On Sunday, March 9, 1997, I turned on MTV, looking to catch a couple of early morning music videos (yes, kids, once upon a time, years before it would become a whore house for Reality TV, the Music Television Network actually played music videos), when the normally scheduled programming was interrupted by breaking news. John Norris came across the screen to share the terrible report: “Hi, I’m John Norris with an MTV News breaking story. We’re outside of Petersen Automotive Museum in Los Angeles, where the twenty-four-year-old rap artist known as Notorious B.I.G., Christopher Wallace was shot early Sunday morning and later died of gunshot wounds at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.” I was stunned. Just six months prior, Tupac had been shot in Las Vegas after leaving a Mike Tyson fight and died from the wounds less than a week later. Now, another one of the most talented, full of potential emcees, had been gunned down in the name of a senseless hip-hop civil war. Just a week before his untimely demise, his new single, “Hypnotize,” had hit radio and created quite a buzz for his forthcoming, now suddenly posthumous album, Life After Death.

After the shock of the news set in, Biggie’s death made me soul search. I was already in the beginning stages of seeking God and trying to figure out the purpose of this life, but Biggie’s passing seemed to propel the process. Hip-hop had been my everything over the previous decade, and suddenly, I felt the need to separate myself from it completely, which led to me eventually disposing of the couple hundred CDs I owned at the time. I bought Life After Death the day it was released, and it would be the last secular hip-hop album I would buy or listen to for the next five years (Fret not. After my five-year break, I would end up rebuying almost everything I got rid of, plus a hundredfold. It may have cost me more monetarily, but the lessons I learned during that hiatus were invaluable, and I’d do it all over again…anyhoo, back to Life After Death).

The title Life After Death was a tongue-in-cheek response to Biggie’s ballsy titled debut album, Ready To Die. The double album was released on March 25, 1997 (just over two weeks after Biggie’s passing), containing twenty-four tracks that featured production from Puffy and his Hitmen, DJ Premier, Buckwild, Havoc, KayGee, Easy Mo Bee, and RZA, along with a slew of guest cameos. The album would rocket to number one on the Billboard 200, and thanks to its double discness, would earn a spot in the prestigious diamond club (ten million copies sold). The double disc diamond album has always felt like shady business to me. The consumer makes one purchase, and the artist gets credit for two? Whatever, that’s a whole different conversation for another day.

Life After Death is an album I tend to revisit regularly. It’s been a minute since I’ve listened to it from beginning to end, but every time I do, I’m reminded of how art imitates life and the power that our words hold.

Life After Death Intro – A stereotypical male TV commentator voice opens the album, setting up a flashback scene to the last record on Ready To Die, “Suicidal Thoughts,” where a depressed and overwhelmed Biggie does you know what to himself. After the sound of a jolting gunshot, gloomy funeral music plays underneath the steady beep of a heart monitor, while Diddy encourages his non-responsive friend to pull through, but to no avail. The heart monitor flatlines, and the intro ends. I’m sure this intro was created before Big’s untimely demise. But to all the listeners who heard this intro for the first time, a little more than two weeks after his death, this shit was not just a cute dramatic intro but super emotional, considering the circumstances. Twenty-seven years later, it still touches me when I think about Big’s stolen potential. Then I think about some of the rumored diabolical deeds surrounding Puff that recently surfaced, and my sadness switches to anger (If the man responsible for the Biggie tribute, “I’ll Be Missing You,” had anything to do with his murder, he is truly the scum of the earth).

Somebody’s Gotta Die – The record opens with rain, thunder, a gentle piano riff, and a leery synth string chord (it never goes away), creating a mystically somber mood for Big to paint a violent tale about avenging the murder of his homie, C-Rock. Big’s story ends with a sad twist that I won’t mention, just in case you forgot how it plays out and want to rediscover it for yourself. Good storytelling, a great beat choice, and an overall solid record.

Hypnotize – This was the lead single from Life After Death. Deric “D-Dot” Angelettie and Ron “Amen-Ra” Lawrence turn a Herb Alpert break into a funky backdrop for Big to float like, um, a floater (he told y’all during the second verse that he’s “really the shit”). A few sultry ladies reinterpret a line from Slick Rick’s “La Di Da Di” on the hook, bringing this irresistible banger to completion.

Kick In The Door – This is Biggie’s legendary subliminal diss track, and the first of two DJ Premier-produced records on Life After Death (that might also have the greatest opening two bars of any hip-hop song: “Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns, as crush so-called Willies, thugs, and rapper dons”). Over the years, I’ve heard this song was aimed at a thousand different people: Wu-Tang Clan (hence the ten “you’s” at the beginning of the song, which is a theory that works if you include Cappadonna as the unofficial tenth member of the Clan, but it doesn’t quite add up when you consider Meth appeared on “The What” and RZA produced a track on disc two of this album), Nas, Pac, Jay-Z, (even though he makes a cameo on the album three songs later), Jeru The Damaja, and I recently heard speculation that Big is firing at O.G.C. (yes, as in Originoo Gunn Clappaz, O.G.C.). I’m sure a portion of the previous parties listed above were in Big’s crosshairs (even Premo’s alleged to have received some reprimanding with the line: “Son, I’m surprised you run with, I think they got cum in them, ‘cause they nothing but dicks, tryna blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks”), but even without saying names, he makes it clear who this song’s dedicated to: “This goes out to those who chose, to use disrespectful views, on the King of N.Y.” Premo’s mammoth banger sets a Big Foot is coming mood, and Biggie’s recycling of one of his lines from “Get Money,” turns into a simple but effective hook.

Fuckin’ You Tonight – Long before he was tried, convicted, imprisoned, and canceled (even though most of the industry already knew he was a low-life piece of shit years before his conviction), R. Kelly was the man to go if you were looking to make your record hotter in the nineties. Nas linked up with Kells for the “Street Dreams (Remix)” the previous year, and Biggie would follow suit with this record. Daron Jones of 112 (and Diddy, of course) gets credit for the clean and contrived R&B-laden backdrop that Big uses to slip into his Big Poppa persona, smoothly telling the objects of his erection what his intentions are despite the straightforward song title. Meanwhile, R. Kelly keeps things candid on the hook and adlibs, plainly crooning what he wants to do. I didn’t like this record when it came out, and time hasn’t helped matters. Big’s bars were mildly entertaining, but the hook is horrendously corny, lasting way too long, and Kells’ poorly written verse only brings more scrutiny considering what would unfold over time.

Last Day – Big and The Lox pick up where they left off on their 60 Minutes Of Funk Vol. II. freestyle. Sheek Louch, Jada Kiss, Styles P, and Big each spit a verse (in that order) over a grimy string-laden backdrop that has Havoc’s gully imprint all over it (though the liners notes credit Havoc, Stevie J, and Puffy) and an embarrassing corny hook that smells like Diddy’s doing. All parties turn in sufficient verses, but unlike his performance on the 60 Minutes freestyle, Big doesn’t spare his contemporaries, demolishing them and the beat.

I Love The Dough – Jay and Big reconnect to talk big money and lavish lifestyles over Easy Moe Bee’s flip of Rene and Angela’s early eighties groove, I Love You More.” Wisely, they invite Angela Winbush to sing the same melody as the original record with a few alterations to the lyrics. This is another record I didn’t like back when Life After Death first dropped. The loop sounded like a cheap sample choice, but time has made it easier on the ears.

What’s Beef? – Our host uses this one for a quick synopsis of beef. Not the kind you eat, but the type that when “I see you, you guaranteed to be in ICU.” Biggie weaves his thugged-out wordplay like a seamstress’ needle through the slower tempo backdrop. And I love the mysterious mob vibes this Hitmen-produced backdrop emits. Classic.

B.I.G. Interlude – Big pays homage to Schoolly D’s classic record, “P.S.K. What Does It Mean?” with a quick verse over the honoree’s beat that somewhat explains what “B.I.G.” stands for. Those thunderous drums and crashing cymbals are ridiculous and will eternally sound amazing.

Mo Money Mo Problems – The album’s second single. Puff and the newest member of the Bad Boy family, Mase, join Big for this flamboyant, shiny suit affair. The Diana Ross flip of one of her biggest hits on her best-selling solo album was an unimaginative choice, but it still works. Big (who raps circles around his co-workers) brings life to the low-hanging fruit sample choice with lively bars, and I was today years old when I discovered Kelly Price sings the hook. For decades, I thought it was Faith Evans.

Niggas Bleed – Over a dark, unnerving backdrop, Big steps back into his Frank White persona to spin a tale from the perspective of a drug dealer plotting to rob his supplier of his supply. The content and energy of the song feel similar to “Somebody’s Gotta Die,” only the storyline is less interesting, so there’s no reason the two songs should exist on the same album.

I Got A Story To Tell – Sticking with the storytelling, Biggie ends disc one of Life After Death with a zany one-verse tale that starts as an innocent creep (with a chick who gets “dick from a player off the New York Knicks,” and Biggie’s in her “ass, while he (the anonymous Knick player) plays against the Utah Jazz”), but quickly turns into an armed robbery. According to Biggie, the whole episode is soundtracked by a 112 CD (props to Big for pluggin’ his label mates). Buckwild builds the instrumental around a twangy guitar loop that serves as the perfect accomplice to Big’s colorful narrative. The conversation at the end of the record, where Biggie recaps his antics with his homies, is almost as entertaining as the rap. Easily one of my favorite records on the album.

Notorious Thugs – If you polled fans of nineties hip-hop, I’m sure this would be one of the most beloved album cuts on Life After Death. Big joins forces with Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, jacks their speedy melodic style, and raps circles around them with one of the most celebrated verses in his legendary catalog (if this joint comes on at the kickback, everybody’s rappin’ Big’s verse verbatim, from “Armed and dangerous” to “Who’s the killa, me or you?”). A pensive key riff accentuates Stevie J’s emotional backdrop that goes just as hard as Big. Truth be told, I usually check out after Biggie’s verse, but this is still one of the highlights of Life After Death.

Miss U – This one starts with an interlude of Biggie reminiscing about his fallen comrade, O. Then KayGee (one-third of Naughty By Nature) interpolates Diana Ross’ Marvin Gaye tribute record, “Missing You,” for Big to share three different stories about loved ones he lost to prison or the streets. 112’s harmony on the hook intensifies the emotion and somberness of the track. On an album filled with tough guy talk, it’s nice to hear Biggie show vulnerability on records like these.

Another – Lil Kim joins her mentor/Geppetto on this raunchy battle of the sexes duet. This was, is, and will always be certified corn and the weakest link on Life After Death.

Going Back To Cali – The record starts with a skit of Puffy waking Big up with a phone call informing him they have to go back to California for bidness (“Whoa, Cali?”). Then Easy Mo Bee’s “More Bounce To The Ounce” influenced backdrop comes in for Biggie to celebrate the Golden State while semi-remaking LL’s Walking With A Panther classic and letting the listener know he’s got love for the West despite his beef with Pac: “If I got to choose a coast, I got to choose the East, I live out there, so don’t go there, but that don’t mean a nigga can’t rest in the West, see some nice breasts in the West, smoke some nice sess in the West, y’all niggas is a mess, thinkin’ I’m gon’ stop, givin’ L.A. props, all I got is beef with those that violate me, I shall annihilate thee.” I love the bounce in the instrumental and the fun energy Big brings to the track. This is still one of my faves on Life After Death.

Ten Crack Commandments – Premier gets his second and final production credit of the evening, soundtracking a joint that finds Biggie playing the Moses of drug dealers. I’m a huge Premo fan, but this is one of his weakest production moments. The instrumental is drier than Tyrone Biggums’ lips. Big does a commendable job trying to resuscitate the moisture-challenged music, but his commandments aren’t interesting enough to do so. They do make for a great hip-hop trivia question, though. Without revisiting the record, can you name all ten of Biggie’s Crack Commandments?

Playa Hater – I’ve heard interviews of Lil’ Cease talking about how much Biggie loved old soul music. This quick clip finds him getting his Barry (Frank?) White on, reinterpreting and putting a thug twist on The Delfonics “Hey Love.” This was a fun little break in the normally scheduled program, but homeboy who attempts to hit those falsetto notes on the bridge and closing adlibs (is that Puffy?) sounds cringe-worthy.

Nasty Boy – I’m not here to kink shame, but the shit Biggie’s talking about (no pun intended) during the opening interlude of this joint is probably the most disgusting sexual exploit I’ve ever heard in a song. He uses the rest of the record to playfully rap about how nasty he gets with the ladies, but nothing he spits is even remotely as nasty as the intro. For years, I assumed Jermaine Dupri was responsible for this contrived party production, but the liner notes credited Puffy. I hated this song back in the day, but now I appreciate how Biggie’s way with words can dress up a mediocre instrumental.

Sky’s The Limit – This was the third and final single released from Life After Death. Biggie’s highlights of his poverty-stricken childhood and his underlying hood optimism make this one feel like “Juicy” part two. I’m probably in the minority of the hip-hop community that didn’t love “Juicy,” mainly for the ridiculously obvious flip of “Juicy Fruit” (I know what you’re thinking, how could I like “Mo Money Mo Problems” that uses one of the most accessible loops in “I’m Coming Out” but not like “Juicy” for the same reason. I don’t have a logical answer, except that music is subjective, and I like what I like, dammit), but I digress. 112 again adds their smooth harmony on the hook, completing this feel-good, inspirational record.

The World Is Filled… – Our host invites Puff, Too Short, and Carl Thomas to join him on this pimp misogyny festival. Puff kicks things off with a verse that sounds eerie and telling with the recent charges that have surfaced in the past month. Then Big chimes in on verse two (with a verse that Jay-Z would later recycle a part of and use on “I Just Wanna Love U (Give It 2 Me)”) before Too Short wraps (and raps) things up on the final verse. Mr. Thomas handles hook duties, sprinkling his velvety vocals over the smoothly funked instrumental. The content is trash, but you can’t front on the beat.

My Downfall – This one begins with a skit of Biggie receiving a couple of death-threat phone calls (he immediately thinks it’s his then-estranged wife, Faith Evans, which makes me chuckle every time I listen to it), followed by Puffy screaming about jealousy and those who practice the unhealthy habit. Carlos “Six July” Broady chops up a piece of a sappy Al Green love song and turns the borrowed chords into a wonderfully murky canvas for Biggie to discuss those hoping, wishing, and praying for his downfall. Biggie invites DMC (Run’s partner in rhyme) to jump on the hook, which was a cool homage to the Queens legend.

Long Kiss Goodnight – RZA’s instrumental sounds like a cleaner take on some of his 36 Chambers material, while Biggie struggles to find his pocket over the mediocre beat. The hook and all of Puffy’s unnecessary yelling was annoying as shit. This is nothing more than filler that could have been cut and released later as some lost/vaulted material on Born Again.

You’re Nobody (Until Somebody Kills You) – The grand finale begins with Puffy reciting Psalms 23 as partially triumphant, partially paranoid strings slowly build in the background. Then the epically dark instrumental drops for Mr. “Forty-four in fifty-four drawers” to do his thing. Big’s first two verses are decent, but his final verse still sends ironic chills up my spine: “Remember, he used to push the champagne Range?/Silly cat, wore suede in the rain/ swear he put the “G” in game/had the Gucci frame before Dana Dane/thought he ran with Kane/I can’t recall his name/you mean that kid that nearly lost half his brain, over two bricks of cocaine?/Getting his dick sucked by crackhead Lorraine/a fuckin’ shame, dude’s a lame/what’s his name?/Dark-skinned Jermaine, see what I mean?”

When it comes to hip-hop, the term, classic album, gets used far too often and way too loosely. Everybody has their own definition of classic, but there should be some basic criteria for proclaiming an album a classic. For instance, two or three bangers or a few monster singles don’t necessarily qualify an album as a classic. The album cuts need to be strong as well. Production plays a huge role, along with sequencing, energy, and cohesiveness, and one of the truest tests of a classic album is time. There’s no calculated method or easy-to-follow formula to make a classic project. So, if making a classic standard album is difficult, how much more difficult is it when it’s a double?

My biggest issue with Ready To Die was the unevenness of Biggie’s rhymes and flow. The album was obviously written over a significant amount of time, as Biggie’s cadence and delivery on songs like “Gimme The Loot” and “Friend Of Mine” sound animated and prehistoric compared to songs like “Big Poppa” and “Unbelievable,” where his presentation became smoother and more sophisticated. Life After Death presents a polished Biggie, effortlessly lassoing every beat thrown at him, bringing them under submission with charisma and chiseled wordsmanship, even when the beat misses, which doesn’t happen often. Life After Death’s committee of producers provides Big with a diverse and strong palate of instrumentals to work with, ranging from calculated pop-ready canvases to organic boom-bap slaps.

Making a double album is an ambitious endeavor, even for an artist of Biggie’s stature (that’s a double entendre). I enjoyed Life After Death, but any album with twenty-four tracks is going to have some mid to underwhelming moments. Five to six tracks could have been left off the final cut, making the project a slimmer and more concise seventeen to eighteen-track body of work and bringing it closer to the coveted classic status. As is, there are a lot of really good records and a few great ones on Life After Death. So, if you consider it a classic, I ain’t mad at ‘cha.

Revisiting Life After Death is a bittersweet experience. Listening to Biggie gracefully paint audio canvases with his vibrant verbiage will always be a pleasure. But knowing this is the premature swan song for one of the most talented emcees to ever grace a mic, arguably still not yet in his prime, hurts. The dark-skinned Jermaine verse eternally resonates.

-Deedub

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