Like Life... A-Frame and Mike Clouds drop punchlines from a Barstool BY SAM PFEIFLE

A-Frame was born to be a rapper. The motherfucker can’t shut up. He’s over for a photo-shoot and I quickly know more about him than I knew about some roommates I lived with in college. He’s from up north, Washington County, and he’s bounced all over New England, living the ’head life in Burlington, Vermont, for a while, then coming back over to Portland in 1999, right when the Stonecoast open mics started getting good.

Back then, you could at least say that everyone knew who he was. He wore this crazy headlamp when he rapped, and he had a distinctive (read: always the same) delivery that sounded like a techno loop, starting low and arcing up at the finish: ba, ba, buh-buh buh-buh, baa, ba. His delivery was shaped like his namesake, maybe. It was recognizable, but too predictable, and sounding too much like a self-conscious 16-year-old girl asking a question with every statement.

It’s amazing how confidence and thousands of hours of practice can improve a performer. Frame’s sophomore album, Life on a Barstool, might make you think it’s more like liquid courage, but if you listen to him talk for just a little while now, he’ll get around to telling you exactly how fucked up he used to be.

He asks me whether I notice a difference between the new album and his first, kind of winking at me. I agree the new album is better produced, more professional, more aggressive. He laughs. He can sense I’ve only given the disc a casual listen so far.

"Pretty much," he says, "after [2003’s debut] Against the Grain, I said ‘I’m going to change my whole style.’ There’s definitely a comedy influence now, definitely shock-core . . . I’ve gone through another big change in the last year. I’ve calmed it down a lot. So this is before the change and the next album will be after the change."

It’s going to be called Life with a Hangover, and be very positive and political, he says. "This one’s A-Frame," he jokes. "The next one’s Aaron Libby." I’ve heard bits of it. A-Frame even sings.

Mike Clouds (Frame’s DJ/partner in crime, who used to be Mic Clouds before he got sick of everyone calling him "mick") just chuckles. "It’s real, though. That’s the best part of it . . . I’d have to say I changed, too [after the first album]. A little harder."

Yeah, after a few listens more, I’d agree Life on a Barstool is just a bit harder.

From "Whatchya Gonna Do Frame": "When I was 13 I fucked a drag queen with herpes/ turned from man to dyke and grew two titties that were perky."

From "Slingshot": "Late at night, when the bed bugs bite, go to my Web site/ Check out the money shot I gave to your wife on your wedding night."

From "How Ya Gonna Diss": "The cab’s dead, at ABC I’ve got a bad friend/ Named Mikey-B he likes to fuck pregnant crackheads."

He describes himself in person and on the disc as a punchline rapper. There are body blows all over this record. He likes to "make the crowd go, ‘Oooooh.’ "

He’s hilarious, more so because he knows it, acting as much stand-up comedian as MC. He doesn’t take himself too seriously, and like most good comedians I’ve met, he’s constantly self-deprecating and qualifies every boast with a humble backtrack. In Barstool’s opening "Bio," he tells us straight out that "I’m really kind of lame/ I treat ho’s like ladies/ I never get laid." Is he "dysfunctional? Nah I’m just a dick that’s unlovable."

He’s got a soft spot, too. "In the Front Row" is all about how he’s willing to wait for a girl to come around. But "hold my feelings back because these bitches think I’m corny . . . a single star in the sky and I could really give a shit/ I’ve seen a million bright lights but I’ve yet to get a wish."

Hard and soft, he’s ably backed by Mike Clouds, who definitely knows who the star of this show is. His production is "old school but new school," as he describes it, which basically means he doesn’t gussy it up too much with a bunch of unnecessary samples and window dressing, but uses more synths than bass lines and puts forward a very clean sound, like the Ghetto Boys beat up P.Diddy and stole some of his chingy-ching-ching.

And, as A-Frame says, "Clouds makes it so the MC can shine."

For the album’s title track, Clouds lays down a super-catchy melodic bagpipe hook, well suited to the party anthem. "Slingshot" and "Punchlines," both more aggressive lyrically, are appropriately backed by dark and menacing, low-register synths.

For the utterly over the top "Oh No" — which opens with Frame noting that "this is where we want all the fat bitches to come to the dance floor, the ones with those big buttermilk titties," and seems to be about a Russian girlfriend — Clouds gives us great layering, subtle scratching, and a sweet, fun melody that takes its cues from Dr. Dre backing Eminem.

Then there’s the chorus: "Oh no, here’s a notion, shut up bitch and drink the potion/ Oh no, here’s a sequel, do they know that the boy is evil/ Oh no, that’s the deadline, didn’t get shit cuz he missed the punchline/ Oh no, we’re hard to handle, odds ain’t good, want to take the gamble?"

Unlike many "underground" rappers, Frame’s got a great feel for the chorus. Halfway through every song you’re chanting along, despite the fact that he packs hundreds of lines into every track, five and six verses deep. He and Clouds both know how to bury the hook, reeling in fans — whether they fully understand what they’re listening to or not.

Frame’s very conscious of his hip-hop community, too. Anticon, the San Francisco-based underground label started by a crew of Portlanders, takes its fair share of criticism for what Frame sees as an abandonment of their home town. Locals like Sontiago, jdwalker, KGB, Brzowski, Poverty, and DJ Jon all get references, sometimes for exposition — "Sontiago’s laughing, so why the fuck you blushing" — sometimes as the butts of jokes, but he acknowledges that "before you diss a player, better make sure that you know him."

He also fesses up to being unable to freestyle very well, talking often about his "writtens," and defensive enough about it to make it clear that he sees it as a point of weakness. In a genre where heroes are made through the battle, Frame boasts that "with one written I’ll rip you to pieces imbecile," which is kind of like, "if I had a rocket launcher."

Further, he may demand too much of his listener with this album. The simple production and rapid-fire delivery, though now much more varied and polished, doesn’t make for instant access. His punchlines sometimes need five and six listens to discern. Without his choruses and the odd couplet that absolutely demands your attention, this album wouldn’t be all that accessible.

That’s the tradeoff you make for the underground sound. If you want hands in the air, you keep things a lot more simple than this. This should play well at the colleges, though, and in the clubs where hip-hop street cred is most important. It’s likely Frame and Clouds could "stay in Super 8 motels across the country — play colleges and make enough to live," a goal they keep that’s refreshingly reasonable.

It’s almost true, too, that "no one puts out more music than us," as Frame notes following an "I’m sorry but." This is their second full-length in a year and a half, and they’ll have another disc ready for the spring. Only jdwalker and Nomar Slevik can really hang with that locally.

"Hopefully this will start to get Portland recognized on a national level," Frame says. "The rock bands can’t do it so we’re going to take a swing at it." He laughs, but he’s serious. Life on a barstool has passed. For A-Frame and Mike Clouds, it’s time to get serious.

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at spfeifle@phx.com

A-Frame and Mike Clouds play a CD-release party, with moshjose and Lab 7, at the Free Street Taverna, in Portland, on Friday, Jan. 14. Call (207) 772-5483.