Happy 15th Anniversary to The Roots’ seventh studio album Game Theory, originally released August 29, 2006.
As an R&B aficionado primarily, there have been plenty of opportunities for me to become a Roots fan. Raphael Saadiq’s slick production on “What They Do” on the band’s 1996 album Illadelph Halflife was one. Another was 1999’s “You Got Me” with its Erykah Badu feature, mainstream-accessible drum-n-bass, and a passive introduction to its writer, Jill Scott. The Roots often joined other dignitaries in the Soulquarian dynasty like Common, Bilal and Musiq Soulchild.
I didn’t enter through any of those doors though. My journey began by plunging into the murky depths of their heaviest project, a tar-black collection of stark, sober observations. If their discography were an episode of Black Mirror, then Game Theory would be the psychological twist in the middle that horrifies as it captivates.
Most often, they derive their album titles from intelligentsia concerns like classic Black literature (Things Fall Apart, 1999), deprecated pseudoscience (Phrenology, 2002), or sociology (The Tipping Point, 2004). This one is high-minded too, but here’s a basic explanation: by applying logic to “scenarios of conflict and competition” and “numerical values to various strategies, game theory makes it possible to calculate winners and losers.”
Further simplified, Game Theory is the disquieted soundtrack to learning you’re in a game engineered for you to lose—a first-person shooter with your weapons removed. “Just survival, kid, and it’s a struggle worldwide / I'm positive the ghetto might as well be the Gaza Strip,” Black Thought muses on “Long Time.” His focus, fury, and impeccable delivery are all potent on this disc. Slicing savagely into topics like war, police animosity, government surveillance, economic injustice, and mortality, Game Theory weaves the American Black experience into a tapestry then flips it to show the frayed and ragged underside.
Though seen as a hip-hop clique like Dipset, Wu-Tang Clan, Cash Money Millionaires, or Native Tongues, those are mostly clusters of associated rappers. The Roots is a band. Their main lineup featured Tariq “Black Thought” Trotter (lead rapper), Leonard “Hub” Hubbard (bass), Kamal Gray (keyboards), “Captain Kirk” Douglas (guitar), Frank “Knuckles” Walker (percussion), and with his signature afro, Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson (drums).
They also maintain an orbit of recurrent collaborators like rapper Dice Raw and singer “John-John” McGlinchey of Nouveau Riche. Poet Wadud Ahmad’s sonorous voice features on “Take It There” and “False Media.” Peter Zayas (then known as Peedi Crakk) and Gregory “Greg Porn” Spearman made their first Roots appearances on Game Theory. Mercedes Martinez from neo-soul duo Jazzyfatnastees lends her voice, as does former Roots member, the late Malik B. Although he left the group in 2001, he returns triumphantly on three cuts here.
The hard knocks that schooled this new record started with the previous one; although satisfying, the commercial sheen of The Tipping Point (2004) abraded some of their fanbase. Meanwhile, their relationship with Geffen Records had worn down until it snapped. The band was at a crossroads and needed to change their formula.
“We had chosen New Orleans back in May [2005] because we found this brass band… a 15-piece outfit, and we were going to incorporate them into the group,” Questlove detailed to NPR. “And then when [Hurricane] Katrina happened we kind of lost them. They got separated, none of them could be reached… Time is ticking. We don't have a label… We have no budget… and out comes this record.” Just in time to sign them, Def Jam installed as president and CEO Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter who had a convivial association with the band since they backed him on MTV Unplugged (2001).
This first project for Def Jam rose to #9 on the US Billboard 200 and #5 on Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums. Ahead of its release, they delivered the digital EP Pre-Game, including “Don’t Feel Right,” “In The Music,” and “Here I Come.” In an unusual move, all three singles were combined into a trilogy music video.
“Don’t Feel Right” is a jangling, arousal of fight-or-flight. It takes us on a tour of Black Thought’s uneasy preoccupations and perseverations. He instructs, “If you don't got no paper, then steal this CD.” Weaving amidst Ohio Players and Kool & The Gang samples, Maimouna Youssef’s sung chorus makes the track’s anxiety ironically pleasurable.
Right in line with that is “In The Music,” easily identified by its menacing bassline, diddled guitar motif, and a snare that sounds like a refrigerator falling into an empty dumpster. Greg Porn barks the chorus as if through a megaphone: “Let it bang on the block / ‘Til the neighbors call the cops / The cops gon’ come / But they ain’t gonna do shit / They don’t want no problems / What are y’all? Stupid?”
The single whose slap stung the sharpest was “Here I Come.” Black Thought, Dice Raw, and Malik B. are expert storytellers as they spit rapid-fire in this action sequence. Dueling synths and cymbals create a head-banging, hip-hop moshpit vibe that pushes and shoves in all the right ways.
Moments of levity are sporadic, but the sun comes out on “Long Time.” Coasting on a rock solid, Isley-esque groove, it sounds like a top-down convertible ride on a two-lane highway just before dusk. This tribute to their city features late singer-songwriter Bunny Sigler, a fixture of the traditional Philadelphia soul sound.
Such sunshine on Game Theory is short-lived. “Livin’ In A New World” is the cigarette offered before one faces a firing squad. Sandwiched between sinister-smiling choruses, Black Thought gives ample reason to run (“They got high-powered lenses on the cameras outside… / They hear you when you whisperin’ so try to keep quiet… / Havin’ conversations on your phone through the wire… / You can drive but it's definitely footage of your ride / Livin' in this day and time, it's a funny kind of vibe”).
Though included on Pre-Game, the rootsy “Bread & Butter” featuring Truck North was relegated to a bonus track on international pressings of the album proper. Its hook repurposes a Sesame Street memory device to illustrate the horrors of Hurricane Katrina: “A loaf of bread, milk and eggs, stick of butter / Man, somebody mother lies dead in the gutter… / Tell the kids don’t look under those covers, man.”
The passing of fellow Soulquarian, producer J Dilla darkened their colors even more. They pour out libation for their fallen comrade on “Dilltastic Vol Won(derful),” “Clock With No Hands,” and the churning, inspirational elegy “Can’t Stop This.” All employ samples of Dilla works like Slum Village’s “Fantastic,” The Pharcyde’s “Runnin’,” and “Time: The Donut of the Heart” from the last album of his lifetime, created from his hospital bed at Cedars-Sinai, released only days before his death in February 2006.
Though Badu helped them win their first GRAMMY in 2000, The Roots earned dual nominations for Best Rap Album (Game Theory) and Best Rap Performance by a Duo or Group (“Don’t Feel Right”) without invoking any of their Soulquarian superfriends. The dark aesthetic of this record would continue on the coal-smudged Rising Down (2008).
These days, The Roots are best known for their standing late night gig as house band for The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon. Suited-down, shiny and happy, their rapport with Fallon is easy and unguarded. This might lead one to forget the storming, survivalist rage distilled on this bleak, albeit critically-acclaimed record. They seem a distance away from the torment that vexes Game Theory, but perhaps they are not out of the game, simply adapted to it.
Apply logic. Change strategies. Calculate. Win.
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