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.

Bone Thugs-N-Harmony - E. 1999 Eternal

Ruthless Records: 1995/1998

The only Bone Thugs-N-Harmony album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Bone Thugs-N-Harmony fan. Took me damn long enough to get it too! You’d think, after relaunching this blog with all that Bone Thugs love that E. 1999 Eternal was already been in my collection. Nope, though I did intend to pick it up shortly after getting that Creepin On A Come Up EP. Made sense considering how much I talked up the Cleveland crew’s debut LP and all. Not sure what happened though. I do recall getting side-tracked by hip-hop from Ice Cube and Public Enemy in the ensuing year, not to mention music funds being put towards a few “DJ Mix Series On A Budget” projects. Then there was another Waveform Records splurge, a Juno Reactor splurge, filling a few blanks from Wu-Tang Clan, an indulgence in Nine Inch Nails… wow, Lord Discogs sure is great at chronologically chronicling one’s buying habits!

Whatever the case, I finally done did get me some E. 1999 Eternal (because going back to playlist those early Ace Tracks reminded me as such), and I feel like such a tool for holding out this long for it. Right, I already know the hits off here practically beat for rap, so ingrained in mid-‘90s airplay they are. Tha Crossroads was the big one of course, and undoubtedly the sole reason many grabbed this album. Interestingly, the original version was quickly replaced by the more popular Dj U-Neek’s Mo Thug Remix that was featured on the classic Grammy nominated video. Their reflective, harmonious vibe is what many came to associate with the group, including yours truly when hearing tracks like 1st Of Tha Month and weed odes like Budsmokers Only and Buddah Lovaz. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of their heavier, thuggish ruggish mould, but it wasn’t the sound getting the radio (re: school dance) play or video rotation on MuchMusic. This album though, damn is it ever a heavy one.

The success of Tha Crossroads belies the fact Bone Thugs-N-Harmony cultivated an underground image of gritty, ultraviolent gangsta menace with a taste of the occult. Their world wasn’t just harrowing tales of the ghetto, but one also tempted further within the darkside of life, relying on spirits and demons for guidance in their lives. The contrast of rapid-fire double-time raps with harmonic soul is like hearing the angel and demon on your shoulders, though in the case of E. 1999 Eternal, the sinister tone of the music suggests all their sins are winning out. Down ’71 (The Getaway), Land Of The Heartless, Die Die Die, Eternal, and Mo’ Murda.. . all gripping street narratives with solid beats, chorus-chants, and ominous sounds, never sacrificing intensity for the chance at a little chart action. It was probably all a bit much for those expecting more Crossroads within, but that didn’t stop Bone Thugs from aspirations of rap dominance from here on out. For more ill than good, unfortunately.

Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day

Def Jam Recordings: 1998

A four year gap isn’t that much, all things considered. ‘90s hip-hop though, things were moving fast, stars rising and falling at an unprecedented rate, fueled by an MC arms race to the top of Mount Brag-N-Swagmore. Your label could only achieve immortal greatness if you had the best talent signed to your print. Death Row had 2Pac, Bad Boy had Biggie, No Limit had Snoop Dogg, Loud had Wu-Tang Clan, and so on. Def Jam had many legends to their name too, but most of them had established careers, showing little of the spit and fire needed that propelled the emergent labels of the ‘90s to the top. As a quick signee to Def Jam after the smashing success of Wu-Tang’s debut, Method Man looked to be the breakout star of the group, one that would usher in a new generation of hungry MCs for the storied print that Rick Rubin built.

One problem though: Mr. Clifford Smith wasn’t interested in being a solo star, completely content sharing the spotlight as part of a back-n-forth (Redman, Street Life) or a crew of equally charismatic rappers (Wu-Tang, Monstars, heh). All fine and well if one’s career aspirations stay humble, but when everyone from the fans on the streets to the CEOs in the record label towers demand more, four years turns to an agonizing wait, one the Ticallion Stallion gleefully mocks in Tical 2000 through a series of phone call skits. People ranging from accountants to radio DJs to even the tribble-cultivator Trump himself all chime in wondering what the bloodclot is taking Meth’ so long with this album.

Figuring out a theme would be my guess. Of course the nearing millennium would spark some inspiration, but aside from the opening and closing tracks (Perfect World and Judgement Day), it’s not a subject touched upon. Instead, Johnny Blaze runs the gamut of witty wordplay, sexy wordplay, thug life wordplay, club don’ wordplay, and that’s about it. Hey, it’s not like the subject matter in his lyrics have mattered much of a damn - Method Man could have excelled through sheer charisma alone, his deft skills on the mic’ keeping you hooked once reeled in.

Unfortunately, even that isn’t enough to save Tical 2000 from the sin of filler. Despite folks clamoring for more Method Man, most everyone agrees there’s too much bloat given the limited amount of topics covered. No matter how solid the beats are or how hype the guest spots are (seriously, I’ve never heard Street Life sound this good!), it all turns to repetitive mush in the back-half. It probably doesn’t help that the midpoint offers a hilarious Chris Rock skit, where the comedian goes on a never ending spree of Method Man aliases that cannot be stopped by gunshot, nor rabid dogs, nor rabid dolphins. Hell, he can’t even be killed by fire, and even The Thing could be killed by fire. After a high such as that, there’s only down to go.

Method Man - Tical

Def Jam Recordings: 1994

Over three years since I dropped my first Wu-Tang Clan review, I’m finally doing a solo album from the M.E.T.H.O.D. Man. That’s just silly. Consider: I’ve talked up four Raekwon LPs, four Ghostface LPs, three from Deck, three from GZA, plus efforts from RZA, ODB, Masta Killa, and even U-God! Also consider: one Clifford Smith kicked-off the solo Wu-joint concept, his debut dropping but a year after Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). While it seemed likely a few of these MCs could sustain a career away from the Clan, there was little doubt Method Man was the breakout of the group, destined for superstar greatness in the world of hip-hop. It, um, didn’t quite turn out that way, explicitly because he never fully capitalized on all that initial momentum and good fortune. His album output has been sporadic and frequently underwhelming, yours truly seldom feeling the need to dig beyond his ‘90s output. And since his first few LPs centered on the concept of “tical”, here’s poor ol’ Cliff, way down in the ‘T’s of my CDs, thus bringing up the rear of Wu-Tang Clan solo joint reviews. Not that he’d give a shit either way.

Way back when though, everything looked peachy-keen for Johnny Blaze, his gruff charisma landing him a quick deal with hip-hop’s premier print, Def Jam Recordings. And why not, the label that gave us LL Cool J, Beastie Boys, Public Enemy, and Slick Rick undoubtedly anxious to get in on that hot Wu-Tang stylee, with nothing less than the group’s star MC as part of their official roster. And for sure, they got themselves some future classics of the hip-hop pantheon with Tical. Bring The Pain oozes street swagger with all the freestylin’ lyricism as found in his classic eponymous track from Enter The Wu-Tang. All I Need is a surprisingly affectionate ‘slum love song’ establishing ol’ Method as a rough ‘n’ tumble ladies man. And Release Yo’ Delf is a fun, rugged anthem for the club. The rest of Tical though… ah, hm.

As was the case on all the early Wu-solo records, RZA handles the bulk of the beats, and as Method Man has a gruff, gravely persona, so too does the music provided. Everything sounds rough, unpolished, dragged through Shaolin grime and muck, covered in a thick fog of hemp smoke. And dear Lord, some of the bass on this is absolutely crushing, the heaviest you’ll hear on nearly any Wu-Tang album. Sub Crazy alone must have broken many a poor, unsuspecting sub-whoofer. Sometimes though, it’s too much, the bass burying Meth’ and any other MC in the mixdown - Biscuits in particular is downright indecipherable. Yet given how clear the lyrics come through in other tracks, I can only assume the muddiness is intentional on RZA’s part, maintaining the Wu’s ghetto-grit mystic even as they began their empire expansion. Personally, I dig it, but Tical is left a difficult album to get into, one capably aided with an eponymous substance.

Kurupt - Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha

Attic: 1999

For all the time Kurupt’s spent in the Westcoast hip-hop scene, he’s never quite crossed over on his own as so many of his peers did. Pairing with Daz Dillinger as Tha Dogg Pound certainly was successful, and he’s made many memorable appearances on albums with Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, 2Pac… basically anyone on Death Row Records during the label’s glory years. By the time he ventured out as solo artist though, the Death Row empire was crumbling, no longer a sure thing in an evolving hip-hop scene (much less a safe working environment). So off Kurupt went, establishing his own Antra Records print, and dropping nothing less than a double-LP as a debut. Um, oversell much?

Right, every rapper was doing the 2CD deed in the ‘90s, but usually with some established market, and Kurupt’s rep was as an ace wingman, not an MC who could carry two discs worth of material. The fact Kuruption! did end up as strained, thinned, and disappointing as it did surprised no one. It also unfortunately made interest in the quick follow-up Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha fly way under the radar, folks figuring Kurupt just wouldn’t have much luck in the solo scene. Turns out everyone who thought as such were dead wrong, Young Gotti bringing the fire here for a record that became a true underground hit.

From the quality of the beats, to the quality of guest spots, to the quality of… well, everything, Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha is some top grade Westcoast rap. Snoop Dogg makes multiple appearances, along with Nate Dogg, Xzibit, Soopafly, Daz Dillinger (naturally), and a plethora of associated homeboys you probably never heard of (nor care to know). And just in case you forgot his Eastcoast roots, Kurupt has a wicked boom-bap session with KRS-One in the bonus cut Live On The Mic. Boom-bap, on a g-funk rap album!

The beat flavors don’t just end with an outlier or two, this album offering a bumpin’ mix of styles. There’s way old-school rap with Loose Cannons, block party bounce (Who Ride Wit Us, Represent Dat G.C., Girls All Pause), orchestral looping (Trylogy), smooth g-funk groove (It Ain’t About You, Neva Gonna Give It Up, Ho’s A Housewife), and more. Even when the lyrical content goes more misogynistic than I’m comfortable hearing, I can’t help but keep bobbin’ to that funky-ass Moog action (Your Gyrl Friend). Throughout it all, Kurupt is fired and inspired, out to prove he stands tall in gangsta’ rap. He definitely done did that here.

While Dr. Dre’s 2001: Chronic Harder would overshadow the hip-hop world at this time, Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha comes off like an opening volley from the Westcoast – lighting up from nowhere, reminding everyone how united everyone still was despite their label wanderings. It may not have been Kurupt’s intent to make a statement for his geographical brethren on this album, but he nonetheless released one of the best Westcoast LPs of the late ‘90s.

Snoop Dogg - Tha Last Meal

Virgin: 2000

Though Snoop Dogg’s commercial revival with The Neptunes was still a few years off, the Long Beach resident was seeing a significant turnaround in his career when this album came out. Hot off the heels of the epic Up In Smoke tour and classic spots on Dr. Dre’s 2001: The Re-Chronikling, those who figured Mr. Broadus had lost the plot in joining No Limit Records were lured back by the promise of a return to Westcoast G-funk roots in Tha Last Meal. Technically, he’d already made those reconnections in his prior album, No Limit Top Dogg, but after the poorly received (yet two-times Platinum selling!) Da Game Is To Be Sold, Not To Be Told, you can forgive folks being wary of anything else ol’ Snoops would put out on Master P’s print.

Well, worry not, for he’s got Dr. Dre in the studio for three cuts on Tha Last Meal …which is the same as Top Dogg. Ah, well, we also get Dre-blessed Scott Storch in here, plus Snoop-blessed Meech Wells, and Westcoast alums DJ Battlecat and Soopafly. Also, in a remarkable coup, Timbaland, at the peak of his powers, provides two cuts, including Set It Off, an absolute banger of a track. The only No Limit Records representation is second-to-last track Back Up Off Me, with all the dirty South gang vocals, cussin’, and cheap beats you’d expect from the label. It’s also the dumbest cut out of seventeen. Shock, I know.

So music wise, we’re firmly in Westcoast G-funk land throughout, and hey, Snoop’s brought in a bunch of his buddies from the region too. Kokane takes up the bulk of guest spots, doing warbly croons in choruses. Nate Dogg gets in a few verses, including a wonderful little ditty in Set It Off. Long time Dogg Pound associate Butch Cassidy also shows up, and Snoop’s gotta’ get his short-lived posse Tha Eastsidaz in there somewhere. In a surprise spot, N.W.A. alum MC Ren and Ice Cube drop some bars in the awesome Set If Off (have I mentioned how dope this track is enough?). And through all this sausage fest, Eastcoast star Eve has a great tag-up with Snoop in Ready 2 Ryde, while another Westcoast legend, The Lady Of Rage, shows up in… wait for it… Set It Off!

So how’s ol’ Snoop on the mic, then? He’s still a gangsta’, still down with DPG, still smokin’ that endo, playa’-hatin’ hoes, and all that. Vintage Snoop, though a couple things do lyrically date Tha Last Meal. One, there’s a lot of Bill Clinton quips, because late ‘90s. Two, he’s dropping hints of a career less centered on rapping, and being a business mogul instead, including owning his own label, producing new talent, and the whole shebang. While that all came true after a fashion, it seemed he was more thinking of hanging up the mic for good, hence Tha Last Meal. Then along came a Pharrell, and put to rest that plan.

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.

ACE TRACKS: July 2013

*SIGH*…. So much for my hockey hopefuls. Why do I continue routing for teams that never quite make it? Maybe I just dislike the successful teams because they’re always beating the teams I like. In that case, go Tampa Bay Lightening, I guess. I’ve no quarrel with you, even supported them during their first Cup win (because LOL Calgary Flames), it’d be cool to see Steve Stamkos win a Cup early in his career, and all those goals Tyler Johnson’s scoring would be such a waste if he doesn’t win Conn Smythe. Doesn’t make me any more interesting in the NHL Playoffs though – heck, the NBA Playoffs are looking more intriguing about now. The remaining teams are all title starved, the last any of them having won a Ring two decades ago, another four decades ago (to say nothing of the zilch victories of Atlanta and Cleveland). Some long-suffering fanbase is gonna’ be celebrating and flipping cars long into the night this June! What? Oh, right, here’s ACE TRACKS: July 2013. Knew I was ignoring something.


Full Track List Here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Mind Distortion System - He Claims To Be Not Human

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 26%
Percentage Of Rock: 28% (though a chunk of it is technically Neil Young folksy stuff)
Most “WTF?” Track: Ice Cube - You Can’t Fade Me (seriously, those lyrics)

Another weird month, this one. It started with a couple Greatest Hits CDs, got seriously grimy with Ice Cube and Grooverider jungle, chilled for a bit with Swayzak, Kruder, and Dorfmeister, a little UK mainstream with Fatboy Slim and Gorillaz, banged it out with hard desert trance, Neil Young came in with an acoustic guitar, and ended with some mishmashed stuff at the end. Clearly the only way to treat such an erratic collection of tunes is another alphabetical playlist. Except for AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted and Steve Miller Band’s Greatest Hits, which are lumped at the end as full albums. A bizarre, unworkable contrast, you say? Heh, welcome to what it’s like listening to all this music as I have for the last couple years.

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.

Ol' Dirty Bastard - Return To The 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version

Elektra: 1995

This is the first Wu-Tang album I actively recall playing, though I probably heard a couple other Clan tracks before without realizing it. Not that I even knew Ol' Dirty Bastard had anything to do with the Staten Island supergroup at the time – nay, t'was that bizarre cover that drew me in. Hell, the name alone had me grabbing the CD for an in-store demo, curious what a self-professed dirty bastard would sound like. Skipping past a far too long intro, I was hit with the instantly catchy piano hook of Shimmy Shimmy Ya and boisterous rap of Ason Unique demanding he be given the mic’ so he could take it away. Yeah, I hadn’t a clue what that meant, and it still seems like a clumsy line, but damn does he ever make you want to repeat it. Aside from a few hilariously juvenile sex raps though, I don’t recall much else from that first playthrough. Guess I was distracted by a nearby, shiny new Club Cutz 6 CD or something.

Much has been made of the utterly daft notion that Dirt McGirt had enough lyrical skill to have Second Wu-Tang Solo Album honoraries bestowed upon him, much less an actual solo career. Folks loved his sing-songy style of off-kilter flow, sure, and he had a crap-tonne amount of charismas (it’s how he keeps his rhymes smellin’ so funk-aayy). No one, however, labelled him a remarkable wordsmith. Hell, how often did he even pen lyrics? So much of Return To The 36 Chambers sounds like he has a cliff’s notes version of material to hang off a menacing RZA beat, then freestyles the rest. Ol’ Dirty spouts off so much seemingly random jargon and rapping styles over the course of nearly any track, it’s honestly quite a thrill hearing which tangent he goes on next. Like, here’s some lyrics from Hippa To Da Hoppa:

“Niggaz better loosen they ass, felt the glass / A forty ounce bottle, yo yo yo yo money yo pass! / Woooh-woooh-woooh! I sweat it live / MC gonna live God? No, the nigga die / The max-imum of MC's are populating / The min-imum of those MC's are dominating / Now all and together now, to what what who? / Rhymes come stinky like a girl's poo-poo.”

They don’t read like much, but coupled with his unpredictable flow and RZA’s unpredictable production, this simple tune is oddly mesmerizing. And the whole album’s like this! Even when fellow Wu-Tang members pop in for a few bars, they all fall lock-step into Mr. Russell Jones’ off-kilter world in the slummiest Shaolin back alleyways.

I don’t think there’s another hip-hop album out there quite like Return To The 36 Chambers. It’s the ODB unleashed in all of his unhinged charm, the RZA getting his gear grimy as fuck, released in the prime of the Wu-Tang Clan’s musical output. You may not care for the Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s content, but you sure don’t wanna’ look away either.

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.

Raekwon - Only Built For Cuban Linx... Pt. II

Ice H2o Records: 2009

It was that ellipses, wasn’t it. Giving your solo debut an open ended title like Only Built For Cuban Linx… suggested there’d be a continuation, that Lex Diamond and his gang of hustlers would return to tell more of their saga. And Raekwon did, kind of. Immobilarity offered a glimpse into the ‘crime and fame’ world from the top’s perspective, but gone was the unique narrative from Cuban Linx. Meanwhile, The Lex Diamond Story tried a pseudo-prequel, but only half the time, and could only be considered a disappointment given Rae’ track record of fully thematic LPs.

So everyone kept asking for a Cuban Linx, Pt. 2, the sequel kinda’-sorta’ hinted at but never explicitly promised. Such demanding fans, but Raekwon showed benevolence after a time, finally announcing a follow-up to his seminal debut. Of course, questions were raised whether he could recapture the magic of the original, especially in a rap game that had undergone massive changes from the days of Eastcoast criminology rhymes and lore. I mean, weren’t all these supposed ‘gangstas’ now made-men, living large off their success?

Absolutely, and Only Built For Cuban Linx… Pt. II fully recognizes this fact in the opening skit – it literally carries on from the first album’s finish! Papa Wu ended the final track North Star (Jewels) by giving Rae’ an inspirational monologue, to keep his eyes on his goals and dreams over soulful orchestral strings. Pt. II opens with Return Of The North Star, the very tail-end of the monologue still playing; then a new orchestra picks up and Papa Wu has returned, amazed and joyous at seeing Rae’ as he is now, for he knew, he believed in what the Chef could achieve. That’s an awesome way to start this sequel, and one that’s impeccably followed upon as Pt. II plays out.

For one thing, Raekwon didn’t skimp on bringing in A-list producers for this album, something that hampered Immobilarity and Lex Diamond Story. RZA’s naturally in for a couple mint tunes, including the impossibly soulful New Wu. J Dilla, one of hip-hop’s biggest studio stars of the ‘00s, contributes three, tracks like Wu-banger House Of Flying Daggers and ODB tribute Ason Jones, sounding like he’d always been a part of the Clan fam’. Old schooler Erick Sermon gets a cut in. Even Dr. Dre was somehow roped in for a pair, which are, um, actually rather dull compared to everyone else. I mean, how does a horrorcore guy like Necro totally out-funk the G-funk don’? Necro’s Gihad has a ridiculous catchy chant, and features one of the best examples of ‘Sonning’ on Ghostface’s part. I can verb ‘to son someone’, right?

Guest rappers Jadakiss, Busta Rhymes, plus the usual Wu suspects were all in for giving Raekwon the sequel Only Built For Cuban Linx deserved, practically guaranteeing Pt. II a success. Final track Kiss The Ring is an unabashed celebration of Raekwon’s status within hip-hop’s canon, and damn if you don’t feel like bowing after it’s done.

Raekwon - Only Built For Cuban Linx...

Loud Records: 1995

Finally, after diddling about with less-heralded Raekwon albums on this blog, it’s the big one: Only Built For Cuban Linx. You can't understate how massive the Chef's solo debut was when it dropped, overshadowing Mr. Woods' career forever after. Hell, how many times have I name-dropped Cuban Linx here? A few times, I wager. As always with these classic hip-hop LPs, there's little more I can say that hasn't been exhaustively covered by other, deeply immersed chroniclers of rap musics. I'm just a passive fan of the stuff, and Hip-Hop Sykonee ain't coming back to this reality.

What elevated this album into its top tier status was how it added an unexpected dynamic to the then young Wu-Tang Clan saga. Enter The 36 Chambers established a whole crew of talented MCs, but as Method Man and Ol' Dirty Bastard were easily distinguished from the rest, its little surprise they'd do solo joints immediately after. Who'd be next though? GZA seemed likely for another LP, and that Inspectah Deck guy was spitting some fire. Maybe he would- wait, Raekwon? Really? Yeah, he was good too, but not so charismatic as the others. He came off like a little attack dog on the Wu-Tang album and guest spots, barking a bunch as the big dogs swaggered about. Good as a side-man, sure, but a full solo's worth? Well, okay, let's see what you have.

Now this... this is interesting. Instead of another straight-forward run of battle rhymes, pornographic come-ons, and gritty street tales, we're offered a complex narrative, centred on a Mafioso theme. Though not the first time a hip-hop performer was influenced by mob films and lore, seldom had anyone done it so thoroughly as Rae' here. As was expected, the extended Wu family was brought in for guest verses, including ample appearances of Ghostface Killah, who’d already established himself as Rae’s right to his left (y’know, “form like Voltron”?). To sell his crime drama though, the Chef had his crew take on all new aliases that fit his vision. RZA became Bobby Steels, Inspectah Deck became Rollie Fingers, Method Man was now Johnny Blaze, and even a guest appearing Nas took on the alias Nas Escobar. With everyone all in on Cuban Linx’s concept, an instant classic was all but guaranteed here. The Wu-Tang Clan proved beyond a shadow of a doubt they could mix their personas up as needed to fit the music they wished to create.

Of course, the two key ingredients are Raekwon and RZA. No longer the ‘barking’ MC on prior albums, he was suddenly calm, cool, and collected as a rapper, spewing insane amounts of new lyrical vernacular and slang that left the hip-hop world scrambling to decipher and catch up. Meanwhile, Bobby Steels raided his blaxploitation influences, completing Cuban Linx’s ‘rising above the streets’ narrative (with a little Scarface thrown in for good measure). There honestly isn’t another album in the Wu-Tang canon that sounds like it. Reason enough to get this, yes?

Ghostface Killah - Ironman

Epic Street: 1996

As a fan of the Wu-Tang Clan, grabbing a copy of this album obviously took far too long on my part. Isn't it my dutiful obligation to own every one of the group's first-run solo CDs? Yep, though in Ghostface's case, his first didn't leave a strong initial impression. For instance, is the cover intended to come off like some tacky shoe advertisement? Or are they in the process of pushing Wu-Ware along with Ironman? Another thing that turned me off was the lead single Daytona 500. Honestly, I can't remember how the song goes, even having just listened to it, but I thought the Speed Racer video for it was kinda' gimmicky. Still, I should know better than to let a lead single dictate a whole album. On the other hand, Cappadonna's on this a whole bunch, isn't he? I dunno, too many of his verses are so weak compared to the other Wu, I don't think I could handle a whole LP with him chiming in. Wait, Winter Warz is on this? Holy shit, son, Cap' spits pure fire on that cut!

Okay, the main reason was I couldn't figure Ironman living up the lofty peaks Ghostface had climbed with Supreme Clientele and Fishscale. And to be blunt, he doesn't here. Then again, Ghost was just at the start of what would be an impeccable solo career – testing the waters of where he could go, but still within the coddling embrace of his Clan and RZA's musical influence. For sure, Ironman's filled with plenty of those classic Wu, twitchy funk 'n' soul loops coupled with impeccable drum programming. In a way, this album marked something of an end of RZA's original style, the need for musical progression undoubtedly on his mind with Wu-Tang Forever just around the corner. He certainly indulges himself with a number of post-verse loops on a few tracks here, more so than most other solo-Wu albums. It's rather surprising Ghostface was fine with his producer stealing the spotlight like that. Ooh, conspiracy theory for Mr. Coles' ongoing distancing from the Wu as the years wore on!

Saying that, few knew what Ghostface's 'persona' was at this point enough to carry a whole album, beyond yet another ultra-talented MC in the Clan. Method Man was the rugged, uber-charasmatic one, ODB was ODB, GZA was the wise elder, and Raekwon established himself as a successor to Scarface (both gangster and rapper). Mr. Killah definitely proved himself a worthy back-up in those cases, almost part-and-parcel to Rae's image (Chef being the smooth operator, Ghost being the trigger-happy side-man). On Ironman though, Tony Starks plays the role of street storyteller, hype-man for his posse, and a lady's man who loves his mamma, but has absolutely no respect for them ho’s. Standard concepts as far as gangsta rap was concerned, and still deep within the Clan's fold, not the most efficient way to differentiate yourself from so many magnetic personalities. It'd take one more album to get there.

Raekwon - The Lex Diamond Story

Universal Records: 2003

Only Built For Cuban Linx is a classic, of that there's no debate; Part 2, released in 2009, was heralded as the follow-up everyone hoped of Raekwon. Unfortunately, no one knew whether we'd get such a sequel, so fans of Mr. Todd's music made do with what was sporadically offered instead. When it came out, Raekwon's third was received warmly enough, if not as a return to form then at least a decent effort. That perception's somewhat changed though in recent years. Unlike other 2000s LPs from the Wu-Tang, The Lex Diamond Story seems to be receding further from the collective hip-hop memory.

As an assortment of 2003 eastcoast criminology rap, Lex Diamond suffices. There aren't many surprises on the production front, though the tone does frequently jump from track to track – guess that's the price one pays for no longer having RZA providing all the beats. Instead, names like Brutal Bill, Andy C (no, not that Andy C), Crummie Beats, Zephla, Hangman 3, Ez Elpee, and Mizza handle the decks. Um, I don't know any of these names – I think I heard of Crummie Beats somewhere, but Lord Discogs lists Lex Diamond as his (their?) only entry, so I may just be blowing hipster smoke. Whatever, everyone involved (and nearly every track has a different producer credit) pretty much work with cinematic or jazz-n-soul loops and samples that'd been an eastcoast staple for over a decade by that point. Again, fine for the tone Rae' wants for this album (street raps by his street gangsta persona), but nothing particularly innovative for that year.

In fact, the few tracks that do break mode stand out from the rest for that very reason. That doesn't mean they're good tunes though. Ice Cream, Pt. 2 seems like a bad idea on paper – don't mess with a classic, right? - but DJ Khalid (who's done work for Dr. Dre's Aftermath print) provides a charming, silly cut for Rae', Method Man, and Cappadonna to once again use tasty frozen treats as pick up lines. Mike “Punch” Harper, on the other hand, creates a synth-heavy club jam on Wyld In Da Club, also featuring Raekwon's then-new pet project Ice Water Inc. (what happened to American Cream Team?). It sounds like a total trend-jump and in both cases, I wonder how either of them relates to a story about Lex Diamond's crime days.

And really, that's where this album suffers and quite possibly will continue to be relegated to forgotten solo-Wu joints. Say what you want about Immobilarity, but like both Cuban Linx, it maintains its theme for most of its running time – it feels like you're listening to proper long player. The Lex Diamond Story doesn't, often jumping from a Lex-related story to something totally unrelated. The final track - Once Upon A Time with somber pianos and singing from Tekitha (such a soulful voice) – is an admirable effort to tie everything together, but it's not enough.

Raekwon - Immobilarity

Sony Music Entertainment (Canada): 1999

It all starts somewhere, and for yours truly, Raekwon’s Immobilarity was the one that got me taking hip-hop seriously. For sure stronger albums that could have done the trick existed (including, of course, Raekwon’s first album, Only Built For Cuban Linx), but by and large I regarded the world of rap music as something rather gimmicky. The biggest hits were typically crossover party jams, and the stuff my peers played to piss off our parents over-glamorized gangsta tropes and sexual misogyny to the point of ridiculousness. Thank God The RZA Hits came along when it did, shoving some musical knowledge into my ears in the process. While it clued me into the ‘musical’ potential of the genre, soon I wised onto the ‘intellectual’ potential too.

Raekwon’s sophomore effort dropped about the same time as The RZA Hits, and, eager to quickly consume more Wu, I checked it out, promptly blown away yet again. This wasn’t some cliché ridden gangsta bullshit; rather, something far more mature in tone and concept was going on, painting an elaborate story of established criminals trying to survive in an ever-changing game. Immobilarity was hardly the first hip-hop album to do this, but it was the first that I properly heard.

Raekwon’s debut had the benefit of the Wu still being something of the streets, thus their tales of criminology still had a degree of honesty to them. In the four years following it, however, the group had conquered the globe, and it just didn’t make sense to still rap about roughin’ it to get by. They were made-men now, so to take the concept of ‘criminology raps’ to the next level (not to mention distance themselves from all the copy-cats), Raekwon changed the concept of Wu-gambinos to reflect that. They’re at the top now (or very near it), and they have to protect what’s theirs from all the up-and-coming hustlers. Maybe even find a way out of the game altogether, if the opportunity arises. If Cuban Linx could be considered a Scarface tribute, then Immobilarity is Godfather.

That could have made for an incredible album, if not for weighty expectations holding it down: heads only wanting Cuban Linx, Pt. 2, and RZA’s absence in the producer’s chair. Instead, we get a slew of relatively unknowns (sans Pete Rock) using rather cheap-sounding drum kits coupled with loops of heavily synthesized Mediterranean music (especially Chris Spheeris). Maybe it’s my Italian heritage, but I love hearing these loops, perfectly complementing Raekwon’s crime stories, but I can understand why others would dismiss Immobilarity on these ground, at least back in the day.

Now that hindsight’s clued folks up that RZA wouldn’t be on every Wu release (and we did get Cuban Linx, Pt. 2), folks have since softened on this album. Problems remain that keep it from being a hidden gem in the Wu discography (too much filler in the end; the beats still lack), but Immobilarity’s a worthy pick-up if you prefer your hip-hop having sophistication and class.

Ice Cube - Death Certificate

Priority Records: 1991/2003

I had no idea Ice Cube’s Death Certificate was so old. 1994-ish was my guess when I saw this album sitting on store shelves, but no earlier. Hell, I thought The Predator was older! I’ll grant part of my ignorance was just not knowing much about O’Shea Jackson’s early solo career, beyond a basic cliff-notes summary (formed N.W.A., left for solo-pursuits, got into movies, etc.), but there was another, sillier reason too: his haircut. Thanks to the album covers of Straight Outta Compton and AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted, plus the movie Boyz N The Hood, I always associated early Cube with the jheri curl style. The first instance I saw of him without the cut was in the 1993 rap parody movie CB4, so surely Death Certificate came out sometime after then, right? Hell no, in fact dropping onto store shelves a mere year after Cube’s solo debut. Wow, am I ever an idiot for taking so long to realize that.

Legend purports Mr. Jackson shaved his head as a way of distancing himself from West Coast gangsta rap tropes, which is funny considering Death Certificate marks the introduction of another attribute that defined Cali-based hip-hop: g-funk. Yes, a full year before Dr. Dre cemented the sound. To be fair, raiding George Clinton for samples was still a fresh concept, but all the glory for it goes to one of Cube's associates/enemies, and none for Da Lench Mob. Maybe everyone wanted more Bomb Squad action instead?

It definitely lends a different tone to this album compared to the last one. Lyrically, Ice Cube keeps firing shots at all the problems wrought by American society in the early '90s, but as the music has more bounce to it compared to the Bomb Squads' propulsive beats, Death Certificate comes off light-hearted compared to AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted. Not by much, mind, as tunes ranging in topic from ghetto misdemeanors (of course), members of the black community who sell themselves out for a bigger piece of the corporate pie, STDs (Look Who's Burnin' ain't about fire, folks), and even racism within the 'hood are just as vitriolic as anything Cube's done. It's just, y'know, funkier now.

So while his targets remained mostly the same (though now including N.W.A. on No Vasaline, since they had the audacity to make disses on him), Cube wanted to focus his words with more conceptual precision rather than the scatter-shot way he did before. The result is an album of two halves, a 'Death Side' and a 'Life Side' (probably worked better on the vinyl or tape copies). To be honest, there's scant difference between the two, though more 'hood tales permeate the 'Death Side', whereas 'Life Side' deals heavier with societal topics. It was a good idea in principle, but not delved into deep enough to make a difference in the album's flow one way or the other. It also dates Death Certificate to the early ‘90s, making my former ignorance of its release date all the more sad.

Ice Cube - AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted

Priority Records: 1990/2003

The only Ice Cube album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of an Ice Cube fan. Oh, he's released tons more since his debut, not to mention plenty of collaborative work alongside groups like Da Lench Mob and Westside Connection. Some of it's been good, some not so good, but aside from maybe his work with N.W.A., O'Shea Jackson was never as virulent as he was on AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted. No, check that, he's even more vicious here than on Straight Outta Compton, the bad blood between him and his former posse firing him like no other motivation could. Not only was he gonna make a bigger mark than them solo, but he was going to do so with ‘the other coast’, Public Enemy’s own production group The Bomb Squad.

Hanging around the politically charged Chuck D undoubtedly played a role in Cube’s new-found lyrical focus. He still brought tales of gangster shenanigans, but they were far less glorifying and misogynistic compared to what his contemporaries offered. Rather, they spotlighted the decay of American inner city life, how it was destroying black communities, and how everyone – from the white upper-crust of society to the lowest scuzzed beggar – was all accountable. Cube offers no solutions, and indeed that can make AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted a tiring listen as you bear the brunt of his anger, but damn if it isn’t a visceral experience.

And the music! If Cube’s just discovering how potent his lyricism could be, we’re also capturing The Bomb Squad at the height of their powers too. As this was made in the golden age of sampling, tracks are incredibly dense with (likely) un-cleared content. Unlike, say, The Dust Brothers’ production for Paul’s Boutique, who just tossed in whatever they could for the sake of it, The Bomb Squad keep grooves tight and propulsive. Just take a gander at the titular cut, with those funky breaks, bass drops, scratches, gun shots, etc. Even if Cube’s words aren’t for you, try denying bobbin’ your head to these beats. Not to be outdone, Da Lench Mob prove they're up to the sample-raiding with Jackin’ For Beats, first appeared on the Kill At Will EP, but included here on the 2003 reissue of AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted (the whole single, actually).

So if Ice Cube’s debut’s as good as I say (any hip-hop head would), why’s it taken me this bloody long to pick up a proper copy? Oversight mainly, but going through all that Del Tha Funkee Homosapien material recently reminded me to correct it. Yeah, ol’ Del’s cousins with Cube, which most folks know, but perhaps less known is how, as still part of Cube’s crew, he helped pen some of Mr. Jackson’s rhymes here. I dunno how many specifically, though a track like A Gangsta’s Fairytale sure sounds like something Del might write (there’s even a ‘Dr. Bombay’ reference). I wouldn’t recommend AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted if you’re only a fan of Deltron 3030 though, as they’re literally worlds apart.