The last time we heard from Wyclef Jean was earlier in 1997 with his featured record on DJ Muggs’ Soul Assassins project. That record came on the heels of the Fugees’ landmark 1996 album The Score, which not only is a Grammy-winning certified classic but would go on to move a staggering seven million units. But as the story goes, Wyclef and Lauryn Hill’s affair began to get messy, putting a rift in the group and stifling their musical production. Unfortunately, we would never get a proper follow-up to The Score. Meanwhile, Wyclef would sign a solo deal with Columbia Records (which was also the label home to Fugees). Since Fugees weren’t working on new music, Clef would look to build on The Score’s momentum as a solo artist, releasing The Carnival in June of ‘97.

Wyclef would be the main conductor of The Carnival with his partner, Jerry “Wonda” Duplessis, receiving production co-credit for most of the album’s twenty-four tracks (you may recognize his name as co-producer for most of The Score). Even though Clef and Ms. Hill were in the midst of a tumultuous relationship, she still lends her voice to a handful of the album’s tracks. Wyclef’s Refugee Camp bredrin, Pras, and John Forte also make a couple of appearances, along with a few other unexpected guests that will get into later. The Carnival wasn’t as commercially successful as The Score, which would be a nearly impossible feat to achieve. Still, double platinum for your debut solo album is nothing to sneeze at. The Carnival also received two Grammy nominations and would become a critical darling, receiving positive reviews from most critics and major publications.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Without further ado, let The Carnival begin!

Intro/Court/Clef/Intro (Skit/Interlude) – Continuing with the movie theme from The Score, The Carnival begins with Blaxploitation style music (courtesy of Manu Dibango’s “Soul Makossa”) and a narrator introducing the movie’s, I mean, the album’s cast of characters. Things then move to a courtroom scene, where Wyclef is on trial for being a player and a bad influence (I didn’t know those were criminal offenses), and we meet the prosecutor and Clef’s animated Haitian defense lawyer. After the court skit, our host welcomes the listener to the album, and now we can get on with the rest of the show.

Apocalypse – In true Wyclef eclectic form, he builds the backdrop around an obscure loop of the Opera-style vocals of a French female singer (Danielle Licari) that will surely put you in a trance and open up a few endorphins in your mind. During the first verse, Clef talks his abstract shit before sharing the deeds of a mele at The Tunnel in Manhattan that somehow leads to mistaken identity and Clef in a high-speed chase with an undercover detective. Does it end tragically? Qui, qui, y’all. Qui, qui.

Guantanamera – This was the third single released from The Carnival, which also earned a Grammy nomination for Best Rap Performance by a Duo or Group in 1998. Clef remakes Cuban singer Celia Cruz’s song of the same title, giving it a soulful, hip-hop facelift (that includes some clean, well-placed cuts from Funkmaster Flex) without abandoning its original Cuban feel, and he kindly invites Ms. Cruz to join him on the track. He also invites Jeni Fujita to sing from the perspective of Guantanamera while he and L-Boogie rap about the Cuban Mexican seductress, whose beauty and body are bad enough to bring broke niggas, businessmen, and politicians to their knees. With that said, I’d love to meet her.

Pablo Diablo (Interlude) – Back to Wyclef’s trial. The prosecutor calls his first witness to the stand: the Spanish-speaking Pablo Diablo. Unfortunately, things don’t go quite the way Mr. Prosecutor thought they would.

Bubblegoose – After a quick jingle over a tender guitar riff, our host makes it seem as if he’s going to kick a kids’ story, calling for them to gather around. Instead, he kicks two playful mafioso-style verses centered around a street hustler getting shot through his Bubble Goose jacket. Salaam Remi gets his sole production credit of the evening, concocting a dreamy melodic instrumental that sounds like the perfect score for floating on a cloud. The doo-wop melody and guitar riff at the end of the record was cute and clever.

Prelude To “To All The Girls” (Interlude) – A clip from a sixties record called “Only A Fool” by (here are some interesting group names for you) Mighty Sparrow and Byron Lee and The Dragonaries (from a collab album cleverly titled Sparrow Meets The Dragon) plays to set up the next track.

To All The Girls – Clef dedicates this record to all the girls he’s cheated on in his lifetime. It almost plays as an explanation letter that attempts to justify his dirty deeds (“Here’s what happened/it wasn’t my intention/to fall into seduction while playing in temptation/I thought I had it figured out/but games don’t last/the hourglass ran out/I got sprayed with the teargas”). Wait. Does this mean he’s admitting guilt to the allegations brought against him in the intro? Regardless, I wasn’t crazy about this record, but if it came on at the kickback, you could get off a nice little two-step.

Down Lo Ho (Interlude) – The prosecutor calls his second witness to the stand: the Asian martial artist Down Lo Ho. I’m pretty sure he and the Chinese restaurant owner from The Score skit, Chang Wang, are first cousins.

Anything Can Happen – This was the second single. Clef’s random rhymes and the drowsy instrumental did nothing for me. By the way, this song was recorded almost thirty years ago, and the Knicks still haven’t won a championship. That may never happen again.

Gone Till November – This was the album’s fourth single. Wyclef’s acoustic guitar teams up with an elaborate string orchestration for this theme song for hustlers trying to provide for their families via rocks or raps. It took me a few listens, but I really like this record.

Words Of Wisdom (Interlude) – Before the next song begins, Clef gives a quick PSA on how men can avoid rape accusations.

Year Of The Dragon – Clef and Ms. Hill exchange stories about things they’ve seen that have shaped and molded them in this cautionary street tale. Clef scores the record with a dark, stripped-down backdrop that matches the content to a tee. I wish this dynamic duo would have never fallen out. There’s no telling how much great music they may have made together. *Sigh*

Sang Fezi – I took two years of high school French and one semester in college. At one point, I could speak it and write papers in French. But if you don’t use it, you lose it, so I have no idea what Clef is saying on this record (I’m pretty sure he’s rhyming in Haitian Creole, a French-based language, but you get my drift). Regardless of language, L-Boogie’s warm vocals sound amazing over the scorching hot and soulful church organ chords.

Fresh Interlude – Wyclef kicks a little freestyle rhyme while DJ Skribble lets his hands do the talking. This was a nice, organic hip-hop moment.

Mona Lisa – I’ve heard of The Neville Brothers, but I’ve never listened to their music. Come to think of it, the only Neville records I’m familiar with are Aaron Neville’s “Everybody Plays The Fool” and his duet with Linda Ronstadt, “Don’t Know Much.” Wyclef maestros up a fire soul joint that the Neville boys absolutely smoke. If this is how the rest of their catalog sounds, I might have to start digging into it. ASAP.

Street Jeopardy – The track begins with Wyclef playing a music exec encouraging his artist to make more hardcore gangsta music. Then the Jeopardy game show jingle comes in. Thankfully, Clef dresses it up with emo-acoustic guitar chords and rough drums. He, John Forte, and R.O.C. (not to be confused with Jay-Z’s Roc-A-Fella team) use it as an audible deterrent for those considering taking street chances. Another solid record.

Killer M.C. (Interlude) – This interlude/skit serves as a bridge between the previous record and the next.

We Trying To Stay Alive – This was the album’s lead single and the yang to “Street Jeopardy’s” yin. Wyclef, Pras, and John Forte playfully celebrate life and the joys that come with living it. The Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” loop felt a little cheap, but Clef manages to verbally dance with it during the opening verse, making it feel a little less low-hanging fruit-esque. The record’s lighthearted energy and pop vibes make it an obvious choice for the lead single.

Gunpowder – Clef breaks out the guitar once again to hit somber acoustic notes as he sings about senseless gun violence. L-Boogie and the I Threes (Rita Marley, Judy Mowatt, and Marcia Griffiths) sing background vocals for our host’s powerful lament. If this song doesn’t touch you, you might be soulless.

Closing Arguments (Interlude/Skit) – I didn’t find most of the skits and interludes on The Carnival amusing, but this one actually made me laugh. The “bishop” bit is hi-larious.

Enter The Carnival (Interlude) – While Caribbean vibes play in the background, Wyclef shouts out the world and welcomes the listener to The Carnival’s “change phase,” which basically means the next three tracks will be Haitian-Creole based.

Jaspora – According to a translation I found, Clef chants about Haitian heritage and pride on this one. Musically, he merges reggae with rock, and that nasty guitar riff is vibrantly electric.

Yele – Our host grabs his guitar and L-Boogie for this somber, acoustic-folk-reggae blend that supports his message of social upliftment. This is another record that took a little time but eventually won me over.

Carnival – Clef saves the title track for last. He’s joined by Sweet Mickey, Jacob Desvarieux, and Jocelyn Berouard as the four come together for what is easily the worst track on the album. The lyrics are all sung in Haitian-Creole/French, but randomly, you hear our host singing about Kentucky Fried Chicken, six-piece nuggets, and Chinese food over PBS Kids-style music. What in the Caribbean CoComelon was this?

The Carnival is a prime example of why it’s important to listen to an album more than once before forming a final opinion. Due to my hip-hop hiatus, I missed The Carnival when it came out back in ‘97, but I bought a used CD copy about ten years later and listened to it once, maybe twice. There were a couple of records that stood out, but for the most part, I remember it being mid. On my first listen to it for this review, I was very underwhelmed, might I say disappointed. But after a couple of weeks in rotation, my view of The Carnival began to change drastically.

Part of Wyclef’s tagline for The Carnival is “Anything can happen,” and just about everything does on the album. Clef takes the “everything but the kitchen sink approach,” stewing together traditional hip-hop with classical, Cuban vibes, acoustic, folk, soul, gospel, rock, reggae, orchestra, champeta, raps, chants, singing, bellowing, English, French, Haitian Creole, and usually, at least three of these elements show up on each record. Just as eclectic as the music is on The Carnival is the content, which will make you laugh, cry, think, dance, nod your head, and, a few times, take a bathroom break. Clef also invites a diverse guest list, from DJ Skribble to his Refugee Camp to The Neville Brothers, even reaching overseas to bring in Celia Cruz and members of the French Caribbean group Kassav to join in on the fun. On paper, it may read as too many different musical flavors and far too much going on, and while there are a few intermission-worthy moments, this wild audible circus ends up being a nearly flawless event that is sure to entertain.

Like The Score before it, The Carnival is another cornerstone that serves as a testament to Wyclef’s musical genius. It’s not a great hip-hop album, but instead, a masterful musical adventure orchestrated by a brilliant yet severely underappreciated Ringmaster.

-Deedub
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