Texture Vocals

Music is uniquely woven into the texture of our culture, holding the memory of our lived experience. Ad-libs hold those happy, more positive memories that flow freely through our minds when activated.

One thing about Black people is that we love to romanticize a life lived freely, and we do so most often through music. We live through the lyrics of our favorite songs, and the words bring hope to our reality. Lately, Nick and I have been talking about music as a texture, more specifically, how ad-libs in music add a layered texture threaded together like a huge tapestry. In the studio, engineers call vibey ad-libs texture vocals, fascinating how things just come together when you align in a natural flow.

If freedom had a texture, what would it feel like? - Jacquie Verbal

Jacquie’s quote above led me on a deep dive into textures. First, defining what freedom meant for me. Echoing Nina Simone's plight, Freedom meant no fear. To take it a step further, freedom isn’t structureless; it’s free of institutional obligations. Freedom, to me, is free flowing like liquid. With that in mind, the literal texture I’d identify with freedom would be Muslin or Calico, a unbleached, often not fully processed cotton. It’s soft and breathable, and it reminds me of childhood. How do we, as adults, find ways to return to ourselves by rediscovering what brought us joy and freedom as kids? Unbleached and untainted with outside opinions or capitalistic rule.

Music weaves into our lives similarly. You know how music can be tied to your cherished memories. Like family reunions in public parks blasting Cutie Pie by One Way, or that handful of families that refuse to let go of Step In The Name of Love by R. Kelly. Now think of a person who smells like mothballs and leather bibles, and how many times did she tell you that you were her favorite grandbaby? It’s the little things that can trigger and settle in our brains long-term. For example, hearing Remind Me by Patrice Rushen reminds me of BBQ smoke and the MLK parade that would pass in front of my parents’ home in Lafayette. It's my soundtrack to family and fellowship, if that makes sense. Something about the first 10 seconds of that song reminds me of springtime in Louisiana. Every instrument matters, just as the thread count of high-quality bed sheets.

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Impov!

By definition, an ad lib is speech as improvisation; the case can be made that, like jazz, hip hop is an art form of improvisation. This is why we can’t let freestying fade away, but that’s a post for another time. For example, you gotta look at ad-libs as texture elements. If the canvas is the beat, and the paint strokes are the verses, then the ad-libs are the thick layers of paint to add texture. Think of Public Enemy. The balance of Chuck D’s aggression and Flavor Favs’ boisterous two cents after each of Chuck’s lines.

(Chuck D) Elvis was a hero to most
But he never meant s- to me you see
Straight up racist that sucker was
Simple and plain

(Flavor Fav) Mother fuck him and John Wayne! - Fight the Power, 1990

My point is that nothing about ad-lips is by chance. They’re quintessential to each song. They’re the thread holding each of our favorite songs to our memories. Let’s walk through it by region:

Memphis

Grunts and indistinguishable noises are the needed exclamation mark to get the bar across. Memphis artists have a talent for ad-libs, particularly from Three 6 Mafia to Duke Deuce. Take Juicy J, for example. His in-between phrases don’t charge you up? I’m thinking of this song particularly.

The moment I hear, “UHH-HUHH” in Young Dolph’s voice, based on the beat following, I know which song is playing next, and immediately my mood shifts. Ad-libs are opportunities woven in, allowing everyone the chance to cosplay as lead singer, depending on how you look at it. There’s a special style of artistry that texturizes a song so well you don’t know if you want to see the verse or the ad-libs, and the way they are layered in, you find yourself singing both in full performance mode.

Some artists just know how to curse skillfully, and Dolph was one of those artists. I love how sometimes he would rap in all caps out of nowhere:

“Pointers on me hittin’, leave a bitch DIZZY”

LA & The Bay

They are also used as warnings, particularly on gangsta records. When ‘Pac yelled WESTSIDE, he was claiming his territory. It was a line in the sand as he walked into a building.

And as an Oakland resident, that line drawn in the sand is redrawn by the culture from the Bay Area all the way to LA. I knew I was home when “BITCH” was all I heard from the club downstairs one night as the DJ stopped the track after the famous Too $hort line, “What’s my favorite word?” The way everyone in that club screamed the ad-lib almost brought a tear to my eye as I smiled from ear to ear. I grew up on the East Coast, and knowing how this song impacted me across the country was refreshing to witness; even in the home of this man, his impact had the same chilling effect.

That’s the power of an ad-lib. Its texture is so warm, rich, and grounding that the added elements are like the square patch on the quilt your great-grandma made for your baby blanket. The significance of that patch meant something; it told a story for you to carry with you in life. Music does this sometimes with a simple two-second ad-lib that can connect an entire culture.

Atlanta

It doesn’t matter if I’m sad, mad, happy, or depressed; the moment I hear that classic “GUCCI” or “BURRR,” my lips begin to press together, spreading wide from ear to ear, cracking a smile. Gucci Mane’s music has ad-libs woven in each line; they act as the hype man, they turn the lyrics into a conversation.

Ad-libs tell the story, laying the message, weaving the vibes in with every stitch. They are unique to the artist; not all ad-libs are cut from the same fabric.

New York

From Jadakiss to DMX, can you be certified in NY as a rapper without a catchy ad-lib? I don’t care how obnoxious it was at its peak, but I bet you let off a Hahhhnnnnnn when French Montana dropped “Ain’t Worried About Nothing”. It’s not an ad-lib, but there’s something about how you can hear Method Man sucking saliva in the back of his mouth during “Bring the Pain” that’s so hip hop to me, yes, I’m using hip hop as an adjective. Those moments within the audio are like fine patchwork, often overlooked but highly respected by other craftsmen.

Louisiana

Where do I even start? From the No Limit Tank to the Cash Money Army, Louisiana’s culture and music are woven into the DNA of pop culture. I want to note that, even though OutKast introduced the term first as an ode to White Owl cigarillos in ‘94, Master P and TRU presented Hooty Hoo as a “code for the killas,” a signal to alert the dope boys to the authorities’ intrusion on their block. P’s Huuuuuhhnnnnn was his signature tag in no time.

Two words on B.G.’s fourth studio album catapulted a teenage Lil Wayne into stardom and are now the go-to terminology to describe how diamond-encrusted jewelry shines. Then there’s Birdman, and his pigeon impressions all over his songs in the early 2000s.

Texas

If you've ever been 3 drinks in and suddenly had the urge to freestyle, this is for you. My first words were probably Maynnnnne or Hol’ Up because of DJ Screw’s influence. From Mike Jones playing on his anonymity to Meg Thee Stallion’s sneaking in “Ehh” as taglines before or ending each of her songs, ad-libs from Texas artists remind us of the seal they’ve left in hip-hop.

Every Stitch Counts

One of my best friends and fellow music nerds called me a few weeks before his birthday to share with me his celebration plans. He challenged all of his friends to select 3 songs that reminded them of him. As soon as we hung up, I had 4 songs locked and loaded. One of those songs is from the late Rich Homie Quan. Early on in our friendship, he introduced me to Some Type of Way, months before our local radio stations caught wind of it. He sold me Rich Homie by his silly-ass Ad-libs first, then his chopped, pre-Migos flow. There’s a video floating around the internet of that moment he played it for me back when Instagram could barely host video content. To this day, hearing the song reminds me of how we’d randomly yell DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT around campus. That recommendation created a core memory and congealed our relationship.

What about you? What are your favorite ab-libs, and how do they tie into your cherished memories and day ones? I couldn’t leave you without a playlist of some of the songs mentioned above, a well as some of the most notable ab-libs from our best-loved artist.

When Nick shared his response to the prompt describing freedom as the texture being liquid, I immediately thought of a natural flow. Freedom feels like a sea of water to me, if I look at it from Nick’s definition.

Any artist will tell you the best verses, hooks, and ad-libs come when they just let it flow. Those are usually the ones that have the lasting impression running freeing through our minds, triggered by activating words signaling the ad-lib, as the sea water swiftly washes ashore.

Should I add more texture to this layered quilt, the memory of our favorite ad-libs are represented by a blue thread to symbolize the sea’s free flow. The thread stitches cultural preservation one square at a time, making every stitch count.

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This is a special edition Blackstack newsletter brought to you by Nick Pierre. A few months ago I asked Nick to do a music column for Blackstack because well as Black people we need our music. Nick’s publication is such a vibe with the playlists for every written post, so I was very excited that he said yes!

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