The song is populated with adulterous fathers and cancerous break-dancers, an AIDS-stricken sister and inner-city derelicts 'drinkin' nightrain and pumpin' needles in their vein.' Throughout the song, Madlib constantly modulates his voice so that it appears there are numerous emcees on the track. But whereas 'What's Going On' took a more reductionary, macrocosmic view, 'Am I Confused?' suggests the ills that infect its inhabitants are a result of their own deeply embedded self-destructive urges. Recalling Marvin Gaye's classic 'What's Going On,' the song addresses Madlib's feelings of confusion and helplessness as he witnesses the deterioration of his friends and family members.
Thematically speaking, this is one of his most self-reflective, complex and rewarding songs to date. But when the muse calls- and apparently she's got the man on speed-dial- Madlib never hesitates to light a splif and start diggin'.Īlthough the song 'Astronaut' is a nice addition to Quas' catalog, the real gem here is the second track, 'Am I Confused?' The title's rhetorical question, which is repeated in the chorus, reflects the artist's inner-turmoil as he deals with issues of self-destruction, loss, and community. But, like an imprisoned Genet scribbling Our Lady of the Flowers on toilet tissue, Madlib doesn't hold any illusions that a large majority of his material will ever be released- due to both their sheer quantity and sample-clearance issues (fuck intellectual property!). There are over a dozen completed albums in the can (including two additional Quas albums and 12 from his jazz group Yesterday's New Quintet), as well as numerous beat albums and mix tapes that are recorded on a daily basis.
He rarely sleeps, and some days he never even leaves his lab, preferring to spend in excess of 15 hours honing his craft. (aka Madlib) hunches over an old and battered SP 1200, relentlessly coping samples and building tracks so rich and smooth that they can only be called musical butter. Legend has it that somewhere in Southern Cali, buried beneath stacks of vinyl and jars of kind bud, hip-hop maestro Otis Jackson Jr.
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