DJ Danger Mouse explores the Grey area

For hip-hop fans and aficionados, last Tuesday was a grey day.

This is not referring to the bloated cloud formation that lingered over Somerville, but rather to the Internet protest of the prohibition of DJ Danger Mouse's controversial "Grey Album" -- a remix of vocals from Jay-Z's "Black Album" using only samples from the Beatles' "White Album."

The controversial album was taken off the market before it hit record stores because EMI, the company that controls the copyright to the "White Album," accused it of violating copyright infringement because it used remixes of Beatles' songs.

But the "Grey Album" has received an unprecedented amount of support from the hip-hop community, and on Tuesday, Feb. 17, approximately 170 web sites banded together in what they referred to as an act of civil disobedience and released the album on the Internet, free of charge.

According to Greytuesday.com, over 100,000 people downloaded the album. EMI sent a cease and desist order to the web sites, but the protest continued.

So, what's the big deal? Well, unlike other recent over-hyped releases such as Dizzee Rascal's debut "Boy In Da Corner," the "Grey Album" is astonishingly good.

Both previous albums (Black and White) are about endings. In 1968, when EMI released the "White Album," the Beatles were riding a rocky road.

The once great songwriting team of Lennon/McCartney had diminished into two bitter rivals -- one a junkie, the other a wuss. Gone were the days of screaming girls (the Beatles had stopped touring two years prior) and gentle British harmonies, and because of all this, the "White Album" is charged with emotion.

Lennon's songs have the feel of a man at his end. Struggling with addiction and trying to put the past behind him, he cranks up the distortion and tears things up.

At the same time, McCartney, watching his former collaborator destroy himself and witnessing the demise of his band, cranks out some beautifully tender melodies on songs like "Dear Prudence" and "Blackbird."

Perhaps surprisingly, Jay Z's "Black Album" expresses a similar sentiment. Billed as his retirement record, the Jigga-man's last dash of booty-shakin' lyrical wordplay before fading into the hip-hop abyss known as middle age, the "Black Album" has a certain finality to it that mimics the disposition of the late Beatles.

Of course, one might point out that the "White Album" was not the last, or even the penultimate Beatles record, but does any really expect that the "Black Album" will be Jay-Z's?

Of course, none of this would mean anything in the hands of a novice, but Danger Mouse masterfully fuses the two records. He uses the Beatles' music to underscore the dark motifs it shares with the "Black Album." The main problem with the "Black Album" on its own is that although the lyrics are razor sharp and their delivery is biting, the production is kind of lame.

Unlike Jay-Z's early masterpieces like "Reasonable Doubt" and the first "Blueprint," the "Black Album" is filled with cheesy MIDI sounds, wanna-be string arrangements, and wussy beats.

The music from the "White Album" is a much more suitable companion to Jay-Z's flow and accompanying lyrics. George Harrison's crunching electric guitar, for example, lends a kick to lines like, "I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one."

Simply put, the sound is bad-ass.

If the "White Album" documents the breakup of the Beatles, the "Black Album" is about Jay-Z's breakup with hip-hop. Breakups of any kind, as we all know, tend to become avenues for brutal honesty, and these records are no exception.

In the song "Moment of Clarity," Jay-Z tells us that, "I dumbed-down for my audience to double my dollar/ they criticized me but they all yell holla/ if skills sold/ truth be told/ I'd probably be/ lyrically, Talib Kweli."

Although this line contains all the cockiness of previous Jay-Z lyrics, it is also an incredibly truthful statement about a man who has sacrificed his art for his career and has absolutely no shame about it.

Still, underneath the cockiness, the line carries a hint of sadness. It is as if Jay-Z needs to reassure both himself and his audience that the career choices he made were the right ones.

The subtlety of this statement is lost on the "Black Album" in a sea of annoying strings, but on the "Grey Album," Danger Mouse accents Jay-Z's slightly bitter farewell song with the dark, almost brooding, distorted guitar sounds of John Lennon's "Happiness is a Warm Gun." It works perfectly.

Aside from the fact that the album is really good, it is also nice to see an artist like Danger Mouse pushing himself to create something so original, and, in turn, pushing the boundaries of what one can do with hip-hop.

Danger Mouse himself seems reluctant to take on the role of visionary, claiming that he only made the record out of a mutual love of Jay-Z and the Beatles.

Still, the record marks a new point in the way that we might think about the creative possibilities of pastiche. Unfortunately, and perhaps ironically, unlike his heroes, Danger Mouse won't see a dollar from his work. But hey, maybe that's the sign of a true artist.