Sampling: a second life for an old song
By Paul Breschuk
Feature Writer
September 9, 2009
 As bleak as it sounds, a popular belief among musicians and theorists maintains that there are no original melodies left to be played.
It is easy to assume that after a few thousands of years of composition we have simply run out of unique note combinations. Considering that there are only 12 tonal options at a composer’s disposal, it is actually surprising that we haven’t been bored to death by serial repetition.
Certainly, ingenuity has played the biggest role in the evolution of music with each successive generation breathing new life into the art form. A musician like Charlie Parker did this in a literal sense, breathing a new sound called bebop through his alto sax. Though, changes can also occur solely through technological innovation.
With the advent of modern recording equipment came a new phenomenon emanating from Jamaica in the late 1960s. The name for this music, dub, derived itself from the French word adober (to re-arrange). True to its name, dub music was one of the first genres to use sampling as the primary means of expression.
Through sampling (the playing of previously recorded tape loops), dub artists such as King Tubby and Lee “Scratch” Perry rearranged music by removing the vocals to emphasize the rhythm section. Dub also featured the use of echo and reverb effects to further rework the original reggae samples. In this way, primitive studio technology met with highly creative minds to lay the groundwork for the eventual rise of hip-hop and techno.
This stripped-down, rhythm-heavy dub sound was quickly popularized as party music with MCs hyping the crowd over the continual pulsing beat. Similar to the call-and-response shouting of James Brown, these ad-lib vocalizations were early examples of what would soon become known as rapping.
In the early 1970s, when Jamaican-born DJ Kool Herc began hosting shows in the Bronx, the art of sampling had reached its zenith. For the first time, the record player was used as an instrument, playing samples much like the tape reels back in the dub studios of Jamaica. Using funk records instead of reggae, DJs would search for and manipulate beat breaks (a small section of music where only the drums were played). Playing one break after another by alternating between two record players, the DJs created a virtual drum machine out of the turntables.
Sampling, then, rose from the background to the foreground, essentially becoming the music itself. But, should it take over, completely replacing the creative act of music performance?
For these artists, the re-usage of pre-recorded music was done out of necessity. Especially for the more financially underprivileged, it was much easier to collect an archive of records than it was to purchase musical instruments. All of the ingredients for a new and exciting form of music could be extracted from vinyl.
In a most demonstrable way, such musical sampling allowed for something new to come from something old. Songs were given a second life, albeit in different forms.
At what point, however, does this practice become detrimental to the art form?
As rap music evolves, it is expected that the sampling should become more sophisticated and artful. Producers such as DJ Premier, DJ Shadow, Hi-Tek, and the late J Dilla, have shown an extraordinary amount of taste and creativity. Their beats, fresh and inventive, are careful assemblies of samples ranging from jazz and classical, to the obscure soundtracks of educational videos. Rather than a cheap recycling of sounds, their sampled elements are masterfully layered like paint on a canvas.
The flip side, of course, is quite ugly.
Throughout the 80s and 90s, there have certainly been misusages of sampling. Artists such as Diddy, who insisted upon rapping over carbon copies of songs, have done much damage to the genre. Blatant and unimaginative sampling has also attracted the attention of the record company’s lawyers, bringing many hip-hop artists to court.
Now, it seems, the jig is up. Recent changes to copyright laws have now made it illegal to sample even a single note of published music. Notable groups and artists that have been called to court include NWA, Ice-T, Beastie Boys, Biz Markie, and Snoop Dogg.
Needless to say, the current legal climate is quite unfavourable for emerging rappers. Faced with expensive clearance fees for a sample, or even more expensive legal fees, most rap artists have been left to create their own beats. The Roots, for example, perform their own original music instead of dealing with the legal implications of sampling. Not every artist (especially those unsigned to a major label) has the financial resources necessary to benefit from such an option.
Windsor-based rapper, Ahmad Shawky (TRP), finds himself in this grey area, weighing in on the options.
“Sampled music, when done right,” explained Shawky, “adds melodic subtlety, warmth and ambiance to the music that you just can’t emulate with modern equipment and recording techniques.” There is a flipside, as he goes on to describe synthesized music as having a “clarity, complexity, and freshness that most samples can’t match.”
There is another alternative: mix tapes that can be shared online. Since no money is being made, and the music will have limited exposure, the likelihood of legal trouble is extremely slim. This gives the rap artist carte blanche in using his or her most preferred samples. Shawky believes that this marketing tool is the best way for an emerging artist to establish a name and earn a following.
“Personally, I have always thought that I can make good music with or without samples. However, I can only make money from my music when it’s without.” With this in mind, he plans to continue making both types of music while only putting original compositions on his “for sale” products.
This seems to be the preferred strategy for the emerging rap artist: a careful game of cat and mouse.
Simply stated: one idea leads to another. Whether it is a book, painting, technological invention, or song, the inspirational powers of such cultural contributions cannot be ignored. With their addition to society, in an unadulterated and freely-usable form, the benefits of such discourse is immeasurable. At least, it is surely more important than the figures argued over by lawyers.
It is a shame that we have gotten away from Thomas Jefferson’s belief that inventions cannot be a subject of property. In a letter written while serving on the U.S. patent board, Jefferson very eloquently explains that “he who receives an idea from me, receives instruction himself without lessening mine; as he who lights his taper at mine, receives light without darkening me.”
Placing this quote as a backdrop to the legal actions taken against rap artists, things begin to look slightly absurd. For example, Pharoahe Monch was sued in 2002 for using the Godzilla theme in his song, “Simon Says.” In a sense, this is laughable. How, in any way, could that song hurt, diminish, or take away from Godzilla’s filmic legacy and financial wellbeing? Perhaps the cultural gem that is the 1954 Godzilla theme is taken more seriously than previously thought.
In any event, rap artists and DJs will continue to sample, legally or not, as its value as an art form has been clearly demonstrated. This musical phenomenon, which pits technology against legal reforms, also seems quite necessary. Sampling, like a natural musical outgrowth, is explained in Mixmaster Morris’ famous quote: “We’ve had sixty, seventy years of making records. That’s stage one. Now we sample them.”
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