On the origins of music: what it means To sample, remix, and remake
By: Abena Oppon
The process of creating music is far from linear, and rarely involves purely original creations. The Western popular music canon ever compounds upon itself, and the lifespan of a song is broader than from its inception to its release. The constituent parts of a song can exist a long time before it becomes itself, whether it be chord progressions in Rivers Cuomo’s Google Sheets, or a stray tweet by Ezra Koenig. During production, songs can change hands, and despite remaining the same on paper, they become different entities.
Even release does not mark the end of a song’s lifespan. Nowadays artists tend to ‘patch’ their songs soon after release due to legal issues, calls to remove certain content, or simply because the song is poorly received. The frequency at which Eurovision entries are ‘revamped’ because Eurofans dislike it is comical. The meaning of a song - its literal message, social connotations, and cultural meaning - can change for several reasons. Songs get covered. Songs get sampled and interpolated. Songs can become memed to death and lose all meaning aside from being shorthand for a joke. Songs can be re-released or experience a sudden resurgence because of current events. Despite being 10 years old and largely insignificant (I say this with a deep affection for it), Tom Odell’s ‘Another Love’ is 13th in the UK’s Official Singles Charts at the time of writing, due to its use as a protest song on TikTok by Iranian Women. Kate Bush couldn’t have known that ‘Running Up That Hill’ would be used in millions of TikToks and covered by dozens of artists. When a song is released, nobody can tell what will be made of it.
‘Vermont II’, ‘Vermont’, and ‘Fear and Force’
New York-based Vagabon is an artist who has transparently displayed her iterative creative process. Her first EP, Persian Garden, a six-track work about the decline of a relationship, contains early versions of songs that made it onto her 2017 debut Infinite Worlds. Track three, ‘Vermont II’ (later entitled ‘Fear and Force’), and track five, ‘Vermont,’ are of particular interest. Vagabon’s voice rings out over a light guitar arpeggio on ‘Vermont II’ as she begs “Freddy,” a lover or a friend, to return to her despite their current happiness elsewhere. It is a gentle track, building only slightly and gliding even through the instrumental breakdown.
After briefly diverting to other topics she returns back to the central relationship on ‘Vermont.’ Harsh feedback introduces the song as the beat crescendos to its base level. In comparison to ‘II’, ‘Vermont’ feels accusatory and acerbic. Vagabon recounts the process in which Freddy decided to move back home; the repetition of “you” at the beginning of lines now are like an index finger stabbing Freddy in the chest. Like the subway and the unsavoury feelings that fester within her, this song is a bit repellent, with its profanity, distortion, and sloppy call-and-response instrumentation.
Although ‘Fear and Force’ is an obvious remake of ‘Vermont II’, arguably ‘Vermont II’ could be read as a radical remake of ‘Vermont.’ Despite being the sequel, ‘II’ comes first, almost as if after airing her true feelings in the first version, she sat down, re-thought her words, and found the revised version more favourable. ‘II’ is neutered in comparison. The complex rhythms and compound time are flattened out into clean tones and 4/4.
‘Fear and Force’ is something of a ‘Vermont II (Reprise).’ Despite the negligible differences, it is a recontextualisation and development of the story. On it, the residual layers of desperation are buried underneath placid and minimalist production. The acoustic drums are replaced with sparse percussion, only returning for the improved breakdown. This section revives the richness found on ‘Vermont’ with a momentary wordless explosion before Vagabon straightens her tie and returns to her humble request: “Freddy, come back / I know you love Vermont / but I thought I had more time.” By remaking the same song and recycling the same themes, the trilogy of ‘Vermont II’, ‘Vermont’, and ‘Fear and Force’ creates an understated tale of miscommunication, and conveys the difficulty in finding the correct words time and time again.
The Common Truth of ‘Pastime Paradise’ and ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’
Many people do not know that the hook from the late Coolio’s 1995 smash-hit ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ is an interpolation. Stevie Wonder cleared the sample, from track 8 of Songs in the Key of Life, once Coolio promised to remove all profanity. ‘Pastime Paradise’ is unnerving, devoid of the familiar pleasantries one might expect from Stevie Wonder. The strings in the intro border on shrill, and the constant woodblock, panned right, is a ticking clock, counting the days that humanity has to fix its misdeeds.
‘Pastime Paradise’ mirrors itself in its structure: the choruses juxtapose opposing approaches to life, and as the verses advance and reformulate themselves, they seemingly reveal the key to world peace. The opening chorus uses the title as a metaphor for how nostalgia clouds both individual and societal progress. Living in the past is wasteful because, as the first verse shows, there are numerous societal ills in the present. The second chorus moves from critique to hope, telling of those who look forward to a future when humanity is relieved of suffering. As a call to action, the second verse unifies the list of issues from the first.
The third chorus is a combination of the previous two, comparing their ideologies and upholding those who “look to future paradise.” While pertaining to the song’s central message, this line also has heavy religious connotations. As a devout Baptist, Wonder takes pride in reflecting the doctrine in his work. The hopeful “let’s look to future paradise” could also be interpreted fatalistically when reading the “future paradise” as Heaven. There is a common Christian notion, sometimes adopted to alleviate current suffering, that the reward of ultimate happiness is only found after death (see the Beatitudes). In the face of centuries of system injustice, believing in and hoping for God’s deliverance is not at all surprising.Coolio and LV transform the forward-thinking ‘Pastime Paradise’ into a nihilistic and semi-apocalyptic epic. ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ asks Stevie Wonder to consider the difficulties of societal progress. While Wonder spectates and dictates what needs to happen, Coolio narrates the tale of someone stuck in the annals of such deprivation.
Despite being a universally-loved crowd pleaser, its bleakness is blatant. The third verse is particularly hopeless, echoing the sense of a ticking bomb from Wonder’s song. The need for change is clear, but the unwillingness to enact it leaves the vulnerable in stasis. The substitution of “been spending most of their lives’” to “we keep spending most our lives / living in a gangsta’s paradise” emphasises the cycle of gangster culture.
Coolio turns the lingering backing vocals from ‘Pastime Paradise’ into a fully-fledged gospel choir. The result is a sense of religious reckoning, on a sweeping scale that feels larger than the intimate original. The first line of the song is a direct reference to Psalm 23, which is about the ever-presence of God’s guidance. But while God the father assures King David (purported writer of the psalm) on his journey, Coolio’s gangster is abandoned even by his mother. There is nobody to deliver him from “the evils of the world.”
The blame for his suffering may be placed upon his own shoulders. There is a certain (false) stereotype that all injustices faced by black people are self-inflicted; you might hear about “black-on-black crime.” Although this stereotype is easily extrapolated to be applied to anything, the post-chorus encapsulates this talking point, asserting that people (i.e., the nameless Gangster) are blind to the negative effects of their actions on those around them. closeness of the consequences of their own actions.
There is therefore an underlying ironic level of respectability running through both songs. In the face of the plight on display in ‘Gangsta’s Paradise,’ the broad generalisations in ‘Pastime Paradise’ feel empty. Wonder’s demand that Coolio not swear, however, already sanitises the track and widens the appeal to, in the words of Soren Baker, “people who would normally be put off by a traditional, bone-crushing gangster rap song.” Black-on-black crime is self-cannibalisation; it is more dignified to blame the self than The Man. This enables the generic listener to hear the song without thinking or feeling social responsibility.
A song is not a thesis, and cannot be relied upon to educate. Implying an attempt to educate makes an assumption about Coolio’s intentions while creating the song. On the other hand, what is represented as true on this song is probably not. The fictional gangster has become more acknowledged and embraced than the real people that this simulacrum of a song represents. Now, as Coolio has passed before his time like so many famous black men, his magnum opus echoes the tragedy even he was unable to escape. The “future paradise” envisioned by Stevie Wonder has not yet come to pass.
The Long Journey to ‘Hold Up’
Beyoncé’s Lemonade was released in April 2016, but its origins lie more than a decade prior. The earlier mention of a “stray tweet” manifests itself in the song ‘Hold Up’: in 2011, Vampire Weekend frontman Ezra Koenig tweeted: “hold up… they don’t love u like i love u.”This is a reference to the 2003 song ‘Maps’ by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, having substituted the word “wait” for the titular “hold up. Rumoured to be an acronym for “My Angus, Please Stay,” lead singer Karen “O” Orzolek penned the indie hit about her boyfriend at the time, Angus Andrew of the band Liars. The hook of the song came from an email that Orzolek wrote to Andrew, feeling desperate about their long-distance relationship.
Set in a semi-empty high school gym, the music video for ‘Maps’ is forlorn. The band performs to a group of uninterested teenagers, and Orzolek devolves into tears - real tears, as Andrew arrived late to the shoot, which was the last time they were set to see one another for a while. Anchored around the thumping toms of the iconic drum loop, ‘Maps’ is sparse in texture and lyrics. The ride cymbal rattles and distorted guitars explode in with the chorus as Orzolek implores Andrew, referred to as “Maps,”to “wait.”Despite the despair their relationship instils, she waits for him, and asks him to do the same. After baring her soul, all she can do is ask over and over again.
After Lemonade was released, Koenig explained on Twitter how ‘Maps’ came to be the hook on ‘Hold Up’. A few years after his initial tweet, while in the studio, Koenig and a collaborator formulated it into a Vampire Weekend song. Then, in the studio with contributions from Beyoncé and many other writers, it became the final version. Lemonade is akin to a musical “revenge dress.” Like many songs on the album, ‘Hold Up’ is addressed to unfaithful husband Jay Z. The change from “wait” to “hold up,” “slow down,” “back up,” and “step down” feels less like a plea than a casual denigration that cuts him down to size. The reggae-inspired beat contributes to the jaunty and nonchalant atmosphere, as Beyoncé treats her strife with a coolness present only in the most PR-savvy. In flipping the tone of the emotive ‘Maps,’ she gains the upper hand.
Ever since the Lift Altercation of 2014 between Solange and Jay Z, Beyoncé’s marriage has been under scrutiny. Despite the facade of nonchalance, the interpolation of ‘Maps’ exposes her vulnerability: “don’t you know there’s no other man above you? / what a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you.” Her attempts to protect her pride are fruitless for a brief moment as she reveals her true feelings, hearkening back to the sadder tone of ‘Maps.’
The outro of ‘Hold Up’ also interpolates Soulja Boy’s braggadocious ringtone rap track ‘Turn My Swag On.’ As the song draws to a close, Beyoncé dons her facade once more, shutting off the honesty and choosing to protect her pride in a way that ultimately reads as immature and insincere. Even though ‘Hold Up’ (and its cathartically destructive music video) may appear to be a stereotypical example of how to both express your hurt and keep your dignity, both Karen O and Beyonce were failed by their partners. That sadness and sense of betrayal is what prevails.
‘Hold Up’ is an example of how intertextuality can enrich a piece of work. Music is constantly self-referential. An artist with no continuity in their discography will find it hard to build an audience, as the narrative surrounding an artist’s journey is often as interesting as the music itself. Lemonade, for example, was as much a slice of juicy gossip as it was musically refreshing. Sampling, remixing, and remaking pieces creates a discourse with the original work. Without acknowledging the past, there would be no way to trace the genealogy of genres. If works existed in a vacuum, there would be no incentive to engage with anything outside of it.
Epstein, D. “Coolio’s ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’: The Oral History of 1995’s Pop-Rap Smash.” Rolling Stone, August 7 2015. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/coolios-gangstas-paradise-the-oral-history-of-1995s-pop-rap-smash-50357/
Hyman, D. “How Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo Used Google Sheets to Make Ambitious New Album.” Rolling Stone, October 5, 2017. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/how-weezers-rivers-cuomo-used-google-sheets-to-make-ambitious-new-album-205947/
Koenig, E (@arzE). “hold up...they don't love u like i love u.” Twitter, October 22, 2011, https://twitter.com/arze/status/127520992565272576?