THE ROOTS :: THE TIPPING POINT
THEY DIDN'T START THE FIRE (Unpublished, for a variety of reasons. Originally for Slate.)
By Hua Hsu

In his book The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell introduces readers to the idea of the social epidemic and the agents of change responsible for carrying them out. By considering examples like bestselling books, fluctuating crime rates and unlikely shoe fashions, Gladwell tries to break this idea of the sudden, logic-defying social trend down to its increments, conditions and rules. His underlying concern: what goes into a wildfire? Gladwell's ideas have become enormously popular among students of business and culture, and it has become a blueprint for how one might market products or target consumers. Among his newest converts are the Roots, a Philadelphia-based hip-hop band whose latest album is named after Gladwell's book. Drummer Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson explains: "We were a small idea that started locally and slowly gained a very steady following. The story of the tipping point-an idea that starts small and spreads like an epidemic-is the story of the Roots."

One understands why the Roots see themselves in The Tipping Point. In the parlance of Gladwell, the Roots are hip-hop's ultimate Connectors. Despite their unique, high-minded approach to live, classicist hip-hop, they have always roamed comfortably between classes. Through relentless touring and high-profile collaborations with the likes of Eminem and Jay-Z, the band has cultivated a remarkably broad set of connections, or would-be carriers for a proper Roots epidemic. Over the past decade, they have steadily evolved from jazzy throwbacks to rock and pop-influenced fusionists, reveling in the eclectic possibilities of being hip-hop's only proper, instrument-playing ensemble. As such, their sales bump modestly from year-to-year and the Tipping Point finds them trying to break their thinking-person's approach to hip-hop to platinum heights. It is a significant departure from the freewheeling sophistication they have become known for, and it echoes a Gladwellian concern: how does one deliberately go pop?

Blessed with all the credibility in the world and intrepid enough to re-anchor their sound with every new album, it seems that the only thing the Roots have never been able to do is string together hit records. Roots albums are conceived and digested as complete thoughts rich with obscure allusions, subtext, decoys and morality-not exactly the stuff of mass appeal. In contrast, The Tipping Point seems simpler and more populist. It is a friendly, streamlined record designed to tip without alienating the faithful: the virtuoso jams of old still flare, but they are performed with a compact, economical hand. There are short, stultifying choruses and there is head-scratching signifying. There are knowing winks to hip-hop's purist underground alongside aspirant chart singles that sound like what you might hear on the radio.

Herein lies the problem: The Roots claim connectivity up, down and across hierarchies, but they aren't what Gladwell calls sticky. Stickiness is the elusive, intangible batter that provokes change and tips epidemics; it is what sparks the wildfire. He writes: "There is a simple way to package information that, under the right circumstances, can make it irresistible. All you have to do is find it." The entertainment industry has long survived on a variation of this theme: songs become hits and bands grow rich because they are catchy, not because they are good, smart or deserving. The Roots are hardworking, self-righteous, wildly ambitious, technically skilled, clever to a fault, inspiring and idealistic. They are well-connected and respected, both important traits in Gladwell's scheme. But try as they might-and they do, over and over, on The Tipping Point-they just don't write songs that stick.

After five critically acclaimed albums, The Tipping Point cares little for the prosperity of kind words and pats on the back. It's not a cynical, pandering record, but too many songs sound like self-conscious attempts at sparking a full-blown epidemic. Consider lead single "Don't Say Nuthin'" and its designs on the hydraulic thump of Dr. Dre. The track, produced by onetime Roots keyboardist Scott Storch, has a closed sleekness lacking in much of their previous work: it flits and swaggers like a hit, even if Black Thought's clever chorus-mimicking the nonsensical brags of his mainstream peers, Thought mumbles to himself unintelligibly-undermines its hum factor. Storch left the eternal props of the Roots to become a hit-maker and the single sounds more like a stiff about face than an organic collaboration. The Herculean handclaps and tipsy sway of "Duck Down" sound like a conscious self-refusal from a band usually propped up by the steady, refined drumming of Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson.

The most frustrating aspect of Tipping Point's ploy for pop play is that they don't go all the way. Instead of submitting an entire album of gloss and sheen, or refining the Devil-may-care hodge-podge of 2002's excellent Phrenology, Tipping Point feels awkwardly reluctant. As if to prove they haven't lost the script entirely, they balance their populist moments with a few bones for their true-school fans. "Stay Cool" is an obvious homage to De La Soul as the band interpolates the horn sample used for their predecessors' "Ego Tripping," while rapper Black Thought peppers the raucous "Boom" with dead-on impressions of late-1980s rappers Big Daddy Kane and Kool G Rap. As a complete thought-and the Roots never speak in fragments-The Tipping Point feels confused about what kind of epidemic it wants to start.

It's all a shame, since the Roots have rarely sounded better. The engineering is fantastic, the sound is crisp, the playing is tight and Black Thought raps with a fierce, cocksure hunger. "Star," a dust-to-digital conversation between the band and a crackly recording of Sly and the Family Stone's 1970 hit "Everybody is a Star," ranks with the best things they've ever done. In the small utopias of bands, everybody is a star. It is this democratic ethos-this unflagging desire to sublimate self for utilitarian purpose-that has always made the Roots such a heartening act.

Ever since the breakthrough success of 1995's brilliant, jazz-obsessive Do You Want More?!!!??!, the Roots have found themselves negotiating a productive tension between expanding the limits of their mini-nation of fans and testing the loyalties of their constituent core. The band's best recourse has been to shape-shift, and each album has been a bold re-articulation of the one before. Mesmerized by Gladwell's pop epidemiology, The Tipping Point finds a band best known for its ambition wasting that ambitiousness on the wrong thing. In the quest for some wild, exponential change, and by trying in vain to stick to any and every surface, the Roots have sealed their own fate: they have become all things to all people. They are a safe hip-hop group to like even if you hate hip-hop; on the flipside, they make Eminem or Jay-Z look smart by association. Against their wishes, the Roots have become the well-connected dinner guests one invites to class the joint up, but never the life of the party.
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