De La Soul: Doing the time warp rap

By REBECCA BARRY

De La Soul feel the same way about their old songs as parents probably feel about their teenagers they love them unconditionally but want to throttle them every once in a while.

It's been 14 years since the hip-hop trio penned classics such as Me, Myself and I , Buddy and Potholes In My Lawn but they're still popular enough to play at their shows.

"Sometimes we hate 'em, but it's one of those things where you've got to respect your art," reasons Dave Jolicoeur, the DJ who previously called himself Trugoy (yogurt spelt backwards).

De La Soul are about to release their sixth album, the third in their ambitious Art Official Intelligence series. But like all of their works, it will no doubt invoke comparisons with their hugely influential 1989 debut, Three Feet High & Rising (with ex-member Prince Paul), which revolutionised sampling, forged a witty, conversational lyrical style, gave crucial exposure to artists such as Common, Mos Def and Q-Tip and challenged the machismo of gangster rap.

Posing satirically on the cover in psychedelic clothing, surrounded by flowers, De La Soul were hailed as hip-hop's harmonious hippies, the Scott McKenzies of the 80s.

"People got stuck on this album and wanted to hear a million Me Myself and I's," says Jolicouer. "I don't think that's how art works. Sometimes people would say to us, "You guys are really naive, you could have made so much money." But it's not about money, it's about making your art first and hoping people will appreciate it.

The first album was a great album and I think our fans realised they would not want another Three Feet High & Rising."

Whether they did or not, De La put the nail in the commercial coffin with their aptly titled follow-up, De La Soul Is Dead, which set out to redefine the group but was criticised for whining about the tribulations of celebrity.

"The only thing I expected out of making a record was to hear it on the radio," Jolicouer retorts. "When it exploded and went big, we had the best time of our lives.

"But we had no intentions of being hippies, of being 60s flower children. And when the record label began to build an image and a look which we felt to an extent would pigeon-hole us, we had to kill that. That's why we weren't even on the cover of the [second] album. We didn't want people to see us. We wanted people to forget who we were. So we started fresh, even though to the label, we sold a million records the first go round and the second album only sold 600,000."

It wouldn't be the last time the trio would struggle in the hip-hop marketplace. Last year, they signed to Elektra after Tom Silverman sold Tommy Boy the launchpad that put De La Soul, Naughty By Nature, Queen Latifah and House of Pain on the hip-hop map to invest in dance music.

"Hip-hop has become big business," Jolicouer says philosophically. "It's put a lot of people to work. I think it's a good thing, but I don't think it will ever go stale, I don't think it can ever be worn out. It's unfortunate for such a historic label but at the same time, I'm so happy to be free. This is like the best thing that could've ever happened. I wouldn't want to be with a person who didn't want to get back in the party and learn how to party again as opposed to thinking that his party was the party."

To celebrate, Tribute to the DJ, featuring Jean-Paul and Snoop Dogg, will be a "party" album, a turntable-oriented affair where the lines between MC and DJ are blurred. And likeBionix, the laid-back second part of the A:I triology that was interspersed with De La's trademark aural skits, Maseo will instruct listeners on how to scratch and cut.

"It's not necessarily like a 'shake your ass' party," says Jolicouer. "It's more like a DJ jumping around having a party, whether he goes to a reggae sun splash or a rock'n'roll jam or a hip-hop club or a country and western party. You never know, there might even be a party in a church."

* De La Soul, St James, Tuesday June 3