Souls Of Mischief - Montezuma's Revenge

Clear Label Records: 2009

I always wondered what ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ meant, figuring there was more to it than a kick-ass ride at Knott’s Berry Farm (The G-forces!! The G-forces!!). I thought it was fanciful Mexican folklore, the famed ninth Aztec emperor Moctezuma II arising from the dead to exact vengeance on the Spanish Conquistadors who killed him and murdered his people. So when I heard Souls Of Mischief had an album out of the same title, my first thoughts was something along those lines, except it was a case of indie, conscious hip-hop making its revenge upon the oversaturated ‘pop-rap’ of the time – everyone was bemoaning hip-hop’s death by the late ‘00s, after all. Then I discovered the general meaning of ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ in today’s society, which yes, I admit, has eluded me all this time (count my blessings, yo’). Ah, now it all makes sense when asked about the title’s meaning, Tajai quipped, “The deeper meaning is the album will make you crap yourself.”

However you read it, Montezuma’s Revenge was seen as something of a rebirth for the Hieroglyphics foursome, their first album together after nearly a decade of simmering solo projects. A-Plus, Phesto, Opio, and Tajai didn’t have plans for a reconvention of their MC powers, but a passing Prince Paul expressed interest in working with the Oakland crew, which sounds like an all-star project the likes backpackers around the globe could only dream of. One of the preeminent producers of indie hip-hop paired with one of the most respected groups from the Golden Years, all hanging out in the same studio, unleashing all their potential creativity into a mega-reunion collaboration super-project! Or not.

I admit the Adrian Young project There Is Only Now spoiled me some towards what a Souls reunion could truly entail. For sure there’s nothing to find at fault with Montezuma’s Revenge, as the group sound as fine as they ever have, and Prince Paul handles the dials with sleek professionalism while throwing a few trademark quirks in for good measure. And when compared to what hip-hop was doing on the charts in 2009, the laid-back beats and witty verbal dexterity on display must have been a welcome respite for the old-school heads. It’s just, with all the players involved, one kinda’ hopes for a little more than what we got here. A new modern-classic rather than experienced vets giving us acceptable examples of their tried and true abilities. Even Prince Paul has a bit of a pisstake with it all, a guest “Mr. Freeman” calling into the studio telling the lads they need to drop that “old-school shit, son”. And indeed Souls Of Mischief would, after teaming up with Adrian Young for that new modern-classic everyone had been dying for since ’93 To Infinity.

Montezuma’s Revenge feels more like a warm-up to the Souls’ resurgence in the current decade, a trial-run before all the members embarked upon bold new territory. Lord knows they needed it, and Prince Paul was more than capable in lending a hand.

Big L - Lifestylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous

Columbia: 1995

The story of Big L is one of so much promise, and so senselessly squandered by random acts of street violence. He may have been lost in a plethora of Eastcoast rappers carving out their fame in the ‘90s, but dropping what’s often cited as one of the underground hip-hop classics at a mere 20 years of age is nothing short of incredible. Think of all the heavy hitters of the era he was up against: Biggie, Wu-Tang, Nas, Mobb Deep, not to mention the emergent Jay-Z, DMX, Big Pun, and, um, Ma$e (plus probably a dozen more I’m neglecting an obligatory namedrop). It’s understandable that someone as lyrically raw as Lamont Coleman would fall through the cracks, another casualty of a major label bungling young careers. Whether he would have found a commercial breakthrough in the new millennium, or remain one of the underground’s champions remains one of the tantalizing “what ifs?” of hip-hop lore. Sadly it was not to be, Big L murdered in a drive-by before the age of 25.

I’d heard of the Brooklyn rapper when starting my dig through hip-hop, though mostly in passing reference. A shortened discography didn’t help matters, Lifestylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous his only record released while still alive, while the posthumous The Big Picture (1974-1999) gathered material he’d been making for a second album. The latter offered us Ebonics, an incredibly clever track showcasing amazing lyricism that clued me in that I should be giving Big L some proper attention. Another factor was the live shout-out Gang Starr gave him as the very first track on their double-CD retrospective collection Full Clip: A Decade Of Gang Starr. The fact these legends would do such a thing on a release centered on their career suggested Big L was definitely an MC worthy of some stature. Finally, after a friend from out East came for a visit and kept insisting we play some Big L on a road trip, well, that just sealed the deal.

And playing through Lifestylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous, yeah,I hear how this young MC put even Nas on notice. His topics are well-tread street rap, but nonetheless gripping as he spits his rhymes. Weaving tales of the ‘hood life, survival of the illest, gotta’ do what you gotta’ do to get through it all, all the while questioning why lesser MCs in the game are getting mad paid while talent such as his languishes in obscurity. Big L’s lyricism is spotless, vivid with his imagery, dynamic with his multi-syllabic rhymes (known as ‘compounding’ apparently; always learning something new!), riding beats with flow that’s fierce yet smooth. The music production is almost entirely that Eastcoast funk-n-jazz loop based stylee, mostly handled by his Diggin’ In The Crates Crew members Buckwild and Lord Finesse (you’ve heard their beats before, trust). It all reminds me of Del’s No Need For Alarm, hip-hop strictly for the underground heads, though with heavier Eastcoast grit and menace. Mint material, all this.

Adrian Younge Presents Souls Of Mischief - There Is Only Now

Linear Labs: 2014

Adrian Younge probably would have broke out of contemporary funk-n-soul obscurity eventually, a talent behind the producer’s console as much with nearly instrument he takes within his hands. When he teamed up with Ghostface Killah to produce one of the Wu-Tang man’s best albums in a decade, it was all but guaranteed he’d have the plumb choice of working with any number of top list rappers out there. Thus it was a surprising move on ol’ Adrian’s part that his next project was with backpacker favorites Souls Of Mischief. That Mr. Younge would be a fan of the Hieroglyphics crew makes sense given the musician’s background, but to convince A-Plus, Opio, Tajai, and Phesto into the booth for a throwback album of sorts? Now that’s some earned industry clout, mang.

Not that Souls Of Mischief had fallen off, disbanded, or anything like that, but as each member focused on their solo careers following the turn of the century, few figured they’d find reason to reconvene. Even 2009’s Montezuma’s Revenge didn’t hint at much future collaborative work between the foursome, and it looked to remain as such until Adrian approached them with his wishes and dreams of a vintage Souls Of Mischief LP.

But what, pray tell, is a ‘vintage SoM’ record? Anything that recaptures the spirit of their debut, 93 ‘Til Infinity, is my guess. The clever lyrical wordplay, the brash actions of youthful bravado, the vivid depictions of street stories, all presented with a Bay Area sense of laid-back, free-stylin’ vibe. In the case of There Is Only Now, these facets are presented in the form of a singular narrative – yes, even the ‘brash youthfulness’, despite all these MCs having aged two decades since 93 ‘Til Infinity. It helps the events of this album are loosely based on a real-life event, specifically being present during a shooting. Though they weren’t actually involved with the incident, Souls use it as a catalyst to weave a tale as though they were, with Tajai even being ‘taken out and captured’ by a perpetrator named Wormack, a part played by Busta Rhymes, of all MCs.

Much of this album chronicles the Mischievous Souls’ worries for their fallen comrade, concerns of the state of their neighborhood that such a thing could happen, reflection whether retribution is justified in this case, and their measures to seek their own brand of vigilantism. Remarkably, a guest spot that drops in for some sage advice is Snoop Dogg, coming off like a wise elder of this scenario despite him and Souls having little age difference between them. I won’t spoil the ending, but it does leave a bit open ended, letting the listener come to their own moralistic conclusion.

Throughout it all, Adrian Younge provides a musical backdrop befitting of a classic blaxploitation picture, and should you ever get lost with the plot, a radio DJ occasionally drops in as an ongoing narrator. Huh, I’m getting DJ Professor K of Jet Set Radio flashbacks. I’m sure Souls approve.

Ghostface Killah - Supreme Clientele

Epic: 2000

Finally I’m tackling the one Ghostface Killah album Wu-Tang fans and general hip-hop folks alike consider his best long-player, Supreme Clientele. Remarkably, it wasn’t even thought as such for at first, the very definition of a slow burner. For sure the hardline Wu fandom was tripping themselves over it, but this came out when the Clan was losing their dominance at the top of the rap world, many albums from other members lacklustre compared to the fiery opening salvo that marked their ‘90s output. That Ghost’s sophomore effort would get slept on isn’t surprising, Mr. Killah’s stock as one of Wu-Tang’s best solo MC having yet to be established. It still burned in the underground though, and if anything, Supreme Clientele was the record that kept everyone talking, proving that not all things Wu was on the wane. Then Tony Starks would surpass the rest of his Clan fam’ in popularity, and everyone chimed in proclaiming they always knew Supreme Clientele was dope. Right, of course.

Disclosure time: I have not actually heard this album as most have. Rather, I have a misspressed, early version that shipped out with the initial wave of Canadian copies. For the longest time, I suspected something was wrong with my CD, the tracklist and sequencing wildly off cue compared to what was printed. It didn't matter too much, as the album was boss from front to back, but I couldn't figure why one nine-minute long track sounded like three different cuts one after the other. At the time, I thought it was an artistic decision, that Ghostface was operating on a different plane with this LP, throwing the very conventions of properly indexing one's albums out the window.

Nah, guy, it was just the wrong one I got, is all. So I lost The Grain; I gained the soul-drenched In The Rain instead. And I still get all the ace cuts anyway, even if they’re in a different order. The bouncy club jams One, Cherchez LaGhost, and Buck 50 are all still here. The killer, crusty Wu production of Mighty Healthy, Malcom, Wu Banga 101 and Stroke Of Death (the beat loop is a freakin’ spinback!) are all still here. Most members of the Clan show up (no ODB because jail, and no Deck, though he does provide a beat), with everyone sounding on point and in classic ‘90s hunger mode. The various skits are okay too (haha, they’re already dissin’ 50 Cent), and are nicely shuffled off to the ends of tracks in this copy rather than given individual indexes. Okay, that’s a personal preference.

Apparently such discrepancies have turned this first-run Canadian copy into something of a collector’s item, going for easy triple-digits in some quarters. Huh, In The Rain is a cool track (found only on this CD), but is it really worth a couple hundred bones?

In any version, Supreme Clientele is among the best solo Wu albums out there. Essential listening for any fan of the Clan.

OutKast - Stankonia

Arista: 2000

Wu-Tang Clan may have opened my ears to the possibilities of what hip-hop could sound like, but OutKast's Stankonia obliterated whatever biased barriers I had left. Not that my reaction was much different from everyone else who nabbed a copy of this album, Big Boi and André 3000's fourth LP lauded for its fearless genre-bending music by even the most cagey of rap veterans. Folks in the know were already hype to OutKast's potential though, even if the duo continuously exceeded expectations at this point in their career. I was coming in raw, with no knowledge of their history within the Atlanta scene. All I knew about Southern rap was whatever No Limit Records was churning out, and Stankonia sounded nothing like Master P. Then again, Stankonia sounded like nothing else on the market period.

For one thing, this album was among the first, if not the first, of major records in American hip-hop to inject the breakneck pace of drum ‘n’ bass rhythms into the scene. I’m sure some UK act had done the deed prior, or at least lyrically conscious MCs were spittin’ verses overtop Roni Size cuts, but music intended for raves was well outside the interest of this continent’s ghetto regions. Figures, then, it’d take these OutKast types to make that bold step into 155BPM territory with B.O.B. and smaller track ? (yes, it’s called that). Big Boi and Mr. 3000 weren’t satisfied just aping some rhythms though, making use of their newly acquired studio to indulge in all sorts of electronic sounds and productions. Red Velvet is pure electro, Snappin’ & Trappin’ goes weirdo electro (wasn’t really called trap yet), Gangsta Sh*t blasts heavy southern bass funk, Slum Beautiful fears no time signatures, and I’ll Call Before I Come tinkers with a drum machine like a toy box in Prince’s hands. And don’t forget all those funky Moog worms about So Fresh, So Clean, Xplosion, and Stanklove.

Stankonia was also where André started feeling the soul-croon itch, which initially gave his chums pause whether they were going to lose his rap talents. Instead, Big Boi let him run with it, and the result was some of OutKast’s most endearing songs ever, including their first major hit with Ms. Jackson. There’s also freak-out rock with Gasoline Deams, P-funk soul with Toilet Tisha, salsa with Humble Mumble, and plenty of quirky dalliances within multiple interludes. It’s funny how the more traditional hip-hop cuts with Spaghetti Junction and We Luv Deez Hoez, while fine enough productions, are almost forgotten amongst the genre bending going on. Well, no, you’ll never forget the hook in We Luv Deez Hoez.

Listening to Stankonia, it’s easy to understand why many OutKast fans were hesitant in embracing Speakerboxxx / The Love Below. This album finds the duo seemingly at the threshold of exploring amazing new approaches to hip-hop, whereas the latter, though a passion-project, was a step back. The relative lack of anything since has only made hearts grow fonder for this stank.

Eminem - The Slim Shady LP

Interscope Records: 1998

Seven years wasn’t long enough for the bitter aftertaste of Vanilla Ice’s brief dominance at the top of the charts. Perhaps that shameful moment in hip-hop’s history could never be cleansed from public consciousness, forever ruining whatever hope white rappers not named Beastie Boys might have in breaking it in that scene. Heck, the only other marginally successful Caucasian group in ’97 was ICP, and few gave them much care since they were so thoroughly committed to their clown show, no one took them seriously. And hip-hop are serious musics, see, dealing with serious issues of the day, and serious stories of rags to riches. What could a white boy from Detroit know of hardships in America?

Plenty much, turns out. Via an extreme persona dubbed Slim Shady, Eminem offered a look inside the side of life below the poverty line for American Caucasians (re: white trash), a topic almost unheard of in the world of rap. Punk rock, sure; metal, of course; blues and country, sometimes yeah. Hip-hop though, that's music for the black community, performed for the black community – how could they relate to the things Mr. Mathers dealt with?

Not much, to be honest, but they couldn't deny his skills on a microphone, spitting out battle rhymes and telling stories on par with any of the best MCs of the ‘90s. It was enough to draw the notice of Dr. Dre himself, hearing fresh fire in the kid from Detroit that hadn't been heard in hip-hop for years, the old guard all too comfortable in their established roles. Eminem had the talent, the unique perspective, and the drive to take the world by storm; all he needed was the guidance, which Doc' Dre provided. Then they released the corny-ass My Name Is, instantly dividing the MTV generation on whether Eminem could ever be taken seriously.

Oh all right, it was mostly me, but I don't doubt I was alone in suspecting Eminem nothing but a novelty one-hit wonder after that video. Hell, even the stuff he was graphically detailing wasn't too far off from the shock humor of South Park and Jerry Springer. Hip-hop associates kept telling me, “Don't judge him by that one song, it's the worst one off the album. You gotta' hear the rest of it, man!” Yeah, yeah, I'd nod, but considering I had yet to take my proper rap plunge, fat chance I'd ever hear The Slim Shady LP in full. Still, tracks like Guilty Conscience, My Fault (aka: the mushrooms song), and Role Model did find their way to my ears at the odd house party, and I couldn't deny they were fun, twisted tunes.

But nay, it wasn't until after hearing The Marshall Mathers LP and growing to appreciate Eminem the artist that I finally went back to The Slim Shady LP. And lo’, it was indeed a good album, a wild, reckless ride through lower class society’s worst traits. I sure don’t want to stay there for long though.

ACE TRACKS: May 2013

So, enjoying all these ‘S’ albums? It’s been nearly two months since I started with this letter, and I’m not even finished the first half of them, at least another two weeks’ worth to go before hitting a midway point. And If you think that’s hefty, you should see the alphabetical backlog that’s accumulated in that time! Holy cow, I may need a cutoff with that, lest I never find a way back to my ‘S’ albums. This was all so much easier two years ago. Remember how swiftly ‘F’ and ‘G’ flew by? I do, because I just made a playlist for ACE TRACKS: May 2013, when I was reviewing those CDs.


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - Global Underground Departures
Various - Global Underground 31: Dubfire - Taipei
Jim ‘Shaft’ Ryan - Miss Moneypenny’s Glamorous Grooves
2 Unlimited - Get Ready
Del Tha Funkee Homosapien - Funk Man (The Stimulus Package)
AK1200 - Fully Automatic

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 50%
Percentage Of Rock: 6%
Most “WTF?” Track: Nine Inch Nails - At The Heart Of It All (why does this sound like some random Aphex Twin cut?)

The hip-hop percentage is misleading, as I’ve included the entirety of Gang Starr’s Full Clip double-disc ‘best of’ at the end, which is indeed about half of the total songs in this playlist. Also, I’m not sure I can even qualify the selected rock songs as rock at all. The three Police entries find Sting pushing the limits of what a rock song could be in a New Wave world, and the NIN cuts (re: remixes) are definitely out of leftfield here. This was also another rather short Playlist sans Gang Starr, that May eaten up by plenty more double-disc entries (two NIN albums, a GU, plus another 2CD DJ mix). I’m surprised this came together as capably as it did, what with moody ambient music, tech-doff house, and psy trance all mixing things up. Well, the opening portion anyway.

Fugees - The Score

Columbia: 1996

Fugees’ The Score annoyed me to no end when it first came out. It was inescapable, everyone hyping the ever-loving Hell out of it, songs on hourly rotation blasting from radio airwaves and music video transmissions. Not to mention the nonstop requests at whatever teen dance, Christmas party, or wedding I was attending, when all I wanted to hear out was a little Dance Mix 96 instead. Okay, so I only heard Killing Me Softly, because it was among the most omnipresent singles of that year. That was enough to convince me The Score wasn’t worth my time though, as teenage ignorance is wont to do.

Slowly but surely I came around to the Fugees' multi-platinum selling sophomore effort (thanks, jungle remixes!). Killing Me Softly is what it is, a fine cover of a classic soul song that gave Lauryn Hill the spotlight on the album, Wyclef and Pras politely stepping aside for her moment to shine (save some hype man calls). What finally made me a fan, however, was the way she could command a hook so effortlessly.

Ready Or Not is the obvious one, but the strangely forgotten Fu-Gee-La is another winner, her rendition of the Teena Marie original worming its way inside your brain matter for long-term residence. Seriously, I listened to The Score about a week ago, and her Fu-Gee-La chorus is still randomly spinning in my head! It doesn’t hurt it’s got such a wicked bottom end, deep in the dub with a swaggering dancehall bounce. Why doesn’t anyone bring this song up anymore? It was the lead single, including a prominent sticker on the front proudly proclaiming it as the reason to buy The Score. It had two extra remixes added as bonus tracks, including one from dub reggae legends Sly & Robbie! Yet to this day, nadda and zilch is mentioned of it. Hell, I don’t even recall anyone talking up the track even when the album was new – even the goofy kung-fu Chinese restaurant skit prior to it got more play than Fu-Gee-La. Revive this song, yo’!

While the rest of The Score if often bypassed from the big tunes, that’d be a disservice to your ears. Yes, the Fugees were only ever modest MCs, but they rose to fame when gangsta tropes and New York City mafioso raps were the big hotness on the East Coast. In feeding off their influences of reggae, dancehall, soul, and the conscious end of hip-hop, they stood apart from all their contemporaries, offering an easy-going vibe for an increasingly aggressive scene. They could throw down when it came to battle skills (How Many Mics, The Score), though their focus was aimed more at inner-city strife, especially back in Wyclef’s native Haiti.

Speaking of Wyclef, just how brilliantly daft is some of his production here? Sampling Enya – freaking Enya! – for a hip-hop track and making it work is amazing in of itself. Still, I always knew Boadicea was a dope cut, if given right context.

RZA as Bobby Digital - In Stereo

Gee Street: 1998

Within the intro of RZA's debut solo album, he makes a snarky comment about other hip-hop producers still relying on breaks samples for their beats. It's the new era after all, on the cusp of a fresh millennium - digital dominance was nigh. So, instead of relying on more funk and soul loops that defined his early production, Mr. Diggs set out to create a digital orchestra with around a dozen synths at his disposal. Laudable goals, daring even, but here's another theory: he lost a ton of sample-based beats in that studio flood of his, thus forced to redo everything from scratch. Okay, 'forced' is harsh – 'inspired' into a change of direction sound better?

As for the concept of Bobby Digital: In Stereo, the notion RZA would have another pseudonym to play with isn't surprising. By this point he'd already been Prince Rakeem (aborted pre-Wu solo career), RZArector (Gravediggaz), and Bobby Steels (mafioso alias for Raekwon's Only Built For Cuban Linx...), so here’s Bobby Digital, something of a super-id identity reflective of his irresponsible days as a youth. Taking cues from blaxploitation flicks and superhero comics, Bobby is the ultimate male power fantasy, getting into all sorts of street shenanigans without any consequence for his actions. And oh yes, you bet he’s smooth with the ladies, casually fucking his queens while tossing them bitches to the curb.

If this all sounds just a bit on the sleazy, irredeemable side of things, that’s kind of the point. Even though, as Bobby Digital, it seems like RZA’s glamorizing this lifestyle, I get the sense he’s actually criticizing the narrow world view the alias operates from. He brags about being incredibly suave with women, yet his come-ons are blunt, immature, and pornographic. He boasts of his carefree ways in the slums, but surely there must be more in life than what he sees around the projects. Bobby Digital believes he has everything figured out, a king in his domain, when the truth of the matter is he knows shit. It paints him as a tragic figure that he cannot see the light. No surprise the relatively smooth My Lovin’ Is Digi is followed by the harrowing, wretched Domestic Violence (which also serves as the end of the album-concept proper, yikes!).

Truthfully, I’m far more interested in RZA’s beats than the lyrical content. Mr. Diggs’ rhymes have always been a little forced, worming complex vocabulary into phrases where they struggle to fit, and that’s no different here, even with an alias that isn’t so deep on the philosophical metaphors. That don’t matter though, as the music he’s created here is fascinating, abstract melancholic keyboards and weird discordant rhythms, all the while retaining his distinct grimy funk and soul. I could have done with a couple less of the Slow Grind intermissions though.

Bobby Digitial: In Stereo most definitely isn’t for casual fans of Wu-Tang Clan. If you’re down for RZA at his most unhinged though, give this album a shot.

Faithless - Reverence

Cheeky/Arista: 1996/1997

Given all that we’ve come to adore about Faithless, the wild genre hopping on their debut album doesn’t seem so daft anymore. Why of course they’d go from handbag house to gospel folk to trip-hop bop – it’s what they do! On the other hand, electronic music’s seen nearly two decades of deconstruction since, rendering Reverence more of a novel dip into uncharted dance waters than anything astoundingly shocking or ground-breaking. Come to think of it, it’s not like the album was that far removed from the liberal dance-fusion going on in the UK earlier in the ‘90s either. Tell me what Faithless had that groups like Stereo MC’s, 808 State, or Primal Scream didn’t have. Oh, right, those super epic house anthems. Okay, two things. Oh, right, a brilliant producer in Rollo. Okay, three- y’know what, forget it.

As the mid-'90s rolled on, Rollo and Sister Bliss were already a prominent tandem within UK clubland, but the duo felt they were capable of more than kicking out singles for amyl house heads. They also suspected the audiences that fist-pumped to their tunes on the weekend might enjoy a slower, relaxed vibe when chilling at home. And they be right, trip-hop gaining all sorts of critical and commercial traction at the time. No surprise that YOLO-Rollo and Madame Bliss would throw their hats into that lucrative pile, but they lucked out in landing a chill, conscious-leaning MC with an incredible amount of spiritual charisma. Wait, how is that lucky? Maxi Jazz' style of lyrical manifestation should have fallen flat on its face in an era of gangsta' boasting, yet punters quite enjoyed his laid-back words of wisdom and anecdotes.

Then there’s the other half of Faithless’ vocals, Jamie Catto. Most know him these days as Who’sThatNow?, but way back in the group’s formation, he was just as vital a component to the Faithless sound as your Maxis and Didos. He provided a husky, soulful croon that complemented Rollo and Bliss’ dalliances into R&B and gospel, making songs like Don’t Leave and Angelina all the more powerful for it. Wow, considering I was kinda’ blasé about his songs when I first played Reverence, I never thought I’d miss his presence in later Faithless albums. Guess it helps to grow an appreciation for music outside the easy ear-candy of plucky stadium house bangers like Salva Mea and Insomnia.

Was that the plan all along, woo in the clubbed-up caners with a pair of undeniable anthems, then drop serious music education on them when they buy the album? Mr. Armstrong and Ms. Bentovim never claimed as such, merely making the tunes that captured their interest (in less than a month, no less!) and letting the chips fall where they may. The duo sound just as surprised by Reverence’s two-fold success in interviews, though they must have suspected they had something unique going for them. The only fault with this LP I can make is Faithless had yet to realize their full potential.

Inspectah Deck - The Resident Patient

Urban Icon Records: 2006

As an MC, Inspectah Deck is nigh impossible to fault, easily top tier in any Wu-Tang conversation. No, this isn't a debate. Every fan of Wu-Tang Clan has their favourite member, but whenever the Rebel INS starts spitting some fire, you darn well pay attention to his words. Why, then, has he struggled in the solo album market? Lack of an identifiable persona would be my guess. Excellent lyricism only gets you so far in an image conscious rap game, and when you’re surrounded by a bevy of outlandish characters in Wu-Tang, it's difficult sticking out. Hell, even when Method Man did his famous rundown on each Clan member's trait, he struggled describing what Inspectah Deck's name meant (“He's like that dude that'll sit back and watch you play yourself and all that right? And see you sit there and know you lyin; and he'll take you to court after that.” ...th'duq?).

Still, with his first two albums, Rebel INS showed some promise in coming up with a persona unique to him within the Clan: the crafty street hustler who remains embedded in the projects even as he gains affluence. After all, that inner city knowledge ain’t gettin’ dropped by itself, and Mr. Hunter’s greatest verses are often about ghetto illumination. Or just taking rival MCs to task – seriously, why can’t Deck and Del collab’ just once?

Okay, I’m rambling. The Resident Patient, Inspectah’s third solo outing. Or was it? Yes, it was, but it’s long been rumoured this was intended as a mixtape offering, not a proper LP effort. I can definitely believe that, as this is one dodgy release. For one thing, Mr. Hunter’s raps just aren’t as interesting compared to his other albums. He sounds good, but the content’s just not there. A lot of brags we’ve heard before, a few rudimentary come-ons, and an occasional street drama that runs far too short, lacking the sort of vivid imagery or intensity heard on many other records.

The production quality’s all over the map too, a plethora of way underground hip-hop beatsmiths lending their hands in what sounds like several disparate recording sessions. Mondee’s the main one (five tracks), who I’ve never heard before but Lord Discogs tells me has enjoyed a modestly successful career. He does fit the style Deck prefers spitting rhymes over, heavy street funk and cinematic soul, perfect for all your blaxploitation needs. Yet why do I much prefer the one-off gritty Chinatown slum bump of hopelessly obscure Concrete Beats? Or the vintage Wu stylee of RZA protégé Cilvaringz? Or even Deck’s own funky head-bop production? (Let’s not get into the others. Yes, even Psycho Les – was never a fan of Beatnuts)

I guess the most damning thing I can say about The Resident Patient is it’s an album with no real flow, an almost criminal accusation for an MC with impeccable flow. A few moments do shine through, but unless you’re a hardcore Inspectah Deck fan, I wouldn’t bother with this.

Gilles Peterson - Broken Folk Funk Latin Soul

Muzik Magazine: 2003

The title's a pisstake. It must be. True, the music within this CD does fit the mould of what a 'broken folk funk Latin soul' collection would sound like, but using five descriptors as a genre is plain ol' silly. Not that Gilles Peterson couldn't get away with it though. As the guy who coined the term ‘acid jazz’ when he threw events called Acid Jazz promoting material on his label Acid Jazz, why not go for the ultimate in redundancy, especially as everyone was making up ridiculous genre names for magazine CDs? Muzik had released a 'hooligan house' disc just prior, while rival Mixmag featured 'disco d'nb' with their freebie the same month this came out. Damn it, The UK, stop trying to invent new genre names all the time. It's too confusing for us North American bumpkins.

Wait, is this the first time I’ve talked about Mr. Peterson at this blog? Crap, gotta’ turn this review proper serious now. Not only was he influential in making acid jazz a thing in Britain, but he exposed many a young ‘90s English post-clubber onto various cultured music scenes from the world abroad. Mostly they were jazz fusions from the realms of New York, Latin America, and Afro Nation, but he helped bring some degree of class to the UK’s early garage movement too. No matter how far off the beaten path his records were culled from, ol’ Gilles always kept one foot in London’s urban jungle too.

Still, if you’ve a passion for bringing such music to a willing audience, heading an influential label and DJing out at events is limiting. Nay, to reach the maximum potential earholes, one must go to the airwaves, radio that is. And, at the turn of the millennium, that’s what Mr. Peterson done did, getting him a show called Worldwide on the omnipresent Radio 1 of BBC fame, which he’s maintained to this day. It was about the time this Muzik CD came out that Gilles had firmly cemented itself as a broadcaster on peer with the likes of Tong and Peel, even earning himself an award for Top Radio Show from the magazine that year. Why yes Broken Folk Funk Latin Soul is totally designed to promote that fact, why do you ask?

More compilation than DJ mix, this disc holds a nice assortment of the movers and shakers of the UK’s jazzy urban-soul that consistently bubbled in London’s underground. Mr. Scruff is here! Harmonic 33 is here! The Cinematic Orchestra is here! Roots Manuva is here (because he was everywhere in the early ‘00s)! Talib Kweli’s here! Nirvana’s here! …er, I mean, their song Come as You Are is here, by way of a soul cover care of Dani Siciliano. There’s also conscious rap from Lone Catalysts, jazzdance from Micatone, soul-shuffle jazz from Kuusumun Profeetta, and a cool groove thing by some duo called Underworld. Perhaps you’ve heard of them? You haven’t? Oh, you’re here for that Osunlade joint. Fair play.

Jurassic 5 - Quality Control

Interscope Records: 2000

Underground hip-hop, 'backpack' rap... whatever you called it in the late '90s, everyone agreed it was about as non-commercial as the music could get. The MCs involved cared not for bragging about how gangsta' they were or how much bling they made; rather, they were in it for the purist followers of the Four Pillars, outmatching their rapping brethren in verbal wordplay and flaunting their radio unfriendly status on the mixtape circuit. And though a few acts occasionally poked out of obscurity, most casual consumers of hip-hop figured the 'backpack' scene little more than MCs way out of touch with the trends, all too stuck in Golden Age goofiness. Then along came a Jurassic 5.

Right, the J5 crew weren’t the first successful hip-hop act in giving the underground, conscious side of things a needed boost – The Roots had plenty of critical and commercial buzz too. However, The Roots have long been considered a unique entity, what with all those ‘real instruments’ and shit. J5 were strictly old-school, four MCs (Chali 2na, Zaakir, Akil, and Marc 7) and two DJs (Cut Chemist and DJ Nu-Mark) showing off their skills on the courtyards, skate parks, and graffiti spots. Simmering as darlings of Los Angeles backpackers only gets you so far though, and in a move that strangely never derided them as sell-outs, J5 signed a deal with Interscope Records. To that point, the only hip-hop that label ever bothered with was material only associated and approved by Dr. Dre. Okay, Black Eyed Peas too, but almost everyone’s forgotten that act’s old-school cred’, including the Peas themselves. Point being, few could have predicted an underground hip-hop darling would sign to a label who's recent successes included the likes of No Doubt and Limp Bizkit.

The trick worked though, their debut on Interscope (and sophomore LP), Quality Control, gaining J5 greater exposure and the attention of rap fans looking for something of more intellectual substance than bling, bitches, and hyper-violence. These four MCs all play wonderfully off each other, allowing each equal opportunity to shine on verses while perfectly harmonizing on the choruses. Meanwhile, Cut Chemist and Nu-Mark each take turns behind the decks and producer’s console, providing ample amounts of throwback funk for their crew to feed off. Most of the tunes have J5 showing off their lyrical skills, whether as freestyle, ‘keepin’ it real’ brags, or metaphor (gotta’ love a good ol’ basketball rap with The Game). Elsewhere on this album, they tread typical conscious topics like the fallacy of seeking fame (World Of Entertainment (Woe Is Me)) or finding ways of overcoming inner city difficulties with dignity intact (Contribution). For my money though, the turntable showcases are where it’s at, especially Nu-Mark’s Swing Set, where he raids a ton of old-timey jitterbug rug-cutters and mashes them up with funk drum breaks. Top notch material!

Quality Control’s gone down as one of the essentials of throwback Golden Age hip-hop albums. Get it to start your collection if you haven’t already.

Wu-Tang Clan - A Better Tomorrow

Asylum Records: 2014

I can't get Miracles out of my head! Is it because that chorus is totally brilliant, or totally daft, or brilliantly daft? It's certainly unlike anything the Wu-Tang Clan has ever done before, sounding both suitable for a corny old-timey musical and a corny EDM festival anthem. The Shaolin crew's appeal is for the rugged and raw feel of their beats and rhymes, yet here's an entry into their discography that's about as squeaky-clean as a Rodgers & Hammerstein production. Are the Wu members offering verses on Miracles even into it? They don't sound embarrassed or out of place – even Raekwon seems earnest about the song's intention (namely, can the world's troubles only be solved with miraculous intervention?). It boggles my brain, confounds my cranium, puzzles my pons.

That’s only one track though. The rest of A Better Tomorrow is, dare I say, not as bad as everyone’s making it out to be? I’m already split on Miracles, which has been every other critic’s big ‘NOPE!’ moment on this album. A few other weak moments aside though, I’m digging much of the Wu’s latest LP, especially such a hot opener like Ruckus In B Minor (ODB lives!) I’m fine there’ll never be another Enter The 36 Chambers or Forever - just provide solid, skill music, and I’m satisfied. And more often than not, I’m gettin’ my vibe on to A Better Tomorrow.

Ol’ RZA, he’s finally figured out how to get some mileage out of all those stockpiled instruments in his studio. After all, isn’t it better to create your own funk and soul loops with actual musicians rather than raid the past? If you have the capability, I say go for it, and RZA’s learned quite a bit from the true masters of the craft (no, not True Master). What I find fascinating about these beats is they’re still arranged in that distinct twitchy style RZA’s known for, but with real instruments complementing hip-hop beats, chop-sockey dialog, and scratched-up samples. Not every track hits the mark (ugh, Hold The Heater’s synths struggle to gain any traction), but for all the complaints I’ve read about RZA losing his way, I just don’t hear it. I want to hear this evolution in Wu-Tang Clan! Wait, does that make me a Wu-Tang apologist, willing to overlook every weird third-tier tangent and mediocre sub-sub affiliate project, all because it comes with that classic emblem? Oh God. U-God, even!

The real trouble with A Better Tomorrow is how inconsequential all these MCs come off. Though there aren’t any wack rhymes, no one really stands out either. It’s like RZA considered each Clan member just another instrument in his arsenal, which makes a bit of sense at this late stage. His fam’s found their own way after twenty years, and aren’t so reliant on him for exposure. It does make this album more of a RZA LP than a full-on Wu joint, which is your leave it or lump it decider in a nutshell.

GZA/Genius - Pro Tools

Babygrande: 2008

It’s January, which means its GZA/Genius month again! What do you mean I just made that up? Didn’t you notice I reviewed two albums from Mr. Grice last January? And here we are again, one year later, with another GZA LP lined up. Why, should I carry on reviewing my music library from the alphabetical beginning again (for completist sake, obviously), I’ll be reviewing Beneath The Surface come next January too! Don’t laugh, odds are very good it’ll be close to that time. Wait, does that mean I’ll be done my main run this year? Holy cow, I just might! Haha, the insanity will finally end, haha, ha!

Anyhow, let me quickly consult my Wu-Tang Timeline for a refresher of where Pro Tools lands within the group’s lengthy lore. Uh huh, right, this album came out after 8 Diagrams, as divisive a Clan joint as any, but hinting at a possible resurgence. Ooh, this was also around the time Mr. Grice was getting a little buzz again for inflammatory things said about Soulja Boy and 50 Cent. He put an end to the Crank That kid controversy as nothing more than playful back-and-forth with a hot tempered crowd, but flat out disses the G-Unit dude with Paper Plate on this album. Of course, considering The Genius’ rep’ as a premier lyricist remains unchallenged while the other two are thought of as over-hyped rappers of the ‘00s, the whole issue is moot.

Still, that gossipy nonsense did give Pro Tools a small bump of interest for hip-hop heads outside the core Wu followers. Most were fine with the notion the Clan's best days were all but behind them (except Ghostface), but after so many years of southern crunk and auto-tune infiltrating the rap scene at large, any sort of underground vibe where lyrical mastery took center-stage would be hailed as a solid LP. GZA thus provided exactly what old-school sorts wanted, and Pro Tools was proclaimed among the best solo Wu-Tang LPs of the '00s. Not that it had much competition in that category, mind you.

Honestly, this is a difficult album to recommend for a casual consumer, as there's little on Pro Tools I'd call essential listening. Most of the beats are simple and serviceable, mostly sticking to traditional Wu-Tang banger “samurai 'n' soul” stylee (you know what I'm talking about). RZA and Masta Killa show up in the opener Pencils, and that's about it for the main Clan roster guest verses (assorted third-tier MCs crop up throughout, but none make much of a mark with their time). The only sort of theme to this album is a loose thread regarding motor sports, of all things. For the most part though, it's GZA running through topics he's covered extensively in the past, in about as skillfully class as a veteran MC could do in the late '00s. If all this sounds A-plus to you, then you’ll definitely dig Pro Tools. It’s throwback Wu at its finest.

Ice Cube - The Predator

Priority Records: 1992/2003

Ice Cube warned them, made two albums in two years declaring that the shit was gonna' hit the fan if people didn't pay attention to all the problems affecting inner-city America. Then Rodney King happened, followed by riots, and a promise that proper dialogue and change for the better would finally go down for black communities. Yet, here we are, over twenty years later, and the same ol' strife continues to erupt. Why didn't you warn us again, Cube? Oh, right, too busy making movies and that. Guess it's fallen to the younger generation of rappers to fight the good fight in the name of racial justice.

Just kidding. O'Shea Jackson doesn't need to keep carrying a gangsta' militant torch because he said all that needed to be said back in the day – the fact some of his points on AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted, Death Certificate and The Predator still resonate today is a testament to how difficult it's been for America to overcome its racial and social divides. That said, I wager even Cube felt he was running out of topics to rap about that weren’t retreads for this album. It didn’t mean he ran out of issues to rail against, as despite the racial pressure cooker having finally burst, he’s still taking to task corrupt cops and the unjust profiling many blacks and Latinos suffered from. A number of his other heated subjects, however, like homophobia and beefs with other rappers, is left to the back burner. Seems there were more important matters to address than whether a dude’s looking at you queer.

Another thing that’s different in The Predator compared to Cube’s first two albums is more focus on his mack game and even a little light-hearted optimism for a change. Yep, this is the one where ol’ O’Shea waxes pleasantries on It Was A Good Day, as much a sunny LA slice of life as it is a commentary that having nothing go wrong is such a rarity in the gangsta’ routine (fabricated or not). It also gave him his highest charting single outside his traditional US rap market, and quite a surprising one considering the sort of music Cube was known for – not that mainstream American radio would be comfortable promoting hyper-violent dancehall songs like Wicked.

Speaking of, should you get a feeling of Cypress Hill on some of these tracks, that’s because DJ Muggs contributed a few beats (Now I Gotta Wet ‘Cha, We Had To Tear This Motherfucka Up, Check Yo Self). His brand of bouncy funk gives The Predator a bit more variety over DJ Pooh and Sir Jinx’ rugged boom-bap and g-funk, though I cannot deny I’m still missing The Bomb Squad sample-heavy style (who doesn’t though?).

Ice Cube’s third album does run a bit long, the aforementioned limited topics covered growing repetitive by the end. Ignoring that though, The Predator is still prime-era Cube, and absolutely worth your ears’ attention. His words were never more potent, yet remain just as pertinent.

Hieroglyphics - Over Time

Hiero Imperium: 2007

Speaking as a relative casual fan of the extended Hieroglyphics crew, Over Time was a welcome, nay needed reminder of why the Oakland hip-hop group deserved their underground praises. The honest truth is for all their accomplishments leading up to and through the turn of the millennium, their respective stars had sadly dimmed as the '00s carried on. Part of the problem can be attributed to changing trends within hip-hop as a whole, but a dearth of fresh, fiery material sparking interest in Del, Souls, and co. didn't help either. Yes, they were becoming victim of the ol' “falling off” narrative, a death knell within hip-hop if ever there was one.

Whether by accident or design, Over Time came out at almost as perfect a moment as any. It'd been half-a-decade since Full Circle had dropped and generally forgotten, and solo Hiero projects were growing few and far between, almost devoid of hype. A greatest hits collection would likely help keep their name out there, but this is a crew that knew its audience, underground heads who'd already have the best of their material – such a release would be hopelessly redundant. What of the rarities though? Only the most hardcore of the hardcore would have gathered all the available Hieroglyphics music, much of which had gone discontinued or become stupidly expensive on the collector's market. Why not offer the b-sides, remixes, and that as a treat to the casuals of their following, who joined the Oakland party late (*cough*)?

A sweet deal for fans then, but here’s where Over Time excels: it encapsulates the Hieroglyphics manifesto in such a complete way, I’ll argue this is required listening even if your knowledge of the crew only goes so far as Clint Eastwood. For one thing, some of their best songs are here, and though they’re in remixed form, tracks like You Never Know, Phoney Phranchise, and Soundscience remain great examples of the lyrical diversity the Hiero crew are known for. And speaking of remixes, Dan The Automator’s rub of Del’s ode to good hygiene If You Must (no, really!) is a hoot, including a child’s jingle about how you shouldn’t worry about getting sucked down a bathtub drain.

Since Del was the busiest body during the ten year period this collection gathers material from, nearly half the tunes are his. He’s often tagged up with fellow Hiero mates though, like Tajai in the thumping Masterminds, or A-Plus in the chill Battle Of The Shadow. One of the more interesting of his cuts is Cyberpunks, a harrowing ‘nerdcore’ cut that predates his Deltron 3030 work that appeared on a relatively forgotten compilation from Strength Magazine (never heard of the rag); Pep Love’s battle-rap outing Prose Officially also appeared on that CD.

In a nutshell, Over Time has the one thing RapReviews.com writer Steve ‘Flash’ Juan claimed Full Circle lacked: dopeness. While I won’t call this disc a definitive collection of the Hieroglyphics crew, it’s a strong summation of their unique strengths.

Souls Of Mischief - 93 'Til Infinity (20th Anniversary Edition)

Jive/Get On Down: 1993/2014

Damn, son, this ‘Deluxe Edition’ of Souls Of Mischief's 93 'Til Infinity ain't kidding about its deluxivenss. Packaged in a spiffy booklet, bundled with two CDs, including exhaustive liner notes and a lengthy essay detailing not only the making of this album, but nearly all the Hieroglyphics history to boot, it’s got everything covered. Then they went an extra mile by having a gatefold play a portion of the titular cut like a tinny music card. I've never seen one of those for a CD. Why hasn't Wu-Tang Clan's Enter The 36 Chambers ever gotten similar anniversary treatment? It was released the same year as 93 'Til Infinity, and that was a far bigger album than this one.

Talk to any discerning hip-hop head though, and they’ll point to this Oakland crew as equally worthy of critical praise. Can't say it's a fair comparison, considering the radically different career paths taken since their debuts - Wu-Tang became commercial juggernauts, while Souls Of Mischief (and the rest of Hieroglyphics) floundered in the underground as the '90s played out. Okay, 'floundered' is harsh, but when you drop an album as hot as 93 'Til Infinity, a long prosperous career should have been in the bag. Still, they maintained that all-important 'respect' thing hip-hop acts of all walks of the streets crave.

If you don’t know, Souls Of Mischief are A-Plus, Phesto, Opio, and Tajai of Hieroglyphics, the West Coast hip-hop crew that includes Del Tha Funkee Homosapien (I’ve mentioned him once or thrice). They appeared in namedrops on Del’s debut, and thanks to having Ice Cube’s blessing, the extended Hiero members got their chance to shine here - not a second’s wasted on their part. Whether taking lesser MCs to task in battle raps (Let ‘Em Know, That’s When Ya Lost, Never No More, Limitations, Make Your Mind Up), delivering cautionary street tales (Anything Can Happen, What A Way To Go Out ...dear God, this one’s nasty!), or getting a little ‘conscious’ about their future (Tell Me Who Profits, the titular cut), this album’s filled with insanely dense and vivid lyricism. And they’re not bashful in showing off their spittin’ swagger either, mixing in multi-syllable words with razor-sharp punch lines. Gander at this bit from Opio: “Eruptions, and rusting, when I'm thrusting, cuts men; Into microscopic particles, molecules, atoms; Attack 'em, hack 'em, never slow, never slack; I'm invincible...” Hell, I could post the whole verse, but self-limiting word-count forbids.

Then there’s all the ace beats, raiding plenty jazzy loops and samples that’d have DJ Premier turning his head, yet filtered into a stoned-out West Coast vibe. Honestly, it’s almost textbook ‘underground hip-hop’ production, but then Hieroglyphics helped popularize the sound in the first place.

CD2 has remixes and instrumentals, which only hardcore fans would care about. I’d stick with the original version of 93 ‘Til Infinity if you’re interested in taking the plunge, which I fully encourage. You’ll definitely wonder why you slept on this album so long after. *cough*

P.M. Dawn - Of The Heart, Of The Soul And Of The Cross: The Utopian Experience

Gee Street: 1991

Another CD that didn't make much sense in Teenage Sykonee's music collection. I kinda' remember the reason for getting it though, P.M. Dawn's Set Adrift On Memory Bliss being one of my first make-out tunes. I think I mentioned in passing to an aunt I'd be interested in their album, and behold come Christmas, there's P.M. Dawn's (nearly three year old by that point) debut LP under the tree. Thanks, I guess.

As for P.M. Dawn, they had an intriguing run for most of the '90s, in that they found a 'gimmick' that should have fallen flat on its face: Religious Rap. Not that themes of religious spirituality and praises of God/Allah/Jah/etc. haven't been common in hip-hop, but typically as an aside to whatever an act's main focus is. And even if said rapper does make it a focus, it's often in a bellicose manner, that Judgement Day affects everyone, so you'd best have accounted for all your sins in this life, lest the Almighty strike thee down when your body's six feet deep.

P.M. Dawn said, “Nah, we can all be blessed and blissed, right?” After all, those soul records DJs loved sampling were filled with benign spirituality, so wearing their non-confrontational hearts on sleeves went brothers Prince Be and DJ Minute Mix, becoming one of conscious rap’s earliest successes in the process. Unfortunately, due to their unaggressive approach to the craft, they also turned into a mild joke, regarded as the only hip-hop act white people felt comfortable listening to (that wasn’t Will Smith). An unfair assessment, though it’s hardly a surprise their album sales steadily dwindled as gangsta rap rose and dominated within the general hip-hop discourse.

Having such a huge hit in Set Adrift On Memory Bliss probably didn’t help either, follow-up singles unable to capture the charm of that sample of Spandau Ballet’s True coupled with smooth, vibey lyrics and solid R&B beats. The bulk of *deep breath* Of The Heart, Of The Soul And Of The Cross: The Utopian Experience follows the same general vibe as that tune, though with more of an upbeat hip-hop bent. The few tunes that do break mould are either closer in tone to rap music you’d expect of the early ‘90s (Comatose is far funkier with Prince Be applying Serious Conscious Lyrics; Shake’s aimed squarely for the club, with Todd Terry producing no less), while others go off the deep with the spirituality (The Beautiful is practically a beatnik ambient-funk jam session).

If this all sounds rather lame, well... sucks to be you. I won’t deny P.M. Dawn’s a hard sell in this day in hip-hop age, even for those curious about Golden Age records. Both lyrically and music-wise, there’s little here that’ll surprise even a casual participant of the scene. Yet The Utopian Experience is remarkably affable, soul music that leaves a pleasant glow within without being cloying or schmaltzy about it. Can’t say that about much other ‘pop rap’, now can we?

Del! The Funky Homosapien - No Need For Alarm

Elektra: 1993

While I've no doubt Del's ire against “wack MC's” was primarily directed toward those on his side of the pond, it sure is funny hearing him spouting off on lyrical lameness after I indulged a stretch of euro-dance raps. I can only imagine what the Funkee Homosapien would have thought if the likes of 2 Unlimited and Maxx had as much influence in America as they did in Europe, and how viciously he'd go for them if he cared to. Just as well Del focused his attention on his immediate competition in the hip-hop game, the silliness of euro hardly worthy of his wrath.

As for what got him so pissed off in the first place, I honestly don't know. Long-gone is the laid-back, funkadelic, 'lighter side of life' vibes that made up his debut album (Wrong Place notwithstanding). Perhaps one too many R&B chart-toppers finally broke his backpack, or maybe hip-hop’s growing dependence on gangsta tropes to shift units left him jaded with the art. Why should he have to spit about material he had no real experience with, nor wanted to fabricate to appease label heads? The core of rapping was about proving who could command a microphone and hold an audience’s attention with your lyrical skills. By 1993, too much of it had devolved into style over substance, flashy stage presence over verbal dexterity, and slick video mugging over direct connection to the kids in the streets. Fuck that noise, says Del - he just wasn’t gonna’ take it anymore.

No Need For Alarm has him removing the gloves, taking the entire hip-hop scene to task with an endless barrage of battle-raps. The opening salvo of tracks - You’re In Shambles, Catch A Bad One, Wack M.C.’s, and No Need For Alarm - became classics of the burgeoning ‘backpack rap’ scene, where lyrics cutting down hip-hop’s lamest, clichéd tendencies are the norm. This still being a young Del, however, he can’t help himself falling into some of the violent metaphors much of gangsta rap was littered with at the time. Catch A Bad One is filled with tons of aggressive imagery (to say nothing about “ripping heads off” of stuck-up girls in Boo Booheads!). He obviously wouldn’t literally do these things, but it’s a rather shocking side of Del he left behind long ago, unparalleled wordplay now his preferred weapon of choice.

Completing the ‘strictly underground’ vibe of this album is the bare-bones production, including jazz samples of wobbly cellos, out-of-tune horns, and muddy-as-shit rhythms. When your showcase is Del lyrically riding whatever beat you throw at him, you don’t want glossy nonsense getting in the way. Not exactly a strong selling point for, then, if Deltron 3030’s more your thing. Honestly though, No Need For Alarm serves best as a time-capsule, where Del not only stepped out from the shadows of a bloating hip-hop scene, but became a champion of heads hungry for underground, lyrical warriors mercilessly decimating false idols. He’d only get better from here.