Some Random 1990s Asian Film Soundtracks

Some soundtracks work to evoke visuals memories of a film; others are simply background and go largely unnoticed; though others you can listen to and not recall much of it ever actually being in the film ('Music Inspired by,' my posterior! - not literally, of course). It's interesting to listen to a film's soundtrack in isolation, removed from the visual elements, to see what it makes you think: of the film; the music itself; or just a feeling of confusion.

The 1990s produced not only some good Asian cinema, but also some nice soundtracks to accompany them, whether original or specifically selected from one's CD collection (in the days when you required shelves to do such a thing). Here is an admittedly limited selection of soundtracks from the aforementioned decade and continent that can fit into one or more of the above categories, all with their own merits, though perhaps for differing reasons.

Maborosi (Maboroshi no hikari)

The thing I found most notable about Kore-eda Hirokazu's breakthrough feature is the use of colour and light. Seemingly filmed entirely in twilight to emphasise the sense of limbo of lead Yumiko, the film is all about mood. But strangely, despite this emphasis, I can't say I recalled too much about the soundtrack on first viewing.

But, recently listening to the soundtrack on repeat while staring at spreadsheets, the soundtrack is indeed as haunting as the visual elements of the film, and while not bringing any specific scenes to mind, it does conjure that same emotions when listing to it. Composed by Taiwanese musician Chen Ming Chang, this acoustic soundtrack combines proper guitar playing with piano and more traditional instruments to create a sound as if awakening from a meditative state, much as the film's conclusion alludes to.

The fact that the soundtrack doesn't particularly stand out on a first viewing is its strength, merging with the visual elements perfectly, for a singular audio-visual experience. While possibly blending into the background of the wider whole as part of the film, the soundtrack is worthy in isolation as a truly brilliant piece of music.

Hana-bi

The soundtrack for Kitano Takeshi's 'Hana-bi' is much more in the foreground. Joe Hisaishi's piano and orchestral accompaniment is a key feature of the film, notably the rostrum camerawork for Kitano's paintings used in the film. For these montages, it feels almost as if the paintings accompany the music, rather than vice versa. On listening, one can't help but recall Horibe's musings as he contemplates his lot.

This is a soundtrack that works on all levels: a prominent feature within the film; a stand-out piece of music in its own right; yet also evokes scenes from the films as listening. 'Painters' is a particular example of this: incidental, enjoyable and recallable all at once; as it 'Thank you...for Everything'. The tracklisting very much works like chapter headings for the film, forever associating the music with the film, but with the audio and visual elements working so well together, this is no bad thing.

The strongest of Hisaishi's collaborations with Kitano, this rivals any works he has composed for Miyazaki.

Dead or Alive (Dead or Alive: Hanzaisha) 

Both the beginning and end of the first film of Miike's 'Dead or Alive' trilogy are quite literally explosive. The in-between bits, however, are more a sombre, moody and character-driven in Sho Aikawa's atmospheric pursuit of Riki Takeuchi. And Koji Endo's soundtrack follows the brief, he was no doubt given, to follow suit.

To start, thrash guitars blast over a near-endless montage of sex, drugs, murder, guns, noodle-splatters, cocaine 'n' rock'n'roll. This gives the misleading belief that you will be treated to a film of endless energy. The reality is somewhat different, however, as Miike chooses a more measured route for most of the film.

The opening scene is mindless, and the repetitive guitar likewise. The remainder of the soundtrack is more incidental, atmospheric music, that - while an intriguing mix of different instruments and sounds - is not as easily recalled and standout in its own right. This is very much a film score.

Chungking Express (Chung Hing Sam Lam)

Wong Kar-wai's soundtracks are always a well-considered, hand-picked selection of local flavours, re-imagined pop classics and obscure rhythms that one can't exactly dance to. The soundtracks, therefore, are varied in style and tempo, though do have a consistency in quality. 'Chungking Express' is perhaps one of the more commercial soundtracks from his films, combining a number of well-known tunes, though not always in original form; the film's star Faye Wong covering a couple of  well-known songs from the hit parade.

The song perhaps dominating the film is the Mamas and Papas' 'California Dreamin''; Faye Wong's character playing it continuously on loop as she works the counter of her food stall. Though this is a film of two halves, and a soundtrack that is likewise. The first-half dominated by Takeshi Kaneshiro's lovesick detective giving a slicker, more noir mood, countered by the more lively second half of the film, with Faye Wong and Tony Leung's unspoken romance.

There has been more than one release of the soundtrack, naturally with pre-released songs featured, some were not originally included, though recent re-issues have seen them restored, but perhaps led to some 'filler' tracks not necessarily included in the film to feature on certain versions. The subsequent 'Fallen Angels' and 'Happy Together' had soundtracks in a similar vein.

Ghost in the Shell (Kokaku Kidotai)

In some films, the soundtrack can steal the show; all thoughts of the film bring you back to its sound. 'Ghost in the Shell' is a seminal anime for a number of reasons: its philosophy; the stunning visuals; and notably Kenji Kawai's soundtrack is with us throughout. After the infamous 'thermoptics' scene, with Major Kusanagi falling into invisibility at the film's start, the film is brought into life with the spine-tingling 'Making of Cyborg', reprised for the standout scene as Kusanagi wanders the cityscape.

Each scene is matched perfectly with the accompanying music to the point where even the silence is perfectly chosen; wonderfully atmospheric as the film moves. For all the film's strengths, when recalling key scenes, the sound is something that comes to mind as much as anything, playing along in the mind with the visuals. Sometimes it is worth watching simply for the soundtrack alone, though I've got it on CD, so don't have to.

The films of the 1990s were much less polished in them days, though there was a lot more artistry for it. Soundtracks are part of this. With the increasing decline in physical media, particularly in film, and the disposable nature of music in the new millennium, film soundtracks are something that could get easily lost and forgotten, when a good soundtrack can make or break the enjoyment of a film. While they have always been something quite difficult to get your hands on and for the purists, studying the soundtrack in isolation is an important part of film critique.

Hopefully the resurgence of vinyl will lead to an increase in re-issues of soundtracks to be enjoyed without having to stream, such as the re-release of the 'Chungking Express' soundtrack last year. Otherwise, you're forking out £200+ to enjoy some random music that most others have little-to-no interest in...Actually, you can maybe see why it's not such a viable commercial option...

Ghost in the Shell

There already is a live-action re-make of 'Ghost in the Shell': 'The Matrix'. I jest, of course, though you can see where the Wachowski brothers got some of their points of inspiration. There are many other versions of the 'Ghost in the Shell' franchise: the Masamune Shirow manga from the 1980s; the Mamoru Oshii anime films; the 'Stand Alone Complex' series; and the 'Arise' series of prequels.

Rupert Sanders' 'live-action' version, therefore, is placing itself into an already crowded market place for guises of the characters developed in the late Eighties. In his interesting piece upon its release, Andrew Osmond discusses how the trailer was designed to tug on our nostalgia strings for the 1995 anime, seemingly recreating some of its most iconic scenes in a 'live-action' form. Though to say this incarnation is 'live-action' is something of a myth, with Scarlett Johansson's face and voice added to an endless stream of CGI effects.

Spending a large budget in recreating a Japanese anime for a Western audience, however, is fraught with danger: Those that are not particularly fans of anime or the franchise will not be drawn to this against the endless stream of comic book franchise extensions already on offer; while fans of the franchise will no doubt find fault in an idea that has now perhaps had its day.

So, what of this new version? Well, to start, it is obviously visually quite impressive. Oshii's 1995 version was stunning to look at, and so this was a necessity. The use of huge holographic advertising across the cityscape create a similar image of a futuristic 'Hong Kong' as before, and the use of bird's eye view scene setting also works throughout. Though, perhaps, there is a little too much going on on screen, making it somewhat difficult to keep up with at times.

The plot is where the greatest differences lie. 'The Major', known to start as Mira, is a refugee from a sunk ship, where most people died. Her brain, saved, is placed in the body of a state-of-the-art cybernetic body, though the memory of her past is vague; mere flashes here and there. As part of cyber-terrorism squad, Section 9, her and her team follow the actions of Kuze, hacking individuals to take out members of the Hanka Robotics staff; staff that created The Major's body. With this connection, she takes a personal interest in the case, drawn to Kuze's accusations of the organisation that created her.  

This is a little more of a direct plot than the anime version, with its ending that draws few full conclusions; only asking more questions. Cutter, the head of Hanka, is a more conventional villain, less seen in the other incarnations, with the bad guys more misunderstood terrorists posing philosophical questions of the Major, which she is always willing to debate. Here, philosophical questions are posed, but in a somewhat different form, just as existential, but somewhat more simplistic - natural for a film aiming for a more universal appeal.  

As with the 1995 version, the focus is on a select few of Section 9: The Major, ever-faithful Batou and chief Aramaki. Johansson is perhaps a natural for the lead role (whitewash arguments aside), with Pilou Asbaek as you would expect of Batou and God himself, 'Beat' Takeshi Kitano, as Aramaki, in what appears good casting. Togusa, being wholly human, always an interesting element of the team, is given less showing here. A shame, as Chin Han is likeable in the role. The rest of the team are afterthoughts, casting from all over the globe, giving the team a more global feel. Aramaki's dialogue in Japanese compared to everyone else's English, feels like an attempt to keep things a little Asian based on its roots, though is perhaps as much due to Kitano's language skills and may only fuel the fire of those questioning the casting.

The Major's past and her trying to uncover more from her flashbacks drives her character, with the source of Batou's eyes revealed. We are definitely being introduced to the characters here, Section 9 seeming a more fledgling squad finding its feet. This feels like a prequel, therefore, whereas the 1995 anime throws you in at the deep end.

The 1995 film had its flaws: its short running time missed out much character development, with somewhat budget saving dialogue scenes fairly static to accommodate the more impressive visual moments. The setting is less defined also, based on Hong Kong, though not particularly eluding to the exact location, as with the original manga. Ideas developed more in the Stand ALone Complex series. There is more in the way of narrative and character development here, natural with actors instead of animated characters, giving a more human feel.

The main question, however, is: does this offer anything over the original manga, two Oshii films, two 'Stand Alone Complex' series and 'Arise' prequels? This is a (I was) twenty-eight years old franchise, drawing on inspiration from previous sources, namely Arthur Koestler's 'Ghost in the Machine' and 'Blade Runner'; as well as inspiring subsequent works itself. A fifth awakening, after the weaker 'Arise' stories had probably put a couple of nails in the coffin makes it poorly timed for those in the know.

This review is perhaps a little preoccupied with Mamoru Oshii's 1995 version, though Sander's films haunted by the ghost of its past. Not enough elements from the manga and 'Stand Alone Complex', omitted by Oshii are added, taking three of the most famous scenes from Oshii and trying to shoehorn them into a new storyline. The Major's attempts to recall her past, finding only partial memories, serve as a metaphor for the self-aware referencing of the earlier work.

While visually impressive and not a bad film in isolation, the lack of enough new elements will fail to win plaudits among established anime fans - those putting production points aside that have made the effort to watch it; and the appeal of an anime remake will unlikely draw enough universal appeal over the numerous superhero franchises on offer, with initial box office results perhaps proof of this.

Peppermint Candy vs. The Story of Yonosuke

When you look back on your life, what will your overall assessment of it be? Many would probably not like the results, finding fault in decision-making and turning points where the wrong direction was taken. What if it could have all been different?!

Two films that take a look back over a life – the Korean ‘Peppermint Candy’ directed by Chang-dong Lee; and the Japanese ‘The Story of Yonosuke’ by Shuichi Okita – are films similar in theme, though very different in their outlook of the lives they cover. Where there is joy, there is sadness; where there is laughter, there are tears; where there is innocence, there is guilt.

‘Peppermint Candy’ starts at the end: a student reunion twenty years on from a picnic sees a violent, drunk and lost Yong Ho disrupt the party; belligerent to his former friends. Ignored as he grows more uncontrolled, the group notice that Yong Ho is stood on the train tracks as an oncoming train approaches. Opening his arms, he embraces his demise. We are then taken on a reverse train ride through the life of Yong Ho to various key moments where his character is beaten, to see how an innocent student became a suicidal mad man. 

‘The Story of Yonosuke’, on the other hand, starts in the present, where Yoko receives a letter reminding her of her boyfriend from her days at University. Not just Yoko, however, various others at University with Yonosuke Yokomichi are given call to reminisce over the friend they had back in the 1980s. Each looks back with fond memories and a laugh on their face as they remember their extraordinarily ordinary friend.

There is a clear difference here straightaway: ‘Peppermint Candy’ looks at the negative impact that Yong Ho has had on the lives of those around him, and vice versa; while ‘The Story of Yonosuke’ reflects only on the positive impact the lead had on each of the lives he touched. The starting point for both characters is different, but as the film progresses, we learn that both, while students, had ambitions of being photographers.

Yonosuke is a country bumpkin moving to Tokyo, with unusual and bemusing mannerisms that those around him cannot help but find endearing…eventually. In his charming naivety, he finds himself at a photography exhibition, and soon becomes drawn to the art form. Yong Ho, we learn at the film’s conclusion, is quite a passionate young man, wanting to photograph ‘nameless flowers’, looking to the soon-to-be-named Sunim, who saves her money to buy him a camera.

Both have a naïve innocence about them at this stage in their lives, though only one will be able to maintain it. Yong Ho is soon tainted by his army service, accidentally shooting a young girl; and further corrupted by joining the police force, turning him into an aggressive and violent character. His new-found domineering personality soon finds him success in setting up his own business and playing the stock market, only to become embittered by his ex-wife, former business partner and cheating financial adviser, leaving him with nothing.

Yong Ho loses control over his life, and indeed his dream. In the army, he is ordered around, not cut out for the way of life. But it leaves a clear impression on him, and his return sees him unruly and unlike the young man he was before. His time at the police only worsens him further, with their underhanded tactics for getting confessions removing all morality from him. He becomes a man only after more money and more affairs with young women, alienating him from his wife and daughter, until all is lost.

Yonosuke, however, is a man devoid of any corruption. His simple ways show a man unconcerned by the opinions of those around him, happily going about his business. He has little in the way of preconceptions, and simply takes things as they come. Yong Ho becomes an embittered man, whereas Yonosuke remains a child, following his own intrigue. As the story progresses, we learn that Yonosuke did indeed become a professional photographer: his maintaining of this childish intrigue taking him there, while Yong Ho’s was quickly lost when serving in the army.

It is fair to say that the Korean film is more of a somewhat bleak look at life, with a focus on where it all went wrong; while the Japanese looks at what made things right for Yonosuke, more joyful in its outlook. Though the films are laced with similarities throughout.

Being films about stories of individual lives, they are both quite long. But, happily broken up into mini tales of different stages, they do not become too overbearing and are easy to digest, with a central arc to take us to the next: ‘Peppermint Candy’ takes us on a musical interlude with a reversing train; while ‘The Story of Yonosuke’ sees a different individual look back on the life of Yonosuke now they are older.

With some nice pacing, we learn that Yonosuke too – starting as a student with photography ambitions – is also killed by a train, though in very different circumstances. Yong Ho kills himself feeling that all is lost, whereas Yonosuke selflessly helps someone in danger, putting himself at risk. Yonosuke’s life is to be celebrated, while the sad demise of Yong Ho will probably see few mourn. In both, the message is that following your own path and not letting it be misdirected by others is perhaps the best way to go – as simple as it sounds, but as difficult as it is to live.

Both also offer a chance for reflection and point the question back to us about how our own lives have progressed: Were they happy or sad journeys?; and were they happy or sad outcomes? The starting point may be the same, and the final conclusion may be the same, but how we got there is very different.

As ‘Peppermint Candy’ concludes, with Yong Ho looking up at a passing train on the line that twenty years later will kill him, he looks forward to his life, while we look back on what he has become.

Both 'Peppermint Candy' and 'The Story of Yonosuke' are available via Third Window Films.

Bugseed - E.S.T.

New Bugseed release E.S.T. coming to a noise festival in your ears better than soon, now in fact!

Via tape cassette, CD or download.

Ya heard.

Gimme the Lute

Enjoying these nicely filmed live performances by Lute Media. 

The cinematography on the things! Isn't it tasty gorgeous?! 

A couple of nice ones, available to view hear!!!!!!

鎮座DOPENESS in a school...



環ROY by a stream...

Every 14 Days...(36)

The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco)

I was directed to this mammoth of a book by a Jasper Sharp review of a completely unrelated one. It was nothing to do with my Catholicism or Connery-ism. It's not something that I would normally choose - a novel set in a medieval monastery - though for some reason I did.

Adso, a young monk (or whatever), German, I believe, follows his mentor, an elder Geordie monk (so I'm imagining the guy Sean Connery played in the film, yeah?) to a monastery in Italy to investigate the mysterious death of one of its number. After their arrive, further deaths occur as the duo try to piece the puzzle together, with all pieces pointing to the library, for which entry is barred.

Eco, being a semiotician, writes extended descriptions throughout the work, with all details of significance, in what turns out to be a long read. Each chapter starts with a brief summary of what is about to come, showing that it is not necessarily revelations in the story with which he wants to draw you, but the significance and meaning behind them.

There is a lot to take in, with what could be a straightforward whodunit turned into something much more, making the book's conclusion that much more significant. It's a challenge, with much going over your head or passing you by, with Eco's own summation at the end, to an extent, necessary.

Days to read: 51

Days per book: 15.3

Mainlander (Will Smith)

No, not that one. English mainland-born, Jersey-raised (not that Jersey) comedian and writer, Will Smith.

Colin (and I want to say 'as played by Smith,' as he seems very much a character based on his own image, from the stand-up/writing of his I have seen) in an English teacher on the island of Jersey, though he is originally from mainland England, thus a 'mainlander'. One evening while escaping his wife, driving to the sounds of Eighties power-pop, he comes across one of his pupils hanging by a cliff edge. Feeling he should do the right thing, it's something he chooses to raise the next day at school, the boy himself now absent. His private investigations into the matter win him no friends on an island where people simply believe things will put themselves right.

Smith is no stranger to including an irreverent look at his adopted homeland in his work, with his impressive, yet obsessive, '6 Degrees of Bergerac', and with 'Mainlander' he chooses to lampoon the small islander mentality of Jersey-folk. While starting from the perspective of Colin, chapters soon switch to other inhabitants of the island: Colin's wife; her ex, with whom she is now having an affair; and a local detective. Though Smith chooses to include two further mainlanders: a Scouser working on the islands; and, interestingly, a Frenchman acting as right-hand man of local playboy Rob - the ex with whom Colin's wife is having an affair.

The locals paint a picture of an island where nothing happens, as everyone knows everyone and there's no chance of escaping gossip. Though 'Mainlander' pooh-poohs (hehe) this idea, unearthing a catalogue of crimes, secrets and mysterious pasts.

This is a very likable read: the sort of book you can devour at will, easy as it is to read, progressing well, with the switching of focus maintaining your attention. As a first attempt at a novel it is a strong showing, focusing on a subject matter with which Will Smith is well-versed and it'll be interesting to see how further efforts turnout.

Days to read: 10

Days per book: 15.3

War and War (Laszlo Krasznahorkai)

My promises of attempting to watch the seven-hour film adaptation of 'Satantango', my first attempt at a Krasznahorkai novel, have not yet come to fruition, though I did buy a copy for my wife for her birthday...it's a start.

From my previous experience, and reading that the man himself states, and I paraphrase, 'only God can use full stops,' I was expecting 'War and War' to be another slog. Though after something light, airy and Jersey-based, like a cow, I was up for something hard and Hungarian, like a hussar. Most of 'War and War' is set in New York.

Korin is an archivist in a small Hungarian town, uncovering a manuscript while at work. With no identifiable source on it, he begins to read it, and its revelations change his world forever. Verging on madness, he feels compelled to give up everything and go to New York to upload the manuscript to that most modern of inventions: the Internet (it was the 1990s) before his demise.

Each sentence is numbered and is anything from a paragraph to three pages in length. You have to really think when reading this, therefore. It's no simple read. But once you get over this fact after the first few pages of turning tear-soaked paper, you realise that the rambling writing structure is very much to the benefit of the reader. Rather than being a struggle, it can help the text flow in one's mind. It also serves to get the reader in the head of the rambling, bumbling Korin, with the answer to all life's questions locked in his mind, though the key of comprehension is missing. What appears a daunting read can become quite satisfying.

When focusing on Korin, his internal processes and his discovery when gazing around the skyscrapers of New York, the books flourishes. It struggles in the middle, in Korin's daily relaying of the manuscript to the non-Hungarian lover of the interpreter he lodges with on arrival in New York. The manuscript jumps through time at will, acknowledged by both Krasznahorkai and Korin alike, though you do not find yourself taking the same journey with the characters as Korin does. The journey you are on is with Korin.

Krasznahorkai makes you work for the conclusions, and you're not quite sure you get to them yourself, though Korin's revelations from the manuscript of humanity switching from a state of war to a state of war, never peace, is one that lingers, bringing meaning to the book's opening: 'Heaven is sad.'

Days to read:16

Days per book: 15.3

Silence (Shusaku Endo)

Rather than watching Martin Scorsese's recent re-make of the aforementioned, I thought I'd actually read the original text first. Catholic that he is, Scorsese often talks of the impact this book has had on him and his faith, with the film thirty years in the imagining, and ten years in the making.

In all honesty, I can't say I'm too fussed about watching the film, other than my unnecessary attempts to see every film starring Tadanobu Asano, even the really bad ones - you know the ones I mean, Keanu Reeves! I'd probably much rather watch the 1971 Masahiro Shinoda version, adapted by the Endo himself.

Well, enough about audio-visuals, what of textual eye intake? Well, for a book about incredibly difficult internal struggles and revelations, this is a particularly easy read. Despite switching in its styles and approaches - starting as letters sent home, moving into conventional narrative and then to diary entries - the story flows very well and can be breezed through at quite a pace. Though that is where ease ends with Endo's 'Silence'.

Rodrigues is a priest from Portugal who wants to locate his former mentor, considered lost in Seventeenth Century Japan - a place and time dangerous for Christians. Journeying via ship around Africa, he and his companion Garrpe, stopping off in Macao before sneaking into Japan, with the aid of a drunk Japanese, Kichijiro. Locating some local underground Christians, the Portuguese soon serve as missionaries in their new land. But once settled, the persecution of Christians becomes apparent, with the local authorities arresting local Christians, and eventually Rodrigues. Imprisoned and burdened with the suffering of his new-found flock, his faith is tested to its limits.

As a Japanese Christian, Endo is keen to see the arguments for Christianity's place in Japan from both sides: the Christians want to spread their message of truth; the Japanese wanting to remove foreign influence and the bickering factions of the religion brought by different Europeans. Dialogue, therefore, is typically theological debate between Rodrigues and his captors. The arguments from both sides don't always fall on deaf ears, with the Japanese simply wanting Rodrigues to commit apostasy to undermine his power to Japanese Christians.

The Japanese commit despicable acts upon those captured, placing the blame at the feet of Rodrigues for not renouncing his faith. As the screams continue, Rodrigues suffers without a sign from his God, soon unable to maintain his position. Throughout, the concept of God's 'silence' is plainly spelt out, with use of the word, in the translation at least, frequently made. This does dumb down and lessen the impact of the revelations, as well as not feeling like that great writing to an extent. Though this is toward the middle of the book only, the end coming on strongly.

The Japanese argue that Christianity cannot blossom in the 'swamp' of Japanese land. The God Japanese Christians follow is a confused version of the European God. As such, 'Silence' is as much about cultural differences as anything. As ideas migrate, they will be adopted by the locals in their own image, either misunderstood or rejected. To the Japanese authorities, Christianity is a war between the Protestant Dutch and Catholic Portuguese; a warring religion the Japanese do not want in their land, with the faith of the individual less important.

Parallels with today show that we have not come that far, and unwittingly, Scorsese's finally-realised piece couldn't have been more timely...

...If he stays faithful to the novel, of course. I wouldn't know.

Days to read: 9

Days per book: 15.3

Politic 31

Noise sounds for your ears...hear?!

Japanese hip hop, underground beat-smithing, Taiwanese-Japanese film soundtracks. 

What more crave thee?!

Before Dawn- EVISBEATS

Kyoto - EVISBEATS

Hanabi - EVISBEATS

Speak the Truth - Bugseed

7 - Back to Rock - Ill-Sugi

七曜日 - 環ROY, 鎮座DOPENESS and U-zhaan

Trio the Caps - スチャダラパー

Go Mi Shi - Meiso

In that Moment - Damu the Fudgemunk

Don't Count me Out - Damu the Fudgemunk

Holy Crap...Who Goes there - Invisibl Skratch Piklz

EXPO - Anchorsong

View - De La Soul

Lonely Planet - ECCY and あるぱちかぶと

Snowed In - Mndsgn

Wedding - Cheng Ming Chan

Will I see you Again - Onra

Love's Gonna Get Ya - Boogie Down Productions

Success - Mr Lif and Aesop Rock

Stressed Out - A Tribe Called Quest and Faith Evans

Ready to Die - Notorious B.I.G.

R.I.P. B.I.G.