths on my legs, but by the end of this four-hundred-page novels, I found myself skipping over musical theory sections entirely. I think this is no fault at all of Charnas; I'm sure my counterparts exist, who wish there was more musical theory.
Personally, I approached this from a much. more anthropological perspective. I enjoyed the extent to which Charnas incorporated outside knowledge and detail not immediately relevant, like the history of Detroit's geography. However, I want to reemphasize that this is not perhaps an accessible or efficient biography, especially for a figure like J Dilla, for which this book will be an introduction for most (although his fans are fanatics, I understand). If you're interested in the man himself, you won't get it until probably after the first hundred and fifty pages. If you're interested in his music, you won't have more than snippets for the first two hundred. Plenty of details were afforded significant page space and then later abandoned, like the details of Dilla's family history, generations and generations back. Again, I found this interesting in a historical context, but not in a Dilla one.
I've read so many classics lately that I think I'm just particularly sensitive to what I perceive as a waste of words on a page, unused Chekhov guns, etc. Things that are brought up, tangentially relevant, to not appear again. I'm too used to clean and pared prose that has been shaven to the thinnest layer, or, when extravagant, like Anna Karenina and David Foster Wallace, beautifully so. Nobody could accuse Charnas of skipping research or a lack of due diligence. This was an incredibly researched book. If you had told me that he was Dilla's guardian angel, I would have believed you. It's evident that he has a thorough and historical passion for the subject. It's awesome. He's just not James Joyce, nor is he required to be.
I will say that this book made me think of music as an aspect of community, really think about it, not just passively acknowledge it, for one of the first times ever. How canonizing people and places and cultures in highbrow classic literature comes later, after the music, after the concerts, after the dances and gatherings and the culture that revolves around something as undeniably and ubiquitously accessible as a good song. I thought often about Asian-American culture (if there can be said to be one) while I read this book. Where are our Detroits? I don't mean to glorify or pedestalize Detroit in any way; Charnas charts its growing Black population as a direct result of industrialization, white flight, redlining, and other anti-Black phenomenons. I do think, however, that Asian-Americans, for a variety of reasons (upward mobility, proximity to whiteness, wealthy immigrants post-Hart-Celler, the choice to immigrate in the first place, sheer lack of numbers, etc), do not have these sorts of communal understandings or intricate networks of protection and support. At least, not yet. Who are the aspiring Asian artists carving out a musical niche of their own? Do I not know them because I'm not in the right communities to know them, or do those communities just not exist? Do the communities need to exist for Asian-Americans to be legitimate on a political level? I would like to talk to somebody about all of this.
I also came away with a real admiration for Q-Tip and the idea of the Ummah, which struck me perhaps more than anything else in the book. I understand that Q-Tip was not a central figure, but rather a Dilla accessory, and as such probably all of his personal flaws were not explored. But the way he's portrayed in this book - fatherly, gracious, self-sacrificing, idealistic - is everything I see as the pinnacle of maturity and goodness, and everything I want for myself.
It also made me really understand artists as products of communities and history, rather than independent machines that may or may not make stuff that I think "sounds good." I've always been interested in the evolution of music, through Baroque to Classical to Romantic to Modern, et cetera, and yet I never grasped its immediate and ongoing evolution, a probable product of my classical piano upbringing and deeply-ingrained musical elitism. It's really fascinating! Like I said earlier, I find it hard to care about the musical theory itself, but the history and interpersonal threads and individual inspirations are incredible and inspiring. It almost feels like the sounds-good aspect of music isn't the point . Or, perhaps more accurately, it makes me understand that great music must sound good, but Kendrick Lamar and Robert Glasper and yes, J Dilla, do more than just sound good. They set themselves as the latest in a series of points to continue whatever thread of greatness exists in the art form. Always innovating, always pushing forward; there will never be another Mozart, in the way that Mozart was Mozart; instead, we have Kanye West. I'm being pretty serious. Who knows which of these artists really will stand the test of time. But it's making me see that music is no different from visual art or literature, a fact which, again, I should have known much earlier, but always subconsciously discounted. It's the same way that I subconsciously find great playwrights less credible for their artistic skill than great authors. Which is to say: It's super wrong.
Total tangent which may actually end this review, which has sort of spiraled: I think Charnas does an incredible job at leaving the facts stand as they are themselves in this biography. There is a thrumming undercurrent of admiration, which weakens it slightly, but overall, the tilt is bounded to his musical talent, and other facts are presented with no moral tilt. Strip club habits, tendencies to prayer, infidelity, temper, brotherly love, misogynism; all are presented in an even light for the reader to make of as they wish. We come away recognizing that Dilla was one of the greatest electronic music producers of all time, but was also just, on all levels, just a guy. Super cool.
Overall, would recommend, perhaps on an inverse proportion to the amount you already know about Dilla. Which is to say: If you know nothing and care naught about the musical industry, read this book! Perhaps it can do for you what it did for me. I started this book listening to Miley Cyrus and finished it with a comprehensive (well, comprehensive for me, not at all in a general sense) playlist on Spotify titled Dilla time. And of course I still listen to Miley, though. Etc.