Category: People

  • Ad-Rock’s Guitar on Check Your Head: The Art of Playing Exactly Enough

    Ad-Rock’s Guitar on Check Your Head: The Art of Playing Exactly Enough

    One of the easiest ways to misunderstand Adam “Ad-Rock” Horovitz’s guitar playing on Check Your Head is to judge it by the standards normally applied to rock guitarists.

    There are no Eddie Van Halen moments. No long solos. No attempt to prove that Horovitz had spent the previous five years practicing scales. In fact, much of what makes his playing so effective is the opposite. Notes are clipped short. Chords arrive as sudden bursts. Wah-wah lines appear for a few seconds and disappear. Some parts sound crude, slightly sour or almost out of tune. Sometimes the guitar seems less like a guitar than another piece of percussion.

    That is precisely why it works.

    On Check Your Head, Ad-Rock figured out something that far more technically accomplished guitarists never do: the best guitar part is not necessarily the most impressive part. It is the part the song needs.

    And because the Beastie Boys approached playing instruments with the ears of hip-hop producers, Horovitz often seemed to treat his guitar almost like a sample.

    Play the interesting two seconds. Then get out of the way.

    The Guitar as a Sample

    That may be the central idea behind Ad-Rock’s playing on Check Your Head.

    The Beasties had just spent years immersed in the microscopic construction of Paul’s Boutique. They knew how powerful a tiny fragment of music could be. A horn hit did not need to develop into a horn solo. A drum break did not need to become an entire song. Sometimes two seconds were enough.

    When the group began playing instruments again in Los Angeles, that philosophy did not disappear simply because the sounds were now coming from guitars, basses, drums and keyboards.

    Horovitz has specifically named James Brown records, funk, reggae, the Slits, Gang of Four, ESG and the Clash among the music that fed this period. Rather than merely returning to the hardcore punk of the early Beastie Boys, they were trying to play the grooves they had been collecting on records.

    Mike D later described part of the Check Your Head idea as essentially making music out of the great break sections of records. That philosophy explains Ad-Rock’s guitar surprisingly well.

    He was not always thinking like a conventional rhythm guitarist.

    He was thinking like somebody searching for a break.

    What Is a Guitar Stab?

    Listen carefully to funk records and you will constantly hear what musicians call guitar stabs.

    A stab is exactly what the word suggests: a short, sharp burst of guitar.

    Instead of strumming a chord and allowing it to ring…

    CHAAAAANG…

    …the guitarist hits it and immediately stops it.

    CHAK.

    The fretting hand can release pressure almost immediately after the chord is struck, cutting off the notes. The result is a staccato sound that functions almost as much as percussion as harmony.

    In funk, these little chord explosions can be placed between bass notes and drum hits. A guitar that might clutter the arrangement if it played continuously suddenly becomes another rhythmic instrument.

    Jimmy Nolen perfected this approach while playing with James Brown. His famous “chicken scratch” technique combined muted strings, short chords and precise sixteenth-note rhythms. Premier Guitar describes Nolen’s playing as foundational to funk guitar and emphasizes how the guitar became a percussive instrument, alternating scratches with clipped chord stabs.

    That is an important ancestor of what happens on Check Your Head.

    Not because Ad-Rock was trying to impersonate Jimmy Nolen note for note. He wasn’t.

    But because he understood the same fundamental principle:

    A guitar does not have to fill space. It can create space.

    Andy Gill May Be Even More Important

    If James Brown supplies one side of Ad-Rock’s guitar vocabulary, Gang of Four supplies another.

    This connection is particularly strong because Horovitz himself identified Gang of Four as an influence during the Check Your Head period.

    Gang of Four guitarist Andy Gill deliberately rejected conventional rock guitar. His parts were clipped, angular and repetitive, with silence surrounding individual attacks. Gill described the band’s guitar approach as “very staccato, very stripped down, very repetitive, loop-based.”

    Read that description again and think about Check Your Head.

    Staccato.
    Stripped down.
    Repetitive.
    Loop-based.

    That could almost describe the philosophy of Ad-Rock’s guitar playing on parts of the album.

    The comparison is especially useful because Gill was not trying to sound like a traditional funk guitarist either. He took funk’s rhythmic ideas and ran them through punk: sharper, uglier, more confrontational.

    Ad-Rock was operating somewhere in the same territory.

    His guitar could groove without becoming polished funk. It could be punk without simply becoming three distorted power chords. And because it was surrounded by MCA’s bass, Mike D’s drums and Money Mark’s keyboards, Horovitz often had no reason to play anything more.

    The Slits: Another Clue

    Horovitz also specifically cited the Slits’ Cut as important. That reference tells us something else about his guitar philosophy.

    Slits guitarist Viv Albertine has explained that her playing was deeply influenced by reggae. She described using very short, thin, offbeat rhythmic guitar stabs, and has specifically cited Steve Cropper of Booker T. & the M.G.’s as another model for that economical approach.

    Even more revealing is Albertine’s philosophy about technique. She has said that she never wanted guitar breaks to become displays of virtuosity. They had to be necessary to the song.

    That could almost be Ad-Rock’s mission statement on Check Your Head.

    The connection does not mean Horovitz copied Albertine. It means the Beasties were listening to musicians who had already rejected the assumption that becoming a “better” guitarist meant playing more notes.

    Sometimes becoming better meant learning which notes not to play.

    What Does a Wah-Wah Pedal Actually Do?

    Then there is the wah.

    The wah-wah pedal is one of the defining sounds of funk guitar. Instead of simply making a guitar louder or more distorted, the pedal changes which frequencies are emphasized.

    The guitarist rocks the pedal forward and backward with his foot. As the frequency emphasis moves through the guitar’s sound, the instrument develops a vocal quality:

    wah… wah… wah…

    Heel down generally produces a darker sound. Rocking forward emphasizes brighter frequencies. Move it rhythmically while playing and an ordinary guitar line begins almost to speak.

    The first commercially available wah pedals appeared in the 1960s. Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton helped establish the sound in rock, while funk and soul musicians transformed wah into a rhythmic device. Dunlop, which later became the manufacturer most closely associated with the Cry Baby wah, describes the effect in terms of its vocal-like and expressive frequency sweep.

    Ad-Rock eventually used a Dunlop Cry Baby live, although I have not found sufficiently reliable documentation establishing the exact model of wah pedal used during the Check Your Head recording sessions. The sound itself, however, is unmistakably part of his vocabulary.

    And nowhere is his understanding of it clearer than “Gratitude.”

    “Gratitude”: Two Notes Are Enough

    “Gratitude” should be studied by anyone trying to understand Ad-Rock as a guitarist.

    MCA’s enormous fuzz bass is the foundation. Mike D supplies the groove. Money Mark provides organ. Ad-Rock sings.

    And when the guitar gets its moment?

    Horovitz basically plays a two-note solo.

    Two notes.

    A detailed track analysis of “Gratitude” describes exactly that: Ad-Rock plays an extremely simple two-note guitar figure, then works the wah pedal to give those notes their character. Afterward, the guitar drops out and Money Mark’s organ takes over.

    That decision tells you more about Horovitz’s musicianship than a thirty-second technical solo would have.

    The wah creates movement without requiring more notes.

    Instead of:

    Watch what I can play.

    the guitar says:

    Listen to what this song needs right here.

    Then it leaves.

    That is arrangement.

    “So What’Cha Want”: Dischordant in Exactly the Right Way

    And then there is “So What’Cha Want.”

    This may be the ultimate example of Ad-Rock’s anti-virtuoso guitar philosophy.

    The Beasties sound like they initially worked from Southside Movement’s “I’ve Been Watching You,” but ultimately recreated much of the groove themselves. A recent breakdown of the multitrack describes an Ad-Rock overdub as a “nasty little guitar part” in which virtually everything comes from attitude rather than complexity. The guitar and bass are heavily overdriven, and at another point Horovitz produces an abrasive guitar squeal.

    That is exactly right.

    The guitar sounds wrong in all the right ways.

    It is distorted.

    It is crude.

    Its intonation can sound slightly sour and unstable.

    It seems to scrape against Money Mark’s swampy Hammond organ rather than neatly sitting on top of it.

    I would be cautious about writing that Ad-Rock’s guitar was definitively recorded literally “out of tune,” because I have not found a reliable primary source confirming that the instrument itself was intentionally detuned. But describing the part as out-of-tune-sounding captures something real about the record. Its roughness, bends, distortion and deliberately unpolished attack keep it from sounding clinically correct.

    And So What’Cha Want would almost certainly be worse if that guitar sounded perfect.

    Imagine replacing Ad-Rock with a session guitarist.

    Perfect tuning.

    Perfect intonation.

    Cleanly executed chords.

    Tasteful solo.

    It would destroy the song.

    “So What’Cha Want” needs something that sounds as if it might fall apart.

    Because the entire record is built around controlled instability: distorted karaoke microphones, filthy bass, overloaded sounds, Hammond organ, strange noises and three rappers almost fighting their way through the mix.

    A pristine guitar would be the wrong instrument for that world.

    Ad-Rock’s imperfect guitar belongs there.

    He Wasn’t Trying to Become a Guitar Hero

    The Beastie Boys were refreshingly aware of their limitations as instrumentalists.

    Horovitz later summarized their early return to playing instruments by saying that they initially “sucked really bad” but eventually discovered a way to play that worked for them.

    That last part matters. They did not need to become another band.

    Mike D did not have to become Neil Peart. MCA did not have to become Jaco Pastorius. And Ad-Rock did not have to become Jimmy Page.

    They had spent years developing extraordinary ears through hip-hop. They understood grooves. They understood breaks. They understood texture. They understood how one strange sound could transform a record.

    So instead of approaching guitar with the question: What should a guitarist play here?

    Ad-Rock seems to have approached it with a producer’s question: What sound is missing?

    Sometimes the answer was a wah-wah scratch.

    Sometimes it was a chord stab.

    Sometimes it was feedback.

    Sometimes it was two notes.

    And sometimes it was nothing.

    The Possible Guitar Family Tree

    If we draw a stylistic family tree around Ad-Rock’s Check Your Head guitar playing, several names make particular sense.

    Jimmy Nolen and the James Brown guitarists provide the clipped, percussive funk vocabulary. Steve Cropper represents the economy of soul guitar, where a tiny rhythmic figure can define an entire recording. Viv Albertine and the Slits show how reggae guitar could be filtered through punk and deliberately primitive musicianship. Andy Gill shows how funk rhythms could become angular, abrasive and almost anti-rock. Mick Jones and Joe Strummer represent the larger Clash philosophy that the Beasties themselves admired: punk musicians did not have to remain trapped inside a single genre.

    The important distinction is that not every one of those players can be documented as a direct personal guitar influence on Horovitz. James Brown, the Slits, Gang of Four and the Clash can be tied directly to music Horovitz has identified as important. Jimmy Nolen, Cropper and the individual guitarists provide the musical lineage behind those sounds.

    And that lineage leads straight toward the strangely economical guitar playing heard throughout Check Your Head.

    The Genius Is in What He Doesn’t Play

    There is a beautiful irony here.

    On the album where the Beastie Boys proved they could play instruments again, Ad-Rock’s greatest achievement may have been refusing to make the guitar the center of attention.

    He allows MCA’s bass to dominate “Gratitude.” He allows Money Mark’s organ to dominate huge portions of the record. He allows Mike D’s drums to define the pocket.

    The guitar darts around those instruments. Hit. Silence. Wah. Silence. Scratch. Silence. Ugly little squeal. Gone.

    And perhaps that is why Ad-Rock’s playing has aged so well.

    Virtuosity can date a record because virtuosity often belongs to a particular era’s idea of what impressive playing should sound like.

    A great groove does not.

    A perfectly placed sound does not.

    Thirty-plus years later, nobody listens to “So What’Cha Want” and wishes Ad-Rock had played twelve more notes.

    The quirky little guitar part is already exactly right.

    And that may be the highest compliment you can give a guitarist.

  • The Philosopher Inside His Brain Hotel: MCA’s Greatest Lines on Check Your Head

    The Philosopher Inside His Brain Hotel: MCA’s Greatest Lines on Check Your Head

    Adam Yauch could make a joke sound like wisdom and wisdom sound like something overheard on a Brooklyn sidewalk.

    On “Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun,” MCA briefly interrupts the stolen-car action and violent movie imagery to observe that life arrives in phases and has to be accepted with both its good and its bad. Then, on Check Your Head, he describes himself as a cucumber remaining cool while submerged in hot sauce.

    Those lines may appear to come from two different writers. One sounds like a proverb. The other sounds like a cartoon. Together, they reveal exactly what made MCA such an unforgettable lyricist. Adam Yauch could compress a way of living into one plain sentence, then invent an absurd image that no one else would have thought of. He was the wise man and the wise guy at the same time.

    That combination is all over Check Your Head.

    An accuracy note is important here. The album’s songs generally carry shared writing credits rather than credits for individual verses. The official Beastie Boys discography presents Check Your Head as a deeply collaborative record, and the published credits do not establish who put each word on paper. So “MCA’s lyrics” is used here to mean the lines MCA performs and makes his own. Without a direct account from the group, it would be too strong to claim that Yauch alone authored every one of them.

    “Pass the Mic”: The Inner Life Becomes Physical

    MCA opens “Pass the Mic” with one of the best short statements of his approach to rapping. Music is not merely something the listener hears. It is something the body recognizes. What is inside his mind appears in his walk, and what he truly feels becomes audible in the way he speaks.

    That is unusually revealing for an opening boast. Another MC might begin by announcing his superiority. MCA begins by describing authenticity. His premise is that the voice, body and mind cannot finally be separated. If the feeling is real, it will show.

    Later, when the microphone formally reaches him, he says he finds the groove by letting go. That is the quiet paradox at the center of the verse. He is displaying control while explaining that the groove comes from surrender. He then asks the listener to suspend worry and find the rhythm already present in the soul. A routine built around three rappers exchanging the microphone becomes, in MCA’s hands, a small philosophy of music.

    The band’s official discography remembers Yauch standing in the middle of G-Son “directing traffic” while the group tried to combine playing, sampling, programming, scratching and MCing. It describes the territory as uncharted and Yauch as consumed by experimentation. “Pass the Mic” sounds like that scene. MCA is both directing the music and allowing it to tell him where to go.

    “So What’cha Want”: The Cliché That Falls Into the Hot Sauce

    The cucumber line is funny before anyone has time to analyze it. That is part of its perfection.

    MCA begins with one of the most familiar expressions in the language: cool as a cucumber. Then he refuses to leave it alone. He drops the cucumber into a bowl of hot sauce, turning an exhausted cliché into a test of composure. Now the coolness means something. Anyone can remain a cucumber in the refrigerator. MCA remains one in hostile conditions.

    The image is ridiculous, concrete and instantly visible. Its vocabulary could hardly be simpler, but its construction is exact. The repeated hard consonants give it snap. The temperature contrast gives it logic. The food gives it humor. His unhurried baritone supplies the confidence. It is a battle-rap boast disguised as something that might appear on a strange lunch menu.

    There is another revealing MCA turn in “So What’cha Want.” He suggests that his antagonist does not understand what he is talking about, then says he has spent enough time driving and is ready to walk. Wired singled out that moment as evidence of a change taking place in Yauch during Check Your Head.

    It is possible to hear the thought simply as another loose rhyme. It is also possible to hear a deeper restlessness in it: less interest in speeding past the world, more desire to move through it under his own power and notice where he is. MCA slips that possibility into one of the album’s hardest songs without slowing the song down or announcing that he has something profound to say.

    That was one of his gifts. The thought arrives before the sermon can.

    “Stand Together”: MCA Begins to Say Who He Is Becoming

    “Stand Together” is the clearest statement of the emerging MCA on Check Your Head. Pitchfork’s Mark Richardson called it a continuation of “A Year and a Day” and part of a recurring series of “State of MCA” dispatches.

    Yauch begins by acknowledging that he no longer sees the world as he once did. He has only himself to be faithful to, yet he also admits that he does not always know what he is doing. That uncertainty does not weaken the verse. It makes it credible. He is not presenting himself as an enlightened teacher. He is documenting the work of becoming honest.

    The song moves between self-knowledge and obligation. MCA considers where he has been, where he is going and how he treats friends and family. The chorus then turns an individual examination into a collective demand. Looking inward is not an escape from other people. It is preparation for standing beside them.

    This is why the song matters in the Beastie Boys’ larger history. The moral growth commonly associated with Yauch did not suddenly appear, fully formed, on Ill Communication. It is already audible here. “Stand Together” catches him in transition: still forceful, still playful, but increasingly unwilling to confuse hardness with wisdom.

    “Professor Booty”: A Bass Player’s Brag

    In its original list of the decade’s best albums, Pitchfork described MCA’s performance on “Professor Booty” as arguably the Beastie Boys’ best rap. That is a large claim, but the verse explains why someone would make it.

    MCA moves through it with the confidence of a musician who knows exactly where the beat sits. His comparison to Grady Tate is especially revealing. Tate was a highly respected jazz and soul-jazz drummer known for playing with precision, restraint and deep rhythmic command. MCA is not merely dropping the name of an obscure musician to prove that he owns records. As the Beastie Boys’ bassist, he is using one musician’s idea of excellence to describe another: being settled inside the groove, precise without sounding stiff.

    Then the verse swerves from jazz history to Shasta soda, from technical command to a joke, and finally to thanking the people merely for arriving. Record-bin knowledge and convenience-store culture occupy the same few seconds. Nothing is treated as too important to be funny or too silly to be useful.

    That range was MCA’s natural habitat.

    “Namasté”: The Search Before the Destination

    The final track contains almost none of the familiar mechanics of a Beastie Boys rap song. MCA does not trade bars with Mike D and Ad-Rock. He murmurs a psychedelic spoken-word meditation over an instrumental drift.

    The writing moves through a butterfly, fading reality, memory, time, fear, shadow and light. Images dissolve into ideas and then become images again. Instead of winning a contest, the speaker risks losing his sense of self. The loudest personality in the room has become an observer at the edge of something he cannot quite explain.

    It is tempting to read “Namasté” as a fully developed announcement of the Tibetan Buddhist commitments that later defined Yauch’s public life. The chronology calls for more care. In a 1994 interview with Tricycle, Yauch said that his focused interest in Buddhism was recent and had deepened after his second visit to Nepal, roughly a year and a half earlier. Check Your Head was released in April 1992.

    “Namasté,” then, is more interesting as evidence of the search before the destination. Yauch’s spiritual antenna was already up. He was reading the signals, experimenting with language and allowing uncertainty into the music. The song does not prove that he had arrived at a settled philosophy. It shows that he had begun asking different questions.

    Why Were MCA’s Lines So Consistently Great?

    First, Yauch thought in pictures. A phase of life, a walk replacing a drive, a cucumber surrounded by hot sauce, a butterfly carried on air: his ideas arrive as things the listener can see or feel. Even his philosophy has weight, temperature and motion.

    Second, he understood compression. MCA rarely needed elaborate vocabulary to sound intelligent. He could reduce a large thought to a sentence that felt as though it had always existed. That is much harder than sounding complicated. His best lines do not ask the audience to admire the writing. They enter the listener’s memory and begin living there.

    Third, he wrote and rapped like a bass player. He knew that the right phrase did not have to occupy every available space. His low, weathered voice landed beneath Mike D’s dryness and Ad-Rock’s sharp nasal attack like a foundation. The delivery was part of the composition. A line that might look almost ordinary on paper became permanent when Yauch leaned into it.

    Fourth, he was endlessly curious. Jazz drummers, street language, food, film, philosophy, electronics and distant spiritual traditions could all enter the same imagination. The references were not merely decorations. They reveal a person testing connections between things that other people kept in separate rooms.

    Finally, MCA allowed himself to change without pretending that his former self had never existed. That may be the deepest source of his consistency. The great lines keep coming because the person making them keeps moving. He can offer a piece of hard-earned perspective, make a hot-sauce joke, question his direction and stare into eternity without ceasing to sound like MCA.

    Ad-Rock later told The New Yorker that Yauch had fantastic ideas and was right almost all the time. That judgment applies to more than reversed drumbeats, videos or benefit concerts. Yauch possessed the rare instinct to see the angle that everyone else had missed. In his lyrics, that angle might be a single extra detail that revives a cliché, or a moment of doubt that turns a boast into self-examination.

    The secret is that MCA never chose between being the wise man and the wise guy. On Check Your Head, they become the same person. He can face the hot sauce without losing his cool, and he can look toward eternity without losing the beat.

    Few MCs made growth sound so natural. Fewer made it this much fun.