AMETHYST ROCK STAR

You're four-years-old. Mom and dad tell you to get into bed; that they'll be in, in a minute, to read you a story before you go to sleep. Your bedroom windows are open. It's the middle of October, and it's windy as hell. In the street below, you can hear a small percussion ensemble pounding away under the dim light of small torches. Your gypsy neighbor is playing his violin again. And from a distance, you can hear the gurgle of electric guitars from a rock concert in the park. All this is going on as mom and dad walk in and begin shouting Public Enemy lyrics at the top of their lungs. That's what listening to Saul Williams' Amethyst Rock Star (American/Columbia Records) is like. It's an eleven-song hour of organized chaos, mixing thunderous aggression with soothing tranquility. The star of this show? His words. Williams’ instrument is his language: his love for it, and his understanding of it. But he doesn't take to the mic in traditional MC fashion. Williams treats his words like percussion. When the subject matter calls for it, Williams provides the appropriate delivery. In "Tao of Now," Williams begins with a calm, casual setup over a violin and cello in the background. But as the beat comes in, he begins spitting his lyrics with an equally punchy fury. It's something you notice he's consistently good at as you listen to the rest of the album. The delivery befits the lyrics, both of which befit the music, and so on and so forth. Amethyst Rock Star is a pretty interesting album worth experiencing.