In the early 2000s, I was running around with my crew, Anointed Kings Alliance, trying to become an established rapper while spreading the good news of Jesus Christ and his redemptive virtue through my rhymes (it sounds corny, but I’m dead serious). That dream eventually dried up (maybe it’s still there, just deferred for eternity), and civilian life would become my norm. During that run, we saw a large portion of the country and met many people. Some became fans, others were aspiring artists like us, and some were already established in the game, like Frankie Cutlass.

I believe it was 2002 when we crossed paths with Frankie Cutlass at a Holy Hip-Hop Festival/Award show in Atlanta. He was either receiving an award or presenting one, but I vividly remember him “humbly” (and I say that in the most sarcastic way possible) talking about sitting in his studio, looking at all his gold plaques draped across his walls and being thankful to God for his success in the music industry. At the time, I only knew his name because of a CD a friend of mine had of his back in the day. That album was Politics & Bullshit, which based on the title, clearly wasn’t a Christian hip-hop album, so sometime between ‘97 and the early 2000s, Frankie had come into the faith. I had never listened to the album, and it would be at least another five years before I came across a used copy during one of my used CD bin rummages.

Frankie released his debut album, The Frankie Cutlass Show, on Hoody Records in 1993. Politics & Bullshit is Frankie’s first major label release (Epic Records) and would feature eleven tracks and a slew of esteemed guests rhyming over his production. The album didn’t spawn a hit record or make a ton of noise on the charts, but it did receive favorable reviews from the critics.

This review marks my first time listening to Politics & Bullshit, so without further ado, let’s jump into it. By the way, I still want to know which Frankie Cutlass records went gold.

Puerto Rico/Black People – The album begins with the recycled “Puerto Rico” soundbite from Frankie’s previous single of the same name (off his debut album, The Frankie Cutlass Show), linked with a vocal snippet of someone saying “Black People” on the other end. This dual soundbite repeats itself throughout the two-minute intro, but after its first couple of cycles, a mysteriously pensive melody, rugged drums, and a bass line that smells like doom’s lurking around the corner come creeping in, creating pleasant vibes in the audio sphere. Those pleasant vibes intensify around the mid-way point when our host shows his ass by adding a sophisticated string-esque arrangement to the mix. Most hip-hop album instrumental intros add little value to the project, but this is the exception.

Feel The Vibe – This record brings Rampage The Last Boy Scout, Doo Wop (better known as DJ Doo Wop, known for curating fire mixtapes way back when), and Ruck and Rock (aka Heltah Skeltah) together to mesh over a delicately demented xylophone, backed by a bangin’ rubbery bass line. Rampage (whose KRS-One and “Criminal Minded” references made it seem as if the Blastmaster was going to make a cameo on this track) and Doo Wop (whose rap voice sounds very similar to Fat Joe’s) spit decent verses, but Heltah Skeltah thoroughly entertains with their grimy back-and-forth rhyme scheme. I would have been fine with Heltah Skeltah holding this one down by themselves, but even as is, it’s still a tough record.

Focus – Lost Boyz (well, Mr Cheeks) meets up with M.O.P. and their extended family member, Teflon. Frankie builds the backdrop around the low-hanging fruit from Eugene Wilde’s “Gotta Get You Home Tonight,” which sounds fitting for Mr. Cheeks to rhyme over but way too soft for the Mash Out boys’ abrasive thuggery. Yet, Lil’ Fame and Billy Danze still made me chuckle a few times.

You & You & You – Frankie takes the energy back up a hundred notches with this mesmerizing banger of an instrumental. June Lover (sometimes spelled “June Luva”) bats first (he doesn’t strike out or hit a home run…maybe a single?), followed by Sadat X and his unique voice and abstract rhyme style, which I’m always open to hearing. No disrespect to June or Sadat, but they sound like mere opening acts compared to the beating Redman gives this track (and his name is curiously missing from the liner notes). I’ve been critical of Redman through the years, often feeling like the magic he captured on his rookie album (Whut? Thee Album) and his unforgettable performance on the Hit Squad posse record, “Head Banger,” were flukes. I’ll still ponder whether or not he’s overrated, but his verse on this record feels like 1992-93 Red: hungry, inspired, and outrageous. Peace to all the Roy Rogers employees still boxing up apple cobblers.

Boriquas On Da Set (The Remix) – I mentioned earlier that Doo-Wop’s rap voice reminded me of Fat Joe’s. How ironic that he and Joey Crack would get paired up for this record that celebrates their Puerto Rican descent? This is the remix of the original record that appears later in the sequencing (I’ve expressed before on this blog how much I hate when the remix of a song precedes the original in the album sequencing…what’s the point?). Doo Wop and Joe don’t sound that impressive on the mic, but Frankie’s grimy backdrop, punctuated with soiled wah-wah guitars, grows on me more each day.

Old School Radio (Interlude) – Frankie uses this short interlude to pay homage to a few legendary East Coast deejays via the frequencies on an old-school radio.

The Cypher: Part III – Mr. Cutlass loops up George Duke’s forever funky but far too familiar “Reach For It” (see Spice 1’s “In My Neighborhood” and WC And The Maad Circle’s “West Up!”) for this Juice Crew cypher session that features Craig G, Roxanne Shante, Biz Markie, and Big Daddy Kane. The song title is a little problematic. It’s called “The Cypher 3,” but don’t waste your time looking for “The Cypher” and “The Cypher 2” on your favorite DSP. They don’t exist. This is Frankie Cutlass’ spin on what “The Symphony Part 3” would sound like. The title may have been a little more fitting if the same four emcees from Part 1 and 2 participated (Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G. Rap, and Big Daddy Kane…I know Little Daddy Shane popped up for four bars on Part 2, but I’m not factoring him into the equation). Even with the conflicting song title and lazy sample choice, it was both nostalgic and refreshing to hear these four parts of one of hip-hop’s most legendary crews assemble and proficiently rock the mic.

Know Da Game – If a drone were to capture the destruction and damage left on Earth after the apocalypse happened, this instrumental would be the perfect soundtrack for the footage. After setting things off with a rubbery wah-wah guitar rift, Mr. Cutlass combines weary drums, somber synth chords, and a choir of tortured souls to create a desolate musical masterpiece. And who better to rap over such desolation than Mobb Deep? They’re always reliable for some good ole hopeless thuggery. I was hoping Kool G. Rap would appear on the previous Juice Crew joint. Instead, he surfaces on this record in full mafioso mode, sandwiching his heavily lisped, rapidly paced threats of violence between Havoc and Prodigy’s verses. M.O.P. shouting the hook is the cherry on top of this brilliance in bleakness.

Games – I don’t know much about Roc-City-O other than they appear to be a trio from New York, whom Frankie Cutlass was kind enough to give a feature spot on this album. The song title and hook borrow from a record from the early eighties rapper/singer Sweet G (see “Games People Play”). Roc-City-O spends more time spewing boring gun rah-rah and hollow threats than addressing the games that people play, but J-Quest sticks to the script, crooning about the subject at hand on the hook. I like the dark undertones and deceitful xylophone notes in the instrumental, but I never need to hear from Roc-City-O again, and I have a strong feeling that I won’t.

Pay Ya Dues – This was an interesting pairing. Frankie matches Keith Murray with Smif-N-Wessun (Tek and Steele, who were going by Cocoa Brothers at the time due to legal issues with using the name of the mammoth gun manufacturer) as the three emcees take on his brute percussions laced with the most barbarian xylophone notes that I’ve ever heard on a hip-hop record (Frankie uses more xylophone loops than your average hip-hop producer, but I’m not complaining). Busta Rhymes pops up, adding the exclamation point on the hook with a recycled line from his hit solo debut single, “Woo Hah!! Got You All In Check.” Yet another solid record.

Boriquas On Da Set – This O.G. mix is much livelier than the remix we heard earlier in the album. Along with its energetic bounce, it comes with two additional verses from the Evil Twins, Ray Boogie, and True Da Grynch Evil (an early candidate for worst moniker). It has a completely different energy than the remix, but both records work. I’m still not going to forgive Frankie for placing the remix before the original in the sequencing, though.

The title, Politics & Bullshit, reminded me of a few other album titles that have grouped nouns through the years: Diamond D’s Stunts, Blunts And Hip-Hop. A Tribe Called Quest’s Beats, Rhymes And Life. Gravediggaz’s The Pick, The Sickle And The Shovel. The nouns chosen for these titles were all clever combos but also great descriptors for the body of work they represented (side note: I bought a used copy of The Pick, The Sickle And The Shovel a few years back and still haven’t listened to it (it’s a ‘97 release, so it’s getting cued up for review), but I’m sure the content is full of jestful death and gory murder references). That sentiment doesn’t ring true with Politics & Bullshit.

None of the content on Politics & Bullshit’s twelve tracks gets even remotely close to political. Instead, all of Frankie’s guests keep it on some boastful braggadocio bravado, or they get their hardcore thug posturing on. The two themes produce mostly competent contributions, a few stellar moments (most notably, Redman’s uncredited appearance), and a few offerings that could fall under the bullshit category. Frankie musters up a pretty impressive guest list for Politics, but it’s his production that does the heavy lifting, and that’s no bullshit.

Frankie crafts a cluster of sturdy-framed boom bap instrumentals that shake off some of the dust that normally came with East Coast boom bap during the nineties. He replaces the grime with clean string and xylophone elements, giving his production a layered sound that resonates throughout the album. Frankie does make a couple of low-hanging fruit sample choices (see “Focus” and “The Cypher, Pt. 3”), but the songs still work in the grand scheme of things, even if they lack creativity on Frankie’s behalf.

By 1997, Frankie had been in the music business long enough to experience how shady it truly is. Maybe the album title comes from his frustration dealing with the politics and bullshit that come with the fickle industry. Whatever the reason, Politics & Bullshit is a sharp and concise compilation album that may not have received the same notoriety as other compilation albums from that era. Still, it could hold its own up against the best of them.

-Deedub

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