Happy 20th Anniversary to Cody ChesnuTT’s debut album The Headphone Masterpiece, originally released September 24, 2002.
Somewhere in the depths of my brain lurks a playlist (yet to actually be constructed) of songs that are perfectly balanced. Songs for which the production is so perfect, with each and every note placed to perfection, and every moment of silence perfectly poised and each instrument sits nestled alongside the others in a harmony that verges on pure bliss. Deniece Williams’ “Free”, William DeVaughan’s “Be Thankful for What You Got” and George Benson’s “Give Me The Night” all make an appearance on that list (which no doubt, I will now start to construct).
Nothing from Cody ChesnuTT’s debut album The Headphone Masterpiece will appear on that list though. Not because it isn’t a fascinating album but because it is roughly hewn and chaotically visceral in its charms. Having been in a group called The Crosswalk and been dropped from Hollywood Records, ChesnuTT began to record himself at home in Valley Village, California. Using a 4-track recorder, one microphone and a pair of Sony headphones so as not to wake his roommate up, he played organ, guitar, bass and keyboards to create the double album that served as his debut.
There are some comparisons that spring immediately to mind. The mind-melting confidence to name your album a Masterpiece immediately reminded me of Sananda Maitreya’s (a.k.a. Terence Trent D’Arby’s) wildly admirable hubris on the release of his debut album Introducing the Hardline… (1987) and his multi-instrumental approach is redolent of many, but most obviously, Prince. Yet trying to label it seems an impossible task given the panoply of delights it showcases. (Although it is worth saying here that Apple Music’s desire to label it as Hip-Hop/Rap is fairly risible.)
In news that will shock no one, the slightly overwhelming 36-track, 100-minute double album has peaks, troughs and everything in between but it feels like a cathartic attempt to get it all off his musical chest. It also came at a point when soul and pop music was in thrall to the undeniable talents of The Neptunes and Murder Inc. records’ fairly formulaic route to success—this felt totally different in comparison to those two strands of the time. His overdubbed and lo-fi approach saw him rub up against the industry with labels recognizing the quality of the work but beseeching him to smooth the rougher edges off and compromise his vision by re-recording the album.
Yet he resisted, insisting that to re-record it would be like trying to catch quicksilver twice. Once this musical genie was out of the bottle, it was impossible to squeeze such a voluminous effort back in. It should be said that 36 tracks is a touch misleading—some are one-minute riffs on ideas and others are fully fledged and wholly developed songs. As well as consisting of a wide variety of styles and song durations, there is a reassuringly complex and intimate human being behind it all. His sentiments are sometimes difficult to swallow, but his willingness to share even the darkest aspects of his character is never in doubt. When he sings, “Do as I say, fuck you bitch” on “War Between The Sexes” it’s hard to picture it coming from the same mouth as the one that cooed sweetly on the disarmingly cute “Up In The Treehouse.” He is not afraid to put it all out there.
Listen to the Album:
The same swaggering rock-God confidence that was evident in the title of the album is on show at various intervals throughout the album, but most successfully on “The Seed” and “Look Good In Leather.” The former was re-recorded with The Roots for their 2002 album Phrenology after Dream Hampton played the song in its original form to Questlove and it thumps in both iterations. Here it is a preening garage rock version that snarls and spits while the version on Phrenology comes complete with thunderous drums and Black Thought’s always portentous tones. The latter is a deliriously wicked roll call of supreme confidence—it starts with this gem: “I can do anything I want / because I look good in leather,” before it soars into the kind of sexual confidence that most people would kill for: “I can make any woman mine / Because I look good in leather / I can rock her body so good it blows her mind / Because I know how to fuck her better / Better than you…” It is irresistible.
But rock-God is not the sum of his talents—the album opens with the delicious sound of a Fender Rhodes piano and his dulcet tones cooing delightfully on “Magic In A Mortal Minute,” while the sanctified organ and saxophone combination heard on “Serve This Royalty” is a winner all the way when combined with ChesnuTT’s raspy, breathless falsetto.
Two other highlights are the folk-soul of “My Women, My Guitars” and the slight but impactful “Somebody’s Parent.” Both demonstrate his winning melodies and his lyrical honesty. The former includes the chorus “Man, something is killing me / My women, my guitars / I’ve been living hard, my breakdown is on the way / I know my breakdown is on the way,” while the latter is a repeated refrain of “All day with no nicotine / Is the reason I’ve been so mean / Oh baby forgive me for being the dick that I’ve been to the children and you” to the accompaniment of jangly guitar and understate fizzing drum patterns. The combination shouldn’t work, but it does.
With so many songs to choose from, it is impossible to give a full picture of the delights this album offers given the constraints of time and space. But the album serves as reminder that although charts and trends may say otherwise, all popular music is rooted in and is the fruit of Black music. The bewildering array of styles and tones is testament to the power of Black music and here ChesnuTT sticks a flag in it all and reclaims it from the stolid, stultifying need of the industry to restrict the music world to one virile Black man with a guitar at a time—a fact the aforementioned Sananda Maitreya gave voice to here.
Is it a masterpiece? Maybe, maybe not. Is it worth your time though? Most definitely.
LISTEN: