Music Mondays: Four dollar love

Sometimes falling in love is unexpected, sometimes it comes from a brief meeting and sometimes it’s a combination of the two mixed together in a crusty cardboard box nestled between a few other crusting cardboard boxes. 

Tucked away halfway down South Tulane Street, Princeton, N.J., lies Princeton Record Exchange, a godsend for the frugal and ambitious music collector. (Sorry, Richmond.)

I don’t recall how I heard about it, but as soon as I walked in the door, I was greeted with the prerequisite for any good record store: no empty wall space. 

The carpet was funky and the posters were colorful. Warm lighting illuminated rows upon rows of CDs and records. The walls were covered in CDs—everywhere I looked: CDs. Boxes of used arrivals were directly ahead. To the left was the opposite: unopened arrivals. 

During my first visit, I made the financially irresponsible decision to exclusively look through this pristinely organized section to the left. Here, I encountered standard record store prices. On subsequent visits, however, I took the few-step journey toward the back of the store. 

Here were the new used CDs, and the corresponding walls were labeled with anything from “cheap personalities” to “industrial music for industrial people.” And let me tell you, Princeton Record Exchange means cheap. CDs usually sell for one to four dollars. 

Along these walls and within those boxes, I have constructed my CD collection. 

As I expect is the case with many collectors, I spend most of my time searching for albums I am already well acquainted with. Though every once and while, I’ll see an album I'm ever so slightly aware of. Adding one of these to the collection is always a gamble. Sometimes you buy crap, but sometimes you buy gold. 

This past summer, I was deep sifting through the boxes of freshly arrived CDs when I stumbled upon Phrenology by The Roots. I only knew that this album (and The Roots for that matter) existed because of one track my father recommended to me months prior. 

That track, “The Seed (2.0),” was good, really good, and that album art was striking, so I bought the whole album. I popped it into the CD player of my “skrunkly,” year 2000 Toyota Avalon. When I got home, I put it in a Discman. Once it finished, I pressed play again. 

But "Phrenology" is strange. 

To follow up their critically acclaimed breakthrough album, "Things Fall Apart," The Roots released something completely unlike it. While other artists would have been tempted to emulate the sound of success, The Roots did not. 

At a time when conscious hip-hop with strong jazz influence was breaking from the realm of the underground into the mainstream, The Roots departed from the very sound that they helped develop. 

The group’s fifth studio album is a strong sonic departure from its previous albums. It is an album of dichotomies; it is all over the place, yet wholly cohesive. Unlike "Things Fall Apart," which is consistent alternative hip-hop, "Phrenology" is experimental. 

Nothing exemplifies this more than the transition from tracks 10 to 11. 

The tenth track, “Water,” is (on streaming services) over ten-minutes long. What starts off as a standard, melodic Roots track divulges into what can only be described as “skrimblo-music.” Do not ask me to qualify that, it’s just how it sounds. Listen to the track and you will see what I mean; I can assure you of that. 

The closest comparison I can give is that it's like “Endless, Nameless,” if it was made by the Roots instead of Nirvana (screaming included). As quickly as this enigmatic intermission begins, the chaotic noise-hop gives way to “Quills.”

Regardless, this is still The Roots. What other group would be able to perfectly transition a 24 second long, pseudo-hardcore song called “!!!!!!!” to one that is nearly full-on pop? 

Black Thought’s delivery is smooth and deliberate. The lyrics are pointed, dense and insightful. I would argue this album displays some of Questlove’s best drumming. I don’t often remember drum parts after listening to a song. On "Phrenology," the beats and lyrics can be the most memorable. 

As I listen back to "Phrenology," the album feels strangely contemporary, almost like a love letter to music released just after the turn of the century. There is nothing like a Nelly feature and two bonus tracks to remind you that you’re listening to something from the early 2000s. (I say as if I was even alive then.)

But what do I know? I’m no music critic. I know what I like and "Phrenology" checks all my boxes. 

All this to say, if you ever find yourself in a record shop with a bit of spare change in your pocket, I hope you’ll take a chance on an album and an artist. They may even end up on your Spotify Wrapped.

Contact opinions and columns editor Jonathan Sackett at jonathan.sackett@richmond.edu