Laylaw – The Lawhouse Experience – Volume One (August 29, 1997)

Posted on 08/26/2025 by deedub77

When it comes to West Coast hip-hop producers, Dr. Dre is indisputably the cream of the crop. His run from Straight Outta Compton to The D.O.C.’s No One Can Do It Better, to The Chronic and Doggystyle, to the magic he created with Eminem and 50 Cent, is unmatched. The West also blessed us with Battlecat, DJ Quik, Madlib, Warren G, and Daz. And I can’t forget about the Bay Area’s own, Ant Banks and E-A-Ski. There are many more names I could list, but today I’ll focus on a man who seldom gets the spotlight. Larry “Laylaw” Goodman.

Laylaw began his career as a solo artist in the mid-eighties, releasing two singles on his Rolodex Records label: “Monster Rapping” (co-produced by a young Dr. Dre) and “What’s Your Name.” For research purposes, I listened to both records on YouTube, and let’s just say Laylaw made a wise decision by ending his career as a rapper to focus on producing. His relationship with Dre would lead to him connecting with N.W.A., who’d soon sign with Ruthless, which led to Laylaw connecting with Above The Law, who also had a deal with Ruthless. Laylaw would help produce ATL’s debut album, Livin’ Like Hustlers, leading to more production opportunities. He’d go on to produce records for Anotha Level (remember them?), Yo-Yo, Kokane, W.C., Ice Cube, and Tupac, to name a few. In ’97, he would release his compilation album, The Lawhouse Experience, Vol. 1.

Laylaw and his production partner, D’Maq, would produce the entirety of TLE. This review marks my first time listening to the album, and based on the track list, it sports a pretty impressive guest list. I’m interested to see how this plays out.

Sadly, Laylaw passed away in January of 2023 after a long battle with cancer. May he continue to rest in peace.

Entrance – Coolio (RIP) interrupts a bunch of crowd noise with an extravagant word salad (Is actual reality the opposite of virtual reality?) to welcome the listener to TLE. Then a laid-back, wah-wah-infused funk groove drops, and Kokane ushers us into the year 2008 (so he says). I’m not sure what the significance of 2008 is, and it may have been explained during Kokane’s hood soliloquy, but the music drowns out his vocals, making it nearly impossible to understand what he’s saying.

Arch Angels – Two-thirds of the short-lived (or should I say underproductive?) West Coast supergroup, Golden State Project, show up for this record: Ras Kass and Xzibit (RIP Saafir). It’s really a Ras Kass solo joint with X to the Z helping out on the hook. Laylaw and D’Maq’s instrumental sounds like their interpretation of East Coast boom-bap, complete with choppy drums and jazzy horns. Ras Kass uses the solid backdrop to showcase his clever wordplay and witty punchlines, delivered through his offbeat flow. I was critical of Ras’s flow on my review of Soul On Ice, but after hearing this record and his verse on Coolio’s My Soul, I may need to revisit his debut album.

Give It Up – Now this is more of the sound I was expecting to hear on TLE. The album’s production duo serves up a trunk-rattling G-funk banger for W.C. to verbally C-walk over, and he sounds right at home in the process (so much so, I’m willing to forgive him for recycling his “kiss my Converse like Sho’nuff” line). This was hard.

Legal Paper – Ice Cube becomes the second consecutive member from Westside Connection to make an appearance on TLE. He uses the smooth synth backdrop to encourage brothers to come up with legal methods of making dough, instead of taking penitentiary chances. By ‘97, Cube’s peak rapping days were behind him. He was clearly more focused on Hollywood than music, but still active in the rap game. This record is far from Cube’s best work, but I like his message and enjoyed the instrumental even more.

Spank That Ass – This interlude introduces the overweight parody rapper, Phat Freddie (shouldn’t it be spelled “Fat”?), who tries to impress Laylaw and his team with subpar bars. There is absolutely no need to listen to this more than once.

Your Hustle Ain’t On – We’ve already heard from one of the legendary West Coast Ice’s, and now we get to hear from the other one. Ice-T surfaces and ironically, his message is the polar opposite of Cube’s, as he encourages the listeners to get their money by any hustle necessary: “If I can’t flip these raps, back to caine” (thankfully, when his rhymes stopped being a reliable source of income, Ice fell back on acting instead of selling dope). Like Cube, Ice-T was also well past his prime in 1997. He technically sounds alright, but not convincing on this record. Thankfully, Laylaw and D’Maq keep the heat coming with another fire instrumental.

One Way In – Go Mack was one of the original members of Above The Law (he left the group after the Black Mafia Life album in 92). I never knew what his role was in the group, but it damn sure wasn’t emceeing. Apparently, he had emcee aspirations all along, as his former ATL co-worker, Laylaw, makes him the featured rapper on this track. Go Mack’s Tourette like flow sounds similar to E-40’s, and if you read this blog regularly, you already know how much I’m not a fan of E-40’s rhyming style. The flow doesn’t work for Go Mack either. He also uses what is arguably the most absurd simile in the history of hip-hop for the hook. At least the instrumental has a pleasant summertime-ready vibe. On a somber note, it’s sad to think half of the original ATL roster and Laylaw are now deceased (rest in peace, KMG and Go Mack.

Lil’ Sumpin’ – This track introduced me to a group I’d never heard of before: Kausion. With a little help from Google, I learned that the three-man crew (Cel, Gonzoe, and Kaydo) released a group project, South Central Los Skanless, on Ice Cube’s Lench Mob label in 1995. I don’t know who is who, but the two guys who rap on the first two verses gave me enough to want to hear more from the group.

Drank Break – Barney Rubble (not to be confused with Fred Flintstone’s partner in crime) shares a few words with hood elegance on this short intermission while a tender Nat King Cole-type piano riff plays in the background. Remind me to add Mr. Rubble to the list of worst alias contenders for ‘97.

Live Yo Life – The Luniz connect with their Oakland bredrin, Dru Down, as the trio make what’s essentially an “advocation for selling dope” record (and they butcher Joe Pesci’s name (see the second verse) along the way). Their commentary did nothing for me, but the semi-spooky, slightly mysterious instrumental was cool.

You Might Get Stuck – Laylaw carries over the dark mood from the previous track. He and D’Maq hook up a chunky, haunted G-funk backdrop for KMG and 187um (of Above The Law) to spit some of their signature pimpology. I’ve always enjoyed KMG and 187um’s chemistry, and it continues to shine through over an instrumental that sounds custom-made for the duo.

Phalosmode – Phalos is another rapper I’d never heard of before this review. During the third verse of his solo joint, he gives the ridiculous meaning behind his alias: “Endless papes in your pocket, bitches ya toss,” and “money on your mind when you wake.” Despite the crock of shit explanation of his moniker and a little blunder during the second verse when he spells his name out (he says the O-S in his name stands for “never settle”), Phalos proves to be decent with the bars. Or is it the sleek production that makes him sound competent?

Housin’ – Eightball and MJG stop by to show Laylaw some love and introduce the next record. It would have been nice to hear them rhyme on a track, but I suppose that would disrupt the West Coast only vibe the album has going.

World Wide – K-Dee (not to be confused with J-Dee from Da Lench Mob, which I often do) gets a solo joint on TLE. Ice Cube provides a placeholder hook, and K-Dee fills three verses with random mediocrity that doesn’t sound ready to leave Los Angeles, let alone go worldwide. But fret not, the meditative vibes in the instrumental should please your ears and soothe your soul even when the rhymes fail.

Westcyde 242 – Laylaw invites Pharcyde to this celebration of West Coast hip-hop. Instead of forcing the chemistry between the quartet of emcees and a G-Funk production, L and D’Maq chef up an instrumental with East Coast sensibilities that still maintains its West Coast integrity for the crew to rock over. This was nice.

I Just Wanna Play – You may not recognize L.V. by his name (or should I say his initials?), but you’ll remember his voice from the hook of Coolio’s mega hit single, “Gangsta’s Paradise.” TLE temporarily breaks away from its hip-hop theme in exchange for a little tender R&B moment. L.V.’s vocals sound decent, but the song is littered with cheesy lyrics (i.e., “You’re wondering what the funk is up”), and the feel-good mechanics in the music feel contrived, making the record easily skippable.

Phat Chance – Another silly Phat Freddie skit that doesn’t need to be listened to more than once.

Exit – Laylaw brings back the creamy backdrop from the “Entrance,” but strips away Kokane’s speech, allowing your earbuds the pleasure of enjoying the soothing instrumental, harmony, and adlibs without interruption.

For TLE’s guest list, Laylaw thumbed through his Rolodex of California contacts, calling on some of its legends and heavyweights, and graciously providing an opportunity for a few friends and a couple of up-and-comers. A few of his guests mail in their performances, but the majority of them give competent to confident presentations. But let’s cut the bullshit. It’s Laylaw and D’Maq’s production that makes The Lawhouse a true experience.

The meat of the production lives in the G-Funk realm and includes some certified bangers, along with a few smooth melodic bops. Occasionally, the duo experiments outside of their usual gangsta stank sound (i.e., “Arch Angels” and “Westcyde 242”), and they really only miss once, and that’s the one time they abandon hip-hop altogether (see “I Just Wanna Play”). Overall, the production is consistent and high quality, making for an entertaining West Coast hip-hop listen.

Laylaw was not a super producer, and it’s safe to say he’ll never be celebrated by the masses. TLE serves as a strong testament to his production talent, and pound for pound, can stand up to or exceed any other hip-hop compilation album released in ‘97. Thank you for your contributions to hip-hop, Larry “Laylaw” Goodman.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Diamond D – Hatred, Passions And Infidelity (August 26,1997)

Posted on 08/12/2025 by deedub77

Diamond D has had quite the journey in this musical genre we call hip-hop. From getting his start as a deejay with Jazzy Jay and the Zulu Nation in the eighties, to forming the group Ultimate Force with MC Master Rob. From co-founding the legendary Diggin’ In The Crates crew to dropping his unheralded classic debut solo album, Stunts, Blunts, & Hip-Hop, in 1992, and producing a slew of other artists’ records along the way. Things would continue to blossom for Diamond, as he’d win his first and only Grammy for producing and rapping on the title track for the Fugees’ album, The Score, which won for Best Rap Album in 1997. After winning a Grammy, what better time to return from a five-year break? Diamond would release Hatred, Passions And Infidelity in August of 1997.

As assumed, Diamond would produce the majority of HPAI (which sounds more like the title for a daytime soap opera than a hip-hop album), with a few assists from guest producers along the way. The album produced two singles that made little noise on the charts and would peak at 40 on the Billboard Top R&B/Hip-Hop Album Charts. The Source gave it an average 3.5 mic rating (compared to SB&H, which received 4), and despite his Grammy win with the Fugees earlier in the year, HPAI would bring little commercial success for the Bronx-born producer/rapper.

I was far removed from the secular hip-hop scene when HPAI came out. This review marks my first time listening to it. I loved Stunts, so I’m pretty excited to hear what Diamond would do next. Let’s get into it.

Intro – The album begins with a grand musical loop, accompanied by the legendary Kid Capri, introducing Diamond D and the album. Then, Diamond drops a snippet from his verse off Fugees’ “The Score,” followed by some aggressively encouraging words from Busta Rhymes (that make me chuckle every time I hear them) over plain drums and a mysterious xylophone loop.

Flowin’ – Diamond loops up an airy, lite jazz sample, setting a calm mood as he and his crony, John Dough, do just as the song title suggests. The soft melody and soothing harmony make for a great way to begin your day.

MC Iz My Ambition – The track opens with a clip from the ’70s blaxploitation flick, Foxy Brown. Then a murky bassline, along with the dancehall stylings of Don Baron (whose voice sounds very similar to Heavy D’s), greet the listener. Diamond proceeds to demonstrate his ambitions as an emcee over a dark David Axelrod-sampled track with a dope Sister Nancy vocal snippet (“Bam Bam”) on the hook. This was hard.

No Wonduh (The Projects) – This one begins with a clip of a comedian telling a joke about the good times he had in the projects. Then Diamond uses a simple but funky guitar loop to discuss some of the criminal happenings that go on in the projects (I chuckle every time I hear Diamond mention how a now deceased drug dealer named Stan used to “brag on how he pulls chickens (aka girls) with quotes from Charles Dickens.” Spittin’ lines from Oliver Twist or A Christmas Carol to get cheeks is hi-larious). The hook gets a little wordy, but the inclusion of the Posdnuos snippet atones for some of its long-winded iniquity.

The Hiatus – This was the lead single. The song title made me think Diamond was going to address his five-year break between albums. He does refer to it during the second verse (though he says it was three years instead of five), but he spends most of his rhymes in battle mode, looking to crush emcees while proving his lyrical greatness. He fares well doing it over a jazzy loop that’s cooler than Arthur Fonzarelli. The ladies and gentlemen harmonizing on the hook only add to the track’s freshness.

J.D.’s Revenge – This was the second and final single. It begins with a snippet of Juanita from Dead Presidents (played by Rose Jackson). John Dough (the “J.D.” referenced in the song title) uses the lead verse to play the loyal simp of a lady who’s used and abused him and has now turned a cold shoulder towards their relationship. Diamond tries to lift the spirits of his heartbroken homie with a line any true male friend would appreciate: “Yo, Johnny, you and me get the punani, don’t sweat that, cause true players don’t respect that.” Diamond keeps the same energy on the second verse, playing the stone-cold player who tricks on women in exchange for what he wants, and it isn’t true love (side note: the opening bars of Diamond’s verse sound super suspect: “Now my affinity, for masculinity, led me to steal virginities, on rooftops in the vicinity of Trinity.” Sounds more like confessions of a gay rapist than a player of ladies). John never gets his revenge during the song, but Gina Thompson puts a gold digger’s twist on a Stephanie Mills hit record for the hook that sounds great over Sha-Eaze’s smooth instrumental.

Painz & Strife – Diamond invites Phife Dawg and Pete Rock to join him in rapping over what may be the driest instrumental in Diamond D’s extensive catalog. The song title and unnecessarily wordy hook have nothing to do with the threesome’s boastful rhymes. Speaking of rhymes, God bless the dead, but Phife’s godawful verse felt completely uninspired, and Pete Rock’s was even worse (would that make it devilawful?). Diamond sounds decent, but not decent enough to save this shipwreck of a record. He should have titled it “Pain And Agony,” cause that’s what I felt every time I listened to this bullshit, hoping it would grow on me. Phife’s cameo qualifies for a Tribe Degrees of Separation, bringing some semblance of a silver lining to the track, I guess.

Can’t Keep My Grands to Myself – 1997 was still the early stages of hip-hop’s “bling era.” The success that extravagant and expensive styles of rhyming brought to labels like Bad Boy would even make underground artists like Diamond D stick their toes in the budding trend. With the help of Mark Lo on the hook and vocals, Diamond creates a materialistic remake of T.S. Monk’s “Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself.” I didn’t necessarily need to hear Diamond rhyming about Bugattis, Maseratis, Dolce & Gabbana, and Fendi, but it’s still a decent record.

5 Fingas Of Death – Diamond takes a rare break from behind the boards on HPAI, allowing Kid Capri an opportunity to produce this D.I.T.C. cipher session. Big L, Lord Finesse, A.G., Fat Joe, and Diamond all take swings at KC’s dark and gully boom-bap (it sounds like something Premo would have made). They all make contact with varying degrees of success (Diamond sounds like he’s trying to match Joe’s energy, who rhymes before him, raising his voice and output above his usual relaxed monotone octave). This was dope. My only question is where the hell is O.C.?

This One – This is a fly love song. Our host hooks up a tender musical canvas and raps about a wonderful lady that’s got him rollerskating, eating rice cakes, listening to Monica and Case, and ready to say I do: “After thirty days I’m diggin’ on your steez, by next year I’ll be down on my knees.” Busta re-emerges, providing a rambunctious and vulgar hook that works, and its repetitiveness will surely make it stick in your head.

Never – Diamond, Sadat X, and K.Terroribul each spit a verse about their undying love for cannabis. Diamond and KT give adequate testimonies about their relationships with weed, but Sadat steals the show, recalling his mother’s contradicting warning about smoking weed (“My old moms said that the smoke would harm, I’d be a crackhead or die with a needle in my arm,” meanwhile his pops was “smoking that good lye” the whole time). He also hi-lariously proclaims, “When cats was anti-drugs, there was weed seeds in my rugs,” before bragging about all the actresses and athletes he’s helped get high through the years. The soulful Jerry Butler flip in the instrumental complements Sadat’s conversational style very well.

Cream N Sunshine – Let’s address the elephant in the room. Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis (Minneapolis!) sampled Rick James’ “Moonchild” for the backdrop to the lead single, “Love Is All We Need,” from Mary J. Blige’s 1997, triple platinum selling third album, Share My World. The single was released in March of ‘97. Diamond uses the same sample to soundtrack the underworld deeds and his love affair with a certified (or should I say convicted) scammer/booster while a female vocalist, simply credited as Veronica, sings from the perspective of the burglarizing baddie. More than likely, it’s a coincidence that both Jam & Lewis and Diamond sampled the same record around the same time (it’s not like Rick James’ catalog would be an obscure source to sample from), but I didn’t care for Diamond’s Bonnie and Clyde story. This record could disappear from the tracklist like the wallets Diamond’s thieving girlfriend used to snatch at Sears, and I wouldn’t miss it.

Gather Round – This may be the crown jewel of HPAI. Diamond hooks up a nasty bass guitar riff to rhyme over and sounds more comfortable and lyrically agile than usual, spitting some of his strongest bars of the album: “To all my foes, you can just keep hushin’/ the stage ain’t the place you wanna be rushin’/‘cause there’ll take place a spontaneous combustion/life’s a game of chess and I play like a Russian”….”I’m off to the bank and/I roll with a crew that passes out the most spankings/this side of the Mason Dixon/I bought your tape and I erased it like Nixon.” The posse chant, the soul clap, and the sampled whistling only add more energy to an already lively track.

K.T. – Diamond is gracious enough to give his homeboy K. Terroribul (aka, K.T.) his own solo joint. He spits one mid-size verse over a decent backdrop with medium results.

On Stage – Speaking of K. Terroribul, he and John Dough join Diamond on this late-in-the-sequencing cipher session. Diamond delivers a solid performance. KT sounds alright, but not strong enough to back up his ridiculous claim of lyricist of the year. John Dough closes things out and refreshed my memory that the whole Lorena and John Bobbitt fiasco happened in the nineties (1993 to be exact). The hook is a word salad mess, but the electrifying guitar loop and jazzy backing music in Buckwild’s instrumental sounds amazing.

Epilogue – In closing, Diamond says the hell with a hook, and slowly but surely raps for nearly four minutes straight, over clumsy drums, a pensive piano riff, and one of the darkest xylophone loops I’ve ever heard. And that concludes HPAI.

During the album’s Intro, Diamond includes a clip from his cameo verse off the title track from the Fugees’ classic sophomore effort, The Score; a record he also produced: “By far I’m the best producer on the mic.” Its inclusion during the intro almost feels like Diamond’s thesis statement for the album. His way of telling the listener that what follows is evidence that he’s equally dangerous on the mic as he is behind the boards. Hatred, Passions And Infidelity makes a strong case for his claim.

HPAI does have a few flaws. There’s one horrid record (“Painz & Stife”), a handful of mind-numbing hooks (“No Wonduh,” “Painz & Strife,” “Cream N Sunshine,” and “On Stage”), and a couple of mediocre moments (“Can’t Keep My Grands” and “Cream N Sunshine”), but the good far outweighs the bad. Like Steph Curry at the free throw line, you can count on Diamond to deliver dope production. Diamond builds most of his instrumentals around untampered and seldom-used jazz, soul, funk, and rock samples, which bear the musical load while his drumbeats play a complementary background role to his chosen loops’ scrumptiousness.

Diamond doesn’t have a dynamic voice like KRS-One or Big Daddy Kane. He doesn’t possess the lyrical prowess of Rakim or Nas. He doesn’t have an impeccable flow like Treach or Biggie. Nor does he have the charisma of a Jay-Z or a Busta Rhymes. What Diamond does have is an uncanny ability to connect words with his deceptively dense vocabulary, extending rhyme patterns when you think there’s no way he could find another word to keep it going. His sturdy bars are delivered at a pace a few gears faster than a snail, but it all works well with his more than adequate production.

With there being other dual threat artists like Q-Tip, Large Professor, RZA, and MF Doom, (I purposely omitted Kanye from the previous list, and it has nothing to do with his wild rants, but everything to do with him knowingly relying on ghostwriters and his production by committee approach to producing, which applies to Dr. Dre as well), I can’t definitively proclaim Diamond the “best producer on the mic.” But I can proclaim HPAI another dope solo project from the self-proclaimed best-kept secret, which also makes for a strong candidate for sleeper album of 1997.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Coolio – My Soul (August 26, 1997)

Posted on 07/29/2025 by deedub77

After the success of It Takes A Thief (1994) and Gangsta’s Paradise (1995), Coolio was a bona fide superstar. Both albums would earn platinum plaques, and together, give the Compton rapper four top 40 singles. His rise would continue in 1996, as he won a Grammy Award for Best Rap Solo Performance (“Gangsta’s Paradise”), and he’d score another top 40 hit with the lead single from the Eddie Soundtrack, “All The Way Live (Now).” In 1997, the rapper with the signature gravity-defying braids would look to build on his already meteoric momentum with his third solo release, My Soul.

My Soul would continue Coolio’s production by committee approach, with a few familiar names pitching in (i.e., The Wino and Stan “The Guitar Man” Jones) and some names I’ve never heard of before reading the liner notes. The album would produce another Top 40 hit, but none of the singles would be as massive as “Fantastic Voyage” or “Gangsta’s Paradise.” Without a huge hit record, the sales would suffer. My Soul would reach gold status, which is success for most rappers, but when you’ve set the platinum bar with your previous works like Coolio, gold is a disappointment. My Soul would end Coolio’s situation at Tommy Boy, and though he would continue to release music on independent labels, it spelled the beginning of the end for his fifteen minutes of fame. Sadly, Coolio would pass away on September 28, 2022, from a drug overdose at the age of 59, serving as another reminder that time is illmatic.

If you read this blog regularly, then you know I’ve followed Coolio since his days as part of WC And The Maad Circle. It Takes A Thief and Gangta’s Paradise weren’t classic projects, but I found enough dope records on both to deem them entertaining. This review marks my first time listening to My Soul, and I’m hopeful it follows the trend of his previous works.

Intro – Things begin with a man finishing his shower, being confronted by another man with the stereotypical, diabolical, devilish laugh, who informs the freshly clean man that he wants his soul. My interest is piqued. Let’s see how the storyline unfolds.

2 Minutes & 21 Seconds Of Funk – Coolio uses a funky bassline and slippery wah-wahs (courtesy of Stan The Guitar Man) to warm up for the evening and spends the entire one hundred and forty-one seconds spewing randomness. His charisma makes it digestible, but it completely abandons the opening intro.

One Mo – 40 Thevz joins Coolio on this hot mess of a record. Mr. Dominique De Romeo’s Zapp-esque funk backdrop is decent, but its force sounds like it’s waging war against Coolio, P.S., and Leek Ratt’s voices. But even if the instrumental and the fellas voices were at peace, the arbitrary rhymes (Coolio goes from smoking weed, to bangin’ his music, to almost killing a man, back to bangin’ his music, all in the matter of eight bars) and the nonsensical Roger Troutman inspired hook make this one hard to swallow (for all my East Coast readers, add a “pause” right here).

The Devil Is Dope – Coolio remakes The Dramatics’ 1973 record of the same name. He uses the song’s three verses to paint the perspectives of the dealer and the user. Though some of his commentary gets hard to follow, he still manages to deliver some potent lines: “Things seen, only imagined and in dreams, until the same nightmares in TV screens, your teenage screams…’cause the dosage wasn’t right, now his chest is getting tight, and everything is goin’ black, but it’s the middle of the day, figure that” (those bars give me goosebumps, considering how Coolio passed). Coolio does his part, but it’s the powerful message and soulfully scrumptious singing (no sample) by The Dramatics on the hook that will send chills up your spine while you nod your head uncontrollably to the irresistibly funky live instrumentation and infectious groove.

Hit ‘Em – To open the track, Coolio pulls out his best hood-regal dialogue and addresses all the naysayers who question his rhyming ability. He spits two decent verses, but I’d guess not strong enough to change the minds of his doubters. Ras Kass stops by and drops off a verse, sandwiched between Coolio’s. I’ve often criticized Ras’ unorthodox delivery, but he actually sounds dope using it over Jammin James Carter and I-Roc’s standard West Coast canvas. The Fat Boys call back on the hook added a catchy touch to the record.

Knight Fall – Coolio jumps into his paranoid/anxiety/depressed bag on this one: “Somebody tried to tell me it was all in my brain/I tried alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine, but it still don’t ease my pain/ Am I insane or a victim of my own fears? What’s going on? We supposed to be happy here/God don’t make no junk, that’s what I’ve been told/but it seems to me, God ain’t in control.” Coolio’s desperate content is scored by Mr. Dominique’s trunk-rattling funk, which is juiced up by live instrumentation (My Neighbor Ronnie and, of course, Stan The Guitar Man) and soulful vocals on the hook (Lashanda Dendy, Wil Wheaton (not to be confused with the actor), and Julius Carey). This is a tough record that would have been the perfect follow-up to the opening intro.

Ooh La La – This was My Soul’s second single. Coolio sounds like a dog in heat as he tries to get into the panties of the object of his erection. Oji Pierce turns Grace Jones’ “Pull Up To The Bumper” into a poppy West Coast backdrop that I know I shouldn’t like, but the live instrumentation makes it feel so damn good.

Can U Dig It – Our host borrows a classic line from the 1979 New York gang flick, The Warriors, for the title and builds the hook around it, accentuated by a choir-like ensemble. I could dig most of what Coolio was putting down lyrically, but it’s the slick guitar licks and smooth bassline (Stan The Guitar Man) that make this a quality bop.

Nature Of The Business – Coolio plays the drug-dealing mastermind behind a grand scheme for he and his team to transport massive amounts of kilos across the country and get filthy rich. But like the great philosopher, Andre 3000, once said: “The catch is you can get caught,” and (spoiler alert), Coolio and his crew do. Al “Show And Tell” Wilson sings 3 Stacks’ sentiments from the bottom of his heart and soul on the hook. The bluesy instrumentation gives Coolio’s storyline a cinematic feel.

Homeboy – Someone, going by the alias of Blue, builds the backdrop around an interpolation of Betty Wright’s “Tonight Is The Night” for Coolio’s ode to strong male friendships. Montell Jordan joins the fellowship, harmonizing the hook and adlibs. This one feels good, and I love the message.

Throwdown 2000 – This one was way too crossover-contrived for my taste buds.

Can I Get Down – Coolio tag teams the mic with Malika (who you may remember from her cameos on “Cruisin’” from Gangsta’s Paradise and 40 Thevz’ Honor Amongst Thevz album) over a funky Raydio (Ray Parker Jr.’s band before his “Ghostbusters” fame) interpolation. The music was definitely more entertaining than the duo’s rhymes.

Interlude – This skit sets up the next track.

My Soul – The title track finds Coolio mixing boastful bars with thought-provoking couplets (my favorite being: “In two decades, rap went from Planet Rock, to crack rock, now everybody got a glock”) over tinted but smooth strings. This is quietly one of the strongest tracks on the album.

Let’s Do It – I don’t think you can mess up an interpolation of The S.O.S. Band’s “Take Your Time (Do It Right).” Mr. Dominique and his cast of musicians do right by it on this track, turning it into a nasty G-Funk-esque groove while Iesha Lot and Terri Tobin passionately sing on the hook. Coolio uses it to walk us through the courtship of his woman: from meeting her at the club, to their first date, to their first time bumpin’ uglies. Our host’s storyline was slightly entertaining, but the vibrant musical bed stirred up images of a brick house in heels and a slinky dress, dancing to it while sexily moving down the Soul Train line. Now that’s entertainment.

C U When U Get There – This was the lead single and would end up being Coolio’s last Top 40 hit. Mr. Dominique taps Johann Pachelbel’s classical standard “Canon In D Major” (you may not recognize the title, but as soon as you hear the melody, you’ll recognize the song) for the interpolated backdrop. 40 Thevz joins Coolio one last time, as each of them challenges their peeps to elevate their minds above the low vibrational hood shit they’re accustomed to while the choir co-signs the trio’s message on the hook. Coolio and his guests’ message was commendable, but the “Canon In D Major” usage in the instrumental felt cheap. This concludes My Soul, with no real resolution to the album’s opening skit.

In My Soul’s liner notes, Coolio breaks down the definition of “my” and “soul,” individually, and then gives his definition of “My music” and “My soul.” According to Coolio, his music: “Listens to no one, accepts no limits, fears no aggressors, respects the worthy, rejects the trivial, pities the greedy, devours the wicked, and lights the way to warn of the pale horse.” That sounds more like the thesis statement for a Public Enemy album than a description of My Soul.

My Soul does occasionally “warn of the pale horse” (see “The Devil Is Dope,” “Knight Fall,” “Nature Of The Business,” and “C U When You Get There”), and a few times “respects the worthy” (i.e., “Homeboy” and “Let’s Do It”), but it doesn’t “reject the trivial.” It embraces the trivial and grips it tight as the Astronomer CEO did his mistress at the Coldplay concert before getting exposed by the kiss cam. Most of the album is filled with meaningless themes and random rhymes from Coolio and his guests, but meaningless and random aren’t necessarily bad attributes, especially when you’re a charismatic emcee like Coolio. Coolio has never been a top-tier lyricist, but his realness and straightforward approach to rhyming make him relatable, which in turn helps maintain the listener’s attention for most of the album. But more impressive than Coolio was the production on My Soul.

There is something to be said about live instrumentation injected into hip-hop beats. I’m an East Coast dusty boom-bap guy, but I also love a clean West Coast groove. And when that groove comes with booming horns, slippery wah-wahs, and SZA-thick basslines, the groove is only intensified. Excluding the skits, thirteen of My Soul’s fourteen tracks feature live instrumentation, with the main player being Stan “The Guitar Man” Jones (someone needs to honor that man for his discreetly phenomenal contribution to hip-hop through the years). The album is filled with pop-accessible West Coast funk instrumentals. But The Guitar Man and his constituents bring balance, putting the soul in My Soul, making them just as important (if not more) to the album as Coolio and the producers.

My Soul marks the end of Coolio’s historic run at Tommy Boy. It may not have been as commercially successful as Coolio’s prior two solo albums, but the quality is in the same ballpark. And I’m now on a mission to track down the rest of his independent releases.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Tha Alkaholiks – Likwidation (August 26, 1997)

Posted on 07/15/2025 by deedub77

By 1997, Tash, J-Ro, and E-Swift, collectively known as Tha Alkaholiks, were establishing a solid following for themselves. Unlike a lot of their West Coast colleagues, Tha Liks didn’t walk a gangster’s path. Instead, they chose an alcoholic shtick and light-hearted content to gain respect from their peers, the streets, and frat boys alike. 21 & Over and Coast II Coast didn’t garner much commercial success for Loud Records, but the label would stick by Tha Liks side as the inebriated threesome would return in the summer of ‘97 to release their third effort, Likwidation.

One of the first things that stuck out to me with Likwidation was the track list. 21 & Over had ten tracks, and Coast II Coast had eleven. Likwidation comes in at bloated twenty-two tracks. Granted, seven of them are skits, but still quite lengthier than their previous works. As usual, E-Swift would be responsible for most of the production with a few guest producers pitching in. Speaking of guests, the album also features a handful of cameos on the mic. Likwidation would continue Tha Liks trend of mediocre sales numbers, and Loud would give them one more chance with 2001’s X.O. Experience, before severing ties with the trio, landing them at the hip-hop graveyard, Koch Records (see Firewater).

If you read this blog regularly, you already know I felt Tha Liks’ first two albums were decent at best. I liked what Tash and J-Ro did on the mic, but felt the production was middling. This write-up marks my first time listening to Likwidation, and seeing that E-Swift is the album’s main director of music, left me a bit apprehensive. Nevertheless, let’s get into it.

AA Meeting Intro – Ninety-nine percent of hip-hop album skits are completely useless. This opening skit is of the one percent. I chuckle every time I hear the drunk AA meeting leader say “harmonism.”

Likwidation – For the title track, J-Ro, E-Swift, and Tash stick to their usual Alkaholik script as all three members verbally entertain with playful bars. The only problem is they chose one of Easy Mo Bee’s driest instrumentals to do it over.

Captain Hook – J-Ro and Tash rap about the hook-reliant, rhyme/style-stealing rapper known as Captain Hook. He’s a fictional character, but I’m sure his actions are based on true-life events. I enjoyed the original song idea, but E-Swift’s backdrop is as stale as a bagged loaf of bread after being left open for three weeks.

Nas Skit – Nas stops by to discuss his liquor of choice when it’s time to get twisted. I’m a Nas Stan, but not Stan enough to deny this is part of the ninety-nine percent I mentioned earlier.

Tore Down – The Lootpack (comprised of Wildchild, Madlib, and DJ Romes) appeared on The Alkaholiks’ first two albums, and they keep that tradition alive with this record. I didn’t like Coast II Coast’s “WLIX,” I hated “Turn Tha Party Out” from 21 & Over, and I absolutely despise “Tore Down.” First off, Wildchild and Madlib are not good rappers (at least not at this point). Both have deadpan vocal tones and flows that are dry as Ashy Larry’s knees and boring as watching paint dry. Secondly, Madlib’s instrumental sounds horrible. Today, Madlib is one of my favorite producers, but this soulless noise with no direction may be the worst beat made in 1997.

Off The Wall – Keith Murray joins Tash (whose verse left me wondering if he lost his girl to an R&B nigga) and J-Ro as the three verbally spar over a loose musical remake of Kurtis Blow’s “The Breaks” (it’s credited to T-Smoov and E-Swift, but features live instrumentation: Morris “Fonky Bass Man” Rentie on bass guitar, and Cypress Hill affiliate, Bobo on percussions). I wasn’t crazy about this one, but musically it’s a step in the right direction compared to the drab production featured so far on Likwidation.

Killin’ It – Madlib gets his second production credit of the night courtesy of a drunken piano melody placed over nearly non-existent drums (an early example of what his signature drumless production would sound like). X to the Z (aka Xzibit) joins J-Ro and Tash on the mic as the three take turns spilling freestyle bars. It was nice to hear Tash shout out his mentor, King Tee, in his verse for giving Tha Liks a chance before they got a deal. Heartwarming shit, man.

LL Cool J Skit – J-Ro and Tash ask LL’s advice on the best drinks to give the ladies, and in true LL fashion, he provides a colorful response.

Feel The Real – Tash and J-Ro use E-Swift’s breezy backdrop, complete with a smooth bassline and slick guitar licks, to share their jaded perspectives on relationships with the ladies. Tash vows to play the field (“’Cause the last girl I had, that bitch made me want to kill her”) and J-Ro shares his own story of deception and heartbreak. Easily my favorite record on Likwidation to this point.

Hip-Hop Drunkies – This was the lead single from Likwidation. E-Swift resurrects the opening funky piano riff from the video version of “The Symphony” (which is probably why Marley Marl receives a co-production credit in the liner notes) as Tash and J-Ro invite Ol’ Dirty Bastard to join the drunken cipher, which is a collaboration that makes sense. Low-key, J-Ro raps circles around his cohorts on this record.

Aww Shit! – Xzibit returns to clown around with Tha Liks on this decent album cut/filler material.

J-Ro Late Skit – This skit sets up the next song.

Keep It Pourin’ – After showing up forty-five minutes late to his AA meeting, J-Ro traces back the origins of his drinking problem to high school and self-reflects on his alcohol dependency: “Why-oh-why do I drink all these 40’s? Why-o-why do I down all the gin? Why-oh-why do I need a double Hen? How come every time I hurl, I say I’ll never drink again?” He ends the song, playfully, acknowledging that a life of drunkenness isn’t okay and now lives with proper balance (“You can’t get by, by living that way, so now I only drink after I get my pay”). I enjoyed J-Ro’s “laugh to keep from crying” approach to discussing his vice. I also love E-Swift’s combination of late-night jazzy piano chords mixed with funky wah-wahs and church organs. The French-speaking woman who ends the song was completely random, but she still sounds sexy as hell.

Likwit Ridas – The Whoridas were a cousin combo comprised of King Saan, aka ChopBlack, and Mr. Taylor. I just learned of their existence after listening to this song and reading the liner notes. I did a little Googling and discovered they released their debut album, Whoridin’, in 1997 on Delicious Vinyl. They jump in the cipher with Tash and J-Ro on this record and get their asses handed to them. E-Swift’s backing music was borderline bland, but the thumping bassline gives it vigor.

Funny Style – Tash sits another one out and lets J-Ro and King Tee exchange verses over some unoriginal but still funky James Brown licks. It’s always good to hear from King Tipsy.

Commercial Skit – It plays just as it reads.

All Night – E-Swift turns the infectious guitar riff from Stevie Wonder’s “Too High” into a bonafide groove and invites Derrick Davis to add a delectable flute melody to the beat (I’ve never heard a funkier flute solo than the one Mr. Davis provides at the end of this record). J-Ro spends most of his track time giving shoutouts while Tash references ATCQ’s “Hot Sex,” which allows me the opportunity to hand out another Tribe Degrees of Separation.

DeBarge Skit – El and James DeBarge stop by the studio, and naturally, J-Ro offers them a drink. This is more of the ninety-nine percent.

Pass Out – J-Ro and Tash pass out brews and bars over E-Swift’s quirky, twangy guitar loop and soothing soul chords.

20th Caller Skit – More of the ninety-nine percent.

Rockin’ With The Best – Phil Da Agony (who the liner notes credit as “of Barber Shop Emcees,” but I was introduced to nearly a decade later when he was part of Strong Arm Steady) joins J-Ro, Tash, and E-Swift to rock upon the mic. All parties involved make solid to decent verbal contributions, but it’s the distorted guitar loop (I think it’s a guitar) and the barbaric drums that make the biggest impact on this record.

Contents Unda Pressure – Tha Liks close the album with another hard instrumental, and this one comes with a cinematic, serious tone. But the musical tone doesn’t affect J-Ro, Tash (who spits one of my favorite lines of the whole album: “When you see me on the mic we go buck for buck, we only battle decent niggas, so be glad y’all suck”), and E-Swift’s lighthearted rhyming approach. This was tough.

They say there are two things certain in life: death and taxes (with Enoch and Jeff Bezos, respectively, being the exceptions to the rule). I’d like to add a couple more items to that list. First, (no matter how much I would love to see it) the Vikings will never win a Super Bowl, and secondly, Tha Alkaholiks will never make a classic album.

Tash and J-Ro are a talented tandem on the mic. Since their debut album, 21 & Over, they’ve used clever punchlines, witty metaphors and similes, a touch of braggadocio, a pinch of misogyny, all filtered through a playful alcoholic theme to win over a niche following. Their entertaining brand of emceeing continues on Likwidation, but unfortunately, so does the hit-and-miss production that plagued their first two albums.

The first quarter of Likwidation is so bland musically, I thought it was kin to Bobby Blue. Things start to pick up by the time “Killin’ It” rolls around, and it stays consistent until the midway point, but the production for the second half of the album sounds like a musical seesaw. The album is also riddled with useless interludes and a few mediocre cameos that slow down its momentum. Through it all, Tash and J-Ro’s drunken technique helps smooth things over (even E-Swift sounds sharp on the few records he raps on) when the production road gets bumpy.

On “Pass Out,” J-Ro raps, “Instead of five mics, I’d rather have five brews.” For those unfamiliar with the “five mics” reference, it’s the rating Source Magazine would give to albums they deemed classic, which held a lot of weight in the nineties (for the record, The Source gave Likwidation 3.5 mics). That line sums up Likwidation (and possibly Tha Liks catalog) in a nutshell. They’d rather continue to get drunk with the homies than sober up and realize that one of the homies’ production (*cough* E-Swift) might be the element standing in the way of taking their music from decent to classic.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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O.C. – Jewelz (August 19, 1997)

Posted on 07/08/2025 by deedub77

In 1994, O.C. released one of the best and most underrated albums of the year, Word…Life. I bought a copy of Word…Life, the same week it came out, and was thoroughly impressed by the Brooklyn emcee’s rhymes paired with a young Buckwild’s dusty soul and jazz breaks placed over rugged drums. It was a damn near flawless work that might have been held in the same breath as Illmatic with some trimming to the final track list. But great music doesn’t always translate to great record sales, as was the case with Word…Life. And despite its critical acclaim, it would be the only album O.C. would release on Wild Pitch Records before the two parties parted ways. O.C. would disappear from the music scene for nearly three years before resurfacing on Payday Records in 1997, where he’d release his sophomore effort, Jewelz.

For Word…Life, O.C. relied heavily on Buckwild for the production. On Jewelz, Buck gets a few production credits, but O spreads the production love around, bringing in DJ Premier, Da Beatminerz, Ogee, and a few more of his fellow DITC crew members, Showbiz and Lord Finesse. Similar to Word…Life, Jewelz received strong reviews and critical acclaim, but it didn’t perform well commercially. Like his one-and-done run with Wild Pitch, his run with Payday would end after Jewelz, sending him MIA for nearly four years. He’d return with a deal with JCOR and release Bon Appetit in 2001, but that’s a story for another day.

Today, we’ll focus on the subject at hand. Let’s travel back to 1997 and dissect Jewelz.

Intro – Jewelz begins with a thirty-second interlude that features a relaxed solo guitar loop placed over crisp drums. That’s all I got.

My World – Before O gets into the meat and potatoes of the matter, he shares a few words giving gratitude for life over a chill but vibrant musical bed. Then Premo unleashes the whistle and chimes, and our host picks up where he left off on “Times Up” (“Oscar Award Winning, your shit I’m bored with it, stop copycatting, son (Why?), cause your dawg did it, get your own lingo, make up your own jingle, ten years later you be bitin’ my single”). This is a tough record and a great way to kick off the album.

War Games – Crooklyn Dodger number two transforms into a “trained rap-killing machine” and is out to draw blood on all rival emcees. He invites his old pals, Organized Konfusion, to help him wage war as they provide an energized hook and a short bridge. It would have been nice to hear verses from Prince Po and Pharoahe Monch over Premo’s devious piano chords and hard drums, but O.C. still completes the mission with limited assistance.

Can’t Go Wrong – This is a fly love song. Ogee lays down a foggy, soulful backdrop that O uses to honor his high school sweetheart, turned common-law wife. O.C. mostly stays clear of the cliche love lines that rappers tend to use in these types of records, and the few times he does use one, his cool delivery makes them sound original.

The Chosen One – O.C. reunites with his main production cog from Word…Life, Buckwild, for the first time on Jewelz. After a short, nondescript instrumental plays, O.C. moves like the Black Fred Astaire on the mic (for you youngins who have no idea who Fred Astaire is, just reference Chris Brown) and verbally dances with smoothness all over Buckwild’s creamily delicious backdrop.

Dangerous – Our host teams up with his DITC bredrin, Big L, as the two go back to back, matching each other’s output line for line. Da Beatminerz back the duo with an average-at-best backdrop, but O and L’s lyricism makes it sound much better than it really is.

Win The G – When it comes to bully rappers, there are two guys I’m always excited to hear from: Sean Price (God bless the dead) and Freddie Foxxx, aka Bumpy Knuckles. The latter jumps on this track and punks the shit out of O.C. and Premo’s underwhelming beat. Give that man his G, dammit!

Far From Yours – This one begins with another short musical interlude. Then Buckwild loops up Brothers Johnson’s original rendition of “Tomorrow” for the buttery backdrop, Yvette Michele harmonizes on the hook, and O.C. articulately raps about his lyrical superiority, making a convincing statement for his claim.

Stronjay – During his ode to his common-law wife, “Can’t Go Wrong,” O.C. raps: “So much temptation, but I don’t pick up strays.” The thick, red-bone vixen, Stronjay, must be the one time he fell short. Da Beatminerz’ dark instrumental sounds much harder than I remembered it.

M.U.G. – O.C. and Bumpy Knuckles come back together to give us one more lyrical dosage, and thankfully, Premo’s jazzy boom-bap sounds light years better than what he gave us on “Win The G.”

The Crow – O.C. spins a two-verse tale about an apocalyptic, out-of-body experience brought on by a crow. It may sound silly on paper, but our host works his magic, brilliantly keeping the listener on the edge of their seat as he builds up the tension and mystery in his storyline. As phenomenal as the verses were, the hook was way too complex for anyone’s good, and it sounds like it was accidentally placed in the wrong song. Showbiz soundtracks O’s movie with a doomish melody paired with a faint and eerie kids’ choir refrain that gives O’s grave bars more muscle. This is not your typical Showbiz production, but I thoroughly enjoyed it and the record.

You And Yours – Ogee brings frigid, jazzy piano notes to tingle the listener’s earlobes. O.C. technically sounds good, but it feels like he doesn’t really have anything to say on this record.

Hypocrite – O uses one long verse to spit about a street hustler and the consequences he faces for living the lifestyle. We find out during the very last line of the song that the dude preached righteousness all along while selling death to his own people, hence the song title. The solemn soul loop that Buckwild builds the instrumental around was cool, but I didn’t find O.C.’s storyline a slight bit interesting.

It’s Only Right – Our host slides back into mic technician mode and surgically dissects Da Beatminerz’ murky bass line and vigorous drums while a KRS-One vocal snippet plays his hypeman between the verses. This was hard.

Jewelz – Interestingly, O.C. ends the album with the title track. It begins with a tragic-sounding piano loop and an accompanying moaning voice (side note: the album is riddled with these short prelude instrumentals, and while none of them suck, none of them were necessary). Lord Finesse gets his sole production credit of the evening as he sets O.C. up with a beautiful backdrop. It’s the perfect instrumental to reflect over or get introspective on, and O.C.’s more than capable of doing both. But what does he do with it? He pretty much wastes it rapping about his wish list: vacations in Tahiti and the Bahamas, lounging on a yacht, sipping exotic juices at fly resorts, and taking champagne bubble baths. He occasionally slips in tidbits about stress and walking a righteous path. It was mega disappointing to hear O.C. fumble such an incredible opportunity to make magic happen on this closing track.

A few years ago, a friend and I were debating over which O.C. album was better: Word…Life or Jewelz? He picked Jewelz, while I went with the former. As I mentioned during the intro, I took my time with Word…Life when it came out, completely absorbing O.C.’s rhymes and Buckwild’s beats into the pores of my hip-hop body. When Jewelz hit the streets, I was inside, deep inside my Bible, not giving a single iota about secular hip-hop. When I eventually got back to listening to unsanctified music, I gave Jewelz a few spins and thought it was solid, but nowhere near as great as his debut. After spending the last three weeks with Jewelz, I still stand by my earlier pick, but not with as much conviction.

When the production team for your project is composed of DJ Premier, Da Beatminerz, Buckwild, Showbiz, and Lord Finesse, you’re pretty much guaranteed a batch of banging backdrops. Except for one track (see “Win The G”), Jewelz’ team of producers (which also includes Ogee) delivers on that guarantee with a fantastic showing, pretty much giving O.C. an easy alley-oop to slam dunk. He completes the dunk, but he doesn’t put it down with the force and flash that he’s capable of. On Word…Life, O.C. showed and proved that he was a talented rapper with the ability to craft boastful bars as well as get introspective, drop jewels, and give lessons through stories. Jewelz O.C. isn’t nearly as versatile. No meaty storylines or soul-searching stanzas, just a heaping helping of braggadocious bars for much of the album’s fifteen tracks. He sounds good doing it, but I prefer my O.C. with a balance of substance and swagger.

On “Dangerous,” O.C. refers to the rap game as his bitch that he lusts after. That line best sums up the difference between Word…Life and Jewelz. Word…Life features O.C. as a young, hungry emcee with a lot to say and a love for the craft that shines through. Jewelz O.C. sounds thirsty to impress, lusting to prove he’s one of the best and spewing vast amounts of vanity in the process. Jewelz is a dope project, but love will always trump lust.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Killarmy – Silent Weapons For Quiet Wars (August 5, 1997)

Posted on 06/24/2025 by deedub77

Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) is one of the most celebrated hip-hop albums, with good reason. The nine-man group of emcees, all with unique styles and voices, took the world by storm with their debut album. The combination of sharp lyricism, grimy production, and kung-fu movie themes proved to be a winning formula for the Staten Island residents, who, through the music, transformed their hometown to Shaolin (a reference and homage to the Shaolin Temple in China). Within six months of its release, 36 Chambers would earn a gold plaque (to date, it’s three times platinum). 36 Chambers would be the cornerstone Wu would build their brand on as a handful of the members would release successful solo albums, including a few classics in the mix, cementing the group’s legacy. In June of 1997, Wu-Tang would reunite, releasing Wu-Tang Forever, which would continue to grow their legacy and commercial success. By then, they had already helped launch the career of Shyheim (who by ‘97 already had two albums under his belt), and the next fruit to fall from the Wu tree would be Killarmy.

Killarmy was a six-man team comprised of 9th Prince, Killa Sin, P.R. Terrorist (aka Dom Pachino), Beretta 9, Shogun Assason, and Islord. 9th Prince is RZA’s younger brother, making the Wu-Tang affiliation easy to track. They released their debut album, Silent Weapons For Quiet Wars, in the summer of 1997, with 4th Disciple handling most of the production and RZA serving as the album’s Executive Producer (he would also get his hands dirty as an actual producer on two of the project’s tracks). The album title is based on a document William Cooper discusses in his 1991 book about conspiracy theories and The New World Order, Behold A Pale Horse (it’s an intriguing read, to say the least). Silent Weapons was the first album released on Wu-Tang Records with distribution from Priority Records. It would yield two singles and climb to thirty-four on the US Billboard 200.

I’m walking into this review completely blind. I’ve never heard a Killarmy song, but a few years back, I stumbled on a used CD copy of Silent Weapons for a few bucks and bought it strictly off affiliation. Let’s dive into it and see if it’s worthy of a Wu-Tang stamp.

Dress To Kill – After a short clip from a dramatic news report plays to introduce Killarmy and the album, Killa Sin, 9th Prince, and ShoGun Assason adorn themselves in army suits, black boots, and military gear. Killa Sin is out to shatter emcees like plexiglass (which is a horrible simile from Sin, considering plexiglass is specifically designed not to shatter), 9th Prince is strapped with a holy MAC-11 and tucking razor blades in bibles, while Shogun’s out to make POWs out of his adversaries. I wasn’t super impressed by the rhymes, but the gritty guitar licks and grimy elements in the backdrop painted a vivid warzone.

Clash Of The Titans – ShoGun Assason, 9th Prince, P.R. Terrorist, and Beretta 9 rock over 4th’s weeping violins, drunken piano keys, and frantic bass line. Long-time Wu affiliate Street Life joins in, adding a verse to this exhilarating ride of a record.

Burning Season – The track begins with predictable police sirens. Then 4th loops up Al Green’s “Light My Fire” (making this the second consecutive post to sample said record (see Atmosphere’s “Ode To The Modern Man”)), creating a soulful music bed for Killa Sin to spit two verses filled with robbery, violence, and murder. Sin’s tone and delivery remind me a bit of Raekwon. 9th Prince (whose choppy, off-beat delivery is reminiscent of his big brother’s) drops in to contribute a way too wordy hook.

Blood For Blood – P.R. Terrorist, ShoGun Assason, 9th Prince, and Beretta 9 are out for blood on this track. 4th Disciple puts the battery in their backs with a folksy chipmunk female vocal sample, backed by emotional strings that give the track a dramatic flair.

Seems It Never Fails – Islord makes his only appearance on Silent Weapons. With his distinctive puny voice (like Westside Gunn, he doesn’t sound a day over twelve), he leads things off with a cocky verse, followed by rhymes of randomness from 9th Prince. Speaking of randomness, the refrain has nothing to do with anything, but I guess they had to fill up the space between the verses with something. The relaxing, jazzy loop that makes up the instrumental is soothing and sounds even better when listened to on a gloomy, rainy day.

Universal Soldiers – Killa Sin, P.R. Terrorist, ShoGun Assason (whose verse sounds like it was recorded in a bathroom behind enemy walls and emailed over), and 9th Prince (who collects heads at The Caucasus Mountains for leisure on the weekends) continue to flex their military style over this edgy and grimy backdrop. The Ronald Isley vocal loop on the hook was well played.

Love, Hell Or Right – Killarmy uses this short interlude to talk about the once loyal soldiers in their crew who lost focus and fell by the wayside. I like the beautiful flute loop in the background.

Wake Up – 9th Prince & Killa Sin square up with a few other Wu-Tang affiliates: Hell Razah & Prodigal Sunn of Sunz Of Man. The foursome has decent chemistry on the mic, leaving you with two options during the hook. Rza gets his first production credit of the evening, giving the track a sinister feel with a darkly possessed piano riff during the verses and soft emotional key taps during the chorus. This was fire.

Fair, Love & War – 4th mixes antagonistic synth chords with a somber melody for Killa Sin, Beretta 9, P.R. Terrorist, and ShoGun Assason to trade hood tales and war stories. The news report clips were a clever way to weave the verses together, giving them cohesion.

Wu-Renegade – Haunted pianos, haughty strings, and a heartfelt female vocal snippet make up the backdrop that P.R. Terrorist, Killa Sin, 9th Prince, and Beretta 9 use to transform into the Destructions. Other than the trash hook, everything about this record worked.

Full Moon – 9th Prince spits a verse celebrating the release of his incarcerated homeboy while Killa Sin reminisces over a childhood friend who was murdered. The two verses are woven together by a soul-stirring vocal loop and melancholic chords that 4th brilliantly adds rev’d up thumping drums to during the verses, giving the record an apprehensive feel. Well played.

Under Siege – The record begins with a snippet of the classic war flick Full Metal Jacket (next to Platoon, it’s probably my favorite war movie. Wait. Did it really come out in 1987? Wow, time flies). Then, a drum beat fit for a marching army platoon and tender harp plucks surface for ShoGun Assason, P.R. Terrorist, and Beretta 9 to wield their silent weapons, preparing for verbal combat.

Shelter – Beretta 9 and ShoGun Assason discuss street hustling, hard times, and trusting God through it all. The instrumental sounds too wacky for their content, but it’s still mildly funky.

Camouflage Ninjas – ShoGun Assason, P.R. Terrorist, Beretta 9, and 9th Prince put down their guns and pick up their swords and nunchucks as they transform into the masked Avengers, aka camouflage ninjas (of course, I’m putting more sauce on it than required). I love the sample of one of my favorite Earth, Wind & Fire songs (“Mom”) for the instrumental.

Swinging Swords – 4th cleverly flips a jazzy Billie Holiday loop, turning her voice into the hook and painting a dark ambiance with the piano and bass line in the music. 9th Prince, P.R. Terrorist, and Killa Sin swing their verbal swords all over the jazzy backdrop. And if you’re like me and were wondering why Islord is listed as a roster of the army but has only shown up for active duty once (see “Seems It Never Fails”), Sin lets us know incarceration is the reason for his absence. Side note: P.R. Terrorist becomes the second rapper to use “phalanges” in a rhyme, knocking Evocalist of the B.U.M.S. off my coveted short list of rappers to exclusively use a unique word in a rhyme.

War Face – This one starts with another clip from Full Metal Jacket, setting up the song’s theme. 9th Prince, ShoGun Assason, Beretta 9, Killa Sin, and their guest, Hoffa, proceed to “run a train on Bobby Steele’s track” and ask the listener to show them their best war face during the hook. It’s not one of RZA’s best productions (with co-credit going to 4th Disciple), but it still works.

5 Stars – Sticking with the war theme, for the album’s finale, 4th turns the M.A.S.H. theme song into a somber and gully boom-bap production. 9th Prince, Beretta 9, ShoGun Assason, and P.R. Terrorist continue to do what they’ve done for the previous sixteen tracks. Masta Killa drops by to get off the album’s closing verse (making him the only Wu-Tang member to cameo on Silent Weapons), and let’s just say it isn’t a 5-star general performance.

The 7th chapter of the book of Matthew finds Jesus in the middle of preaching a sermon to his disciples in the mountains. In the previous few chapters, he gave them the Beatitudes and a plethora of other instructions required to please his Father in heaven. In chapter seven, he hits them with a parable about False prophets. He warns, “By their fruit, you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thorn bushes or figs from thistles? Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, and a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit.” This parable makes sense, but Silent Weapons left me wondering if a good tree can bear mid fruit.

As a kid, one of my favorite cartoons was G.I. Joe. Every morning before school, I’d watch Duke, Flint, Hawk, Snake Eyes, Lady J, Scarlett, Shipwreck, Bazooka, Road Block (dude was a rapper trapped in a soldier’s body), and the rest of the team battle Cobra Commander, Destro, The Baroness (with her fine ass) and the rest of the Cobra Army for a half an hour. The characters listed above were the main attraction, but in the background, supporting them were generic G.I. Joe soldiers. The main guys would flaunt their personalities and rock their own desired variations of fatigues and army boots (Scarlett was rockin’ leggings decades before they became everyday women’s attire), garnering all the spotlight. The generic G.I. Joe soldiers would remain nameless, without personalities, stuck wearing the same mundane uniform, forever playing second fiddle to the real Joes.

Killarmy aren’t terrible rappers. At certain points on Silent Weapons, 9th Prince and Killa Sin sound semi-interesting. But unlike the Wu members, who each had unique personalities and their own styles (the real G.I. Joes), Killarmy’s roster doesn’t come with charismatic voices or a variation of rhyming techniques (generic G.I. Joe soldiers). Throughout Silent Weapons’ seventeen tracks, the six-man team makes every war reference possible as they engage in an imaginary battle against devils, society, and other emcees, with pedestrian results. But far from pedestrian is 4th Disciple and RZA’s impressive production. Their formidable collection of instrumentals provides the much-needed firepower to protect these green soldiers from getting annihilated on the battlefield by the Cobra army.

My next-door neighbors have a mulberry tree in their backyard. It’s positioned right next to the fence that divides our yards, and one of the branches extends into my yard. Every once in a while, the kiddos and I will eat a few samples from the tree. You can tell by the color if they’re ripe enough to eat. If they’re dark red to purple, expect a delicious treat. If they’re pink or have a light red tint, they need more time on the tree to ripen. Maybe Killarmy isn’t mid fruit, but instead, fruit picked from the Wu tree prematurely.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Atmosphere – Overcast!

Posted on 06/10/2025 by deedub77

When people discuss musicians from Minnesota, the first name commonly mentioned is the late, great Prince Rogers Nelson, and rightfully so. In the early eighties, he would be a key player in creating the Minneapolis music sound that would bring him mainstream success and almost make him the biggest music superstar of the eighties (love you, Prince, but MJ’s got you on that one. Sorry). Minnesota has produced other successful music artists. Bob Dylan. Soul Asylum. And ripe from the Prince tree came The Time and super producers Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis (side note: Jam and Lewis were part of Prince’s band until he fired them in 1983 for working on other artists’ records, specifically, the S.O.S. Band, while on tour with him). And on the hip-hop side, a group named Atmosphere began to make a name for themselves in the late nineties.

Sean Daley (aka Slug) and Derek Turner (aka D-Spawn, which later morphed into Spawn) met in high school (my alma mater, Washburn (go Millers!)) where they formed a group, first calling themselves Urban Atmosphere, and later dropping the Urban and going with just Atmosphere. They’d later add Anthony Davis, aka Ant (not to be confused with the injury-prone, unibrow basketball player), to the team as the group’s in-house producer. Atmosphere, along with Musab Saab (aka Beyond) and Brent Sayers (aka Saddiq), would get on the independent bus years before it would become commonplace, forming Rhymesayers Entertainment in 1995. Beyond’s debut album, Comparison, would be the label’s inaugural release in 1996, followed by Atmosphere’s debut and the reason we’re here today, Overcast!, in 1997.

The cover art pays homage to the artwork on jazz pianist Andrew Hill’s 1964 Blue Note release, Judgement! Before Overcast! became a full-length album, it lived as an eight-track EP (two of the records from the EP wouldn’t make it to the full-length). Ant produced the entire album (which would become customary for Atmosphere projects), and it would be the only release Spawn would appear on before leaving the group.

I was on my secular sabbatty when Overcast! came out, but I’m a Minneapolis boy (southside!), so I was fully aware of Atmosphere’s existence. My official introduction to their music wouldn’t come until 2005 when they released You Can’t Imagine How Much Fun We’re Having. I enjoyed the album, and its 2008 follow-up, When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold, so much I slowly began to collect their back catalog, and here we are today. And with that said, let’s jump into Atmosphere’s origin album.

1597 – Slug invites the listener to “step within his psychoanalysis” for the song’s first two verses as he waxes poetic, spewing complex battle rhymes. Spawn gets the last verse and sounds like he’s reading his boastful bars straight from the sheet, which might be why they decided to fade out his verse prematurely and end the song (it might also be why he would leave the group after Overcast!). The theatrical feel of the classical string loop complements Slug’s almost Shakespearean rhyming style. I have no idea what the significance of 1597 is. If you know, hit me in the comments.

Brief Description – Slug goes dolo and intricately explains how he started in the game, expresses his love for hip-hop, and discusses his desire to be great and respected as an emcee. Nothing about his three-and-a-half-minute diatribe felt brief, but he does leave you with a lot to chew on and a severely overly worded hook. The track ends with a clip of a man making one of the most profound statements I’ve ever heard on a hip-hop record. If anyone knows where the soundbite came from, hit me in the comments.

Current Status – Beyond (who some of you may know as Musab or Sab The Artist, both monikers he would take on later) joins Slug for this rap duet. Beyond kicks things off with a decent sparring verse. Then after a half-baked chorus performed by both rappers, Slug goes second, pitting “those, flavorless with shitty flows” with a matter-of-fact arrogance. Ant’s backdrop sounds as frigid as Minnesota winters.

Complications – After getting silenced by way of fade out on the opening track, Spawn returns with his first solo joint of the evening, sounding every bit like a stone-cold simp. The object of his simpage, Scribblehead Taliyah, told him she had a man when they met, but he felt he could win her over. He doesn’t. And after years of being used, abused, and manipulated, he realizes that she’s not the one. Three years of being led on and played with, and he didn’t even get to smell the pussy. Certified Simp. Slug does interject for a moment, attempting to get Taliyah out of his partner’s head, and helps Spawn with the hollow hook. Speaking of hollow, Ant’s instrumental is the audio equivalent of a tin can. The best part of the record is the last twenty seconds when the beat switches to an emotional soul loop.

4:30AM – Slug continues to eloquently diss wack rappers while Spawn takes care of hook duties (the whole “It’s 4:30 am, do you know where your head’s at?” was way over my head). Ant’s bluesy backdrop sounds like something Bill Withers would rap over if he were an emcee. Rest in peace to the legend.

Adjust – Other than the second verse, where he appears to be talking to a friend with a coke addiction, I couldn’t follow Slug’s cryptic soliloquy. And Spawn’s stuck with hook duties again. The flute-driven instrumental sounds like a spooky derivative of the James Bond theme music.

Clay – Slug plays the role of some sort of rapping alien sent to Earth to save hip-hop. He leaves you with more meaty bars to dissect, and that string loop (is that a harp?) is hard as hell.

@ – Slug and Spawn take a break and give Ant the spotlight. He uses it to place soundbites and mediocre scratches over an instrumental that sounds like paint drying.

Sound Is Vibration – Plush and bougie harps lay in the background, making Slug and Spawn’s back and forth more enjoyable.

Multiples – This record is all over the place, which makes sense, considering the song title. It goes from Spawn listing some of the things he’s never done to Slug shouting out various groups of people to Spawn throwing out words for Slug to rap the definitions. All of the randomness is supported by a slapstick-esque backdrop, which works well with the content.

Scapegoat – The song title is the answer to Slug’s riddled rhymes. It’s a clever way to tell people to take accountability for themselves instead of constantly passing the buck and pointing fingers.

Ode To The Modern Man (Lightning Blend) – Slug kicks things off with an introspective verse, followed by battle bars from Spawn that find him chewing on emcees’ asses (his words, not mine). Spawn’s ass-chewing must have inspired Slug as he gets back to dissing emcees on the song’s second verse. Ant provides some Al Green soul to assist his group members in getting their points across.

WND – Sean takes on his rap alter ego, Slug. It’s a unique idea, but Ant’s backdrop is beyond mid, making it easy to mentally check out.

Multiples (Reprise) – Slug spews more enigmatic bars over drab drums and the sound of whistling wind.

Caved In – Spawn relives the trauma, pain, and sorrow of losing his dad at the tender age of eleven. As expected, this shit was sad, and Ant’s mournful music damn near made it depressing. My son turns eleven in a few months, so this song did a number on my anxiety level. It morphs into a chilled, slightly bluesy loop at the end, ironically lightening the mood.

Cuando Limpia El Humo – The title, which is Spanish, translates to “when the smoke clears” in English, which is also the song’s hook; well, at least one of the song’s hooks. Besides an occasional chime-in from Spawn, Slug uses Ant’s dry drums and contemplative melody to cerebrally dismantle more emcees.

The Outernet – Over some mysterious outer space type shit, Slug calls for unity in hip-hop, so all involved can benefit from it: “Let’s network, let’s work, let’s all get work, so we can build the overall net worth.” I love the message, but the hook is too wordy, and I wasn’t crazy about the soulless instrumental.

Hidden Track – This record sports a bland instrumental with a tin melody that Spawn and Slug use to each get off a verse, firing one last round of verbal darts at any would-be adversaries or opponents (Slug kindly ends his verse and the song by thanking the listener for the purchase). If you’re patient enough to hang around for another minute, at the four minute mark, a second hidden track surfaces and finds Slug in a completely different mindset than the sage emcee/poet we’ve heard from for much of the album. On this record, he’s drenched in toxicity, hurling insults, threats, and belittling his wife: “This is the middle of hell/you got no job, no diploma/might as well kick it with me and live in Hinckley, Minnesota/ she’s my trailer park chick/with the Pop Tarts and venison/hard liquor to cop a buzz off the over the counter medicine/the rent is in the mail, bitch, pump the cake/fix the antenna, act your age and spread your legs/ this is my castle, white trash hoe, and if I want to I’ll put it in your asshole/you wanna battle, baby? I’ll put a shadow over your sky/now shut the fuck up and fix me turkey pot pie.” The toxins only get worst during the hook (“I own the Camaro and the mobile home, so where the fuck you gonna go?”) and the second verse. Slug’s content is extremely dark and disturbing, but the way he paints the perspective of an insecure, male chauvinist, low-life redneck borders on genius. Ant’s anxious and dusty music bed only makes Slug’s words more vivid.

The term, overcast, primarily describes something that is clouded or darkened, as if covered with clouds or gloom. It’s also synonymous with fog. Overshadow. Dim. Blurry. Hazy. Louring. It can also be used to describe dull, a fitting adjective to describe a large portion of Ant’s production on Atmosphere’s debut album.

Ant’s production isn’t dull as in being wack, but the dreary, drab, and colorless musical theme that dominates the album throughout eighteen tracks easily allows for boredom to set in. On a handful of records, the overcast is lifted, and the penetrating light results in a few solid instrumentals and a few dope beats (see “1597,” “Clay,” “Sound Is Vibration,” and “Ode To The Modern Man”). Ultimately, the clouds win the battle, causing Overcast! to sonically live up to its name.

Slug is easily the more skilled and polished emcee of the two. Much like A Tribe Called Quest during their earlier projects, Spawn plays Phife, only rapping on a third of the album’s tracks, to Slug’s Q-Tip, carrying most of the lyrical load as the group’s chief emcee. Spawn proves to be a competent lyricist, but his delivery sounds stiff, and his lack of personality on the mic allows his voice to get lost in Ant’s musical clouds. Meanwhile, Slug sounds confident, spewing cryptic bars and riddled rhymes, balancing introspective and conscious verses with cerebral verbal darts aimed at his contemporaries for sport. Slug’s an intellectual emcee with a lot to say, but at times, his effectiveness is stifled by his coded content that he even acknowledges on “Clay,” most people won’t take the required time and brain power to “unravel his babble.” Substance is clearly more important than style to Slug as he often overloads his bars with words, abandoning a fluid flow, which makes his delivery feel more suited for a spoken word poet than an emcee.

As I mentioned in the opening, my introduction to Atmosphere came a few albums into their run. Overcast! is a far cry from where I met them. In the in-between time, they would shed some unrequired weight (Spawn), Ant’s production would become more consistent and enjoyable, and Slug would learn to turn his intelligent thoughts into witty bars and more relatable content. You have to crawl before you walk.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic


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Rampage – Scouts Honor…By Way Of Blood (July 29, 1997)

Posted on 05/27/2025 by deedub77

Nepotism is one of the oldest practices in the world. The term nepotismo originated in the 14th century to describe the corrupt practice by popes of appointing male relatives to cardinalates and other high positions in the church. It derives from the Latin root word nepos, meaning (in my Snoop Dogg voice) “nephew.” Throughout history, many Asian dynasties have strived on nepotism, and though they no longer have any real political power, the British royal family has passed down royal reign for centuries. Nepotism has also been very prevalent in US political history. John Adams appointed his son, John Quincy Adams, as a diplomat, and after he was elected president in 1960, JFK appointed his younger brother, RFK, as attorney general. Successful businessmen have passed their empires down to their kids to take the reins once they’re gone (the Trumps, the Smurfits, the Murdochs, and the Mistrys, to name a few). The music industry may be the most notorious field for nepotism: Simon Cowell, Miley Cyrus, Willow and Jaden Smith, Enrique Iglesias, and many more have greatly benefited from nepotism. Busta Rhymes would also use nepotism to help his family, Rampage The Last Boy Scout.

Busta Rhymes and Rampage are first cousins. Before his solo career skyrocketed, Busta was in a group called Leaders of The New School. Busta was gracious enough to let Rampage jump on “Spontaneous” from LONS’ second album, T.I.M.E. Their kinship would also lead to Rampage opening up for LONS at shows, and when Busta went solo, it would lead to even more opportunities for Rampage. He’d make a few high-profile cameos (see Funkmaster Flex’s Volume 1: 60 Minute Of Funk, Craig Mack’s “Flava In Ya Ear (Remix),” and Busta’s debut album, The Coming), and eventually, it would lead to a record deal with Elektra, which was also Busta’s label home. Rampage released his debut album, Scout’s Honor…By Way Of Blood, in the summer of ‘97.

Most of Scout Honor’s production was handled by DJ Scratch (from EPMD fame) and Rashad Smith, who blessed Busta’s debut hit single, “Woo-Hah,” and later would become one of Puffy’s Hitmen. Despite three singles, decent reviews, and Busta’s backing, Scout’s Honor wouldn’t perform well commercially and came and went quicker than Flash Gordon getting cheeks from a prostitute, knowing that Ming The Merciless is closing in on him. It would be nearly a decade before Rampage would drop another album, fittingly titled Have You Seen? The album was released independently (Sure Shot Records), so not many knew of its existence, officially ending Rampage’s relevancy in hip-hop.

Scout’s Honor is another first-time listen for me, and if the music is anything near as wild as the album cover, this should be a colorful experience.

Intro – The album begins with a three-piece intro suite. First, Kau Kidau introduces Rampage via a bullhorn while complete chaos and destruction occur in the background. Then Rampage introduces himself over some hard Sparta/300-type shit. The last act features Storm hyping up Flipmode Squad and setting up the next record.

Flipmode Iz Da Squad – DJ Scratch serves up a dusty and triumphant boom-bap production for Rampage, Serious (who sounds like a whiny version of Greg Nice), Spliff Star, Busta Rhymes, and Lord Have Mercy to represent Flipmode. Besides Serious (whom I could not take for his name), they all sound competent (Busta? What the hell is an “end of the world nigga”?). It would have been nice to hear a Rah Digga verse over this dope instrumental (she wasn’t yet a part of Flipmode), but it’s still a solid record.

Da Night B4 My Shit Drop – The track begins with a cornball reporter asking our host questions about his forthcoming album (he pops up again between the verses). Then Rampage spits two verses describing his actions and mind state the night before his album’s released: “I’m sittin’ in the room, smokin’ a phat bag of boom, watchin’ a crazy cartoon, plus my hour’s coming soon, it’s a minute to midnight, I’m soon to take flight, I’m sounded right, sucka niggas can’t see my light, I’m nervous, ready, wanna know how I’m coming, The Boy Scout drop the true shit then I’m humming.” The rest of the song features more of Rampage speaking on his confidence, nervousness, and excitement surrounding the album. Props to Rampage for the unique song concept, and Rashad Smith’s backing instrumental is an irresistible banger. The record ends with two West Coast cats (C-Dog and his homeboy) chopping it up about Rampage’s album.

Talk Of The Town – Over crisp drums and a darkly emotional piano loop, Rampage big-ups himself, takes a subtle jab at Son of Bazerk (rip Almighty Jahwell), and shares one of his kinky fetishes with the listeners.

Get The Money And Dip – Scratch keeps the heat coming with a warped, soulful music bed. Our host navigates through it well, and Busta resurfaces to add some spice to the hook.

The Set Up – Rashad Smith gets his second production credit of the night. Rampage uses the creamily somber instrumental to break down the trials and tribulations of a rapper turned thug rapper, turned rapper and thug. It’s a classic tale of the power of the tongue, which I’m sure was inspired by the Tupac and Biggie tragedies (predicting what year someone will die, which Rampage (sort of) does to the subject of this song during the hook, is wild). Dope record. It’s followed by a skit of two White boys, S.O. and Dan-o-the-Mano, looking to get wild for the night on shrooms, but S.O.’s antics bring the evening to a premature end. I chuckle every time I listen to it.

Wild For Da Night – This was the album’s lead single. This time, Backspin The Vibe Chemist taps another dark piano loop to build the backdrop around, and Busta adds his animated energy to the hook. Busta also ends the record by issuing a warning to all “competitive muthafuckas” looking to challenge the Flipmode Squad.

Flipmode Enemy #1 – Rampage pays homage to Public Enemy and their classic record of the same name (replace “Flipmode” with “Public”). It’s followed by a hilarious skit about a booty call that ends in stinky fashion.

Take It To The Streets – This was the second single. Our host is ready to drink, smoke, have sex, and party, and Billy Lawrence joins in on the fun during the chorus and bridge (she was making her hip-hop rounds in ’97). Surely, this processed bullshit was contrived by the label, looking to score a crossover hit. I’m sure even Rampage hated this record. The track ends with a zany Sesame Street type ass whoopin’ skit.

Conquer Da World – Rampage is looking to become the Julius Caesar of hip-hop, and he gets a female vocalist named Meka to encourage him on the hook and adlibs. Ramp’s bars were adequate, but I was more impressed by DJ Scratch’s bassy soul vibes.

Hall Of Fame – Ramp spits a little bit on this record, but it’s far from Hall of Fame status (shout-out to New York Undercover and the Doobie Brothers). I love the mixture of creepy and gully in Scratch’s backdrop.

Niggaz Iz Bad – Serious returns to join Ramp on the mic and doesn’t fare much better than he did on the Flipmode posse joint early in the album. Apparently, this was recorded in ‘94 (there are at least two references made to the year in the song), but it still sounds cohesive with the rest of the album. Give Rashad Smith another pound for this dope beat.

We Getz Down (Remix) – The album closes with what would be the third and final single. Teddy Riley gets his lone production credit of the album, sampling the hypnotic bass line from Cameo’s “Strange” and turning it into a slick groove that Rampage glides through doing figure eights in boastful skates (it’s the same instrumental that plays in the background on the C-Dog skit early in the album). The record has remnants of crossover intent, but its G-funk sensibilities feel good, and it’s one of my favorite joints on Scout’s Honor.

Rampage Outro – Rampage shares a few parting words (which includes a shameless plug for his Flipmode leader and label mate Busta Rhymes’ forthcoming album, When Disaster Strikes) to wrap up the album.

In one season at USC, Bronny James averaged 4.8 points and 2.1 assists in the twenty-five games he played. Those are very mediocre stats, but when your dad’s name is LeBron James, and he makes it clear he wants to play on the same team as his son, those numbers become good enough to get you drafted by the Lakers in the second round of the 2024 NBA draft. During his rookie season, Bronny struggled, and when demoted to the G-League, the struggle continued. It was only his rookie year, so I’m not writing the young man off, but he clearly wasn’t ready for the NBA yet. Busta Rhymes also yielded his influence to get his cousin, Rampage, a deal with Elektra. Much like Bronny’s rookie campaign, Scout’s Honor wasn’t a commercial success, but was it because Rampage wasn’t ready for the big leagues?

The production on Scout’s Honor is damn near flawless. DJ Scratch and Rashad Smith lead and cultivate a sonically top-tier product, skillfully flipping dope soul, jazz, funk, and rock loops over durable drumbeats. Besides the godawful “Take It To The Streets,” it’s quintessential East Coast nineties boom bap. Unlike the production on Scout’s Honor, Rampage is not a top-tier emcee, but he’s proficient on the mic and moderately masters the ceremony throughout. Like his mentor (Busta Rhymes), Ramp rhymes (no pun) with charisma and can switch up his tone and delivery in a heartbeat as if he suffers from DID. There are a few magical microphone moments on the album when Rampage finds the perfect pocket, and his flow rides the beat like Zorro on Tornado (see the beginning of the opening verse on “Da Night B4 My Shit Drop” and “We Getz Down”). But most of Scout’s Honor finds its host spewing random freestyle rhymes that technically sound good but feel aimless and ring hollow.

On the album’s intro, Ramp overzealously says (or, more appropriately, yells), “I feel like I’m about to conquer the world!” Scout’s Honor is not world-conquering material. Nor is it a terrible project. In the annals of hip-hop, it should sit as a sturdy debut project from an emcee with potential who got his chance by way of blood.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Missy Misdemeanor Elliot – Supa Dupa Fly (July 15, 1997)

Posted on 05/20/2025 by deedub77

In the past few weeks, my social media timelines have been flooded with various Mount Rushmores. These chiseled four-headed mountains have listed everything from the GOATs of specific sports to the greatest Disney Channel actresses, to the top four male R&B singers of all time, to the greatest female R&B singers of all time; I’ve even seen a couple of Mount Rushmores for the Greatest Off-Key Female Singers. And, of course, there have been several hip-hop-based Mount Rushmores floating around. The Greatest Hip-Hop Producers, GOAT rappers (East Coast, West Coast, and South editions), and a few versions of the greatest female rappers. One of the GLOAT four-headed mountaintops that caught me off guard featured Lauryn Hill, Nicki Minaj, Lil’ Kim, and Missy Elliott.

I’ve often heard Nicki, Latifah, and Kim’s names thrown around in the greatest conversation, but seeing Missy’s name on the list left me a bit baffled. I’ve only watched Missy’s career from a distance and am only familiar with her biggest hits. But from the little I’ve gathered, she’s more of a vibe-type rapper than a lyrical emcee, which is normally the criteria for those who make these lists. But again, my opinion comes from a limited knowledge of her music. This brings me to today’s subject, Supa Dupa Fly.

Supa Dupa Fly is Missy Misdemeanor Elliott’s debut solo album. Previously, she was part of the R&B group Sista, which released an album in 1994 (4 All The Sistas Around Da World) before the group disbanded. The Sista project was produced by Devante Swing (of Jodeci fame) and Timothy “Timbaland” Mosley. Missy was obviously pleased with Timbo’s output on the Sista project, as she would call on him to produce the entirety of SDF. She would also get help in the form of cameos from a few established artists and introduce the world to a few new names. SDF received pounds of critical acclaim (Rolling Stone, which ironically gave SDF a 3.5-star rating upon its release, would list it at ninety-three on their 500 Greatest Albums of All-Time list in 2020) and earned Missy two Grammy Award nominations. It would also earn Missy a platinum plaque, starting her streak of six consecutive platinum-selling albums, a feat I don’t think any other female rapper can claim.

I’ve never listened to Supa Dupa Fly, but I’m confident that in the millions of albums recorded in the past hundred and forty years, more than ninety-two are superior to it. But I’ll play along.

Busta’s Intro – Busta Rhymes is arguably the biggest cameo whore in hip-hop history (I’ve never tabulated the numbers, but it’s surely between him and Lil Wayne). In ‘97, he was still in the early stages of his impressive cameo run. He kicks off SDF with a few energized words and an animated verse over a revised instrumental of SWV and Missy Elliott’s “Can We.”

Hit ‘Em Wit Da Hee – Lil Kim kicks this one off with a verse that has remnants of Biggie’s rhyming residue on it. Then Timbaland unleashes a mildly funky production for Missy to convince a guy who has her open that it’s not his material possessions that have her feeling him. She forces her “hee-ha” tagline into a hook that has nothing to do with the verses but still sounds catchy. The liner notes say the track features an artist named Mocha. Maybe she helps Missy sing the hook? I’m not sure.

Sock It 2 Me – Timbo’s intense instrumental sounds like it’s prepared for war, and Missy sounds ready to get laid. She sings and pleads with the object of her affection to give her some good lovin’, and Da Brat jumps in at the end of the track to add a verse declaring 1997 the beginning of “The bitch era.” Her words, not mine.

The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly) – This was the album’s lead single and biggest hit. Missy’s choppy stop-and-go flow sounds tailor-made for Timbaland’s hypnotic slow-rolling funk, infused with Ann Peebles’ soulful vocal tone. It’s a genius record backed by an incredibly original and entertaining video (by the way, Yo-Yo looks amazing in that video!).

Beep Me 911 – The female R&B trio 702 joins Missy as they play the victims of a sheep in wolf’s clothing’s hit and run/betrayal. Magoo plays the wolf and raps a verse that throws his manipulation in the ladies’ faces (Magoo gives a serviceable performance, but Twista would have completely slayed this slick groove). The hook is nonsensical (if you know the nigga is no good, why in the hell are you paging him to see what he’s going to tell you?), but the beeper reference is a clue to what era the record was made in if you forgot. Timbo’s beatbox-assisted instrumental is soulfully funky and feels good. Rest in peace, Magoo and Irish Grinstead from 702.

They Don’t Wanna Fuck Wit Me – Missy talks her shit over Timbo’s chunky funk, and Tim even jumps on the track to co-sign Missy’s not to be fucked with. Just in case you didn’t get her point during the first minute and forty-five seconds of the track, she harmonizes her shit talk for the last minute and twenty seconds. Dope record that should have ended around the two-minute mark.

Pass Da Blunt – Missy addresses all the producers making “fraud Timbaland beats,” calls out all the bitches that want to be her, brags about goldiggin’ on niggas (did she brag about rolling with Puffy? That line hasn’t aged well), and haphazardly tries to tie all these topics together by passing a blunt on the refrain. Like the content, the music takes on four or five different lives. This record was all over the place.

Bite Our Style (Interlude) – Over a chilled and breezy backdrop, Missy harmonizes about how appealing she and Timbaland’s style is.

Friendly Skies – Ginuwine joins Missy on this slow jam duet. Maybe I should call it a vocal trio, as the electronic voice from Ginuwine’s “Pony” joins the duo and sounds dope as hell in the background. This was pretty smooth.

Best Friends – Sticking with the duet theme, the beautiful Aaliyah joins Missy on this record as the two sing from the perspective of best friends, down for each other through thick or thin. It’s a heartwarming, upbeat R&B record that I enjoyed. Continue to rest in peace, Aaliyah, and hopefully, that’s the last rest in peace I have to give during this write-up.

Don’t Be Commin’ (In My Face) – Get your minds out of the gutter. The song is about Missy growing tired of her man and his cheating ways. Everything about this song was boring as shit. Maybe the record would have been more interesting if it were about Missy telling her man how much she doesn’t like his facials.

Izzy Izzy Ahh – Catchy hook, and I love the country blues funk in Timbo’s instrumental.

Why You Hurt Me – Missy airs the dirty laundry of her homegirl Cutey Tootie, known on the streets as Loosey Booty, for the way she’s (as Missy puts it) “going around humpin’ everybody.” Missy does a serviceable job laying out the storyline, and Timbo’s relaxed, bluesy backdrop accommodates her stop-and-go rhyming style well.

I’m Talkin’ – Our hostess talks more shit over Timbaland’s pensive production.

Gettaway – Missy turns this into an all-female cipher session as she’s joined by Space and Nicole Wray (whose name some of you might recognize for her solo R&B career). The ladies spit decent bars, but the beatbox embedded in the instrumental quickly gets annoying, and at this stage in the album, I didn’t need to hear Missy (for the umpteenth time) harmonize a whole verse about how fly her rhymes are.

Busta’s Outro – Busta shares a few parting words before we get the fuck out of here. Almost…

Missy’s Finale – Per the track title, Missy gives a few thank yous (apparently, it wasn’t enough to do it in the liner notes) before officially closing the album.

As I mentioned in the opening, I was only familiar with a few of Missy Elliott’s singles going into this review. “The Rain” and “Get Ur Freak On” were certified bangers no man or woman could deny or resist. Timbaland’s electrifying rhythms and pulsating bass lines were sure bets to get you out of your seat and move your body, or at the very least, nod your head passionately. Missy rapped on both of those records, but it was Timbo’s production that made more of an impact on me. That sentiment pretty much sums up Supa Dupa Fly.

On SDF, Missy presents as a hybrid artist, singing just as much as she raps. She’s not a powerhouse vocalist, but she knows her limited range and stays in that pocket. She’s not a super lyrical emcee with a great flow, but instead, spoon feeds the listener each word with her choppy, stop-and-go, conversational delivery. Without being a phenomenal singer or an exceptional rapper, Missy efficiently does her thing on the mic, heavily relying on catchy hooks and Timbo’s production, with most of the weight resting on Timbaland’s sonics. Timbaland shoulders the load without budging, stringing together an amalgam of VA funk, R&B/Soul vibes, and sprinklings of pop elements, with traditional hip-hop fundamentals as his sound foundation. There are one or two mediocre production moments on SDF, but most of it consists of solid to bangin’ instrumentals, leaving Missy with the easy assignment to not miss the lay-up.

I enjoyed SDF. It’s a solid debut from Missy Elliott, but its level of flyness isn’t supa dupa or one of the hundred greatest albums of all time. And since she has five more solo albums, the jury is still out on whether she deserves a spot on Mount Rushmore.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Slum Village – Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. 1 (July 11, 1997)

Posted on 05/06/2025 by deedub77

James “J-Dilla” Yancey is commonly hailed as one of the greatest hip-hop producers of all time, and rightfully so. In the mid-nineties, he began to make a name for himself, producing a handful of tracks for Pharcyde’s phenomenal sophomore album, Labcabincalifornia. From there, he would produce tracks for De La Soul, Busta Rhymes, and Mad Skillz. Eventually, he’d become one-third of the production team, The Ummah with Q-Tip and Ali Shaheed Muhammad, and the trio would shape the sound of A Tribe Called Quest’s fourth album, Beats, Rhymes & Life, and later, The Love Movement. His resume would continue to blossom as he’d go on to produce tracks for Common, Erykah Badu, The Roots, Bilal, D’Angelo, Janet Jackson, and many more. But let’s go back to 1997 when Dilla was still a member of his original group, Slum Village.

Through the years, Slum Village would see a handful of roster changes, but the original cast consisted of Dilla, T3, and Baatin. The three grew up together in the same Detroit neighborhood and attended the same high school, which is when the group formed amongst a blossoming Detroit hip-hop scene that included the likes of Royce Da 5’9 and Eminem. In 1996, the threesome would begin to work on what would become their first album, Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. 1.

Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. 1 is Slum Village’s unofficial debut album. It’s virtually a demo tape of the group’s early work, recorded between ‘96 and ‘97 (with a few add-ons and alterations), completely produced by J Dilla. It got leaked and passed around the streets like a ten-dollar hooker, creating quite the buzz for the trio on the bootleg circuit. Though it wouldn’t see its official release until 2006, Google lists its bootleg release date as July 11, 1997, which is why I’m placing it in my ‘97 releases (Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. 2 was released in June of 2000 on the GoodVibe label and is virtually a reworking of Vol.1).

With Dilla being one of my favorite producers, Fan-Tas-Tic Vol.1 is an album I revisit every few years. I wasn’t hip to it in ‘97 when it got its original bootleg release, and I didn’t get familiar with it until a few years after its official release. But there’s a reason I keep coming back for more. Rest in peace, Jay Dee and Baatin.

Fantastic – After just enough popping to make you think your CD or vinyl is scratched, soothing melodic bells fall like manna from heaven onto crisp boom-bap drums. Baatin uses the majestic music to get off one short warm-up verse (where he’s on his Moses shit, twice suggesting that brothers “write up a scroll” on their lady “if she don’t act right”) before SV closes the track with the album’s reoccurring theme chant.

Keep It On – Through the years, Keni Burke’s “Risin To The Top” has commonly been sampled in hip-hop records, but I don’t think anyone has ever chopped it up and flipped in the fashion Dilla does for this record. Speaking of Dilla, his witty, frustrated opening verse shines brightly as his music on this track.

I Don’t Know – Over feel-good rhythms and smacking drums, SV interacts with James Brown via cleverly placed JB vocal snippets in this brilliant one-minute musical affair. FYI: Vol. 2’s version is twice as long and more polished, with even more interaction from The Godfather of Soul. It also features superb cutting from the legendary DJ Jazzy Jeff at the end, but we’ll discuss that more in the future.

How We Bullshit – Dilla addresses SV’s haters over a meandering bass line that ends with a Posdnuos vocal clip taken from De La Soul’s “Stakes Is High,” a track Dilla also produced. The interlude ends with the trio acting silly and poking fun at Xscape’s “Just Kickin’ It.” It’s an inside joke, and we’re not on the inside.

Fat Cat Song – This one starts with some weird moaning before a jazzy swing beat comes in, accompanied by scattered scatting from a sampled female voice. SV’s joined by Phat Kat on the mic, and all four parties sound like they’re trying to get their “flows together.” The swing beat morphs into a slick melodic groove shortly before the track ends, but it left me wanting more of it, which I’m sure was by design.

The Look Of Love – The track begins with SV performing the song live while their fans rap along. Then, the beautifully somber strings from the demo recording drop, and Dilla, T3, and Baatin discuss the look of love, or more appropriately, the look of lust. The trio was obviously still working their rhymes out, but the warm, tender melody in the instrumental is perfection, even in its rawest form.

Estimate – Dilla, Baatin, and T3 address phony people and encourage them to stop pretending. At least, that’s part of their message in this song. Dilla’s backdrop sounds like soulful elevator music, and I mean that in the most flattering way.

Hoc N Pucky – Baatin and T3 transform into their alter-egos, Hoc-n-Pucky (at least, I think that’s them; hit me in the comments if I’m wrong), for this minute and forty seconds of animated lunacy.

Beej N Dem – This starts with Dilla sounding like a perverted bootleg Jamaican (which still makes me laugh every time I hear it). Speaking of Dilla, I love his line: “This shit reminds me of some ole EPMD shit.” The instrumental does favor PMD and The E-Double’s work in a clouded, melodic, slightly blunted sort of way. The subtle “Friday the 14th” vocal snippet laced in the track only adds to the zaniness of this record.

Pregnant (T3) – This track finds T3 working out his rhymes over a grey and spacey backdrop. I love the soulfulness in the instrumental, but I hate the loud drum claps placed underneath it.

Forth & Back (Rock Music) – This is the most polished record on Fan-Tas-Tic that you’ll find. Dilla lays down a tantalizing groove you can’t resist swaying to while singing along and following directions to the catchy hook. Despite SV’s censored bars, this one is utterly infectious.

Fantastic 2 – SV brings back the album’s theme chant, which was first heard on the opening track. Dilla’s backing music is on some Sherlock Holmes mystery type-shit with a soulful twist.

Fantastic 3 – The same chant from the previous two installments over instrumentation that gives smoky after-hours lounge spot vibes. Soulfully scrumptious.

Keep It On – This jazzy retouching of the original mix is even more delectable than its predecessor.

5 E’A Remix – Slum Village is joined by another Detroit threesome, who ironically called themselves 5 Elementz. The trio consisted of Thyme, Mudd, and Proof, who most of you know as Eminem’s man, who was also a part of D12. The six emcees pass the mic around like a hot potato blunt, taking short turns spewing rhymes full of juvenile fun over Dilla’s finely chopped loop from Patrice Rushen’s “You Remind Me.” I’ve never heard the original version, but I enjoyed this remix.

Give This Nigga – Dilla goes solo dolo and gets off a quick verse over Roger Troutman/Zapp-inspired funk.

Players – SV addresses all the wannabe players who “need to be smacked open-handedly” for their buffoonery. This joint sounds great when cruising the city after hours.

Look Of Love (Remix) – Yep, another remix. The instrumental is built around the same Minnie Riperton loop ATCQ used for “Lyrics To Go.” Diila’s verse is removed, but he still helps with the hook. T3 softly regurgitates his bars from the original, and Baatin whispers a half-baked new verse. I dug the female vocals on the hook. It felt very Vinia Mojica-ish.

Pregnant (Baatin) – Dilla serves Baatin with some cool luscious shit to give birth to his rhyme. The bars were clearly still not fully developed, but even in their preemie stage, “the one who sold you your kilogram boulder’s” pregnancy went better than T3’s.

Things U Do (Remix) – The rhyme scheme, flow, and cadence SV uses on this record sounds like the template for Q-Tip’s rhyming approach to The Love Movement. I love Dilla’s sexily melodious groove, and Baatin’s closing verse sounds both nonsensical and like poetic genius: “We would fuck on the roof at a Tantra seminar, Autobot stimulator, tantra master visualize the lotus, ladies and women the catch is in my lingam.” The track ends with T3 stuttering while working out another rhyming rendition over a bubbling, bassy backdrop.

Fat Cat (Remix) – The instrumental sounds less soulful and jazzy than the rest of the album, but its tough-guy energy is welcomed. I hate that they censored the rhymes in this mix.

Fantastic 4 – The final installment’s backing music sounds saddened after receiving word that the album will shortly come to an end.

What’s Love Gotta Do With It (Look Of Love Remix) – Musically, Dilla maintains the same melody as the O.G. mix, but the sweetly somber guitar riff transforms into urgent synth chords, giving the song a completely different feel than the other two mixes, but that’s the purpose of a remix, right? The trio also adds new lyrics to this version; unfortunately, they’re censored.

2 You 4 You – Dilla leaves us with one last instrumental before parting ways. It’s best described as animated vibrating soul mixed with a muted melody that only the brilliant mind (and hands) of Dilla could create.

On “Beej N Dem,” T3 rhymes, “Ya’ll muthafuckas think that we don’t be freestyling.” Those who think that have never listened to Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. 1. They’ve only skimmed through it.

From the start of Fan-Tas-Tic, it’s clear that Dilla, T3, and Baatin are coming off the top or at least working out their rough drafts in real-time (I mean, it is a demo). At certain points, you’ll even catch them mumbling inaudibles while trying to find a sound pocket or cadence to stand on. You won’t find top-notch lyricism or chiseled flows and rhyme patterns on Fan-Tas-Tic, but you will discover scattered wit and potential sprinkled over raw bars, and their “Detroit homeboys” chemistry gives their rough drafts even more life. But all the emceeing on Fan-Tas-Tic plays second fiddle to the album’s main attraction: Dilla’s production.

Throughout Fan-Tas-Tic, you can hear the dusty basement residue hovering over Dilla’s lo-fi soul and jazz loops. Most of the loops he builds around are untapped soil (at least they were in 1997), and the few times he does recycle familiar ones, he chops and flips them so uniquely they almost lose their familiarity. Whether familiar or unfamiliar, Dilla’s loops carry addictive neo-soul adjacent melodies and grooves, and brilliantly, he keeps most of the tracks’ run time short, leaving the listener yearning for more.

Revisiting Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. 1 is a bittersweet experience. It’s a great demo, better than many of your favorite rappers’ best mixed and mastered work. But it’s sad when you listen to the project and get reminded that two-thirds of the original team passed away far too early.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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