DISCLAIMER: These won’t be proper reviews -as if I could write those- or have interesting technical tidbits on them. These are more of a “ah, that song reminds me of…” thing. Like the part you skip on a recipe. So it goes.

Album: House of Pain.

Release date: July 21, 1992.

Track: 4.

Moods: Heritage. Raucous. Brash.

QUICK ASIDE:

Wow, ten of these? It’s been a long time since I’ve written -and posted- that often. This is an exercise to make me write every day, something I used to enjoy. Whoever you are: thank you a million for reading! These are drafty posts, sorry for the rambling and sentimental downpour.

I’ve noticed in these posts a constant: my dad buying me albums. Today’s track reminds me of two things: Heat and my dad browsing CDs.

My dad probably had OCD. Once he found something he liked, he would buy everything and consume it to its fullest. He’d buy several books, mostly sci fi and thrillers, and read one or two books in a week. He could outline any plot of a book he read, even if it had been more than a decade ago. He never threw a book, he never left a book unfinished, even before passing.

The same applied to music. Once he got a CD player, and then a Kenwood stereo, he would go and look for cheap classical musical and musicals. My mum used to scold him, so he would deflect by buying me some CDs and blame me for the exponentially increasing collection. Genre was no matter.

Except rap.

My dad wouldn’t buy me anything rap related, because “they are not singing, just talking”. I can’t remember the first rap song I heard, but I do remember the first rap video I saw. Heavy D’s Now that we found love. I’ll write about that one later. Rap was like nothing else. You could tap your feet to it, you could mosh to it (really!), and I found the lyrics easier to understand. So it goes.

Today’s particular memory concerns Tower Records near the Copthorne Tara Hotel. It was the summer of ’94 and we were on a trip -another recurring topic in these posts-. Fighting jetlag, we took a stroll on Kensington High Street, getting cheap food at a supermarket to stave off hunger.

After a couple of hours sauntering about, we went to the promised land. Tower Records was massive -to my teen mind- and while my dad was asking for some Andrew Lloyd Webber stuff that wasn’t available in Mexico, I was at the listening stations, reading one of the pamphlets from the store.

On the front cover, a group whose name resonated: House of Pain. I’d probably knew them from radio or from cable TV, but couldn’t quite recall any song. They looked downbeat but still cool enough for 17 year old me. The album being promoted was Same as it ever was and out of curiosity, I listened to a few tracks. Back from the dead blew my head. A rap group referencing Pearl Jam, Steven Seagal, and GG Allin? An ambitious crossover.

I took the CD and my dad shook his head. How did he know it was rap? Turns out, he had a copy of the pamphlet. Several, in fact. He used to hoard pamphlets from anywhere. So was he. Instead I got Spin Doctors’ turn it upside down, which I do love to bits.

Flashforward to 1996. I’m in the cinema, early January, watching Heat on my own. Al Pacino is going to a club to meet a CI and lo and behold: Passengers’ amazing Always Forever Now segues into House of Pain’s Top O’ the morning to ya, blasting on the speakers as everyone dances. I was hooked. Michael Mann’s exquisite musical taste once again offers a song to obsess over.

During my university years, I got a few sidejobs, and the little money I earned went straight to records. I never found a cheap copy of any of House of Pain’s records, and the eventual breakthrough that was MP3s, whether from FTP sites or peer to peer platforms, pushed them to the back of the queue. Eventually got both the self-titled and same as it ever was from a used CD shop, and lost them after lending them to an unreliable acquaintance. That’s life.

Top O’ The Morning to ya samples are as varied as they come. The Staples singers. Cheech & Chong. Willie Dixon. If there’s one thing I love about rap is that all the sampling opened my mind to a wide catalogue of funk & soul I’d never find by myself. Top O’ The Morning to ya is combative, brash, on your face. It never was as overplayed as Jump (“ah, that’s the basketball song!”) and after Back from the dead, it’s my fave track by House of Pain. I kept my eye on Everlast afterwards and that CD I bought as soon as it came out. But that’s another story for another day.

Raise a Bushmill/Jameson for the memories of those who aren’t with us any longer. Miss ya dad, you’d love these guys if you gave them a chance.

—Sam J. Valdés López