Time Is Illmatic

In the fall of 1993, Black Moon blessed the hip-hop world with one of the genre’s most underappreciated classic albums, Enta Da Stage. You could blame it on timing, as the following month, The Wu-Tang Clan would drop their debut album (Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)) on the same day as A Tribe Called Quest’s Midnight Marauders. And if that wasn’t a big enough whammy, just two weeks later, Snoop would unleash his phenomenal debut album, Doggystyle, into the universe. All three of these mammoth releases may have overshadowed Enta Da Stage, but there was no denying the winning combination of Da Beatminerz dusted jazzy hardcore boom-bap production, paired with Buckshot’s versatile rhyming style. Black Moon would also use Enta Da Stage to introduce the first leg of their extended crew, Boot Camp Clik, with the eponymous track “Black Smif-N-Wessun.” Steele-N-Tek would build on that opportunity, releasing their phenomenal debut album, Dah Shinin’, at the beginning of ‘95. The Clik would continue to grow in ‘96 with debuts from Heltah Skeltah and Originoo Gunn Clappaz, and they would help birth the rap career of the Representativz, who would make cameos on both groups’ albums. It would only be a matter of time before the Boot Camp Clik would form like Voltron for a full-length crew album, releasing the first one in 1997, For The People.

Da Beatminerz were completely responsible for the brilliant production on Enta Da Stage and Dah Shinin’ and contributed to both Nocturnal and Da Storm. Their name is nowhere to be found in the For The People liner notes. Instead, a handful of guest producers handle the music for the album’s fourteen tracks. For The People received mediocre reviews (including a 3 1/2 mic rating from The Source) and peaked at 15 on the US Billboard 200.

I walked into this review completely blind. I bought a used CD copy of For The People many moons ago without being familiar with any of the album’s tracks. But if Buckshot, Smif-N-Wessun, and Heltah Skeltah are involved, there’s gotta be some heat on it.

1-900 Get Da Boot – Over the instrumental from O.G.C.’s “Da Storm,” K.I.M. Tha Original leads off a series of voicemails left by fans showering Boot Camp Clik with love, praise, and appreciation. In return, they get a production credit in the liner notes (“Produced by the People”). How cute. The album is full of fan voicemails placed between tracks, which I won’t mention each time they pop up. Just know that they exist.

Down By Law – Tony Touch joins Smif-N-Wessun, Buckshot, Heltah Skeltah, Dru Ha, Starang, and Top Dog (which the liner notes hi-lariously credit as “Everyone & their mother”) for this warm-up session. It was refreshing to hear them temporarily park their hardcore personas, letting their guards down to have genuine fun, which you can’t help but do over Fab Five Freddy’s classic “Down By Law” instrumental that has party vibes dripping all over it.

Night Riders – Buckshot, Tek, and Steele give their interpretation of midnight marauding as they discuss the jackers looking for someone to victimize after dark. The criminal mood is set by eerie flute notes and silky guitar play, complemented by LaVoice, who gives a solid vocal performance on the hook. LaVoice’s record-ending adlibs lose focus on the song’s theme, and Buckshot’s short soliloquy on change was super random, but I still enjoyed this one. Those closing guitar licks from an uncredited someone are fire.

Headz Are Reddee Pt. II – Technically, this isn’t a sequel, as its predecessor, originally released on the New Jersey Drive Soundtrack, was titled “Headz Ain’t Redee,” but you get their drift. All the participants from “Headz Ain’t Ready” (OGC, Smif-N-Wessun, Heltah Skeltah, and Buckshot, also known as The Great 8) return to participate on this record, and everyone sounds motivated and, um, ready. BJ Swan and Mark “Boogie” Brown provide a hard instrumental intertwined with ill-key riffs that make the bars sound tougher.

Watch Your Step – The Representativz (Supreme The Eloheem and Lidu Rock) show up for the first time on For The People. The two emcees take turns punching at the string-laden backdrop while Lidu Rock’s big brother, Rock, and Louieville Sluggah take care of hook duties. I wasn’t crazy about this one, but still, a decent record.

Illa Noyz – Illa Noyz is the little brother to Sean Price, aka Ruck, and one of the lesser-known members of the BCC. Based on the song title, you’d think this would be an Illa Noyz solo record, but big bro and his partner in crime, Rock, bogart their way onto the track, which ends up being a blessing. Illa Noyz sounds decent on the mic, but Ruck and Rock were much more seasoned at this emcee thing, and they sound great rhyming over the odd bass line and quirky synth chords.

Rag Time – Ragtime is a heavily piano-driven musical style popular in the States in the early 1900s (if you need a reference point, Google Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer.” It’s probably the most recognizable rag record). On this record, Steele, Mada Rocka, Buckshot, and LS attempt to revive the genre and fail, epically. It’s not their fault, as all four put their best foot (or feet) forward. But there’s only so much you can do with the drab backing music that Boogie Brown provides on this track.

Blackout – This one is dedicated to the art of getting so high and drunk that you blackout. BJ Swan, Rock, Starang, Louieville, Supreme, Steele, and Illa Noyz are the participants in this low vibrational affair that did nothing for me.

Ohkeedoke – This record features MS (short for Man Slaughter, not multiple sclerosis), Starang, and Tek getting their tough guy rah-rah on and letting all opposition know they’re not for play-play. Starang takes what sounds like a subtle shot at Ice Cube during his last verse (“Niggas say, “Starang smooth,” just like ice without cubes, I’m nice without dude, on my muthafuckin’ track), which left me wondering where the potential beef stemmed from. All three emcees spit quality verses, but EZ Elpee’s militant bass line, paired with tribal drums, sounds phenomenal. This is definitely one of the highlights of For The People.

Rugged Terrain – Top Dog, Twanie Ranks, and Smif-N-Wessun use this rugged terrain to get off their dancehall shit. Unless something thick is whining her body to it, I never need to hear this song again.

The Dugout – Louisville Sluggah gets the first and only solo record on For The People with this one (Illa Noyz made us believe his eponymous record earlier in the sequencing was a solo joint until Heltah Skeltah showed up on it). Louieville slings his Shakespearean-esque cadenced rhymes all over the slow rolling but very hard instrumental that makes me one to do the Biz Dance. Clever song title and Buckshot’s flip of Richard Berry’s “Louie Louie” for the hook was catchy.

Go For Yours – I’ll be honest with y’all. This song is the first time I’ve ever heard of The B.T.J.’s. The three-man crew, comprised of D. Real, El Sha, and Lil Knock, get blessed with a delectable instrumental, courtesy of Shawn J. Period, that sounds like melodic drops of audio manna falling from heaven.

Likkle Youth Man Dem (Bonus Track) – Tek-N-Steele share their perspective as the seasoned O.G.s dropping gems on the young boys, O.G.C., who rebuttal their mentors’ wisdom from the youth’s point of view. I enjoyed their exchange, but it’s the warm Caribbean vibes in the Buckshot/Boogie Brown-produced instrumental that make this a bonafide feel-good groove.

Last Time – BCC closes For The People with a contrived song of encouragement. Buckshot, BJ Swan, and Steele each get off a verse sharing their struggles and disappointments, vowing to never go through either again, which is completely detached from reality, but whatever. A group called FLOW harmonizes on the hook over cute guitar plucks and tender strings that all sound way too soft for Buckshot and Steele to rap over. The album ends with one last fan voicemail from a dude who claims to be “the nicest nigga in Nebraska” and clearly thinks Sean Price is the nicest member in the BCC.

I’ll be honest. During my first few listens to For The People, I missed Da Beatminerz’s rugged production that soundtracked some of my favorite records on Enta Da Stage, Dah Shinin’, and some of the records they produced for the rest of the Clik. But the more I listened to the album, I began to appreciate the new direction they were taking things sonically. A handful of the instrumentals on For The People fall flat on their faces, but a sizable chunk of the production works. The music is more layered, cleaner, and includes more live instrumentation and singing than BCC fans may have been accustomed to, but it still maintains some of the grime and grit that came with Da Beatminerz’s dusty boom-bap sound. The subtle musical changes feel more like natural evolution than chasing the current trends and waves of time.

The music may have changed a bit, but Buckshot and the team keep the content hardcore and raw for the most part. Buckshot doesn’t sound nearly as impressive as he did on Enta Da Stage (or the more recent 60 Minutes Of Funk two-piece, “No Joke/Follow Me”), but he, Heltah Skeltah, and Smif-N-Wessun make sure to maintain the lyrical integrity that the Boot Camp brand is known for. Even the B and C-tier BCC soldiers put their best feet forward, some faring better than others, but none embarrass themselves.

When the conversation of legendary crews comes up, you often hear the same names mentioned: Juice Crew. N.W.A. Hit Squad. Native Tongue. Wu-Tang Clan. Death Row. Bad Boy. You rarely hear Boot Camp Clik’s name mentioned in the discussion, and there might be some merit to that. None of the BCC groups have had great commercial success or massive hit records that crossed over to a pop audience. I don’t think that was ever their goal. The BCC might not be a top-tier hip-hop collective, but they’ve gained the respect of their peers and the heads, aka the people, and that’s who they do it for. For The People is far from classic, but there’s enough entertaining material to make it a worthy listen.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

Delbert Harris grew up in Houston’s 5th Ward in the eighties, which was notoriously known for its crime and violence. During his high school years, he witnessed some of the violence firsthand when a friend of his was turned into human Swiss cheese by buckshots from a sawed-off shotgun. As he grew, Delbert would become a product of his environment, taking on the occupation of street pharmacist. But even while peddling drugs, he continued to pursue his dream of becoming a rapper. In 1991, he signed to a small independent label, Dead Game Records, where he released his debut project. Around the same time, his conscience began to work on him as he became convicted about his lifestyle. He went to church with a friend, which would end up being his Damascus Road experience. Delbert would give up secular rap, begin to pray and fast, and over time, started rapping for Jesus under the alias of Lil’ Raskull.

Lil’ Raskull would sign with the Houston-based Christian hip-hop label, Grapetree Records, which I often refer to as the Christian version of No Limit Records due to its tendency to sign southern acts and use incredibly cheesy album cover artwork. He released his debut Christian album, Controverse All-Star (which might be the cheesiest album cover of all his Grapetree releases), in 1996, following it up in ’97 with the subject of today’s post, Cross Bearing.

Like No Limit Records’ artists, I wasn’t a fan of most of the artists on Grapetree, either. The combination of elementary rhyming styles and corny synth-heavy instrumentals that most possessed didn’t appeal to me. I don’t remember who or what put me on to Lil’ Raskull, but somehow, in the late nineties/early 2000s, I started buying and listening to his catalog. One thing I know for sure. It wasn’t the album cover that pulled me in.

Intro – The album begins with a soothing little diddly that sounds like the perfect background music for getting a stone massage from a beautiful tender thang. The music is quite the contrast to the dialogue, which features a young lady claiming to be reporting live from Golgotha (the place where Jesus was crucified), and how Lil’ Raskull has returned to the horrific site an attempt to bear his cross, hence the album title. “Keep him in prayer, saints.”

Ashes To Dust – After thirty seconds of airy synth chords playing, Lil’ Raskull begins the record with a prayer asking “Father God” to send Satan, his imps, and every spirit that is not of God back to the pits of hell. Ironically, his prayer is backed by a supremely demonic-sounding bass line and tormented drums. Raskull goes on to rap about Jesus being his Savior, his haters that persecute him for his faith, Satan’s plot to get souls to burn eternally in a lake of fire, and quotes a few scriptures. During his second verse, Ras gets vulnerable, discussing the molestation he experienced as a kid: “Smokin’ weed, steady drinkin’ just to cover the pain/incident since I was young had me livin’ in shame/Why was I another victim being touched as a kid?/Did the Father hate the Ras or was it something I did?/A livin’ hell, but I won’t tell, I’ll just keep it inside/deny the demon that was with me was along for the ride.” Kudos to Ras for his vulnerability on this track, and I liked the hard, aggressively dark feel of the instrumental. The hook (which consists of a stereotypical demonic voice repeating the song title and Courtney “C-Note” Rutherford singing: “Don’t you know where you go, you will stay?”) was almost annoying enough to derail the entire song, though.

Wonder Years – Depending on who you’re talking to, the “wonder years” can mean a few different things besides being the name of an incredible TV show in the late eighties. Ras uses the term to talk about all the sins people commit before and during their walk with Jesus and reminds them during the hook that “If you stumble in the rumble don’t give up the fight, remember Jesus is the way, he’s the truth, and the light.” I like his message, but the grace he grants on the hook gets contradicted by the judgment he dishes out in some of his rhymes: “Sodom, Gomorrah, is fair for you to dress like whore, trick a condom, havin’ sex is what your marriage is for…Too many homies fall in love with the money they got, too many hoochies chasin’ Gucci trade they body like stock.” Despite Ras’ rivaling rhetoric, I enjoyed this record, mainly for the vibrantly crisp drums and that infectious bassline. Shout out to Kevin Arnold.

Good Life – When it comes to late eighties-early nineties R&B, Al B. Sure! is severely underappreciated. His catalog may not be as deep as others from that same era, but he and Kyle West were responsible for a healthy batch of incredible grooves I will forever cherish. Yoggie samples Al B’s “Naturally Mine” and turns it into an epically emotional backdrop for Ras to get off his version of one of King David’s Psalms. After kicking things off by speaking in tongues (heathens, please refer to the second chapter of Acts), Ras lets the listener sit on his conversation with God as he gets honest, discussing his pain, doubts, and struggles and openly wrestles with his faith (“Although I cry sometimes/can I/be the man you called me to be/will I/be the one that makes a difference in this land/and lead another from the state which I was in”). This is one of my favorite joints on the album.

Potter’s Vessel – Raskull invites his labelmate, Nuwine, to join him on this track. Nuwine (whose sound was definitely influenced by Tupac) and Ras both share parts of their testimony, but their main objective (like much of the album) is to get the listener “born again.” Roc A backs the duo with a hard instrumental equipped with a buzzing trunk-rattling bass line that is sure to get your head noddin’. This is the song that I imagine is playing in the drop-top on Clipse’s Lord Willin’ album cover.

Only Voice – This one pretty much covers the same territory as “Good Life,” but this time over a somber loop from Kool & The Gang’s “Summer Madness.” Despite the redundant content (“Nappy-headed walkin’ on the back of my shoes” sounds crazy), I enjoyed this one, mainly for the soulful vibes in the instrumental.

Cross Bearing – The title track finds Lil’ Raskull having a “Take this cup” moment with God (for all you heathens, see Luke 22:42 to make sense of that reference). His struggle is backed by hard 808s and a cool jazz horn loop that gives the track a darkly tinted, leery feeling.

Wolf Tickets – The term “wolf tickets” has a few different meanings. As kids, we used it to describe when a kid talked tough but wasn’t willing to back up his tough talk with action. Ras uses the term to describe counterfeit tickets. In this case, the tickets are being sold by false prophets and other religious leaders whose doctrine conflicts with the Bible. Other than the sassy horn loop laced throughout the instrumental (that reminds me of the horn loop used in the instrumental for Jay-Z’s “Friend Or Foe,” and coincidently (or deliberately), Ras uses the phrase “friend or foe” in the song’s hook), I didn’t like this record.

Necessary Murder – Lil’ Raskull uses each of the song’s three verses to lay out a different tale of murder. Verse one outlines the world’s first murder: Cain slaying his brother, Abel. In verse two, Ras talks about his daily struggle to kill his flesh, and the last verse details the crucifixion of Jesus, the ultimate necessary murder. Ras doesn’t sound great in his verses, but I appreciate his effort in using a different angle to get his “come to Jesus” agenda off. The drums in the instrumental were flat, but I enjoyed the slick wah-wah guitar licks (courtesy of Yoggie) that give seventies blaxploitation energy.

Twisted – No, this is not a remix of Keith Sweat’s 1996 bop. Ras isn’t crooning (or whining) about some woman who’s got him messed up. He’s talking about the people who chose not to follow God, and like much of the album, he takes a few detours from the subject at hand along the way. I wasn’t impressed with Ras’ bars, but Yoggie’s instrumentation was entertaining. His bass guitar provides the track with a deep groove, and those wild guitar solos at the end of the record were dope as hell. Or heaven.

The Door Is Open – Sappy/melancholic chords and a few singing voices (Ter’ell and Sheree Smith) set the mood for Lil’ Raskull’s three-and-a-half-minute alter call.

Old Sunday School – Cute song title. Blaq Gold (great alias, by the way) reinterprets the “Message” instrumental, throwing some well-placed synth chords and a buzzing bass line on it, giving it a cleaner, more smoothed-out feel. This is the most comfortable Ras has sounded on the mic, as he finds his pocket and stays in that thing like two quarters, three dimes, and a nickel. This is one of my favorite records on Cross Bearing, and it makes for great roller-skating music.

Heaven’s Delight – Sticking with the original school hip-hop theme, this one remixes the song title and makes a couple of alterations to the instrumental from “Rapper’s Delight.” Sorry, y’all, but this was corny. That’s all I got.

Will I Ever Fly? – Ras wraps Cross Bearing, giving thanks and reverence to his Saviour, but he also uses the song to acknowledge his shortcomings and asks God for grace while he continues to grow: “Sometimes I wonder, when it thunder, is that God upset? Or when it rain, do that be angel tears that’s gettin’ us wet? ‘Cause we so filthy livin’, guilty, so much sin involved, for Jesus Christ to save a man, you know he had to be God.” Our host’s bars are accompanied by soft and somber R&B-esque instrumentation (which includes lush string chords and Yoggie on bass guitar) and the soft vocals of Kim Robinson on the hook, desperately asking God to help her correct her blemishes. I like hearing from woeful Ras. This is a good record for a Christian to listen to after remorsefully falling from grace, aka sinning.

During my previous post on Heaven’s Mentality, I talked about The Cross Movement being talented emcees with sharp lyrical ability. Yet, their holier-than-thou image and refusal to share anything personal in their music made their message harder to receive and left me questioning who they really are. Lil’ Raskull is their polar opposite.

Lil’ Raskull is not the sharpest lyricist, nor does he have the other traditional technical attributes that most of my favorite rappers come with, but the boy has heart. On Cross Bearing, Ras lays everything on the table, sharing some of his childhood traumas, dramas, and shortcomings, balanced with him openly grappling with his own adequacy and faith while simultaneously trying to get all listeners to come to Jesus. Yes, he does occasionally get into his self-righteous bag, but with all the other layers of him actively on display on the album, his sporadic smugness gets balanced out. The production on Cross Bearing isn’t perfect, but I enjoyed most of it, and it helps Ras’ unorthodox rudimentary rhyming style stand out more.

I’m fully aware that Lil’ Raskull’s music isn’t for the masses, and so is he. During “One Voice,” he raps: “They laughing at the Ras like they did Noah, but when God floods the city with flames, then it will show that maybe it was something to the words that he spoke, maybe it was something to the things that he wrote.” Only time will tell if Ras is a modern-day Noah, but it doesn’t take the world’s end to appreciate him baring his soul while he bears his cross.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

Lecrae is easily the most successful Christian hip-hop artist of all time. The Houston-born and bred emcee, to date, has eleven albums under his belt, two of which have earned him gold plaques to go along with his handful of gold and platinum singles. In 2013, he became the only hip-hop artist to win a Grammy for Best Gospel Album, and years later, he would add another four Grammys to his collection. You can often catch him breaking bread with Sway on Sway In The Morning or choppin’ it up with Charlamagne Tha God and DJ Envy on The Breakfast Club (he even earned a mention on Kendrick Lamar’s latest record, “Watch The Party Die”). His success and notoriety are pretty impressive, and at this point, I’d say it’s fair to put him in the same category as Kirk Franklin. But if it wasn’t for the subject of today’s post, Lecrae’s career may have never taken off.

You can trace Christian hip-hop’s roots back to the early eighties. MC Sweet released the subgenre’s first single with a record called “Jesus Christ (The Gospel Beat)” in 1982, and in1986, Stephen Wiley released the first full-length Christian hip-hop album, called Bible Break (legend has it that Wiley is also the hand that wrote Kurtis Blow’s 1984 hit single “Basketball,” though his name is not listed in the record’s credits, so believe what you chose to). The late eighties and early nineties saw groups like SFC, T-Bone, Gospel Gangstaz, Dynamic Twins, and Tunnel Rats continue to grow the movement. The movement continued to build momentum into the late nineties, thanks partially to a Philadelphia-based collective known as The Cross Movement. The crew was composed of The Ambassador, Phanatik, Enoch (rip), True Life, Cruz Cordero, and the duo, The Gift (the emcee, The Tonic, and the DJ/producer, Earthquake). They were individual artists but joined forces to create their own label, Cross Movement Records, which would later put Lecrae’s first two albums out. The label’s inaugural release would be the group’s debut album, Heaven’s Mentality.

On the back of the CD booklet, it reads: Heaven’s Mentality advertises and promotes the person and program of the forgotten God (at the bottom of that page, it lists the full Cross Movement roster, which includes someone going by the alias of Prodigy. He must have fallen by the wayside shortly after Heaven’s Mentality was released because I’ve never heard him rap on a Cross Movement record or seen his name on a production credit). The album mainly hones in on The Ambassador, The Gift, and Phanatik, with production coming from The Ambassador, Earthquake, and True Life.

It’s been a minute since I listened to this album. So, without further ado, let’s get into the mentality of heaven, or at least what The Cross Movement perceived its mentality to be.

Blood Spilla’ – The album begins with a little jazzy elevator music and the de facto leader of the team, The Ambassador, eloquently telling the listeners who the Cross Movement is and what their mission is. Then a bass line loop, stuck somewhere between twangy and weary, comes in over a drowsy drum beat, all courtesy of The Ambassador. He uses his production to boast about the sovereignty of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and challenges those who don’t believe that Jesus is the son of God, aka the Blood Spilla’, to prove him wrong and have their God show his face: “Did is blood leak? Does your God love me? Will he still propose even though I get ugly? Can he turn trouble to ease? Can his love make me weak in the knees like SWV? If he can take the sins of the whole world, swallow ‘em, experience death, then resurrect, then I’ll follow him, but if he can’t, then I’m staying with my champ.” The instrumental is cool, though severely in need of a better mix, but there’s no denying that The Ambassador can really rap.

Test It – The Ambassador is joined by The Tonic and Phanatik as the trio proudly asks all to put their spiritual beliefs on the table for truth testing: “If it’s blessed, then come manifest it, bring it down, let’s test it.” All three emcees articulate themselves well and spit sound bars, but only time (or death?) will prove whose theory is right or wrong. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the jazzy horn loop and the ill organ sample in the instrumental.

Father Forgive Them – The premise of this record comes from the book of Luke Chapter 23:34, where Jesus is being crucified and cries out, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do,” which is also part of the song’s hook. The Ambassador and Phanatik take turns discussing those who deny Jesus and willingly continue to live in sin despite his sacrificial work on the cross: “But once again the sons of men have formed a pact, another culture without God is on the map, Lord, I apologize for all the guys, who go one way when you clearly say otherwise, Father forgive them for they don’t know your plan, who can stop your motion or even slow your plan?” The duo’s content sounds a little self-righteous, but not enough to make me abandon the song altogether.” The Ambassador soundtracks the saga with somber chords that will move and reinforce the belief of believers and possibly change the hearts of those who don’t.

Who’s Da Man – Even Christian rappers forget to use proper punctuation in their song titles. For his first solo joint of the night, Phanatik uses Earthquake’s triumphant-sounding backdrop to speak on God’s omnipotence and unyielding supremacy. When I first heard this album decades ago, I wasn’t sold on Phanatik, mainly because I felt his voice was too meek and monotone. But the more I listened, the more I looked past his voice and started appreciating how sharp he was lyrically, along with the neatness of his bars and the sage-like quality he delivered them with. With all that said, this is one of my least favorite records on the album. The awkward drums sound weird paired with the string loop, and Phanatik sounds like he’s chasing the beat, always a step behind it.

Catch 22 – The Gift gets their first solo record on Heaven’s Mentality with this one, and boy, it’s a doozy. Earthquake sets the dark tone with a raw backdrop lined with dusty drums, a fuzzy, disgruntled bassline, and a spooky female vocal sample. The first three verses are powerfully gripping, as The Tonic raps from the perspective of a young boy, born a crack baby, who ends up getting molested by his stepfather. Oh, did I mention his stepfather’s a preacher? All of his trauma leads the young man to attempt suicide. Apparently, he survives the attempt, as The Tonic uses the final verse to preach at him instead of offering up practical remedies (like a mixture of prayer and therapy) to deal with his trauma.

Heaven’s Mentality – The Ambassador takes care of the title track by himself. It begins with him sharing a few words about Christ and the Bible. Then energized drums, a sick vibraphone loop, and boisterous string chords drop as The Ambassador discusses adapting God’s point of view on all things. It left me with questions, but it still makes for a solid record. Before the next track begins, a short interlude plays of The Ambassador and The Tonic witnessing on the streets to let the listeners know they’re for real about this Jesus thing. Weird flex, but whatever.

Dust – “All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again” (Ecclesiastes 3:20). The previous scripture pretty much sums up Phanatik’s content on his second dolo joint. What a humbling perspective to have. And Earthquake’s lo-fi boom-bap has a rawness that captures the essence of Phanatik’s bars.

Shock! – It’s The Gift’s turn again. Earthquake maestro’s the affair with a beautifully cold piano loop placed over staticky drums. The Tonic gets a little fire and brimstoney as he talks about the shock some will experience after they die: “Cause contraire to care, God won’t be mocked, so in your Glock lingo, the hammer is cocked, if the armored Christ vest, breastplate ain’t there to block, prepare for the drama that comes with the…uuh!” Are you prepared?

Lower Case Gods – The Ambassador’s final solo record has a lot of the same energy and content as the title track. The horn loops laced throughout the instrumental are crazy, though.

El Elyon – After a short poetic mini-sermon from The Ambassador, Phanatik uses his last dolo joint of the night to create a grimy hip-hop praise and worship record (El Elyon is a Hebrew term for “God Most High”). This was dope.

Solo Christo – This is The Gift’s third and final solo record of the evening, well, kind of. The Ambassador pops up to get off half a verse, but other than that, it’s The Tonic rhyming about the only hero you need in this life. I bet you can’t figure out who he’s talking about. Earthquake comes through in the clutch again, with a smooth backdrop suitable to throw on when you have a little driving to do. Nice record.

Cypha’ Time – If you’re a Cross Movement fan, then you already know that each of Cross Movement’s five albums has a “Cypha” record, where they invite the extended crew to join in on the lyrical fellowship. This time, Enoch, True Life, and Cruz Cordero join The Ambassador, The Tonic, and Phanatik as they get their “Christian Wu-Tang” on for this holy cipher session. Each man holds their own over Earthquake’s rugged instrumental.

The Love Letter (Bonus Track) – Heaven’s Mentality ends with a soothing piano loop over flat drums as The Ambassador, Phanatik, and The Tonic take turns reading a letter they collectively wrote to God to thank him for all his grace, lovingkindness, and tender mercy. This record did nothing for me, but I did enjoy the chilled piano chords.

If you harken back to my write-up of LPG’s The Earth Worm, during my closing thoughts, I mentioned that when it comes to Christian rap, there are two kinds of emcees. There are emcees like LPG, who are rappers who happen to be Christian, and then there are emcees like The Cross Movement: Christian rappers, period.

On Heaven’s Mentality, The Cross Movement has one goal: To uplift the name of Jesus Christ and make believers of all men. You won’t hear them brag about their worldly possessions or boast about their lyrical prowess. There are no raps about baggin’ ladies or claiming to own some imaginary crown. The only bragging or boasting you’ll hear them do is about Jesus and the crown of thorns he wore during his crucifixion. The Ambassador, The Tonic, and Phanatik do a quality job presenting biblical scripture and theology through a hip-hop lens, backed by entertaining instrumentals that give the album a consistently raw feel. Now, allow me to double back to the LPG comparison for a moment.

Emcees who happen to be Christian tend to be more well-rounded artists than Christian emcees. Artists like Tunnel Rats, Sup The Chemist, and Pigeon John proudly professed their faith on wax but were also willing to get vulnerable and discuss their joys, pains, and struggles, which humanized them, making them and their message more relatable to the listener. That’s not The Cross Movement’s forte. On “Catch 22,” The Tonic does venture into vulnerable territory when he paints the picture from the perspective of a tormented young man who attempts suicide. But other than that moment, he, The Ambassador, and Phanatik never leave the pulpit on Heaven’s Mentality. They keep their personal shields up, sounding like theological robots in clergy collars without hearts or empathy for mankind.

It’s hard to believe it’s been almost thirty years since Heaven’s Mentality came out, but it’s aged fairly well. The beats still bang, and the bars, even though they come with a heavy dosage of self-righteousness, have maintained their potency. Heaven’s Mentality is a great listen for those already a part of the body of Christ or people just interested in biblical scripture. Yet, their holy-than-thou persona and arm’s length disposition might not make for the best witnessing tool to the non-believer.

-Deedub

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Sometime during the late eighties, hip-hop music started to transform from being a good-spirited, fun, party-fueled genre to more of a thugged-out gangsta art form. With the emergence of artists like Ice-T and groups like N.W.A. finding commercial success and bringing the record labels tons of money, the floodgates were opening for labels to continue to cash in on the new-found subgenre. The next decade would produce a slew of rappers building on the drug-dealing-violent themes started by the O.G.s. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed some of it. But much of it consisted of copycats with no artistic value or individuality. Thankfully, there have always been those who go against the status quo. Heavy D was one of them.

Since 1987, Heavy D & The Boyz have been known for their radio-friendly bops and positive image. No talk of guns, murder, and drugs in their music, just light-hearted content with sprinkles of consciousness and a strong focus on lovin’ the ladies. By 1997, Heavy D & The Boyz had five albums under their belts. Together, the four-man team (Heavy D, DJ Eddie F, and dancers Trouble T. Roy and G-Whiz) experienced success and loss. In 1990, Trouble T Roy passed away after falling from a parking ramp (he would be the muse for the group’s 1991 album, Peaceful Journey, and the inspiration behind Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth’s classic record, “They Reminisce Over You”). After T Roy’s passing, the group released three more albums, with Nuttin But Love being the last in 1994. Eddie F would continue to produce and A&R for others, G-Whiz would…continue to dance, and Heavy would continue to make music.

Waterbed Hev is the official solo debut album by Heavy D. With Eddie F out of the picture, Hev would co-produce most of the album under the overseeing of Tony Dofat. Fueled by two singles, Waterbed Hev was not as successful as Nuttin’ But Love, but it would still earn Hev a gold plaque, adding to his understated, impressive commercial resume.

Waterbed Hev is another first listen for me. I’ve always loved the Blue Funk album, Nuttin’ But Love was a pleasant surprise, and hopefully, Waterbed Hev goes well.

Continue to rest easy, Hev.

Big Daddy – Things jump off with a twenty-second conga drum solo that our host declares as “just an interlude.” Then warm and luscious R&B chords consume the atmosphere and set the mood for the overweight lover to overweight love (or lust). Hev spits three verses filled with run-of-the-mill lines of female flattery (apparently, Hev thought the “the genuine and you fine, vision you like dollar signs” line was dope enough to say twice in the same verse, and his “Creepin’ through your room late at night” line sounded more predatory than sexy) and Keanna Henson adds her silky vocals to the hook, enticing Hev to continue with his lover man antics. With all its contrived energy, this is still an enjoyable record and a great choice for the lead single.

Keep It Comin – Over a sample of The Gap Band’s “Yearning For Your Love,” Hev does the same thing that he did on “Big Daddy.” He just switches out Keanna Henson for Nicole Johnson on the hook.

You Can Get It – Mr. Cheeks is an early candidate for cameo whore of ‘97, as he makes yet another one on this track (I wonder if I should include Freaky Tah in the equation since he adds his signature adlibs to all of Cheeks’ cameos. Tandem whores). He joins Hev and Hev’s singing mentees, Soul For Real, for this polished lady lovin’ rap/R&B groove, built around a flip of one of the most amazing basslines, Keni Burke’s “Risin’ To The Top.” I didn’t care much for this one, but the woman Hev describes during his first verse with the “body all lumped up and milkshake thick” sounds like quite the eye candy.

Waterbed Hev – This is a fly love song. The title track samples a sexy Patrice Rushen guitar riff, and the lovely Ms. Vinia Mojica (who I first heard on A Tribe Called Quest’s “Verses From The Abstract” (Tribes Degrees of Separation: check. It’s been a long time since I typed those words)) adds her soothing vocals to the hook. Hev continues with his waterbed stunts, sounding more convincing on this one than on other tracks.

Shake It – The congas we heard during the intro briefly return. Then Tony Dofat and ‘em (’em, being Heavy, Quell, and Med) put together a futuristic-electro instrumental created strictly to get freakazoid robots and human asses on the dance floor. It sounds like something will.i.am would have made ten years later. I wouldn’t have liked this back in ‘97, and I don’t know if I necessarily like it in 2024, but at the very least, it’s intriguing.

I’ll Do Anything – James Brown is undisputedly the most sampled artist in hip-hop, and I’m sure Issac Hayes and Barry White aren’t far behind him, but Hall and Oates might be the most sampled white artists in hip-hop history. Dofat borrows from the duo’s classic “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do),” while April and Sheree of ASK ME spread their lovely vocals over the pristine track like peanut butter and jelly. Meanwhile, Hev continues to Hev.

Don’t Be Afraid – Dofat builds this instrumental around the infectious and very familiar bassline from Le Pamplemousse’s “Gimmie What You Got,” which is a great choice if you’re looking to make a banger with bounce. For the first time this evening, Hev invites a male vocalist to sing on the hook. Big Bub (now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Much respect to Today) does the honors, while Hev finds the perfect pocket with his flow and attacks the track with swag and personality that outshines the instrumental.

Justa’ Interlude – The conga solo that has already cameoed a few times on Waterbed Hev pops up again. But this time, the production team puts claps underneath it, and Hev uses it to get off a quick sixteen, and for the first time, he doesn’t tailor it to please the ladies.

Can You Handle It – Now, this is a collaboration I never saw coming. Clean image, Heavy D links up with the West Coast gangstas, Daz and Kurupt, aka Tha Dogg Pound. Hev also invites McGruff to the cipher, introducing him to a mainstream audience (McGruff (formerly Herb McGruff) was a part of the Harlem-based group Children Of The Corn, which included Big L, Cam’ron, and Mase). The foursome takes turns rhyming over a reinterpretation of EPMD’s “You’re A Customer” instrumental while Big Bub borrows Tony! Toni! Tone!’s “Anniversary” harmony for the hook. Daz and Kurupt’s influence must have rubbed off on Hev as he talks about “peelin’ caps” at one point during the song, which has to be the most gangsta thing he has said in his entire rap career. Overall, this was a decent record.

Wanna Be A Player – McGruff meanders over from the previous track to jump on this one and joins Hev in spittin’ generic game at the dames. The hook is embarrassingly bad, and the stripped-down backdrop (that desecrates the legendary drums from “Sucker MCs”) sounds incredibly dry and empty.

Get Fresh Hev – Sticking with the stripped-down production sound, Heavy relies solely on a beatbox to impress the ladies on this one. He also spits what may be the corniest sex line in the history of rap: “Here’s what I like, 138, that’s 69 twice in one night, who’s jiggy? Hev Diggy, no question.” Nothing to see here, folks.

Big Daddy (Remix) – Heavy closes Waterbed Hev with a remix of the lead single. Gone are the lush R&B chord progressions from the O.G. mix. Dofat strips the backing music down to a rumbling bassline and borrows the lively drum claps from Soul II Soul’s “Back To Life” (Keanna Henson also borrows some of Caron Wheeler’s lyrics and harmony from the same song for the hook). Our always-confident host corrals the beat and places it in submission while McGruff spits a decent verse that doesn’t add much value to the song. Nevertheless, it’s a fire remix and a great way to end the album.

Long before Biggie would lean into his Big Poppa persona, or Prince Markie Dee would assume the role of Love Daddy, Heavy D had established his place as the Overweight Lover. Except for Drake, no other rapper has been as consistent and successful at making radio-accessible records to appeal to the female fanbase as Heavy D. On Waterbed Hev the O.L. continues to focus on the ladies. However, he fails to make any new waves.

Heavy D has never been a lyrical miracle emcee. Still, the mixture of his baritone voice and undeniable flow, along with his unbreakable confidence and charisma, has not only made women adore his music but has earned him the respect of the hip-hop male population, even when his music doesn’t have them in mind. Those attributes continue to shine through on Waterbed Hev, but Hev’s standard musical formula seems disrupted by the production.

That’s not to say that the production on Waterbed Hev is horrible. On the first half of the album, Tony Dofat and Hev string together squeaky-clean instrumentals lined with alluring harmonies, but all the samples are rehashed material that has been way overused or flipped and put to better use by other artists (with the title track being the exception). The last half of the album finds Hev rhyming over experimental and more stripped-down instrumentals that use uncreative reworks of overly familiar elements that might pass when heard on a dance floor but not so much when you’re listening in the comfort of your home. And as much as I appreciate and respect Hev’s emcee ability, halfway through the album, I was hoping he’d move away from the cliche pick-up lines to something more intriguing. He never does.

Even with its issues, Waterbed Hev isn’t a bad project; it’s just not as entertaining as his previous few albums. But I’m not the target demo that Hev intended to enjoy his waterbed, so who cares what I think?

-Deedub

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The last time we checked in on our New Jersey friends Artifacts was on their 1994 debut album Between A Rock And A Hard Place. The album produced three underground hits and despite its unimpressive sales numbers, received mostly positive reviews and became a backpackers’ cult classic. While I usually share the backpackers’ point of view, Between A Rock is one that I couldn’t agree with them on. The album did have a few dope joints, but too much mediocrity on it to be called classic. Nevertheless, Tame One, El Da Sensai, and DJ Kaos would return in 1997 to release their sophomore effort, simply titled That’s Them.

On Between A Rock, Artifacts leaned heavily on Buckwild and T-Ray to sculpt the album’s soundscape. For That’s Them, they’d lean on the hand of Shawn J Period to produce a large chunk of the album and received contributions from a handful of other producers, including Mr. Walt, Baby Paul, V.I.C., Lord Finesse, and Showbiz. The album spawned two singles that didn’t make much noise, as the album would perform just as well commercially as their debut.

Shortly after the release of That’s Them, Artifacts disbanded as Tame and El explored their solo careers, each releasing several projects on independent labels over the next decade. They would reunite in 2013, and twenty-five years after releasing That’s Them, they would put out new music as a group in 2022 with the Buckwild-produced album No Expiration Date. Sadly, DJ Kaos would not be a part of the project as he passed in 2019, and Tame One would transition just days after the album was released. Rest in peace to both of those gentlemen.

That’s Them is another album I bought used years ago, and this review is my first time listening to it in its entirety. Hopefully, it fairs better than their debut.

Art Of Scratch – The album begins with a smooth backdrop, coded with hovering celestial voices, while DJ Kaos introduces Artifacts via scratches, hence the song title. Daddy Rich must have played an integral part in sparking the Artifacts career, as he received a few shoutouts on Between A Rock And A Hard Place and gets a few more scratched in ones during this intro.

Art Of Facts – Shawn J Period builds this instrumental on a sturdy xylophone (esque?) sample and a loop of a drunken but soulful male voice laid over brolic drums. The duo uses the quality backdrop to exchange competent battle bars, which includes some random TMI from Tame One (apparently, he likes to fuck with his boots on. Weird, but whatever floats your boat, pal). Clever song title that I’m surprised took them two albums to use.

31 Bumrush – Artifacts keeps the battle spirit alive as they take turns spittin’ several short verses, breaking things up a couple of times during this three-and-a-half-minute rhyming affair with a semi-catchy hook. I have no idea what “31 Bumrush” means (it must be an inside thing), but I thoroughly enjoyed the rugged drums and the zany horn loop used in Shawn J’s instrumental.

To Ya Chest – Tame and El continue to engage in verbal combat, this time over a mystic and gloomy canvas. I wasn’t crazy about this one initially, but it grows on me the more I listen to it. The instrumental sounds like a third (maybe fourth?) autistic cousin to Premo’s production work on Jeru The Damaja’s “Come Clean.”

Where Yo Skillz At? – The Artifacts spit more moderately dope battle raps over bland boom bap, adding a hook that only exists out of necessity.

Collaboration Of Mics – Tame and El join forces with two Lords (Lord Jamar and Lord Finesse) for this generically titled four-man cipher session. Finesse soundtracks the affair with crispy drums and a bluesy loop that doesn’t sound spectacular, but it will still make you nod your head somewhat. All four emcees make decent contributions (I was expecting Lord Finesse to shine brighter than the other three), but overall, this collaboration sounded very vanilla.

The Ultimate – This was the second single released from That’s Them and the only record I was familiar with going into this review. Baby Paul (formerly of the Beatminerz production team) serves the duo with soulful boom bap, and the Artifacts bless the track efficiently. All these years later, this record still feels good.

It’s Gettin’ Hot – Sticking with the Beatminerz theme, Mr. Walt gets his sole production credit of the evening with this tender composition and its brittle melody. And our hosts continue to do what they’ve done for the majority of the album to this point. Moving on…

This Is Da Way – V.I.C. laces this track with an amazing, gully bass guitar loop, accompanied by rugged drums and a well-played vocal snippet from Run DMC’s “Rock The House.” I believe El and Tame rap over it, but the brilliant instrumental seems to leave me under hypnosis whenever I hear it.

The Interview – The song title had me believing Tame and El were going to use V.I.C.’s creamy instrumental (that sounds like something The Ummah could have produced) to rap out an interview, but they don’t. They give us more of the same, but they sound sharper than normal, rapping over what might be my favorite instrumental on the album.

Break It Down – Deceitful chimes and a grumpy bass line meet solid bars, culminating in quality filler.

Skwad Training – Based on the song’s intro, where some dude gives a tutorial on “Boom Skwad Blunt Rolling Technique, 314,” I thought this would be a record about smoking weed (which was almost mandatory for a hip-hop album in the nineties). But just like they did with “The Interview,” the Artifacts completely abandon the topic at hand, continuing with their barrage of battle raps. At least the random dude from the intro stays on task between Tame and El’s verses.

Ingredients To Time Travel – Another great song title. El Da Sensai sits this one out, and Tame One opens the record with what are probably my favorite bars on the entire album: “If I had it my way, every wack emcee would die Friday, makin’ Saturday a better day, Sunday wouldn’t start your week off ‘til Monday, one day tunes I wrote yesterday, will be tomorrow’s scriptures for today.” Tame and someone with the alias of Gruff Rhino (who shares a few closing words as the song ends) match his off-kilter bars with an oddball bassy instrumental that meets somewhere between lackadaisical and heavenly. Dope record and the inclusion of Redman’s “Funky Uncles” in the track was both hilarious and genius.

Return To Da Wrongside – Like “Wrong Side Of Da Track” from their debut album, Artifacts dedicates this one to the art of tagging (aka graffiti). Shawn J backs the rhymes with a twangy guitar riff and a sample that reminds me of some Inspector Gadget-type shit as the duo discusses their love for tagging and get into some of the politics surrounding the art form. I like this one, and it was refreshing to hear them venture away from their battle raps for a moment.

Who’s This? – Shawn J cooks up what is probably his strongest instrumental of the evening, combining chill drums, a gully horn loop, and a somber guitar riff for our hosts to talk their shit and tell you who they be. I’ll double down and say this backdrop is absolutely irresistible. The track ends with a clip of Artifacts performing “The Ultimate” live, setting up the final song of the night.

The Ultimate (Showbiz Remix) – I like it when a remix not only has a different instrumental than the original mix but also comes with new rhymes. Showbiz gives the song a complete musical makeover with a minuscule melody and a dark, stripped-down feel, while Tame and El’s new bars match the lyrical level of the original. I prefer the lively, soulful groove of the original mix, but this remix is still solid.

By 1997, the materialistic movement in hip-hop was in full motion. A large portion of rappers were spittin’ luxurious lyrics to describe their lavished lifestyle, though, for most, that way of living was a figment of their imaginations. On That’s Them, the Artifacts go against the materialistic grain and carry on a few cornerstone traditions of emceeing: boasting and battling. The duo makes a commendable effort, but they forget one key point: it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.

During my write-up of Between A Rock, I mentioned how El Da Sensai and Tame One have almost identical dry vocal tones. While their wordplay sounds sharper on this album, the dryness persists, and on several occasions, I couldn’t tell who was on the mic. With no variation in subject matter and matching voices that lack personality or charisma, Tame and El’s rhymes get a little monotonous over the length of fourteen tracks. Shawn J Period and company pick up the slack and provide a consistent diet of quality boom-bap, built around soulful and jazzy loops that capture the essence of nineties East Coast hip-hop. A period and sound that I will forever hold dear to my heart.

On the final verse of “Art Of Facts,” El Da Sensai raps, “What the men say in the back? Thinking that we can’t battle rap and combat, cease that.” That rhyme sums up the running theme of That’s Them. El Da Sensai and Tame One rap with a chip on their shoulders, spending most of the album spewing battle raps to prove their naysayers wrong. But in doing so, they forget about two other important objectives of an emcee: connecting with the listener and entertaining. Thankfully, the producers remembered.

-Deedub

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Deedub

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The last time we heard from Scarface here at TimeisIllmatic was on his partially self-titled group, Facemob’s debut album, The Other Side Of The Law, which we barely heard from Face on. Instead, the generous leader let his apprentices (Devin The Dude, 350, DMG, Sha-Riza, and Smit-D) take center stage and hold down the fort. This decision left me yearning to hear more from Face and less from his mob. I would soon get my wish, as Scarface would release his fourth solo album, The Untouchable, in March of ‘97, just nine months after The Other Side Of The Law dropped.

The Untouchable would feature some of the usual suspects on the production side (N.O. Joe, Mike Dean, and John Bido) and a few other guest producers (one in particular that we’ll discuss later). The album would yield three singles, receive favorable reviews, and shoot to number one on the Billboard Top 200. All of the critical and commercial success of The Untouchable would culminate in a second-consecutive solo platinum plaque for Mr. Brad “Scarface” Jordan.

Scarface is one of several rappers I’ve respected from a distance, but I never took the time to delve deep into his catalog until I started this blog. The Untouchable is a recent addition to my collection (I found a used CD copy for five bucks) and hopefully, a more even listen than Face’s last couple of solo projects.

Intro – The Untouchable begins with a sophisticated string orchestration, and even though it sounds nothing like the instrumental for “Notorious Thugs,” for some reason, it makes me chant, “It’s Bone and Biggie, Biggie, it’s Bone and Biggie, Biggie” every time I hear it. This bleeds into the next song…

Untouchable – I love it when a rap album gets the title track out of the way early on. The song begins with a bluesy piano riff, before the crisp drums drop and Face delivers his boastfully ballsy rhymes in his southern Baptist preacher cadence. But Face isn’t out to save souls. His mission is to “send muthafuckas to hell if they fuck with Brad.” Roger Troutman takes care of the hook with his signature talk box-induced vocal tone, adding the cherry on top of this well-executed opening track.

No Warning – The previous track ends with Face awakening some sleeping chump before blasting him into eternal rest. The fatal gunshots are followed by slow-rolling, deep-fried southern instrumentation, courtesy of N.O. Joe and Mike Dean. Ironically, Face spends the majority of the song warning his would-be victims of the violence he’s about to inflict on them. But our host’s contradictions aren’t strong enough to stifle the fire music that backs him.

Southside – Face spits one verse recalling his high school years as a knucklehead dope dealer from the southside of Houston. His story gets a little hard to follow after the vice principal kicks him out of school and tells his parents about his “profession,” but the instrumental, which is equally smooth as it is funky and clean enough to eat off of, is easy to enjoy.

Sunshine – Face’s first verse picks up where he left off on “No Warning,” issuing a plethora of violent threats to whomever it may concern. During the last two verses, Face covers more of his favorite subject: death. The dark content and dark instrumentation (which is flames!) are a sharp contrast to the hook and song title, but whatever.

Money Makes The World Go Round – Odes to money aren’t rare in hip-hop music, and Face and his guests (Daz Dillinger, Devin The Dude, and K.B.) don’t necessarily shed any new or profound light on the subject at hand (although I did enjoy Devin and K.B.’s contribution on the topic). But with an instrumental this creamy and soothing, they could have rapped the alphabet, and I would have enjoyed it.

For Real – Face spins one of his signature drug dealer tales over a decent beat and a monster bass line that more than makes up for the rest of the music’s mediocrity (the hook uses part of Al Pacino’s Scarface character’s famous line: “All I have in this world is my balls and my word, and I don’t break ’em for no one” which Face also used on “Mr. Scarface” from his debut album). The plot: some sucka has stolen some of Face’s dope, and now he’s furious with a new mission statement that he punctuates his first two verses with: “I’m so real about my motherfuckin’ skrill, that any obstacle obscuring my paper is gettin’ killed.” This was dope. I love hearing from fiery Face.

Ya Money Or Ya Life – Our host issues more violent threats over a laidback bluesy groove. The hook contradicts the song title (the title gives the would-be victim an option, but the hook has already decided for the victim). Still, it’s catchy as hell, and you’ll find yourself singing along while you slowly bop your head to the infectious music underneath it.

Mary Jane – This was the second single off The Untouchable. Years before Ashanti (who just gets finer with time) would use this instrumental for her 2002 hit record, “Baby,” Scarface would use it to worship at the feet of his herbal Queen: “A true friend in my time of need, you’re natural, you come from weed, makes me happy when I’m feeling pain, once again, makes me happy just to hear your name…so do your thang, Mary Jane.” Scarface’s lax lyrics and delivery get swallowed up by the undeniably bangin’ backdrop and the sultry singing from an uncredited female voice on the hook.

Smile – This was the lead single from The Untouchable and, I believe, the first posthumous feature from Pac. Mr. Dean and Tone Capone construct a somber soundscape drenched in a few weeping synthesized keyboard riffs for Pac and Face to rap words of encouragement in the most dismal way possible. These are the moments Pac excels, as he brilliantly spews bars of despair (“No fairytales, for this young Black male, some see me stranded in this land of hell, jail, and crack sales.”) and paranoia (“Somebody save me, lost and crazy, scared to drop a seed, hopin’ I ain’t curse my babies”) throughout his two verses that are supposed to inspire the listeners to keep their heads up. Face gets off a decent verse, placed in between Pac’s, but it’s clear who the standout is on this track. Johnny P borrows the melody from The S.O.S Band’s “Tell Me If You Still Care” to belt out a somber hook, but Face’s closing benediction and prayer for Pac (delivered in his southern Baptist preacher tone) will stir up your emotions. If this song still has that effect, nearly thirty years after Pac’s death, imagine how it hit back in 1997.

Smartz – Face gets into his conscious bag, breaking down the plots and traps that they (“they,” being the government and the other powers that be) set in black communities to destroy their inhabitants. I love reflective Face, but I’m not big on conscious Face. It’s hard for me to hear a rapper call drugs and guns “traps the demon set” after playing the role of a murderous drug dealer on five of the album’s previous ten tracks. And what a waste of a Devin The Dude feature.

Faith – Bishop Jordan returns to his pulpit and continues to contradict his dope dealing/gangsta persona with lines like: “Our whole Black community sours, crime rate towers, plagued by white powders,” and then he calls out the government for having “hypocrisy in your democracy.” The haunting melody from the female choir and the flip of Rare Earth’s “I Just Want To Celebrate” on the hook were cool but not cool enough to make me want to listen to Bishop Jordan’s duplicitous sermon.

Game Over – Face saves the best for last. He invites Dr. Dre to verbally spar with him, as the two exchange verses over the good doctor’s diabolical masterpiece of an instrumental (the dark wavering bass line is bound to leave you in a trance). Too Short opens the track with a few words for the haters, and Ice Cube adds a ferocious prayer from the bottom of his gut for the hook, completing this monster of a record.

Outro – The Untouchable ends the way it began, with the same string-led instrumental (“It’s Bone and Biggie, Biggie, it’s Bone and Biggie, Biggie”), bringing things full circle and to a close.

With his debut solo album, Mr. Scarface Is Back, Face made a memorable impression. His flow and delivery were a bit choppy, but his baritone southern accent, charisma, hunger, and obsession with death/murder made him intriguing to listen to; it also helped that Crazy C backed him with a fire southern-fried musical bed. On The World Is Yours, Face would sharpen his microphone skills while staying true to his Scarface persona, but the music on the project was uneven, resulting in a disappointing listen. The Diary would have some of the same production issues as TWIY, and Face, while still sharp and hungry, started to sound redundant in his murderous drug dealer role. The Untouchable is Face’s fourth time around the dolo realm, and like all leopards, he doesn’t change his spots.

Scarface doesn’t unearth any new dimension on The Untouchable. He continues to sell drugs, kill rivals, revel in murder and death, and occasionally gets conscious, contradicting every immoral principle his rap alias stands on. Technically, Face doesn’t sound bad on The Untouchable, but his hunger seems to have waned, making his rehashed content sound less appealing.

Thanks mainly to Mike Dean, N.O. Joe, and John Bido, The Untouchable’s production is easily the most consistent of Face’s first four albums. Dense bass lines, soulfully bluesy riffs, and the perfect sprinkle of refreshingly live instrumentation (and a mammoth banger from the good doctor to close the album) make for thoroughly entertaining music to support our host’s rhymes. But even though the music keeps you bobbin’ your head while screwin’ your face (no pun intended), it backfires on Face as the pristine instrumentals seem to overpower his voice at times, adding insult to injury already inflicted by his monotonous full belly.

Scarface’s solo work and his catalog as part of the Geto Boys helped pioneer Southern hip-hop and make the South a relevant region in hip-hop. Many consider him the greatest rapper out of the South, and some people will even throw his name into the GOAT conversation (Hell, just for penning one of the greatest hip-hop songs of all time in “Mind Playing Tricks On Me” should give him legendary status). But even legends come up short from time to time. The Untouchable isn’t a bad album; it just exposes the chinks in Scarface’s armor, making him appear a little more touchable.

-Deedub

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DJ Muggs is one-third of the Los Angeles area trio Cypress Hill and has been the main maestro of music for the group for the past thirty-plus years. During that stretch, he’s also branched out, producing tracks for damn near everybody: KRS-One, House of Pain (he’s responsible for the immortal energetic party anthem, “Jump Around”), Ice Cube, Janet Jackson, U2, Depeche Mode. Even though he didn’t receive credit for it, he produced Ice-T’s 1988 gangsta classic, “Colors.” By 1997, Cypress Hill had three platinum-selling albums under their belts and was working on their fourth release (that would aptly be titled IV). Muggs would also begin his solo career, releasing Muggs Presents…Soul Assassins Chapter I in ‘97.

Soul Assassins is a twelve-track compilation album produced by Muggs. The album cover features a collage of caricature paintings of all the album’s featured artists hovering over a bunch of war-ready skeletons. If you cannot make out all of the artists’ faces (like me), the list of names is just below Skeletor and ‘em’s feet. The album received mostly positive reviews, climbing to twenty on the Billboard Top 200.

Soul Assassins is another album I didn’t listen to when it came out. I stumbled on a used CD copy for a few bucks in the mid-2000s, and now, I’m finally listening to it for the first time. The featured guest list looks impressive, and Muggs is a more than capable producer. Hopefully, what is written on paper translates audibly.

The Time Has Come – This one begins with a clip from the 1977 film Wizards that features melodramatic drums, horns, and a soundbite of a male voice saying the song title. Then vanilla drums, a gentle piano loop, and curious strings play while Muggs scratches in several soundbites of people saying “Soul Assassin,” occasionally bringing back the male voice from the Wizards snippet. Now that we’ve gotten the useless opening intro out of the way, we can move on.

Puppet Master – A clown with a stereotypical distorted voice and a sinister laugh invites the listener to step up and experience the masters of the puppets while merry-go-round music plays underneath his diabolical voice, creating a creepy atmosphere. Then, Muggs loops up arguably the funkiest instrumental in music history but severely overused in hip-hop (Issac Hayes’ “Hyperbolic”) for Dr. Dre and B-Real to verbally spar over. Both spit competent verses, though I have to refute Dre’s line about Micheal Jackson losing his Black fans (Even during the height of MJ’s child sexual abuse allegations, he never lost his Black audience). Speaking of Dr. Dre and puppets, I wonder which Geppetto wrote his bars for this record.

Decisions, Decisions – After a short soundbite of a man saying, “Atlanta, gateway to the south,” flat drums drop, accompanied by a bland four-note harp loop. Muggs tasks Goodie Mob with the job of bringing his drab musical creation to life. Big Gipp, Khujo, and T-Mo’s southern social commentary gets smothered by the humidity of the dry instrumental, but CeeLo’s grand finale (which finds him sharing game with a newly signed rapper) rises above the oppression of the backdrop’s blandness, temporarily making you forget just how bland it is.

Third World – A snooty string-led loop with the Rza mic checking/talkin’ shit over it, followed by a clip of some guy talking about being at “the crossroads of the worst war man will ever know,” preludes the next song. Helicopter noise, gunshots, and staticky walkie-talkie communication put the listener in the middle of the war that the British accented soundbite predicted. Eventually, Muggs drops an instrumental that gives off dusty snob energy (and ironically, sounds like Muggs attempting to make a Rza beat), as Gza and Rza (who mistakenly refers to Michael J. Fox’s Back To The Future character, Marty McFly as Jordan McFly during his verse) wage war against their enemies, exchanging solid verses over the quality backdrop, in a losing cause.

Battle Of 2001 – The war rages on. After the battle that took place on the previous record, a communications officer reads a distress signal sent to headquarters from Rza, warning them that enemy troops are moving west toward them and that Yakub (a Black scientist that the Nation of Islam believes created the white race) and Dr. Titus have released a new deadly virus to infiltrate the Western States (which Rza also mentions towards the end of his verse on “Third World”). A few war soundbites set up the next battle, led by B-Real, who gets off a short combat-laden verse over classical piano chords, strings, and crashing percussions. Spoiler alert: B-Real and his troops lose the battle, the virus decimates the population, and the survivors are put under martial law with all their constitutional rights revoked. Sounds like something that could happen if they put Trump’s orange ass back in office. Stay tuned.

Devil In A Blue Dress – LA the Darkman is a Wu-Tang affiliate rapper out of Brooklyn, who I first mentioned on this blog for his cameos on Blahzay Blahzay’s “Danger Part 2” and “Posse Jumpa” off their debut project, Blah Blah Blah. I’m sure it’s his Wu connection that scored him a spot on Muggs’ Soul Assassins roster. Our host provides one of his standard dusty musical canvases that LA paints with typical hood rapper rhetoric: lyrical supremacy, battle bars, gun talk/threats of violence. LA does get a little scatterbrain at the end of his second verse (he goes into the details of a gun shooting that claimed the life of a young girl named Shelly, which is very sad but sounds extremely random placed within the context of his rhymes), but he still gives a proficient performance on an overall decent record.

Heavy Weights – When I saw the pairing of MC Eiht with Muggs in the liner notes, I was curious how it would play out. I’ve been an MC Eiht fan since CMW’s It’s A Compton Thang, and Muggs is usually good for a dope dusty boom bap production, which isn’t usually the type of bullet trap Eiht shoots at. After a short clip from the 1936 film The Petrified Forest plays, Muggs brings in a soothingly mystical backdrop built around a classical piano loop, which sounds pleasant, but it didn’t necessarily stir up anything inside of me, either. Eiht commences to lace the track with his standard money/murder discourse but uses a weird cadence to deliver his rhymes, and he sounds very uncomfortable in the process. To make matters worse, he stacks his vocals with a singy delivery that I found annoying as shit.

Move Ahead – Rampage may have faked me out and made me believe that KRS-One was going to make a cameo on Politics & Bullshit, but the Blastmaster actually shows up on Soul Assassins. Kris lets his stream of consciousness flow (and his stream is full of consciousness) as he addresses the East/West feud and the importance of unity in hip-hop: “The East created it, the West decorated it, learn the lesson, the unified picture is Black expression, when Black expression bites itself, it becomes Black digression, leading to depression in health.” Muggs lays energetic boom-bap drums, an emotional key riff, and dramatic horns underneath the Teacher’s vocals, making for arguably the best record of the evening.

It Could Happen To You – What better way to follow KRS-One’s message of non-violent unity in the community than with a Mobb Deep record? After some rambling dialogue from their cronies, Infamous Mobb (not to be confused with Mobb Deep’s classic sophomore album, The Infamous) over a deep bass line and a sexy piano riff that creates quite the deep groove, Muggs brings in a harp loop that sounds stuck between haunted and heartbroken, smeared over dusty boom bap drums that gives the loop some grit. Havoc and Prodigy plaster the tantalizing musical bed (that sounds like something Havoc would produce) with the same violent thug agenda that has riddled the majority of their catalog. Despite the redundant content, magically, they make the shit sound entertaining.

Life Is Tragic – Muggs starts this one with another 1930s movie soundbite (the generically titled, I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang). Then Infamous Mobb (what a lazy and lousy group name to settle on when your mentors already go by Mobb Deep): Godfather PT III (great song, but horrible alias), Ty Nitty, and Twin Gambino do their best Mobb Deep impersonation with poor results (what the hell was going on during that third verse? Atrocious). The trio’s amateurish performance is met by a dry-ass instrumental (that also sounds like something Havoc would produce), making an already underwhelming listen even more dreadful.

New York Undercover – I’d never heard of Call O’ Da Wild before this review, but they appear to be a duo, and based on the name of this song, it’s safe to assume they’re from New York. After a short somber choir clip introduces the track, the two emcees each spit spirited verses, describing the physical structure of the “Big Rotten Apple” and the behavior of its inhabitants. Muggs backs Da Wild’s poetic street commentary with a drum-less, warped, cinematic thriller-esque loop that makes the duo’s description of NYC more visual. This is easily one of my favorite records on Soul Assassins (and the shortest, not counting the intro). I would love to hear more music from these guys.

John 3:16 – Soul Assassins ends with this Muggs/Wyclef collabo. Clef uses a beautiful, weeping string concerto to spit eclectic bars full of pop culture references, biblical characters, and zany one-liners, all in the name of getting his moral of the story off: “Live reality and don’t get caught up in your fantasy.” I enjoy Wyclef when he’s in abstract creative mode, but I’m not letting him off the hook for the corny “Superman left the gang cause his weakness was crips, tonight” line. Despite that mishap, this was a solid record to end the album.

On Cypress Hill’s first three albums, Muggs created a signature soundscape for B-Real’s nasally diatribes and Sen-Dog’s baritone bravado. Thick pulsating bass lines, dusty loops, and raw drumbeats were the foundation the Hill was built on and would find commercial and critical success with in the early nineties. With Soul Assassins, Muggs deviates from the regular Cypress script.

Soul Assassins does have some of Muggs’ signature blunted residue on it (see “Decisions, Decisions” and “Devil In A Blue Dress”), but the majority of the album uses classical piano and string loops, giving it a regal orchestral feel. I’m not opposed to classical fused hip-hop. I loved Nine’s stringed-out “Uncivilized,” and Salaam Remi’s clever Beethoven flip turned Nas’ “I Can” into a cute, catchy tune. Most of Muggs’ classical samples technically work, but something about them rings hollow, almost soulless, no pun intended.

Soul Assassins does have some really good records, but most of those moments come when Muggs steers clear of his classical theme for more traditional hip-hop sounds, and the emcees rhyming over those tracks (KRS-One on “Move Ahead,” Mobb Deep on “It Could Happen To You,” and my personal favorite, “New York Undercover” with Call O’ Da Wild) sound inspired. The rest of Soul Assassins falls somewhere between decent and boring, including the emceeing. Thankfully, most of the music leans toward the decent side.

When it’s all said and done and Muggs tires from finding obscure samples and decides to hang up his MPC, his jersey will hang in the hip-hop rafters. He’s a legendary producer with critical and commercial success to back it. But even legends have less-than-spectacular moments in their legacies.

-Deedub

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Deedub

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When it comes to influential figures in hip-hop radio, there are few as long-standing and respected as Aston Taylor Jr., better known to the world as Funkmaster Flex. The Bronx-born and bred DJ (who began deejaying nightclubs at the tender age of sixteen, including a stent at the legendary Manhattan club, the Tunnel) has hosted a show on Hot 97, one of New York City’s most prominent hip-hop radio stations, since 1992. Along with breaking new records and playing your favorite songs, Flex’s show became popular for its legendary freestyles from some of your favorite rappers and emcees. The popularity of his radio show would eventually lead to Flex getting a deal with Loud Records, where he would try to recreate the magic of his show in album form, mixing old, current, and new music with freestyles from the game’s hottest rappers. It would become a mixtape series called 60 Minutes Of Funk, starting with Vol. 1, released in 1995. The critical success of Vol.1 would lay the groundwork for Vol. II, released in 1997.

Vol. II would follow the same formula as I: old and new music mixed with freestyles, and Flex breaking a few new records. Similar to Vol. I, Vol. II became a critical darling, but unlike Vol. I, it would earn Flex his first gold plaque (a trend that would continue for Vol. III, Vol. IV, and his collaborative compilation effort with Big Kap, The Tunnel).

I was definitely outside when Vol. I dropped, but that would be my last Funkmaster Flex mixtape experience. Until now, and what better time than now to add to my 60 Minutes Of Funk knowledge?

Talkin’ Shit – After a few opening words from the Funkmaster, you hear a snippet of Method Man’s verse from “Protect Ya Neck.” Then, a basic drum beat, accompanied by a semi-zany horn loop, comes on for supermodel Veronica Webb to repeat the same few lines over and over and over and over for nearly three and a half minutes. The monotony is shortly broken up by Jermaine Dupri giving Flex a drop, and Flex intermittently weaves in the Meth vocal snippet from earlier. I was slightly entertained (and by entertained, I mean aroused) when Ms. Webb referred to herself as “Premium pussy” (in his liner note shoutouts, Flex hi-lariously refers to her as Veronica “Premium” Webb, which left me wondering if he got a chance to sample it). But even with that seductive moment, this shit was entirely too long and unwarranted.

Clear My Throat – A Boyz II Men snippet helps count in DJ Kool’s classic party record. The record was a staple on Vol.1, and it lives through on Vol. II.

I’m Not Feeling You – Flex stays loyal to his Loud Records label mate, Yvette Michele. He let her shine on Vol.1 with the irresistible “Everyday & Everynight” (that he’s credited with producing), and she returns with yet another hypnotic groove on Vol. II. The Sylvester loop the instrumental is built around has been used before (see Big Daddy Kane’s “Taste Of Chocolate Intro” and Lil’ Kim’s “Big Momma Thang”), but Flex and YM put their sauce on it, giving it new life. I’ve never heard Yvette Michele’s debut album (and only album to date), but she’s two for two in my ears.

Freestyle – The first “freestyle” of the evening comes from Jay-Z rhyming over the instrumental to Sadat X’s “Stages And Lights.” It’s not one of my favorite Jay-Z performances, but still solid.

How About Some Hardcore – Flex plays a clip of M.O.P.’s hood classic debut single and shares a few words to hype up the mixtape.

Freestyle – Lil Kim’s next up on the freestyle front, and her bars sound strongly backed by Biggie’s pen. She takes what appears to be a subtle shot at Pac, who was already deceased by the time this album was released (excuse my unintentional bars): “And those with no couth, get thrown off the roof, like Bishop with the Juice.” Considering the timing and circumstances, that line was a bit distasteful, but Queen B still delivers an overall decent verse. The raw and discreetly funky backdrop was dope.

Tour – I’d never heard of Capleton before listening to this album. I did a little digging and discovered he is a Jamaican reggae/dancehall artist who briefly released music through Def Jam in the mid-nineties, but his catalog before and after Def Jam is pretty extensive. This snippet is a remix of the opening track on his 1995 album, Prophecy. As I’ve mentioned several times before on this blog, I’m not a big fan of reggae/dancehall music sans Bob Marley, but you can’t go wrong when you incorporate the bass line from Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story” into your record.

Freestyle – Speaking of reggae/dancehall artists I’ve never heard of, Lady Saw gets off a quick singing chant over a simple drum beat, and the shit is kind of catchy. After several listens, I still don’t know what Ms. Saw saw in her living room the evening before, but whatever.

Clear My Throat – More DJ Kool…

Freestyle – One of my all-time favorite emcees, Nas, gets a freestyle slot on Volume II. It’s not one of my favorite Esco performances, but he manages to get a little busy.

Freestyle – Even though he’s not credited in the liner notes, somebody going by the alias of Pretty Boy kicks this session off rhyming over the instrumental to Mobb Deep’s “Still Shinin’.” He spits a few forgettable bars and wisely clears the way for Foxy to jump on the beat, and she shows us why she’s the sole emcee credited on this track. If you read this blog faithfully, you know how disappointed I was with Foxy’s debut album, Ill Na Na. If she rapped like this on the album, my whole listening experience might have been different.

Hip Hop Hooray – Clip of Naughty By Nature’s classic.

Uptown Anthem – Clip of another Naughty classic.

How I Could Just Kill A Man – Flex plays Cypress Hill’s killer first single (pun intended) up to the second verse, where B-Real nasally says “Time for some action,” which blends into…

Time 4 Sum Aksion – A portion of Redman’s monster 1992 debut single (Man, Red’s been rockin’ a long time!).

Freestyle – This freestyle starts with a basic drum beat and Red saying some super questionable shit that I’ll try not to judge him on (“I got Tic Tacs in my mouth with a big dick, but it don’t matter,” followed by a couple of slurping noises). Then Red cues K-Solo to mumble a little bit of nothing before he recycles his verse from “Do What U Feel” off the Muddy Waters album, making this the second consecutive Flex album that he regurgitates a verse on.

Freestyle – This freestyle session features an emcee who goes by the alias of Ras T. I think he’s the same guy Flex gave a freestyle segment to on Vol. I. (under the moniker of Rasta T), although his flow and cadence sound completely different this go-round. I dug his straightforward approach on Vol. I, but the added animation to his voice on Vol. II makes him sound like a bootleg Rock from Heltah Skeltah. The cheesy noises in the instrumental (that sound like they’re trying to create a computerized/futuristic mood) didn’t do it for me, either.

Freestyle – This is labeled a freestyle by a gentleman named Michelob, but it sounds like part of an actual song. Over a smooth R&B flavored groove (complete with male singers on the hook), the beer-loving emcee spits a verse about a chick he wants to get with, but she already has a man, leaving his dream unattainable (unless she chooses to get triflin’ and use my man as a side piece). I don’t know what came of Michelob’s rap career, but this tidbit was good enough to leave me open to hearing more from him.

Set It Off – A short vocal clip from Greg Nice (half of Nice & Smooth) sets up the next trio of old-school classics.

Flashlight – Parliament’s timeless funk hit record, followed by…

Outstanding – The Gap Band’s vintage barbecue anthem…

Rising To The Top – Then Flex plays a clip of Keni Burke’s often sampled R&B classic that never seems to get old.

Freestyle – After sending RIPs to some of his fallen peeps, Flex gives space for a gentleman named Dav to take center stage and get prime-time placement for a portion of one of his songs. I didn’t care much for this one. Dav sounds like a poor man’s Keith Sweat and the world only needs one nasally-voiced crooner.

Freestyle – I’m not gonna lie. I got a little excited when I heard Mary J. Blige harmonizing over the instrumental to Mobb Deep’s “Survival Of The Fittest.” That excitement intensified when she seemed to be preparing to spit bars, but instead, she repeated the same two-line Flex drop for the next minute or so. What a tease (audio blue balls).

Relax & Party – Flex follows MJB’s drop with a record from a singer named Ivory. He proves to be a decent enough vocalist, but the hip-hopped instrumental he sings over (built around a synth bell sound reminiscent of the sample Dre used for “Nas Is Coming”) is a funky little diddly and an entire vibe.

Crowd Participation – DJ Flexxx (not to be confused with Funkmaster Flex) shares a go-go call-and-response joint that might sound great live, but not so much on a recorded mixtape.

No Joke/Follow Me – Buckshot (the frontman for Black Moon and de facto leader of the Boot Camp Click) is one of the most unheralded emcees ever. Flex lets him shine and showcase his underappreciated talents on Vol. II with this short two-pack. The first half is a remake of Eric B & Rakim’s classic record of the same name (minus the “I Ain’t”), and Buckshot masterfully drips his sauce on it, honoring the original while making it sound like a completely new record. The second half finds the BDI emcee dissecting a funky Parliament piano loop (previously used for Salt-N-Pepa’s “Get Up Everybody (Get Up)” and Boss’ (rip) “Born Gangsta”) with calculated slickness and precision (I wonder if there’s a second verse to “Follow Me.” If there is, I’d love to hear it). This delicious two-piece combo is one of the highlight moments of Vol. II. Side note: the back CD jewel case panel groups the two songs together as one track (27), but the actual CD separates the two songs (“No Joke” as track 27 and “Follow Me” as part of the next track, 28).

Freestyle – This BCC session is divided into five pieces (excluding “Follow Me”). It starts with Rock and Ruck (aka Heltah Skeltah), Tek (half of Smif-N-Wessun), Starang Wondah (one-third of the O.G.C. aka Originoo Gun Clappaz), and Lidu Rock (little brother to Rock and half of the duo, Representativz) warming things up with a Boot Camp Click roll call over a loop from Grover Washington Jr.’s “Knucklehead.” Then Rock and Starang mix things up with semi-melodic bars over almost nonexistent drums, covered in subtly warm vibes. Next, Ruck and BJ Swan celebrate the twelve days of Merry Dissmas (a holiday filled with blue balls, wishful thinking, and misogyny) over a Detroit Emeralds drumbeat you may recognize from Main Source’s “Looking At The Front Door.” Then Tek and someone named MS (not to be confused with multiple sclerosis) spar over the most minimal drum beat ever heard by human ears. This grimy six-minute plus Boot Camp experience ends with Top Dog and Lidu Rock chanting and rhyming over one of the greatest hip-hop instrumentals of all time in “Shook Ones Part II.” There are a few dull moments during this extended session, but most of it works.

Freestyle – Akinyele and Sadat X provided one of the highlight moments on Vol. I with “Loud Hangover,” and Ak returns for Vol. II. Well, kind of. Other than a few adlibs at the beginning and end of the track, he doesn’t lend his voice to the song. Instead, he allows Complexion (who you might remember from Ak’s “Fuck Me For Free” record) to sing and someone named Curry to rap (or talk…maybe spoken word?) over a decent Caribbeanish backdrop. Complexion (who reinterprets the hook to Bootsy Collins’ classic joint, “I’d Rather Be With You”) matches the vibe of the instrumental, adding a little reggae flavor to his vocal, and Curry adds deadpan explicit rhymes, turning this into a hip-hop porno song. The music was dope and Complexion’s hook is catchy, but Curry’s overly simple delivery and elementary rhymes make this one hard to digest.

Method Man – A quick clip from Meth’s self-titled joint off Enter The Wu-Tang plays.

Freestyle – Biggie and then up-and-coming Yonkers trio, The Lox, rep for Bad Boy over Wu-Tang’s “C.R.E.A.M” instrumental. Styles P kicks things off with a solid opening verse, followed by Biggie, who spits a restrained but dope sixteen (it almost feels like he held back a little to not embarrass his co-workers in this cipher). After a quick hook, Sheek Louch gets off a truncated thugged-out verse before Jadakiss closes things out with a quality performance delivered in a far less raspy voice than I’ve grown accustomed to hearing him rhyme with through the years (it was also chuckle-worthy to hear him brag about using chopsticks while eating Chinese food as if that’s a form of high living). All in all, all four emcees hold their own over this classic hip-hop beat. Sadly, this would be one of Biggie’s last released cameo appearances before his death, just a few months later. Random thought: This may be the only project to feature all three of the big three (Nas, Biggie, and Jay-Z) on the same album. If I’m wrong, let me know in the comments.

Freestyle – Years before his fall from grace, public cancelation, and his alias becoming a slang term for suspicious activity, Sean “P-Diddy” Combs was the head of Bad-Boy Records. Thanks to Craig Mack, Biggie, and the Hitmen’s production, by 1997, Bad Boy was one of the hottest and most successful hip-hop labels around. This freestyle session finds Diddy introducing the world to his then-newest protege, Mase, and in true Diddy fashion, he talks all over the record. Flex pairs Mase with another Wu-Tang banger (the instrumental to “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing Ta Fuck Wit”), which is a marriage that I didn’t necessarily love. The instrumental has too much energy for Mase’s deadpan vocal tone and ends up swallowing him up (pause).

Mobb Deep Blend – As the title suggests, Flex lays Prodigy’s first verse from “Hell On Earth (Front Lines)” and the hook over the very familiar (and funky) The Whole Darn Family loop (previously sampled on Tha Alkaholiks,’ “Only When I’m Drunk” and the Jay-Z/Foxy Brown duet, “Ain’t No Nigga”). This quickly ends and gets scratched into the next record.

Freestyle – The Lost Boyz continues to build on their newfound hot streak with this Flex collabo. Mr. Cheeks rhymes with an uncharacteristic urgency that matches the instrumental’s gravitas. And what would an LB record be without Freaky Tah (rip) padding Cheeks bars with energetic adlibs?

Release Yo Delf – Apparently, Flex was a huge Method Man fan. He blends a piece of one of my favorite songs off the Tical album into the mix. Random thought: with all the Wu-Tang music included on Vol. II, I found it interesting that none of the Wu members have a freestyle on the album.

Freestyle – After EPMD’s first break up in 1992, E-Double and PMD started solo careers. The split divided their Hit Squad collective, which included K-Solo, Redman, Das EFX, and a few other acts that aren’t worth mentioning. Redman sided with Erick Sermon, adding Keith Murray to form, Def Squad, while PMD kept the Hit Squad name, taking K-Solo and Das EFX. Clearly, Def Squad would go on to have more success than Hit Squad 2.0, but that’s not to say that Hit Squad 2.0’s output was completely trivial. Flex invites Das EFX, PMD, and K-Solo (even though he doesn’t get a credit in the liner notes) to jump on the mic and rhyme over a Millie Jackson loop (the same one used for BDP’s “Original Lyrics”) and energized drums. All four emcees sound rejuvenated and give adequate performances over the lively backing music. Well done, fellas.

Freestyle – Mr. X to the Z represents the West Coast, his Alkaholik Crew, and his underproductive but full-of-potential supergroup, Golden State Project (Golden State Project was a trio comprised of Xzibit, Ras Kass, and Saafir. They collaborated on a few records, including “Bounce, Rock, Golden State” off the Training Day Soundtrack in 2001, but due to industry business and hoopla, they never released a full project). Flex mashes up the instrumentals from “Likwit” and “Make Room” off the Alkaholiks’ debut album, 21 & Over, to rap over. X doesn’t sound spectacular rhyming over it but manages to hold court.

Freestyle – In my mind, Cormega will always be Nas’ incarcerated mans who received an immortal shoutout on “One Love” (“What up with Cormega? Did you see him? Are ya’ll together?”). After leaving prison, Mega became one-fourth of the Nas-led supergroup, The Firm (along with AZ and Foxy Brown). His time in The Firm would be short-lived after falling out with Nas and eventually being replaced by another Queens emcee, Nature. This Mega/Flex session was apparently recorded before he left The Firm, as he shouts them out during his verse (he also shouts out Flex, but for some reason, they bleep out which Volume this “freestyle” would go on). Mega fairs well spittin’ from his “Mega Montana” persona, but the blunted soulful backdrop carries this one.

Clear My Throat – More DJ Kool…

Sucker MC’s – A portion of Run DMC’s legendary record plays. Years after its release, it still sounds hard as hell.

Back To Life (However Do You Want Me) – Soul II Soul’s timeless techno/R&B groove…

Here We Go – Followed by more Run-DMC…

Mona Lisa – Then a snippet of a joint off Slick Rick’s solo debut album (The Great Adventures Of Slick Rick).

Flex Outro – Vol II ends with a few words and a goofy laugh from Funkmaster Flex.

For the last few NFL seasons, the Philadelphia Eagles have been at the top of NFC teams competing to represent the North in the Super Bowl and earn the title of Super Bowl Champs. In the 2023-24 season, the Eagles would fall short of the goal, losing to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in the NFC Wild Card round. The year before, they would make it to Superbowl LVII only to come up short to the Kansas City Chiefs, 38-35. One component of the Eagles’ success over the past few seasons has been a play affectionately called the “tush push.” When the Eagles’ offense finds themselves in a third-and-short or fourth-and-short situation, they often resort to the play: Jalen Hurts takes the snap from his center, Jason Kelce, gets low and propels himself forward. At the same time, a few of his wide receivers would push him, giving him that extra boost to ensure he picks up the first down. The play is nearly unstoppable. During the 2023-24 regular season, the Eagles ran the play forty times and picked up the first down thirty-seven times. Like everything else, people criticized the play, with some considering it a form of cheating. But I say, if you have a proven winning formula, why switch things up?

Funkmaster Flex continues his winning formula on The Mixtape, Vol. II, by weaving together old and new records, along with new freestyles over classic hip-hop beats (with the twenty-five-plus years that have passed, it’s all old music now). Musically, Vol. II is more diverse than Vol. I. The first chapter was singularly focused on hip-hop, while the second chapter includes reggae vibes and pays homage to old-school funk and R&B. With only four of the album’s forty-five tracks having a runtime of over three minutes, Vol. II moves rapidly, which becomes helpful when you come across one of the handful of underwhelming freestyles or weak records in the album’s sequencing. Just when you reach to skip to the next tune, the track is over, and you can continue to have a true mixtape experience without interruption.

Jason Kelce retired after the 2023-24 season. But even in his absence, I’m sure Hurts and his new center will successfully run the same “tush push” play on short yardage downs, just as Funkmaster Flex would continue to find success with the rest of his 60 Minutes Of Funk mixtape series.

-Deedub

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