Cypress Hill - III - Temples Of Boom

Columbia: 1995

You're one of the biggest names in hip-hop, but it's almost entirely because of a mega-hit single that's something of a novelty track. Of course, Cypress Hill never intended Insane In The Brain to reach such market penetration that even white-bread suburbia was singing it. Indeed, if anyone actually paid attention to the lyrical content, it's not a terribly positive spin on psychedelic abuse. Have it wrapped in an upbeat rhythm and irresistible earworm of a chorus, however, and no one will know. Or care.

Perhaps Cypress Hill did care though, which would explain why their follow-up to the multi-platinum Black Sunday - III: Temples Of Boom - went in such a drastic, darker turn compared to their prior work. Yeah, there always was an edge to the music DJ Muggs produced, the sort of street-level grit that came with the sampledelic nature to his tunes. Rare would it get outright Gothic and bleak. It's like he took the moody atmosphere of Cock The Hammer and thought: “Yeah, a whole album of that!”

So Temples Of Boom comes with an extra layer of grime and grit, as if south California has never seen a ray of light, everything blanketed with paranoia and... Well, not quite despair, moments for a casual blaze still releasing some of the pressure cooker of existence. Still, better watch your back, because these streets are just as savage as ever, 'hoods getting ever deeper into their primal psychosis. I mean, if the lead singles of Throw Your Set In The Air and Illusions don't portray an existence just barely hanging on by a thread, I don't know what will.

The only comparison I can make of Temples Of Boom - at least in this era of hip-hop - are the harrowing moments as heard in Liquid Swords. Which makes sense, as RZA drops in for some beats and bars on Killa Hill Niggas. I just have to imagine Muggs taking notes down from Bobby Digital, like a young monk studiously listening to the words his master is speechifying.

“But wait,” you say, “aren't Cypress Hill megastars now? How do they get off rapping about gangsta' shit?” Ah, therein lies the secret genius of Temples Of Boom: they're not literally rapping about lived experiences here (though they had), but as more a concept, an urban horror story, focused on mood and atmosphere rather than explicit realism. In fact, the few times they do touch upon Real World things (scene posers in Strictly Hip Hop; outright dissing former friend Ice Cube in No Rest For The Wicked), you're taken out of their grim world. Well, lyrically anyway, Muggs' beats still on point throughout.

I'll just go ahead and say Temples Of Boom is easily Cypress Hill's most underappreciated record. Yes, it was a stark turn at the height of their fame, but having gone through the entirety of their discography, almost nothing comes close to how creatively atmospheric they went here – easily until Elephants On Acid.

Cypress Hill - Elephants On Acid

BMG: 2018

This is an album that didn't need to exist, but oh are we ever so blessed that it does. The Cypress Hill brand could rest easy on their past achievements, and indeed that seemed to be the case as the 2010s took form. The prior decade hadn't been terrible for the group or anything, but it was clear their best days were behind them, DJ Muggs in particular seeing more critical plaudits in his solo ventures than anything he was doing with B-Real and Sen Dog anymore. And they were fine with that, Mr. Real content in establishing his own studio should he get the music bug, while he and Mr. Dog continued successful tours replaying the old hits. If Til Death Do Us Part was indeed the last of classic Cypress Hill, no one would feel shame in that, a legacy firmly enshrined in hip-hop history.

Which is what makes Elephants On Acid all the more remarkable. Yes, it's a dope-ass album of psychedelic rap music, possibly one of the greatest records of the genre in the past decade – from a highly recognizable name, at the very least. To even have the gumption to go all in with it though? That's some pachyderm-sized balls, mang'.

In fact, there was little sign it was even in their systems to go this deep into the trippy weeds. Cypress Hill music would sometimes side-glance into the realms of Gothic horror and psychedelic dreams, but almost always as flavouring while rapping about gang bangin' and marijuana consumption (and certainly less of it following their go with nu-metal). Here, it's like the script got flipped, more emphasis placed on just how twisted Muggs' music can go, with the usual street and grass references more of an afterthought, like visions of a past life while exploring LSD adventures. Which may not be far from the truth, this record apparently more the brain child of Muggs than anything B-Real or Sen Dog envisioned. The abundance of instrumental interludes, where Muggs is clearly indulging himself with whatever strikes his fancy (you're darn right Elephant Acid sounds like an elephant on acid), pretty much confirms such a theory.

Even better-better, it's a modern rap album that almost entirely eschews modern rap tropes. Some pitched vocals here, a female led chorus there, and that's about it. No cheap-ass trap beats, everything rhythm gritty, booming, and filled with rich instrumentation from across the globe. Want some choirs? Here's Jesus Was A Stoner. A little Latin swing? Here's Oh Na Na. Twitchy street vibes? Here's Pass The Knife. A sing-a-long anthem with heavy trumpets? Here's Reefer Man, though good luck keeping pitch with just how warbly B-Real and Sen Dog get with their “la la-la-la la”s. The only thing really missing from Elephants On Acid from being a true Cypress Hill classic is that one all-timer tune with Sen Dog on an ear-wormy call-and-response chorus. Granted, this isn't that kind of record, but just imagine if they somehow pulled that off this deep into their careers?

Swollen Members - Balance

Battle Axe Records: 1999

I don't always look back on my time working a little music shop in the hinterlands of British Columbia in the best of lights (so bored, so little pay...), but I do appreciate it expanding my pre-Audio Galaxy music consumption. Ordering in all the electronic music I wanted was no small thing, and it wasn't long before my peers came to me with requests as well. This eventually drew the attention of connoisseurs of other genres, particularly underground hip-hop. For sure they helped me clue into Wu-Tang Clan and OutKast, but without these folks asking for acts like Hieroglyphics or Jurassic 5, where would my rap knowledge be? Not terribly good, I wager.

Swollen Members was another such unknown entity. I'm sure a number of my Canadian brethren are wondering, how can that be? For a time, the group helmed by Mad Child and Prevail was one of the biggest rap acts in the country, only ceding their time at the top when Drake came along as the New Canadian Hotness. This is true, but before their big break with the album Bad Dreams, they debuted with this record, Balance. And as the current Top Canadian Rap Act was then Rascalz, Swollen Members had to bide their time in the underground. For there can be only one Canadian Rap Act in the public eye at any given time. I honestly have no idea how or why this is so, I just know it to be so.

In any event, I doubt Swollen Members could have become an overnight sensation even if they wanted to. Their style was always heavy on themes of the occult, not exactly mainstream friendly, and rather fringe even back in the '90s. It honestly still boggles my mind that an act that had Mad Child rapping about witches and demons would go on to have any radio play, but then I suppose Rascalz weren't doing so hot, and Canada needed something to fill their One (1) Popular Rap Act quota. Balance generated more than enough buzz to get record execs looking.

For a young white dude with some dorky traits, hearing another white dude rap about dorky things while in the presence of dope-as-fuck rappers like Del Tha Funkee Homosapein, Everlast, and Dilated Peoples, producers like The Alchemist, plus scratch masters like Mix Master Mike and Kut Masta Kurt, you bet this was right up my alley! Not that this is some horrorcore schlock, Swollen Members sticking to most traditional 'backpacker' rap topics about how lyrically dope they are and all good stuff. They just use unconventional metaphors, is all, with moody, minimalist beats, pianos, guitars, strings, and chants to back them up. The only time this album gets 'fun' is on the Del cut Left Field, which sounds like a tune from one of his own albums, Swollen Members guesting.

And yet, despite quite liking Balance, I never followed this group after. Sadly, Canadian over-hype has a way of sullying a good thing.

GosT - Possessor

Blood Music: 2018

If I'd been more slack in my review schedule, I could have had this album out for a spiffy Halloween date. Nothing spookier than demon possession, with The Exorcist often hailed as one of the most frightening movies ever committed to celluloid. I wonder though, is demon possession really a Halloween thing? Like, the Church Of Satan, from which GosT takes a lot of inspiration from, exists year-round, so most things associated with Hellspawn, Beelzebub, and the whole kebab would be as well. Heck, I remember in ye' olde date of June 6, 2006, a big media blitz surrounding a scary movie about Satan or something (a remake of The Omen, I believe?), and that's as far from late October as you can get without being April 30. Regardless, despite the latter half of October being dedicated to all things spooky, scary, and devilish, something like demon possession is probably considered a phenomenon priests must be vigilant against all days of the year. If you buy into that sort of thing, anyway.

Like, I appreciate The Exorcist as a white-knuckle, psyche-mauling thriller, but despite my name, I'm not Christian. The religious implications of that movie and the events its based upon don't phase or frighten me. That said, I cannot deny GosT's Possessor is one of the few times that I've been suitably unnerved listening to music. And considering the amount of dark ambient I've listened to, that's no mean feat.

There's no denying hearing guttural Latin screamed like a wailing banshee will scare the bejeezus out of any soul, but too often I've heard it used as little more than a jump-scare, especially in the context of music. A lot of high-BPM hardcore loves its Exorcist samples, which is fine in amplifying the extreme nature of that genre, but it doesn't actually fill me with fear. Hearing GosT use it in the chaotic, cacophonic climax of closer Commandment though, sweet merciful God, it makes me want to reach for a rosemary.

While it's not all Hell-shrieks in Possessor, GosT does play things out more viciously than even his usual aggressive fare. Sigil and Malum get more on a darkwave vibe, The Powler and Loudas Deceit reach back to GosT's electro-house roots (with some requisite horror movie strings and samples, 'natch), while Shiloh's Lament is a fierce slice of apocalyptic outrun, but these are the album's outliers. GosT generally sludge his tracks right down before unleashing a heavy, thrashy assault of synths and samples, letting you know under no uncertain terms that the endtimes are nigh, and GosT, possessed by Baal, is leading the charge.

Still, it does sometimes come off corny to my ears. There's only so much “this are serious horror music!” I can take before it crosses into the realms of parody, the sort of thing low-grade death metal is rightfully mocked for. For the most part though, GosT toes the line well enough, such that my eyes are buggin' out rather than rollin' out.

Dr. Octagon - Moosebumps: An Exploration Into Modern Day Horripilation

Bulk Recordings: 2018

And I thought the wait for a Deltron 3030 sequel took forever. Right, Dr. Octagon has popped up here and there throughout Kool Keith's career, but what folks truly clamoured for was Dan The Automator getting back in the studio with him, rekindling the same twisted synergy that made Dr. Octagonecologyst the cult classic it remains to this day. The concept is just so strange, that all the weirdo conceptual rappers ever since haven't quite matched the bizarro sci-fi horrorcore porn world that Dr. Octagon inhabits. And those who do almost inevitably sound like they're trying too hard to be shocking and twisted for its own sake, never finding the effortless cool that Kool Keith brings to the project.

Somehow though, the stars, planets, stethoscopes and Venus mounds all aligned once more to bring Keith and Dan back together for the follow-up album every was hoping to hear... oh, around twenty years ago, if we're being honest. Yeah, fans of Dr. Octagon are happy they've gotten anything at this point, but they'd also long made their peace that odds were slim it would happen at all. Keith had moved onto plenty other things, Dan had moved onto plenty other things (with some unexpected commercial success along the way), and even DJ Q-Bert was having a successful solo career, with little need to be The DJ in an antiquated notion of what constitutes a 'rap group' these days. Heck, all you need is a bunch of mumbling autotune and some bare-bones 808 drum synths for a hit these days. Who's got time for cryptic lewd lyrics about... y'know, I couldn't explain what Dr. Octagon's going on about even if I tried.

What I can tell you, however, is this new album of Moosebumps: An Exploration Into Modern Day Horripilation, is just about everything I could have hoped for in a proper follow-up of the project. I've never met an Automator beat I didn't like, and though Dan could have gone overboard on production as he did in the Deltron sequel, he keeps things mostly on that classic boom-bap simplicity, throwing in mint break samples, orchestral swells, twitchy violin touches (one of the first album's defining characteristics), aggressive guitar licks (care of Gary Holt), and quirky sci-fi clips as needed. Though filled with vividly weird imagery and off-kilter wordplay, Keith doesn't have quite the same level of instantly memorable “WTF?” lines in this outing. Still, he rides Dan's beats with trademark effortless cool, making you wonder why the Hell they didn't reconvene sooner. Meanwhile, Q-Bert does his usual scratch trickery, and even gets another extended solo showcase in Bear Witness IV.

You know what I always hoped to hear though? A back-and-forth between Automator's two famed cult classic projects, Dr. Octagon and Deltron 3030. And holy shit, we get it in 3030 Meets The Doc, Keith and Del delivering all that I could have wished for! And wait... is that...? Is that!? Oh my, a scratch battle between Q-Bert and Kid Koala! Nnnnggyyaaaahhh!!!

Gravediggaz - 6 Feet Deep

Gee Street: 1994/1997

It was the late '90s that I got into hip-hop proper-like, Wu-Tang Clan leading the way. Little did I realize that a seed had been planted for that interest a few years prior, with the Gravediggaz debut, the second rap album I ever bought. I wasn't after anything deep or conscious, y'see, but all the crazy, humorous, horror lyricism and super-funky beats of 1-800-Suicide and Defective Trip caught my ear like little other hip-hop music at the time. That's probably how most 'non rap-fans' buy their first rapping records, something that's more a novelty than anything reflective of the culture. Like Beastie Boys doing the cock-rock fusion thing, or blatant smut-rap like 2 Live Crew, or a 'nerdcore' outing from MC Frontalot, or a comedy offering from Lonely Island. Some may dig deeper from those entry points, but for most such 'themed rap' allows folks to dig on hip-hop without getting caught up in the scene's broader topics.

That's all I really cared about going into Gravediggaz. I had no clue that the group contained two of the biggest producers residing on the Eastcoast at the height of their creative powers: Prince Paul and The RZA. Hell, I didn't even know who these guys were when I bought 6 Feet Deep, much less the legacy they'd created in but a few short years. I only clued in to the Wu-Tang connection after listening through The RZA Hits, and realized “Oh! The RZArector. I thought he sounded familiar.” Also, how was Diary Of Madman not on The RZA Hits? Yeah, that compilation was mostly about Wu-Tang highlights, but damn if that single doesn't deserve being considered in conversation of all-time classic, creepy RZA productions.

To this day, it boggles my mind that Paul and RZA not only teamed up so early in their careers, added another pair of relatively unknown MCs in Poetic (The Grym Reaper) and Arnold Hamilton (The Gatekeeper) to the project, but that they'd indulge in the ultra-niche 'horrorcore' genre in doing so. Aside from Bushwick Bill's 'Chuckwick' alias, no one was doing this kind of stuff. RZA's movie influences though, they must have extended beyond old-timey chop-socky kung-fu flicks. Maybe a little Tales From The Crypt comics on the side.

And if the topics of bad ghetto trips, ultra-violent demonic possessions, hanging tabernacles from testicles, and suggesting various methods of suicide are just a tad too out there for your sensibilities, you cannot deny the music on hand is top-grade shit. Prince Paul handles most of the beats in 6 Feet Deep, running through sample-heavy funk, off-kilter soul, and headbangin' boom-bap (Bang Your Head, appropriately enough). Meanwhile, RZA's shouty maniacal rapping, Grym's smooth flow, and Gatekeeper's gruff voice all play wonderfully off each other (Paul mostly sticks to the producer's roll). This album is equal parts grim-dark and hilarious as fuck, without ever falling into parody like so much 'horrorcore' often does. Only a right prude couldn't get into this album on some level.

Ghostface Killah & Adrian Younge - Twelve Reasons To Die

Soul Temple Records: 2013

Mr. Coles could keep making Ghostface origin-story albums until the end of his life, never running out of fresh angles on the subject. And really, what else is there left to rap about as the G.F. Killah? Most of his early material centred on standard hip-hop topics: street tales, mafiaso aspirations, commanding the microphone with skill above his peers, bragging about his success in sales, within the sheets, and all that good stuff. However, no matter how impeccable Ghostface presents the material, it does grow repetitive after a while when the subject’s been so thoroughly covered for over two-decades now. So, instead of rapping about all that real shit, let’s get conceptual and rap about blaxploitation vigilante stories or Italian mobster horror stories, all linked by how the Ghostface Killah came into being. Sounds like fun!

This story goes as thus. Tony Starks (Mr. Coles’ mafiaso alias) raised through the mob ranks from hired hitman to self-made man. This naturally pissed off all the DeLuca old guard, and Ghost’ doesn’t mince words in how his skin color added extra fuel to the ensuing turf wars. How dare a black man gain so much power, but there’s little they can do about it, Tony’s influence growing ever stronger in the lands of gangster clichés. Everyone has their weakness though, and sure enough, Starks is lured into a trap by a femme fatale, taken out like so many Scarfaces. In typical high-mobster fashion though, it’s not enough to execute him on the spot, his enemies concocting a ridiculous post-death humiliation. His remains are melted down into vinyl, pressed into twelve records owned by those who perpetrated the crime. Damn, I bet those slabs of wax go for just as much as that one-copy Wu-Tang Clan album.

Well, buyer beware, for there’s a twist to this story benefiting an episode of Tales From The Crypt. Turns out Starks’ spirit endured, haunting the records such that should you play one of them, he’ll emerged as the Ghostface Killah looking to exact a revenge most gruesome indeed. The second half of Twelve Reasons To Die details all the myriad ways his enemies meet their ends, and no one is spared. From the heads of the DeLuca family that ordered his hit, to the women and children they spawned, Ghostface shows no mercy or remorse in his wrath. Guess Wu-Tang Clan ain’t nuttin’ to fuck with even after they die.

Twelve Reasons To Die was seen as something of a career resurgence for Mr. Coles, his last critically hailed album being Fishscale seven years prior. It didn’t hurt that he’d paired up with the emerging, highly touted funk and soul producer Adrian Younge, who approached the project as though scoring a classic Italian horror film from the ‘60s; if said film was shot in the Bronx, anyway. It proved such a success that the two paired up again for a sequel this past year. Ooh, Rae’s a supporting character on that one? Tickle me piqued!

Dr. Octagon - Dr. Octagonecologyst

DreamWorks Records: 1996

The Golden Age Of Hip-Hop was over, and one of the premier groups to usher in that era, Ultramagnetic MC’s, were heading their separate ways. Kool Keith, whom you most definitely know from The Prodigy’s Fat OF The Land, was the likeliest of the group to have a successful solo career, and he’s done that in spades, clubs, and diamond-encrusted hearts. He’s released album after album after album, running through numerous aliases in doing so, and has earned him the reputation of one of the hardest working MC’s of the last two decades. This, despite some serious issues of quality control, especially with a preponderance of crude sex raps that’d make even Luke of 2 Live Crew ask what the cheese. It all had to start somewhere though, and that was with his most critically hailed alias, Dr. Octagon.

While hip-hop’s flush with quirky personas, this one has to rank up there with the most bizarre. See, he’s not some clichéd ‘doctor of lyricism’ or the like; rather, Dr. Octagon is half mad scientist, half time traveling extra-terrestrial (he comes from the planet Jupiter), and half kink scene gynecologist. This provides Keith a setting where horrorcore, nerdcore, and porno raps all cross paths, with an emphasis on tongue-twisting vocabulary that’s equal parts humorous and perverse. When he says he’s gonna’ dissect rectums, treat your chimpanzee acne and moosebumps, and prescribe a treatment of Pepsi cola, Pepto Bismal, bugs, and pop rocks, you can’t be sure if he’s utterly insane, or has fun screwing about the operating room (between sessions of screwing patients in the operating room). Elsewhere, his assistant Uncle Gerbik is a half shark half alligator half man, and over two centuries old. Clearly Dr. Octagonecologyst is an album firmly planted in cheek, probably sewed there with satin threads and rubber needles.

So Kool Keith had something unique going for him here, but what gave Dr. Octagon a quick cult following was the production of Dan The Automator and turntable scratching of DJ Q-Bert (just coming off a string of DMC Championship victories with Mixmaster Mike). Yep, Dr. Octagonecologyst is basically a proto Deltron 3030. Hell, the first track is titled 3000, and sounds like it uses the bleeps from Pierre Henry’s Psyché Rock as a scratch sample among the super-spliffed vibes. Many of the beats are stripped back to a trip-hop haze with old timey French pop loops, serving the macabre tone with a dose of brevity throughout. Man, no wonder Mo Wax wanted in on this.

For all the critical adoration Dr. Octagon generated though, Kook Keith wasn’t the biggest fan of the project, practically ending it right after. He’s actually ‘killed’ the alias multiple times with another persona, Dr. Dooom, and efforts to revitalize him have failed to manifest much of note. Perhaps it’s as it should be, a one-off project that generated underground buzz, but retaining street cred by never overstaying its welcome. Dr. Octagon has operated on all the nether regions he ever will.

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.

Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP 2

Interscope Records: 2013

Remember when Eminem released Lose Yourself? Along with being his all-time best charting single, it also presented us a Mr. Mathers unlike anything we'd seen before, its anthem guitar licks and rousing chorus inspirational rather than confrontational. It won over even his most ardent detractors within the hip-hop community, placing him firmly at the top of his game. Earning such status within the rap world, the only place left he could go was down. So down he went, though no one expected it happening as suddenly as it did.

A bunch of crazy stuff followed in the ensuing decade, but imagine if it hadn't. Imagine if Eminem carried on from that peak undeterred from all the personal problems affecting him. The Marshall Mathers LP 2 is as close to hearing that possibility as we'll likely ever hear.

Throughout this album, Em' goes on about the trials he faced growing up, reflecting on his career, and simply showing off why he's long been regarded one of the best MCs to ever command a microphone. All topics he's covered before, true, but there's more fire in his spitting, more urgency in his delivery, and even humbleness for his success alongside his rapping bravado. This is the recovery everyone hoped he'd reached at some point, and if it took a call-back to his most successful album, so be it.

Like I said though, MMLP2 feels more like Lose Yourself-era Em', especially with big, catchy guitar licks galore (oh hi, Ricky Rubin). That said, the music's still very much of the here and now, even when purposefully trying to sound like 1986 – no one could wring that much mileage out of a TB-808 back in the day. There's not a duff cut in the lot, plenty of variety between the beats, and enough ear-worm tracks that you'll seldom reach for the skip button. I'm not so much a fan of the 'Rhianna-duet' clones (including hers), but they're few and far between.

So yes, The Marshall Mathers LP 2 is as solid an album as folks have claimed. Of course, the million dollar question is whether it's better than the original Marshall Mathers LP. It's by a hair-width, but no, MMLP2 is not a better overall album.

Despite containing a superior selection of tracks, that's all they are: tracks. You could shuffle most of these, subtract a few, perhaps add some from the deluxe version, and it wouldn't affect the music's flow or even the final product much. MMLP1, on the other hand, feels like a cohesive whole, where the weaker parts (skits, repetitive topics in the back-half) accentuate the standout moments and roller-coaster of emotions you might experience. As a play-through, MMLP1 is more complete, even if I'm not nodding my head as often as MMLP2. Still, if having tune after tune of Eminem reminding us why he deserves his crown after all these years, then The Marshall Mathers LP 2 shouldn't be missed, even by ‘proper album experience’ twits like myself.

Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP

Interscope Records: 2000

I admit I've yet to check out The Marshall Mathers LP 2. Yes, I know it's been heralded as a proper-proper return to form for Eminem (no, for realsies this time!). To be honest though, it's hard to get excited about anything Eminem's done for over a decade now, as I gave up on his shtick around the D12 debut, not even bothering with The Eminem Show (“nobody listens to techno”? Lamest. Diss. Ever.).

For all the verbal dexterity lil' Slim's given us over the years, I suspected early he's only as good as he's got something poignant to prove. Slim Shady LP was about making his mark, Marshall Mathers LP's about dealing with his successful aftermath and not coming off as a novelty (hey, look at the good white rapper!). The Eminem Show though, what's left to prove? Sure, he can still come up with decent songs filled with sly wit, but it's a treading album. If I want to hear more of Em' dealing with fame, issues, and shit, I'll just throw on MMLP again, thanks. It's got better songs. After that... well, I jumped ship early, and turns out my assumptions about Eminem's drive as an artist weren't far off. Still, if the buzz surrounding MMLP2 is true, it would indeed appear that he's hungry in all the right ways again.

But enough of that. What is it about MMLP that’s held in such high esteem more than a decade on? Part of it truly was the growth in maturity as an artist Em’ showed us. Few rappers got as big as Mr. Mathers did in such a rapid amount of time, if ever. Lesser MCs often take their newfound fame as a chance to endlessly brag, but Em’ gives us a remarkably humble inside look into the pitfalls of such notoriety. Whether detailing over-obsessive fandom (Stan, The Real Slim Shady, Who Knew) or the societal conditions that could create an icon such as Slim Shady (The Way I Am, Marshall Mathers, Bitch Please II, Criminal), he illuminates American problems along with the shock stories and battle raps. Yep, he proved he could do conscious hip-hop!

It also helped he had Dr. Dre on hand while the good doc’ was still on fire after Chronic 2001’s success, giving us strong beats aplenty with few duds. One of the few non-Dre highlights is the megahit Stan, whom introduced Dido to the US (eh, I already knew her through Faithless), and convinced housewives all over to buy this album. Imagine their surprise at how the rest of the album went, including the brutal endurance test that is Kim at the other end. Em’ also produced the fiery The Way I Am, proving his capabilities behind the boards as well with pen and paper.

This used to be the only Eminem album you were supposed to have, even if you weren’t an Eminem fan. Guess I’ll have to check out MMLP2 now to confirm that. Things I do for accuracy.

Insane Clown Posse - The Great Milenko

Island Records: 1997

Guess I can't hold this off any longer. I thought maybe I'd be granted another respite should my next batch of Amazon orders make it in time, but nay, I must finally reveal one of the greater shames of my music collection.

No, fuck that. Why's there shame in having a single Insane Clown Posse album? I've had ample opportunity to discard, sell off, or microwave the sucker, yet The Great Milenko has stayed with me all these years. Nostalgia, then? Not really, as I had barely a passing interest in the duo even back when I was age-appropriate to appreciate their schtick in the '90s. Could it be that, *gasp*, this is actually a great album?

Nah, guy, though for all I know, it's tops on the Juggalo scale. What I can tell you is The Great Milenko features far more metal influences than any of their albums, catching the burgeoning nu-metal sound of the late ‘90s just as it was about to blow up. And dammit if I can’t help but really enjoy Slash’s chords on the kick-ass Halls Of Illusions chorus, or shredding from Sex Pistols’ Steve Jones on Piggy Pie. This, along with some of the best production long-time ICP beatsmith Mike E. Clark managed to crank out (having a major label backing sure helps), tickles all the ‘fun-dumb’ pleasure centers in my brain (along with professional wresting, I cannot deny).

Heck, some of the themes are, dare I say, rather clever. ICP’s wit is often no brighter than a black brick, yet songs condemning the lives of the most sinful of society? The Great Milenko’s filled with them and I think that’s material we can all relate to, though I’ve grown well past “world against me” tropes as found in How Many Times?, or “organized religion’s a sham!” ‘shockers’ like Hellalujah. Still, their closing attempt at pathos in Pass Me By, a somber reflection on what the afterlife may bring, is surprisingly charming.

Then there’s simple, silly, stupid stuff like What Is A Juggalo? (ever wondered?), The Neden Game (the clowns try to impress a girl on a game show), and horrorcore insanity (Southwest Voodoo, Boogie Woogie Wu, House Of Horrors). One can’t hate on these anymore than one could hate on GWAR or an early Peter Jackson splatter film. Insane Clown Posse fully embrace their gimmick of ‘wicked shit’, and everything’s just cartoony enough that anyone with half a brain couldn’t take them that seriously (unlike other low-brow specialists like Limp Bizkit). It’s fun to take a ride on their carny ride once in a while.

Or maybe not. Make no mistake, Insane Clown Posse is an easily mocked group, and The Great Milenko won’t change your mind about their shock tactics. They’re still doing their thing though, and somehow made it work for a two-decade plus career. That’s an impressive feat for any act, especially a one-note group like ICP. Just might be the world of hip-hop needs its psycho clowns after all.