Jel became familia… Read Full Bio ↴themselves are doseone and jel, from California.
Jel became familiar with dose through his good friend and radio partner, Kevin Beacham. But it wasn't until early 1998 when some tapes were exchanged through mutual friend, Mr. Dibbs, that the two realized their potential together. Soon after a few phone conversations, jel started making frequent sojourns from Chicago to Cincinnati to record with dose. The duo's first couple of tracks ended up on dose's first, self-released record Hemispheres (1998). Then from April of 1998 to January of 1999 they solidified their chemistry, putting the tracks together that would end up on themselves' them. That same Spring dose and jel, along with Slug of Atmosphere and sole and alias of Live Poets began recording deep puddle dynamics's The Taste Of Rain... Why Kneel. Out of that record, the concept of anticon was somewhere born -- whose founding dose and jel would become an integral part of, later bringing them both to the Bay Area.
Since then, both artists have continued to push boundaries, producing and collaborating on a range of work far outside the constructs of traditional genre forms. They've expanded their use and understanding of their equipment, as well as perfected their live performances. Their record, the no music. (2002), involved the use of: an SP-1200, an MPC-2000, a Korg Poly 64 keyboard, some other shit, a Roland VS 880, Digital Performer, a Dr. Sample, various microphones, numerous household items and found objects and sounds. Recently the two of them have also expanded their roles in the group, both contributing vocals and production to the no music.. They also added Dax Pierson on keyboards, Dr. Sample, Theremin and back up vocals on many of their tracks, and to all of their live performances. Dax is essential in adding syncopation and a real time quality to the tracks.
After a six-year hiatus, Themselves return on a rampage of heady rap wrung from hardworking hands. Of course, the duo of Jeffrey “Jel” Logan and Adam “Doseone” Drucker are never too far from the frontlines of good art and honest music. Last year, their Subtle sextet released its third album, the critically acclaimed and wildly adventurous ExitingARM, and a 2005 collaboration with Germany’s the Notwist yielded the cult gem 13 & God. There have been solo offerings, guest appearances, and ceaseless touring, but not peep from the name behind 2002’s left-field classic The No Music. That blessed interim has seen Doseone and Jel become the fearless musicians and exacting artists they’d always meant to be. Now, hungrier than ever, Themselves are here to scrawl a bold new chapter across rap’s too-stale tome. Furthermore, they set out to accomplish this feat unadorned, returning to hip-hop’s most cardinal and carnal form, the number two: the DJ and the MC—neck-snapping beats and precision prose—accompanied by a little righteous indignation, of course.
Such things do have roots, naturally, and Themselves’ are as colorful as one would expect. Drucker was born in Napa, Idaho, to a hippie pair whose relationship wouldn’t outlast its ideals. Logan was raised in Chicago by Pentecostal parents. While the former spent his preteen years bouncing between Philadelphia and New Jersey, surviving by his mile-a-minute wit and ceaseless imagination, Logan nursed an early love for the decidedly safe sounds of Chuck Berry into raging crush on the unhinged backbone of rap music: beats. He’d pump gas in order to save up for the hallowed SP-1200 drum machine (of which he’s now a renowned master); Drucker would hone his unmatched rap styles in street battles before moving to Cincinnati in his late teens. In that city’s annual “Scribble Jam” competition, as “Doseone,” he famously battled Eminem in a final-round showdown—as well as one of his idols, Freestyle Fellowship’s P.E.A.C.E.—and the experience left him hollow. Meanwhile, Jel had forged a sound unto himself, but couldn’t find a voice able to keep pace. In 1998, tapes were exchanged through the venerable DJ Mr. Dibbs, and history came to be made.
Of that initial meeting, much would be born: Doseone’s ambitious, self-released debut Hemispheres (1998); Themselves’ seminal unveiling, Them (1999); the landmark collaborative project, Deep Puddle Dynamics (also featuring Sole, Alias and Atmosphere’s Slug); and the Anticon label itself. Soon, Dose and Jel moved to Oakland in order to spark a movement with Anticon’s other co-founders, two of which (Odd Nosdam, and Yoni Wolf of WHY?) were in yet another celebrated group with Drucker, the eternally lauded cLOUDDEAD. Since, Doseone and Jel have continued to challenge rap—and our conception of music itself—every step of the way. Through their joint projects and an impressive body of solo work (see 2006’s Soft Money, by Jel, or Doseone’s self-released spoken-word album, Soft Skulls), these two have been nurturing the kind of legacy that only gets better with age. In 2009, Themselves return to a core that’s been warming, strengthening, and expanding all the while.
Grass Skirt & Fruit Hat
Themselves Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Dripping with face lost I've the frozen meats and convention center specs to build a mirrored phallus right here, 10 miles high, for everyone to imitate, but the drawings in the dust are filling up with dust again, and I've just spent that 100 dollars friends, help though, hook line and sinker, if I could cry and hug my cat all night I'll still be empty, or putting change in the meter for and entire block of people I know from bumps on a log, kite flying and chicken choking and running in place, I'm stuffing mixed messages in bottles and dropping them in gutters and when someone gets it they'll be right where I was, and maybe that'll help, so one day when the snake sucks it's tail, I'll find a pot of gold and tons of letters left for me in a matchbox and that would be idle like grown men in tights, with fists, capes and eyebeams, I-beams, I've been here, sat between poles with god name sid for, look adam to reanimate yourself won't really lop off that foot or we'll call it foot that carries you off mezzanines that burst into situated right as you left situated, tsk tsk god named sid has waited a long long time to say "I told you so" so consequentially he's eaten by a bear and happy unfortunate goodbye he thinks as a tangelo falls from my hat, shush I say to the drones of potato people whistling my social security number, some mail man to be named later must not be doing his job, I'm thinking of when that nuclear thing happens and I'm the only one left a ruin that doesn't look like the movies, it was made before, between 7 breakfast, 12 lunch 6:30 dinner, if I don't stack all these bones now and these feathers right after that I'll pretend I'm sleeping and let them talk to my listening, listening, tounges and forks and noseplugs and problems are gears and I'm lamenting over those two edges coming together in the blood blister I got out of it all
If I could be any animal which would I be? the human soul because there's almost no halflife
It's negligable and covered in pus with marrige on top, from globs to shoulder width to back to the hospital it don't stop
It's negligable and covered in pus with marrige on top, from globs to shoulder width to back to the hospital it don't stop
Until the socially acceptable thing to do is be real...
The lyrics to Themselves's song Grass Skirt & Fruit Hat are cryptic and abstract, demanding careful attention to grasp their full meaning. The song tells a story of self-discovery and the search for inner peace in the midst of societal chaos. The singer seems lost and desperate, seeking advice from a god named Celeste and Sid, both of whom offer little help in their cryptic advice to "establish yourself" or "reanimate yourself." The singer appears to be grappling with his own insignificance in the face of larger forces and is resigned to dropping messages in bottles in the gutter.
The verse that begins with "If I could be any animal which would I be?" stands out in the song, lending a sense of purpose to the otherwise fragmented verses. The singer seems to suggest that being a human is imperfect and pus-covered, and therefore being the human soul is the only ideal form. The repetition of the line "It's negligable and covered in pus with marrige on top, from globs to shoulder width to back to the hospital it don't stop" adds to the sense of despair and helplessness that pervades the entire song.
Overall, Grass Skirt & Fruit Hat is a powerful commentary on the human condition and the search for fulfillment in a world that often seems indifferent to our struggles.
Line by Line Meaning
I've been here, sat between railings with god named celeste for, look adam to establish yourself won't really burn off that fat or we'll call it fat, that runs you near, archetypes that have been tested and failed continully tested and failed, god named celeste has always akin to catch stones at dead clock, fortunetly she's beautiful in the corners of her eyes and happy visible, she blinks while ruffage falls from my skirt, my skirt ruffage falls from my skirt
I've been stuck in the same place for a while now, sitting with my vision of God named Celeste. I told Adam that trying to lose weight won't do much good. Those same old patterns and ideas keep getting tested and failing. Celeste always seems to be waiting for something that will never come. Thankfully, she's still beautiful, even when everything around her is falling apart. I'm barely holding on, and I know I'm just as much of a mess as the ruffage falling from my skirt.
Dripping with face lost I've the frozen meats and convention center specs to build a mirrored phallus right here, 10 miles high, for everyone to imitate, but the drawings in the dust are filling up with dust again, and I've just spent that 100 dollars friends, help though, hook line and sinker, if I could cry and hug my cat all night I'll still be empty, or putting change in the meter for and entire block of people I know from bumps on a log, kite flying and chicken choking and running in place, I'm stuffing mixed messages in bottles and dropping them in gutters and when someone gets it they'll be right where I was, and maybe that'll help, so one day when the snake sucks it's tail, I'll find a pot of gold and tons of letters left for me in a matchbox and that would be idle like grown men in tights, with fists, capes and eyebeams, I-beams, I've been here, sat between poles with god name sid for, look adam to reanimate yourself won't really lop off that foot or we'll call it foot that carries you off mezzanines that burst into situated right as you left situated, tsk tsk god named sid has waited a long long time to say "I told you so" so consequentially he's eaten by a bear and happy unfortunate goodbye he thinks as a tangelo falls from my hat, shush I say to the drones of potato people whistling my social security number, some mail man to be named later must not be doing his job, I'm thinking of when that nuclear thing happens and I'm the only one left a ruin that doesn't look like the movies, it was made before, between 7 breakfast, 12 lunch 6:30 dinner, if I don't stack all these bones now and these feathers right after that I'll pretend I'm sleeping and let them talk to my listening, listening, tounges and forks and noseplugs and problems are gears and I'm lamenting over those two edges coming together in the blood blister I got out of it all
My mind is scattered and lost, with piles of frozen meat and blueprints for a massive structure that would be impossible to replicate. But even those plans are being lost to time and neglect. I've spent so much money trying to fill this emptiness inside me, but nothing seems to work. I'm dropping messages in bottles hoping someone will find them and understand what I'm going through. Maybe then I won't feel so alone when disaster strikes. Countless meals have come and gone, with no real purpose or meaning. If I don't start taking care of myself now, I'll be left with nothing but regrets and bad memories. I feel like everything around me is moving too fast, and I can't keep up.
If I could be any animal which would I be? the human soul because there's almost no halflife
If I had to choose an animal to be, I'd choose the human soul. Even though it's not a physical presence, it has lasting power and will always be remembered.
It's negligable and covered in pus with marrige on top, from globs to shoulder width to back to the hospital it don't stop
Whatever it is that's bothering me seems like a small problem, covered in a gross layer of pus. But it keeps growing and spreading, until I end up in the hospital.
Until the socially acceptable thing to do is be real...
I'll keep struggling with these issues until it's socially acceptable to be honest and open about them.
Contributed by Mateo D. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
@MsLadyparts
The song is about staving off tendencies of idle wishing, magical thinking and the desire for recognitions not earned. Ultimately, it's about the hard work of building what your are and of accepting your limitations. Ideas of divinity and the superhuman are lampooned and discarded. Basically, if this were a picture, it would depict a man punching a wizard in the face.
@sunstruck
oh word?
@nikriin
word?
@KevinGalbraithInc
This is psychedelic hip hop at it's purest. No one like Dose to communicate transpersonal levels of experience so poetically. Holiest of fucks.
@upsidedowncrossman
this world wasnt ready for this greatness he will be like bach or motzart ect.. after hes gone
@freeform83
I love the overlapping voices at 3:51.
@Rory-up6dp
This is unbelievably good.
@AdamCzarnowski
As good as it gets when it gets good.
@gillesserpe1649
J' Adore tré Puissant !!!
"RESPECT "99-2019 .
@OM3N1R
If them came on and someone could quote it with me, life would be complete.