Time Is Illmatic

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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Greetings! I hope you all enjoyed your summer and are doing well. Labor Day marks the unofficial end of summer and my official return to this labor of love that I call TimeisIllmatic (I’m considering changing the name. Hit me in the comments if you have any good name suggestions). Finally, I’ll begin my journey back to 1997, and I hope you all take this trip with me. The kids are back to school, and I’m back to blogging! Let’s get into it.

Camp Lo is the Bronx-based duo comprised of Sonny Cheeba and Geechi Suede, who came on the National scene in the late nineties. But before the twosome would make a name for themselves in the industry as Camp Lo, they originally called themselves Cee-Lo (as in the dice game) back when they began working with Ski, aka Ski-Beatz. If you’re unfamiliar with Ski’s name, you might be familiar with some of his production work. He’s solely responsible for the music behind both albums from the early nineties hip-hop group Original Flavor (a group he was also a part of) and most notably, for producing a handful of tracks on Jay-Z’s classic debut, Reasonable Doubt. Around the same time Ski was cooking up beats for Jay-Z’s album, he was helping Camp Lo sculpt their demo tape. The demo tape would eventually wind up in the hands of the powers at Profile Records, resulting in a deal for Camp Lo, and they would soon begin to work on their debut album, Uptown Saturday Night.

The album is named after the 1974 film starring Sidney Poitier and Bill Cosby (years before we found out he was Pill Cosby, but I’m sure he was already living up to that alias when the movie was filmed and released), which also inspired Geechi’s alias (Geechi Dan Buford was a character in the film played by Harry Belafonte. Side note: before settling on the alias of Sonny Cheeba (borrowed from the martial artist/actor Sonny Chiba, most famous in the U.S. for his starring role in the 1974 movie The Street Fighter), Sonny’s original alias was Cochise, the name of the character that dies in the classic seventies flick, Cooley High, which was also the inspiration for Camp Lo’s debut single (“Coolie High”)). It’s safe to say that Sonny and Geechi were obsessed with cinema (their sophomore effort would pay homage to another Poitier/Cosby flick, Let’s Do It Again, and their third release was titled, Black Hollywood). Camp Lo would stick with Ski’s production sound for Uptown Saturday Night, as he would have a hand in producing all but one track on the album. The album wasn’t a huge commercial success, but it did garner critical acclaim from the critics and streets alike.

I remember the singles from Uptown, but this was another album I didn’t buy before starting my secular hip-hop hiatus. I did cop a used CD copy back in the early 2000s, but it’s been years since I’ve listened to it in its entirety. Let’s see how kind time has been to this project.

Random Fact: The album cover artwork (credited to Dr. Revolt) pays homage to Ernie Barnes’ classic painting, “Sugar Shack,” which was used on the album cover for Marvin Gaye’s 1976 album I Want You, and as one of J.J. Evan’s paintings during the closing credits for Good Times.

Krystal Karrington – The song title comes from a character from the eighties TV series Dynasty (Krystle Carrington), played by Linda Evans, whom Geechi shoutouts in the song’s opening bar (“I gets Krystal Karrington ice rock, gritty”). Ski loops up a grumpy bass line for the backdrop that intermittently goes into dramatic stabs while a persistent guitar plucks a singular note throughout. Sonny and Geechi give us our first dose of their unique lyrical spray, which is hard to follow but simultaneously intriguing as hell. Are they talking about armed robbery or getting pussy? Maybe both?

Luchini AKA This Is It – This was the second single off Uptown. I mentioned the television series Dynasty in the previous song, but this song involves a different Dynasty. Ski borrows and builds the backdrop around a loop from the eighties funk/soul band named Dynasty, creating arguably a top-ten hip-hop beat of all time (yeah, I said it!). The self-proclaimed “magnets to moolah” spill slick word combinations and sip Amaretto (or, as Sonny dramatically pronounces it, “Amare-da”) throughout this magnificent exhibition of a hip-hop song. Speaking of liquor, this record sounds like expensive champagne, the audio equivalent of a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal.

Park Joint – The generic song title sounds like it was carried over from the makeshift title given on the beat tape it was picked from. Ski combines crisp drums and a bouncy loop (the same loop Pete Rock used for an interlude on The Main Ingredient album. Not so random factoid: years later, Camp Lo would record and release an album produced by Pete Rock (see 80 Blocks From Tiffany’s)) to create the subtle bop. The instrumental was solid, but Camp Lo’s vibrant verbiage outshines the music.

B-Side To Hollywood – This is the only track on Uptown that Ski didn’t have a production hand in. The late Trugoy from De La Soul gets the production credit, and he also drops a verse (where he recycles Greg Nice’s classic opening bars from Nice & Smooth’s “Hip-Hop Junkies”) sandwiched between Geechi and Sonny’s bars. I’m a De Le Soul fan, but I strongly dislike this record. Plug Two’s lackadaisical instrumental came dangerously close to lulling me to sleep, and its blandness almost seemed to stifle Camp Lo’s normally lively lyrical content. With that said, continue to rest easy, Trugoy.

Killin’ Em Softly – The song begins with a fuming Geechi Suede telling Sonny Cheeba he’s going to off some unidentified dude if they ever cross paths again while a contradicting tender piano loop plays in the background. Then Ski adds drums to the luscious piano chords, and the duo lays out the details of their drama, which includes beautiful ladies, sheisty brothers, guns, and an attempted robbery. The storyline is a little challenging to follow, but the smoothly sophisticated music makes the rhymes, and trying to figure out why Geechi’s on some “Fuck that dude!” shit worth decoding.

Sparkle – This record is a thing of beauty. Ski builds the backdrop around a sexy vibraphone-driven loop and upbeat percussions that Sonny and Geechi elegantly dismantle with irresistible, flossy poetic couplets. On an album loaded with phenomenal records, this is easily one of my favorites.

Black Connection – Camp Lo once again ventures into their underworld workings, as this track finds them playing the crime bosses to their crime squad that they affectionately call the Black Connection. Sonny and Geechi take the listener on a verbal adventure filled with talks of heists, international travel, money, materialism, lovely Lola Falanas, and sheisty hawks. The saga is capped off with our hosts in a shootout with the meddling fuzz. Ski soundtracks the duo’s rhymes with cool drums, a warm, watery melody, and a seductively somber horn loop that sounds tailor-made for Camp Lo’s seventies Blaxploitation style content.

Swing – From the first time I heard Geechi Suede rap, he reminded me of a more intense version of the Digable Planets lead emcee, Butterfly. Ironically, Butterfly joins his emcee doppelgänger on this duet while Sonny sits this one out. Both parties spit one verse over a hipster jazzy bop that comes with debonair drums and a few superior breaks, resulting in another high-quality album cut.

Rockin’ It AKA Spanish Harlem – Ski taps the title track to Loose Ends’ debut album, A Little Spice, to create a spicy Samba mood that is sure to evoke the feet and curvy hips of beautiful Boricuas and sexy senoritas to dance, and I’m sure it would still have the same effect nearly thirty years later. Our hosts lay low, sprinkling mild party rhymes over the track as they allow the sensuous music to take center stage. The Fearless Four recall on the hook was a nice added touch and homage to the pioneers.

Say Word – Ski turns hyper drums and a clever flip of a Jerry Butler/Thelma Houston loop into a soulfully exhilarating ride. And if the music isn’t enough to get your adrenaline pumping, Sonny and Geechi’s ferocious, abstract lyrical gymnastics will surely excite. Thankfully, their buddy, Jungle Brown, was kind enough to allow them to catch their breath between verses by graciously taking care of hook duties.

Negro League – Sonny and Geechi are joined by Karachi R.A.W. and Bones, as the foursome form *in my commentator voice* the mighty Negro Leeeeeeeeauge!!! Ski sets the pensive mood with an eerie backdrop as the four emcees pass the mic around the cipher like a hot potato. Their guests do a decent enough job on the mic but not decent enough for me to yearn to hear a supergroup album from the four of them.

Nicky Barnes AKA It’s Alright – The song is named after (at least the first part) the seventies New York City Drug Lord turned informant. Jungle Brown, who was assigned hook duties on “Say Word,” gets a chance to rhyme with Sonny and Geechi, or as he so elegantly puts it during his verse, “Articulatin’ figures, with these pretty brown niggas.” I love the peppy drums, and the Issac Hayes loop gives the record an edgy cinematic feel, which makes perfect sense, considering the loop comes from a track off the Shaft Soundtrack. 

Black Nostaljack AKA Come On – Over a shiny soulful groove, our hosts continue to talk their exquisite shit. Sonny brags about scoring a ten on his IQ test, which was a weird flex, considering 100 is an average IQ test score. Maybe that was just Sonny’s clever way of saying he gets stupid with the wordplay. Regardless, the record makes for yet another enjoyable audio treat. By the way, I love the song title, at least the first part of it.

Coolie High – This was the lead single from Uptown, previously released on The Great White Hype Soundtrack in April of 1996. The song title is a nod to the seventies Black cinematic classic (Cooley High), which aligns with all the seventies pop culture references the duo makes during the song. Ski samples the closing track from Janet Jackson’s mammoth 1986 album Control to create a creamily airy experience over thudding drums. A few decades later, this one still sounds amazing.

Sparkle (Mr. Midnight Mix) – This mix strips away the music from the O.G. track, leaving only the luscious bass line to support Camp Lo’s bars. The musical minimalism allows Sonny and Geechi’s opulent flows to shine even brighter, as their voices and cadences sound like instruments.

Throughout Uptown Saturday Night, Sonny Cheeba and Geechi Suede sound like two lifelong friends in their own world, speaking their own dialect with no concern about whether or not the listening public can decode their luxuriously abstract rhyming style, soaked in seventies Black pop-culture references (which in turn makes sense of the album cover artwork). The duo’s distinct voices, well-crafted flows, and unique cadences allow their perplexing stanzas to dance around the listener’s ears in pure entertainment. And if you’re not a fan of having to unlock riddles when you listen to rappers rhyme, which I can respect, Ski’s production will surely please. Ski uses mostly untapped jazz and soul samples for the album’s musical bed, chopping them up precisely and placing them over pristine drums that play their role well, rarely outshining the loops placed over them. Other than the one time that Ski relinquishes the keys to the production board (see “B-Side To Hollywood”), the rhymes and rhythms on Uptown form the perfect marriage, and thankfully, Camp Lo doesn’t disrupt the union by adding useless skits and interludes.

Unfortunately, Camp Lo’s sophomore project (Let’s Do It Again) wouldn’t be well-received and would start Camp Lo’s descent into independent label irrelevancy. But Uptown Saturday Night is an unheralded classic that has aged well and sets the bar high for the rest of their contemporaries who released albums in 1997.

-Deedub

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Sir Mix-A-Lot will forever be remembered as the rapper who created one of the biggest pop hits of all time, “Baby Got Back.” The song was such a smash that it would overshadow his previous works, which included two RIAA-certified projects, Swass (platinum) and Seminar (gold). The two albums would house lighthearted hip-hop classics, like “Posse On Broadway,” “Beepers,” and my personal favorite Mix-A-Lot record, “My Hooptie.” But “Baby Got Back” would earn Sir Mix-A-Lot his sole Grammy Award for Best Rap Solo Performance in 1993. The single would go double platinum, and the Mack Daddy album would also earn a platinum plaque. Sir Lot would try to build on the commercial success of Mack Daddy with 1994’s Chief Boot Knocka and its lead single, “Put ‘Em On The Glass,” but the single was cheesier than cheddar and the album as weak as a spinachless Popeye. But that wouldn’t deter Mix-A-Lot or his label, American (formerly Def American), from putting out more music, as he would resurface in 1996 with his fifth release, Return Of The Bumpasaurus.

I wasn’t familiar with the term Bumpasaurus before this review, but according to Urbandictionary.com, it describes a flamboyant, normally under the influence, dancer who may be extremely good-looking or a startling, gifted dancer. Neither scenario seems to describe Sir Mix-A-Lot, but what do I know? As usual, Mix-A-Lot would handle most of the production on Bumpasurus, but he would also get help from a few lesser-known names like Mike Kumagai and Quaze. The album failed to render a hit single and would produce dismal sales numbers, which I’m sure played a part in the label and Mix-A-Lot going their separate ways afterward.

If you read this blog regularly, you already know I wasn’t a fan of any of Mix-A-Lot’s previous four albums. Looking at the track listing, cover artwork, and album title for this one, I doubt things will go any differently.

You Can Have Her – Mix-A-Lot proves he has a sense of humor, as the album begins with a clip of Chris Rock poking fun at him and his cheesy single, “Put ‘Em On The Glass,” during a stand-up performance. The comical intro is followed by a messy funk instrumental that finds our host sounding a little salty. He shares three stories about chicks he dated, but they left him or cheated with other options, and to feel empowered, he’s “given them away,” as if he owned them. I enjoyed the Chris Rock bit, but the song was trash.

Da Bomb – Mix-A-Lot lets his friend Amy Dorsey take center stage to get off a bit about the once popular slang term, “Da bomb.” She sounds like Fran Drescher’s character from The Nanny, Fran Fine, which made me reminisce about one of my childhood lusts (boy, did Fran ever live up to her last name. For six seasons, she flaunted that body around Maxwell Sheffield’s home, making what was a mediocre show, much watch television). The skit’s good for a mild chuckle but not much replay value.

Buckin’ My Horse – The song title is Mix-A-Lot’s unique slang for flossin’ fancy and/or souped-up cars. His 1992 Goolie (aka Pontiac 6000), Impala, and Porsche each get a dedicated verse from the proud owner of these fly rides. Speaking of rides, I was more than impressed with how Mix-A-Lot rides the slightly zany but decent instrumental. He flows with a swiftness and clarity that even Twista would appreciate.

Mob Style – Mix-A-Lot invites A.R.T., E-Dawg, and the Jackers to join him in on this ode to West Coast party culture/fuck shit. Mix, A.R.T., and E-Dawg each get a verse to talk about drinking, fuckin’, smokin’, and flossin’ (E-Dawg gives Peabo Bryson what might be the most random shoutout ever in a hip-hop song), while the Jackers co-sign with struggle crooning on the hook. I never considered Washington a part of the West Coast, more like Northwest, but technically, I guess it is. This record is a poor representation of West Coast hip-hop. The music, the theme, the hook, and the bootleg Roger Troutman adlibs make this sound like a cheap reboot of Pac’s “California Love.”

Top Ten List – Mix-A-Lot lives out his dream of being a late-night talk show host with this skit. He borrows David Lettermen’s “Top Ten List” routine for his opening monologue, and none of his list is even remotely funny. Thankfully, he spares the listener from enduring the whole humorless list.

Man U Luv Ta Hate – Sir Lot resurrects elements of his classic joint “Posse On Broadway” (part of the instrumental, some of the rhymes, and he adapts his original nasally melodic flow) as he embraces the hate from his naysayers and proclaims himself as the “J.R. Ewing of Seattle.” It just dawned on me that the infamous Dallas oil mogul was played by the same actor (Larry Hagman, RIP) who played Major Nelson on I Dream Of Jeannie. Oh yeah, the song. Super mid.

Bark Like You Want It – Mix-A-Lot ventures into Miami Bass territory with the instrumental on this one. It also feels like he was trying to recapture the commercial magic he found with “Baby Got Back.” I hated the Tinker Bell backdrop, and the hook and bridge (which has the men barking like dogs and the women purring like kittens) is embarrassingly bad.

Bumpasaurus Cometh – A completely unnecessary, overly dramatic spoken word interlude that sets up the next song.

Bumpasaurus – Mix-A-Lot uses this one to talk a little shit, boast of his accomplishments, and take pride in his longevity in the game: “I’ve seen the mountain top in this rap game/The Grammys, the AMAs, but aint a thang change/’cause when you hit the top it aint nowhere else to go, but down/but I’ve been around/so I held my ground and stayed on track/I got my B-L-V-D style back, I can’t lax/some get the big head when they hit the top/they never change their style, so they fuck around and drop.” He also gets a little carried away at the end of the song, proclaiming himself as King of the Pacific Time Zone. Although most of Mix-A-Lot’s catalog is not my cup of tea, it was kind of cool to hear him pat himself on the back. Quaze’s P-funk heavy backdrop was also decent.

Denial – Amy Dorsey returns for yet another skit. This time, she plays a bougie sista, having a phone conversation with Mix, which quickly turns into an argument about her blackness. I literally lol every time I hear Mix-A-Lot aggressively tell her to “shut up” during their exchange. This all sets up the next track.

Aunt Thomasina – Aunt Thomasina is the female equivalent of an Uncle Tom, which Mix-A-Lot addresses on this record. Mix spends the song’s three verses giving lame examples of what qualifies a woman as an Aunt Thomasina: She likes Barry Manilow, Tom Jones, and Barbara Streisand’s music. She gets plastic surgery and wears a blond weave and blue contact lenses. She left the church choir to sing R&B. She buys nice cars. She secured the bag and moved out of the hood (I’m so glad hip-hop has moved past the silly notion that moving out of the hood when you make enough money to do so is selling out). The only legitimate argument he gives for her being a sellout is the skin bleaching (shoutout to Sammy Sosa). Amy Dorsey proves that she not only can act, but can also sing as she powerhouses the hook, shaming the same Auntie Mix-A-Lot raps about in his verses. I didn’t care much for this one. Mix-A-Lot’s gripes are superficial, and the instrumental is super garbage.

Jump On It – Mix-A-Lot remakes The Sugarhill Gang’s “Apache.” But he’s not concerned with fictitious cowboys and Native Americans; he’s focused on hoes in different area codes. This was horrible.

Aintsta – A few years before 50 Cent coined the term “Wanksta” and turned it into a hit record dissin’ wannabe gangsta, Mix-A-Lot would create this record with the same intent. 50 Cent’s record was a general diss to the plethora of studio gangstas flooding the industry in the early 2000s, but Mix-A-Lot’s aim is on a specific target. I first thought he was shooting at his longtime sidekick, Kid Sensation, but the clues didn’t add up. If you know who he’s firing at, hit me in the comments. But whoever the shots were aimed at has nothing to worry about, as his bullets are only powerful enough to leave a mild flesh wound at best. The funk-lite jam session was cute but a terrible musical choice to support a diss record.

Sag – Only Sir Mix-A-Lot would dedicate a whole song to explaining why he sags his britches. He puts most of it on style and comfortability (he gotta let his “ding-a-ling hang”), then he gives the real reason during the third verse: “I don’t sag ‘cause I’m cool, I got a gut, so I gotta give it room, fool.” I actually enjoyed the lighthearted content, and the beat was tough.

Message To A Drag Artist – Mix-A-Lot waxes poetic about an anonymous former protege whom he tried to help get into the rap game, but the unnamed individual didn’t take advantage of the opportunity our host provided. This interlude, which sounds heavily influenced by The Roach” on The Chronic, sets up the next song.

Lead Yo Horse – Our host continues to build on the message from the previous interlude. He invites Malika to chime in on the matter, and the Jackers resurface, attempting to take the listener to church during the hook. This was decent.

Playthang – Mix-A-Lot raps from the perspective of a…vibrator? Dildo? A vibrating dildo? The unique POV is mildly intriguing, and maybe if we weren’t seventeen songs into what feels like a never-ending track list, I would have enjoyed it more.

Funk Fo Da Blvd. –  I’m really ready for this album to end.

Slide – Mix-A-Lot invites his pal E-Dawg to join him on this album-ending, formulaic, raunchy club joint that has the stench of Hammer’s “Pumps And A Bump” all over it. And finally, we’re done.

Like many pro athletes, a lot of rappers have a hard time knowing when it’s time to throw in the towel and walk away. We can all name rappers who once possessed an unsatisfying hunger and razor-sharp lyrical sword, but over time, their bellies became full from money and fame, and their swords began to dull. For every Lebron James there are a thousand Grant Hill’s. Return Of The Bumpasaurus proves that Sir Mix-A-Lot is no Lebron.

Sir Mix-A-Lot has never been a lyrical monster. On his first few albums, it was his “Fresh Prince with an edge” image and ability to make comedic records with street cred that made him so enduring. The dichotomy of “Baby Got Back” was the record had some of the sensibilities from his earlier playful classics (i.e., “Posse On Broadway,” “Beepers,” and “My Hooptie”), but it also had a slapstick-esque feel as if he was intentionally trying to make a pop record, which is what it would eventually become. The success of “Baby Got Back” seemed to kill Mix-A-Lot’s hunger, and his subsequent music sounded like he was chasing the commercial success that the gigantic single brought him. Bumpasaurus is more or the same. Most of Mix-A-Lot’s themes are lighthearted, but they feel forced and over the top, like a circus performance looking to impress the masses. Adding insult to injury, his Ringling Bros. style themes, hooks, and rhymes are backed by massive amounts of undesirable synth-heavy instrumentals. There are three or four decent records on Bumpasaurus, but four decent records on an eighteen-track-length album isn’t good. Matter of fact it’s horrible, making this album nearly impossible to listen to from beginning to end.

On the album’s title track, Mix-A-Lot claims he’s back to “rescue dance music from the bums.” But in his attempt to do so, the Bumpasaurus ends up sounding more like a Tyrannosaurus who somehow time- warped from his prehistoric era to 1996 and now is forcibly trying to be loved, accepted, and relevant, but to no avail.

-Deedub

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Robbie and Noel Arthurton (aka Dynamic Twins) are no strangers to TimeIsIllmatic. I first wrote about the identical twin Christian rap duo when I reviewed their debut album, Word 2 The Wize, almost nine years ago (damn, time flies!). Their name would re-emerge on this blog a few months ago, when their fourth release, Above The Ground, came up during my 1996 reviews. You can click the links above if you’re interested in hearing my exhaustive thoughts on both albums, but in a nutshell, I wasn’t impressed by either of them. Even with my unenthusiastic reception of W2TW and ATG, it wouldn’t stop the completionist in me from buying their third release, 40 Days In The Wilderness, just a couple of weeks ago.

The album title refers to the scripture in the book of Matthew, where Jesus is led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil and afterward fasted for forty days and forty nights. I’ve always found it funny that the scripture says after Jesus completed his fast, “He was hungry.” Uh, obviously. The Dynamic Twins would handle all the production on 40 Days, calling on a few friends to contribute verses and vocals to some of its tracks.

I first bought a copy of 40 Days years ago during my secular hip-hop hiatus in the late nineties, but somewhere through the years, it got lost in the shuffle, never to be found and shuffled in my car’s five-disc CD changer again (*sigh* the good old days). So, when I stumbled upon a brand new, still factory-sealed CD copy of 40 Days a few weeks back, I had to cop it. If my memory serves me correctly, there were some good tunes on this album. But my memory isn’t always good at serving. Let’s dive in.

Forget About Your Troubles – The album begins with a skit of some dude named Eric (maybe DT’s manager?) accepting an award on behalf of the Dynamic Twins for 40 Days In The Wilderness (maybe a Dove?). Robbie and Noel interrupt Eric in the middle of his acceptance speech with a couple of smacks to the dome, before dragging him off to the woods, which I guess all fits with the album title and concept. Then Brothers Arthurton start the night with a competent funk canvas that they paint with an optimistic message: Cast all your cares on Jesus and live worry-free, which is all biblically based (see 1 Peter 5:7 and Matthew 6:25-29), but easier said than done. Anyhoo, this was a decent way to kick things off.

Who R U – Even Christian rappers forget to use proper punctuation in song titles but moving on. Over a devious bassline and mid-tempo thunderous drums, Robbie and Noel ask a rhetorical question to get the listener to go within and discover that they’re a child of God. Drew “Da Bum” (what an alias) sings the hook to drive home the message on another solid record.

It’s About Time – The twins discuss the decay of the family structure and proclaim that now (or then) is the time to repair that paramount foundation. They match their pensive tone with a darkly tinted backdrop that comes equipped with faint jazzy horns and a bit of a swing that I enjoyed. They also bring a whole choir, in the form of Appointed, Kenisha Bradley, and Andrea Brown, to sing the hook and adlibs that might now sound spectacular, but it serves its purpose.

Reap What You Sow – Aeisha (not to be confused with the Ayeesha once signed to Grapetree Records, which was the Christian equivalent of No Limit Records, only way less successful) and one of my favorite Christian rap duos, LPG, join the twins for this sanctified cipher session. The troops come together to discuss the biblical principle of reaping what you sow (see Galatians 6:7-9), which is kind of like the second cousin to karma. Aeisha, Robbie, and Noel do a serviceable job with the subject, but surprisingly Dax and Jurny Big (aka LPG) miss the mark with way too much “lyrical miracle” sauce on their shared verse. The fire instrumental more than makes up for any of the emcees’ shortcomings.

Global – Just as Jesus instructed his disciples in Matthew 28:19-20 to make disciples of all men, the Dynamic Twins and Aeisha follow suit, as they express their “obsession to spread the word” around the world in hopes of bringing as many as possible to Christ, while Drew “Da Bum” sings their mission statement on the hook. Speaking of obsession, I was a bit obsessed with the luscious guitar plucks, the bellowing bass line, and the relentless cymbal that backs their missionary bars. I have no proof, but I can’t help but think this song was inspired by ATCQ’s “Award Tour” (Does that qualify for a Tribe Degrees of Separation?). This one ends with a skit of Eric (the same dude who got smacked up on the album intro) and Noel in the wilderness looking for food (Noel’s hood ass hi-lariously asks for McDonald’s) before some unidentified flying animal approaches, and Noel pulls out heat to lay it down, which leaves innocent Eric shocked and asking, “Where did you get that gun from?” This skit sets up and bleeds into the next song.

The Story – Over an emotional instrumental, Robbie and Noel share some of the tribulations from their childhood that helped shape their faith and into the men they are today, or at least the men that they were in ‘95: “New York City weather’s gettin’ mama sick/wanted a better life, so we had to move to county, quick/ now I’m feelin’ anger cause I see a family living good and true/thinkin’ if my daddy was around then we would too/now I’m grown with a family of my own/remembering the teachings mommy taught me at home/saying ‘though we have a father here who didn’t give a dime/we have a Father whose in heaven who was with us all the time.” Sometimes simple rhymes filled with heartfelt honesty can hold way more weight than well-sculpted, complex sixteens. Noel and Robbie’s testimony is both touching and compelling, and the “bodiyah” sample from Earth, Wind & Fire’s Brazilian Rhyme (Beijo)” on the hook was a nice added touch.

Get On Down – Aeisha gets yet another chance to rock the mic, joining Robbie and Noel on this track. For the first time on 40 Days, DT’s production fails them. The instrumental sounds like a throwaway EPMD beat, circa 1992.

Will You Still? – One of my biggest turn-offs with the Christian community is the false sense of self-righteousness that a lot of believers walk around with, specifically in leadership. They present a persona of perfection as if they are above sin and error, so when they fall from grace, or their devilish deeds get exposed, they look like foolish hypocrites and give Christianity a bad look. Robbie and Noel humbly acknowledge that they are saved by grace (Ephesians 2:8-9), but even though they believe in Jesus, they won’t always get things right in this walk of faith: “Even though I’m on stages, mags, and cages, makin’ wages/this ordinary man makes mistakes, kid/don’t call me perfect, ‘cause I’m really not/see, I fall short a lot/quick to trust in me, I’ll fail you on the spot/don’t got a “S” on my chest with a cape leapin’ buildings/believe this, even Superman’s gotta weakness.” I’m a sucker for vulnerability, so next to “The Story,” content-wise, this is my favorite record on 40 Days. The omnipresent melancholic synth chord and the interpolated bass line from Marvin Gaye’s “Inner City Blues” sound great behind the duo’s honest bars. The song’s followed by another wilderness skit with Eric and the twins, and once again, eager Eric ends up being the butt of the joke when he jumps in a random body of water only to find out he’s swimming with an alligator. I’m not sure if there’s a hidden message in the playful routine or if it’s just a goofy act to break up the pensiveness of the previous record. Either way, I could do without it.

Back To The Garden – Brothers Arthurton speak on the process of going back to the genesis of their faith in order to move on to the next level. The rhymes are backed by an intense head nod-inducing banger, and LPG stops by, this time to help with the hook. Well done, fellas.

Ready – Brothers Arthurton graciously take a seat and give Aeisha a chance to let her light shine on her very own record. She uses it to talk about her incarcerated brother (who she happens to be the “little sus” to) and does a little bit of bible reading shaming (“Havin’ the form, but denying the power/How much do you read the Bible? Oh, a half an hour?/ That’s what I mean, it’s really not enough/you must be rooted and grounded in the word when times get tough”), but ultimately, she’s out to make sure you’re ready when Jesus returns. The uncredited female singing voice (Is that Aeisha?) reiterates the question on the hook and does a decent job. Brothers Arthurton’s instrumental sounds a little cheap, but they still manage to churn out a modest bop.

Overcomer – DT chefs up a brolic backdrop and builds on Apostle Paul’s content from Roman’s Chapter 8 (which also ties into Revelation 2:7) about overcoming the pressures and temptations of this world and solely serving Jesus to live with him in heavenly peace for the rest of eternity. Even if you don’t buy into their religious viewpoint, it’s great music to help overcome whatever obstacle you may be facing and a good tune to add to your workout mix.

Are You With Me? – DT ends the album with a sanctified party, as they let their hair down and get loose but still manage to sprinkle some biblical bars into their verses (the irony is that the song begins with gunshots and sirens). They also use the proper punctuation for the question posed in the song title (gold star for DT!). The rhymes were cool, but the warm organ chords, blaring jazzy horns, and well-pocketed drums sounded amazing. The album ends with some drunk-sounding dude (maybe Eric, drunk in the Spirit?) thanking the listener for listening to the album. And we’re done.

Proverbs 24:16 reads: For a righteous man falls seven times, and rises again, but the wicked stumble in time of disaster and collapse. Musically, the Dynamic Twins fell short with W2TW and ATG, but with 40 Days In The Wilderness, the God-fearing duo find their footing.

My biggest issue with the other two albums was Noel and Robbie’s vocal clarity, or lack thereof. W2TW had the Arthurton boys sounding like they dumped a bowl of marbles in their mouths before going into the booth. The marble problem wasn’t as prevalent on ATG, but it still existed, and the poor mixing that drowned out their vocals with music made it nearly impossible to understand what they were saying. Marbles and mixing aren’t an issue on 40 Days, as DT rhymes with confidence and solid articulation throughout the project. Noel and Robbie aren’t top-notch lyricists, but their commentary sounds more interesting than the other projects I’ve heard from them. They do a great job of displaying their faith without sounding judgmental, and their vulnerability makes them relatable to all listeners. Aeisha gets her Consequence from Beats, Rhymes And Life on (does that qualify as a Tribe Degrees of Separation moment?), appearing on a quarter of the album’s tracks. She vibes well with the twins but not well enough to change the group name to Dynamic Triplets.

The Dynamic Twins’ production on 40 Days is even more impressive than the rhyming. With the exception of one track (“Get On Down”), Brothers Arthurton string together a quality group of sonic slaps that tap into their New York City roots with jazz-tinged boom bap, but they also utilize some of their transplanted West Coast funk influence on other bangers, sprinkled with just the right amount of live instrumentation throughout the album to give it that extra layer of musicality. The coastal blend sounds organic and makes this holy hip-hop experience even more enjoyable.

Mathew 18:21-22 reads: Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” I’m willing to forgive the Dynamic Twins for their two subpar albums, but only because they righted their wrong with 40 Days. Hopefully, the rest of their catalog doesn’t call for forgiveness. I don’t know if I’m built to forgive anyone seventy-seven times. Work on me, Lord.

-Deedub

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Before we start this post, I’d be remiss if I didn’t send a rest in peace to Lichelle Marie Laws, better known to the world as Boss. Rest easy, Queen.

It seems like just yesterday, we were discussing Spice 1 and his sophomore effort, 187 He Wrote. It was three months ago, but boy, time flies when you’re having fun. Like Spice 1’s self-titled debut, 187 He Wrote was a very entertaining listen that was both a critical and commercial success, earning him more street cred and another gold plaque. As much as I enjoyed his first two albums, for one reason or another, I stopped following Spice 1 after 187 He Wrote. I guess with my limited teenage budget and so much new music coming out every week back then, something had to give, and some artists’ music had to be the sacrificial lamb. I’ve never listened to his third album, AmeriKKKa’s Nightmare, though I’m sure I’ll come across a copy in the used bins at one of my frequent spots at some point. But I recently stumbled on a used copy of his fourth release, 1990-Sick, which is the subject of today’s post.

1990-Sick would feature guest appearances from MC Eiht and E-40, production from familiar names like Ant Banks, and even more production from names you’ve probably never heard of (unless you nerd out and read album liner notes like me) like Blackjack, Chase, and BOSKO. 1990-Sick would mark the end of Spice 1’s three consecutive gold-selling album run, even though it would climb to number three on the Billboard Top R&B/Hip-Hop Charts and thirty on the Billboard Top 200.

Even without ever listening to 1990-Sick, I’m pretty sure what Spice 1 will be seasoning his content with: Plenty of blood and bullets.

1990-Sick (Kill ‘Em All) – Spice kicks off the album with the title track (which was also the lead single) that finds him boasting about his studio mental illness, making reference to a few notorious nineties pop-culture figures (i.e., Mark Fuhrman, Marsha Clark, O.J. Simpson, and the “high technology white boys who blew up the fuckin’ Fed building” (punctuated with a faint and inappropriate “bloah” adlib), aka Timothy McVeigh, and Terry Nichols, and killing everybody in sight. My dark and slightly twisted mind found the hook deviously amusing when Spice hypes himself up to “Kill ‘em all!” and emphatically proclaims, “Cause everybody died on this muthafuckin’ album!” MC Eiht reunites with Spice as he issues out a plethora of violent threats on the final verse, leaving me wondering why they didn’t just call this “The Murda Show Part 2” (Eiht’s mention of he, Spice, and Pac “tearing off your spot” made me wonder if this was originally supposed to be a three-man murder show, which would have been interesting to hear). Stan “The Guitar” Man’s subdued funky guitar licks, Blackjack’s hard-hitting drums and sinister synth chords give life to the duo’s brutal bars that ironically take the lives of others. Nice opening tune.

Dirty Bay – Over a decent dark backdrop, Spice continues his killing spree, puts on his drug dealer hat, and incorporates pieces of Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On) The Dock Of The Bay” into the hook, including the legendary whistle. During my first few listens, I found this record incredibly corny, but it’s become tolerable over time.

Mind Of A Sick Nigga – The song title would lead you to believe that the East Bay Gangsta is going to take you on an intricate trip inside his mind and dissect the workings of his bloodthirsty, demented brain, but it’s really just more of our host spewing random “murder on wax.” The whiny, repetitive synth chord embedded in the instrumental quickly becomes annoying as shit.

Drama – Spice shares the details of a drive-by shooting that leaves his car looking like Swiss cheese and one of his homeboys dead, and of course, he recaps (no pun intended) his retaliation. I actually enjoy Spice most when he’s in storytelling mode. It gives his normally random violent verses (that can start to get redundant) direction. Kokane stops by for hook duties, laying his vocals over the funky backdrop (credited to Clint “Payback” Sands) and giving the track some George Clinton mixed with Prince vibes that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Mobbin’ – Spice uses this one to give a synopsis of a day in the Bay Area spent mobbin’. And if you’re curious, mobbin’ consist of driving recklessly, flossin’, kickin’ it with the homies, smokin’, and gettin’ drunk. All of his hood antics are spat over Blackjack’s happy, feel-good backdrop that even inspires Spice to harmonize a little on the hook. It’s a decent record, but I was more impressed that nobody was murdered on it.

Survival – The pleasant, feel-good vibes from the previous track quickly go up in smoke when the callous backdrop for this record comes in. The East Bay Gangsta uses the frigid music to focus on surviving the dangerous lifestyle of a street hustler. I wasn’t crazy about this one, but I found the gunshot sample implanted in the instrumental very intriguing.

Tales Of The Niggas Who Got Crept On – This one begins with the same devilishly distorted voice from the hook of the title track telling a terrible joke about Mark Fuhrman (that wasn’t meant to be funny, but it’s so absurd it’s hi-larious) before Spice jumps back into his violent storytelling bag. His tales are mildly entertaining, but the dull and cheesy backdrop sabotages what he lyrically tries to build.

Sucka Ass Niggas – Our host pays homage to Run DMC as he puts a gangsta twist on their classic record, “Sucka M.C.’s.” Ant Banks gets his first of two production credits on the night, adding a couple bells and whistles to the original backdrop, which gives it a nice upgrade without abandoning its stripped-down rawness. Mr. Sex, Pistol, Indo, Cash, Entertainment modifies Run’s verses, putting his Bay area slang and swag on them, while his long-time partner G-Nut plays DMC and does a hustler edit of his rhymes. It’s not easy to successfully remake a classic record (*cough* Shaq), but Spice 1, G-Nut, and Ant Banks pull it off. This was hard.

Faces Of Death – Rasta Spice re-emerges, kicking off this track with a “187” chant, accompanied by his puny gun adlib (“Bloah!”) that I actually enjoyed for once. The chant and BOSKO’s spooky synth chords set the mood for our host’s dark content as he discusses, yep, you guessed it, murder and death. The pace and the eerie elements laced in the instrumental, made this sound like the perfect setting for a Spice 1/RBX duet, but Spice does a solid job holding it down dolo. He’s actually not solo on the track, as Kokane shows up to add his Prince Clinton psychedelic vocals to the end of this morbid musical that I thoroughly enjoyed, even as the goosebumps took form on my arms.

1-800 (Straight From The Pen) – Spice uses this one to share the details of a few collect calls from some of his incarcerated homies. He never condemns or condones his friends’ actions but instead gives a neutral account of their experiences, and if some of the exchange doesn’t touch your heart a little, you might be soulless: “My little partner been in jail so long that he ain’t even thinkin’ bout comin’ home/he got the only family that he know besides his momma in the pen wit ‘em/and all the old school comrades is in wit ‘em/I didn’t have to ask him what he pulled them licks fo’/you get them pictures that I sent you of my ‘64?/Yeah, you know the one we always used to ride in/the one them suckas tried to run up on and slide in/we strapped quick as soon as he tried to get in/never forget the dirty work you put in/collect from the pen.” The emotional keys and well-placed slick guitar riffs sound great underneath Spice’s penitentiary commentary. I’m sure the concept was borrowed from Nas’ “One Love,” but it’s still easily my favorite record on the album.

Ain’t No Love – This was the album’s second single. Even though Spice spends most of the album indulging in drug deals and an overabundance of murder, he washes his hands of all white and red residue for this record. Over a smooth melodic groove with sorrowful undertones, our host shares some of the harsh realities of street life from an o.g.’s perspective in hopes of deterring the next young buck from walking the same destructive path. Joya sprinkles her lovely vocals on the hook that helps drive Spice 1’s message home and serves as a nice cherry on top of this cautionary audible treat.

Funky Chicken – And just like that, things go from cautionary to downright ratchet. No, Mr. 1 isn’t trying to revive the dance that Rufus Thomas sang about back in the sixties. The only chicken moving during this song is the cocaine our host boasts about selling to his clientele. I didn’t care much for this one. The content is generic, the hook is corny, and the jazzy horn sample clashes badly with the circus-like synth sounds that dominate the instrumental.

Snitch Killas – Ant Banks gets his final production credit of the night, hooking up a smooth, discretely funky groove, complete with wah-wah guitars, which is one of my weaknesses. Our host uses the sleek backdrop to go on a snitch-killing spree: “See, only real niggas slide with us/you gon’ be snitchin’, muthafucka, you can’t ride with us/because we sure to do some heavily incriminatin’ shit/like pullin’ licks and pushin’ chickens for the fuck of it/ and ain’t no telling in my crew, ’cause everybody guilty of somethin’/that’s why when one dump, we all dumpin’/and the nigga who don’t blast, he get socked and swollen/ threw up out the hooptie while it’s still rollin’/he ain’t dead yet, but if he tattle on a nigga/he gotta tangle with this muthafuckin’ snitch killa.” Gruve borrows Curtis Mayfield’s signature tenor tone and the “Super Fly” melody to sing the hook, while Ant plays the snitch in-between verses. Solid record, and shoutout to Bobby Shmurda.

Can U Feel It – Spice 1 invites Young Kyoz (who sounds very similar to CMG from The Conscious Daughters) and the slippery-tongued E-40 to join him on this Bay Area cipher session. Kyoz gives a decent performance. I’ve never been a fan of E-40, and his verse on the joint didn’t change my opinion, and Spice easily out-rhymes them both. Rick Cousins and Audra Cunningham take on the hook and sing their hearts out over Kent “Payback” Sands’ bangin’ instrumental, but it’s Stan “The Guitar” Man whose rock-tinged chords put the soul in this track and shine the brightest.

1990-Sick (Kill ‘Em All) – The o.g. version sounds identical to the opening track, minus MC Eiht’s verse, which is replaced by a third verse from Spice. I like Eiht, but this record sounds much better as a Spice 1 solo effort.

In my older age, I don’t listen to gangsta rap often. But when I do, there aren’t many rappers that have entertained me more doing it than Spice 1. As I mentioned during the opening, I thoroughly enjoyed his self-titled debut and its follow-up, 187 He Wrote. The East Bay Gangsta filled both albums with mostly intriguing short hood murder novels paired with high-quality West Coast production. So, based on Spice’s track record, I had high hopes going into 1990-Sick. Maybe my hopes were set too high.

1990-Sick is a bit of a roller coaster ride. Assisted by a banger of an instrumental and MC Eiht by his side, Spice 1 quickly sets the mass murdering tone with the adrenaline-pumping title track. Then the next handful of records takes the album on a bumpy stretch with production ranging from lackluster to decent, while Spice’s murderous bars sound compelling on some songs and like generic gangster fluff on other tracks. Things warm up at the midway point as Spice and the backing music find their respective zones for an impressive four-song stretch (“Sucka Ass Niggas,” “Faces Of Death,” “1-800,” and “Ain’t No Love”). From there, things take a quick decline (“Funky Chicken”) before ending on an upward spiral, and suddenly, you look up, it’s all over, and you’re left to gather your thoughts on what you just experienced.

1990-Sick doesn’t live up to Spice 1’s previous works, but it’s still a moderately solid album. It did leave me a little apprehensive about his fifth release, The Black Bossalini, which I recently found a copy of, and it will be working its way down the TimeIsIllmatic pipeline very soon. Would Spice be able to recapture the murderous magic from his first two albums, or would he continue his downward slide from gangsta rap supremacy? Stay tuned.

-Deedub

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The Dove Shack was a three-man group out of Long Beach, California, consisting of C-Knight, Bo Roc, and 2Scoops. My introduction to The Dove Shack was on Warren G’s Regulate album, where he was gracious enough to give the trio their own record (“This Is The Shack”). The gesture was not just kind but a smart business move, since The Dove Shack signed to Warren’s G-Funk Entertainment imprint, a subsidiary of Def Jam Records. A year after the release of Warren’s Regulate album (which went three times platinum), The Dove Shack would drop their debut album, This Is The Shack.

Along with The Dove Shack, Warren G signed the Long Beach duo Twinz to his G-Funk Entertainment label (who also made their grand introduction on Regulate). Interesting enough, both groups would release their debut albums, This Is The Shack and Conversation, on the same day, August 22, 1995. Warren G would produce all but one track on the Conversation album, but only a single track on This Is The Shack (and that credit was for the title song, which was previously released on Regulate), rendering the rest of the album’s sonic development to a handful of other names that included Jam Master J (rip) and longtime Rap-A-Lot Records production affiliate, Crazy C. Releasing the two albums on the same day to compete against each other might not have been the best business move for Warren, as neither album would render great sells numbers.

I enjoyed the production on Conversation and the Twinz…well, let’s just say they didn’t embarrass themselves. I bought a used CD copy of This Is The Shack about eight months ago, and this write-up will be my first time listening to it. Hopefully the absence of Warren’s production hand doesn’t hinder the product.

Rest in peace to C-Knight who passed away last November due to complications with a stroke.

Intro (Skit) – The festivities begin with a hood tour guide showing some unassuming chump around the Dove Shack. At the Shack, you can get any strand of weed you prefer, choose from a variety of baddies, readily available to fulfill your sexual desires, and a deejay’s always on the ones and twos to provide an enjoyable audio experience while you partake in the debauchery. Apparently, the deejay working during this skit isn’t a fan of The Dove Shack’s music, as the tour guide has to forcefully ask him to put their shit on, bringing this intro to an end.

Smoke Out – TDS gets the mandatory weed record out of the way early in the evening as 2Scoops, C-Knight, and Bo Roc get high in the backseat of someone’s ride. Montell Jordan joins in on the fun as he passionately reminds the fellas not to fuck up the rotation during the hook. Someone named Keith Clizark (whose last name I’m sure is West Coast slang for Clark) provides a smoothed-out G-funk groove that sounds like it belongs to Warren G. The trio’s bud themed bars are easily forgettable, but I enjoyed the music and the catchy hook.

This Is The Shack – Apparently The Dove Shack is not only a dispensary and brothel as described in the Intro, but it’s also a haunted house, or at least that’s what the grown-ass kids on the useless opening skit for this track would lead you to believe. As I mentioned during the Intro, this song was on Regulate. A wise choice for TDS to include it on the album as Warren’s Maestro’d g-funk-groove blended with seventies soul vibes will sound amazing for eternity.

Summertime In The LBC – Going into this album, I was unaware that Bo Roc was also a singer. He displays his smooth masculine vocals on this track as Arnita Porter joins Bo on this beautiful ode to summertime in Long Beach, California. The soulful laidback groove (credited to Lamon “Sleepy” Turner and Henry “Hank” Thomas) accentuates Bo and Arnita’s performance, making it easy to visualize the serene summer vibes and the warm sun gracefully beating down from above. The random “muthafucka” adlib after Arnita’s verse was completely unwarranted, though.

Bomb Drop – This was the third and final single from This Is The Shack. Jam Master Jay gets his first of two production credits on the night. The backdrop is moderately dope, but TDS’ meager battle bars drain some of the instrumental’s potency. Continue to rest in power, JMJ, and may your family find peace and solace in the recent convictions of your murderers.

The Train (Skit) – This skit begins with Bo Roc having sex with a young lady in a dark room. In the middle of the smash, he fakes that his condom broke so he can tag out and let C-Knight have at it, unbeknownst to the lady. C-Knight pulls the same shenanigan with 2Scoops, before their victim catches on to the scam. They should have called this interlude “The Rape.” Only in the nineties could some repulsive shit like this be made into a joke.

Fuck Ya Mouth – TDS uses this pleasant instrumental (built around an interpolation from Cameo’s “She’s Strange”) to spew generic misogynistic bars. I enjoyed Bo Roc’s semi-catchy hook, even though the harmony sounds custom made for Nate Dogg (rip).

Slap A Hoe (Skit) – More male chauvinistic jokes credited to Ghetto Klownz. Some of it was mildly funny.

Freestyle Interview (Skit) – Quick skit that sets up the next song.

Freestyle – Crazy C slides TDS some ole slick shit to come off the top of the dome over. The trio aren’t prolific in the trade, but they prove to be proficient with the craft. More importantly, you can feel the fun and camaraderie in the record.

Crooked Cop (Skit) – Cop versus boys in the hood, ending in tragedy and setting up the next record.

Ghetto Life – Our hosts detail some of the drama and stresses that come with living in the hood: police brutality, gang bangin’, violence, drugs, and fatherless homes. How do they cope with the pain? A whole lot of Indo weed. This is probably the most substance you’ll get from The Dove Shack, but unfortunately it renders mediocre results.

East Side Party – JMJ gets his second and final production credit of the night. Along with Bo Roc’s hook, Jay’s up-tempo banger sets the tone for a party. TDS’s raps sound more like their ready to set trip than party, or maybe that’s just how people party in the East side of LBC.

Rollin Wit A Gang – Speaking of set trip, TDS reps for their undisclosed gang, giving this track a quick verbal gang bang with dual meaning. Bo Roc croons another memorable hook, but the true star of this record is Keith Clizark’s jazz-tinged G-Funk backdrop.

We Funk (The G Funk) – This was the second single. Our hosts salute and pay respect to the G-Funk sound over Young Jedi’s (great alias, by the way) deliciously funky groove. After Bo Roc gets tired of singing the hook and adlibs, he passes the baton to Y?N-Vee (whose raunchy record, “4 Play,” was playing in the background while TDS committed rape during “The Train” skit) to close out the record.

There’ll Come A Day – TDS addresses their haters and doubters with this one. Mr. Turner and Mr. Thomas (who were responsible for the musical magic on “Summertime In The LBC”) concoct a slick composition equipped with scrumptious wah-wah guitars (which I’m always a sucker for), and it goes down smoother than a shot of Grey Goose.

Summertime In The LBC (Rap) – This alternate version was the lead single. C-Knight and 2Scoops interrupt Bo Roc and Ms. Porter’s lovely duet with lackluster bars, but not lackluster enough to ruin what is easily the best record on the album.

When I read the liner notes for This Is The Shack and noticed Warren G’s name was pretty much nowhere to be found on the production end, I was a little concerned. On Regulate and the Twinz’ Conversation, Warren’s smoothly melodic G-Funk stylings more than made up for the mediocre rhyming and repetitive subject matter spat on both projects. I guess when your crew’s tagline is “rhythm is life and life is rhythm,” lyricism takes a back seat to the music. The Dove Shack carries on their crew’s tradition of lyrical mediocrity on This Is The Shack, but thankfully, the album also upholds Warren’s rhythmic creed.

Along with Bo Roc’s impressive Nate Dogg-esque in-the-pocket singing and memorable hooks, the production on This Is The Shack carries the album. Jam Master Jay, Crazy C and the rest of the band of producers sculpt a quality batch of instrumentals that would lead one to believe Mr. G created them. The album does come with too many skits that add no value to the listen (and one that I’m sure the fellas were ashamed of later in life), and there are one or two mid moments on the production end, but ultimately, it’s the rhythm that makes the album entertaining and makes the shack feel like a respectable home.

-Deedub

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Bushwick Bill will forever be remembered as part of the legendary Houston-based group Geto Boys. In the late eighties and throughout the nineties, the GBs helped lay the groundwork for southern hip-hop, producing two gold-selling albums and a platinum album with their 1993 effort, We Can’t Be Stopped, which contained one of the greatest hip-hop songs of all time in “Mind Playing Tricks On Me” (a mental health record, way before mental health became a sexy subject). But when the Geto Boys weren’t making group albums, they were busy cultivating their solo careers. Scarface would have the most successful solo career out of the group, bearing fruit to an impressive body of work, including twelve solo albums to date (three of them earning gold plaques and three more platinum) and a plethora of classic records. Between 1989 and 2003, Willie D released five solo albums, including one of the most unintentionally funny albums of all time, I’m Goin’ Out Lika Soldier in 1992. Bushwick Bill would also play his hand in a solo career, releasing six solo albums between 1992 and 2009. A few years ago (eight to be exact), I bought and reviewed his debut solo album, Little Big Man. I wasn’t crazy about the album, but it wouldn’t deter me from checking out the rest of his catalog if it crossed my path. As fate would have it, about six months ago, I stumbled upon a copy of his second solo effort, Phantom Of The Rapra, for a few dollars, and here we are today.

I’m walking into Phantom Of The Raptra completely blind. I don’t recognize any song titles on the tracklist, but I am familiar with Mike Dean’s and John Bido’s names. They are long-time Rap-A-Lot affiliate producers and are credited with producing half of the album. That gives me hope that the music won’t sound as bad as the bizarre album title and cheesy cover artwork.

Continue to rest in peace, Bushwick Bill.

Phantom’s Theme – Soft, dramatic music plays while an interviewer asks Bushwick about the album title. Our host then explains how he likes opera, how opera and rap deal with the same themes, and that the same people who like opera (aka the whites) also despise rap and want it banned. The interviewer then responds with a follow-up question about the “Phantom” part of the album title, which Bushwick says is a secret. I assumed Bushwick was the Phantom since he’s wearing the Phantom mask on the album cover, but whatever. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, the interviewer asked Bushwick, “What are the secrets that are hidden in the temple?” Bushwick flips her question around and tells her to listen to the album to find out about “the secret of the hidden temple.” It sounds like the interviewer and the interviewee are talking about two different temples, or I’m just confused as shit.

Wha Cha Gonna Do? – After a quick poem about the “jungle creed,” Bushwick starts the night off on some psychotic, ready-to-die shit, discussing suicide, murder, and all things related to death: “I lets the muthafuckin fo-fo click/and that’s the end of that big bad nigga shit/how can you be afraid of what’s bound to happen?/You can’t run and try to hide from death/death is uninvited/it’s also at a shitty time/things can creep and snatch your ass up out your prime.” Bill gets distracted a few times along the way, going on random rants about chopping off child molesters’ dicks, and mothers who keep their sons away from their fathers (that rant made me chuckle a bit), but for the most part, he stays on the bleak task. Bido & Dean set the murderous mood with hard drums and menacing guitar licks that make Bushwick’s deranged act believable.

Times Is Hard – Someone going under the alias of Mad gets his first production credit on the album, completely changing the energy from the previous track with tender guitar chords and beautiful keyboard taps that sound like harp plucks. The soothing music helps Bill come down from his manic state as he gets vulnerable and discusses his past life of crime, drug usage, making money, living a lavish lifestyle before losing it all, his love and admiration for his mom, disappointing her with his actions, and being faithful to his lady. But through all the ups and downs, he stays optimistic (“I’mma make it out the ghetto if it kills me”), at least on this record. I thoroughly enjoyed the music and Bushwick’s honesty.

Who’s The Biggest – Bushwick’s Napoleon complex kicks into full gear on this record. The 3-foot 8-inch rapper (whose complex gets so intense during this song he claims to be 4’8) talks big shit (no pun intended) throughout his three verses, with the moral of the story being “Don’t ever underestimate a nigga with a giant size heart and king size trigger finger.” Bushwick’s threats and trash talk sound even more convincing, paired with Mad and CJ’s hard instrumental.

Ex-Girlfriend – Bushwick picks up where he left off on “The Other Level” from We Can’t Be Stopped (he even refers to this record as “The Other Level Part 2” at the beginning) as his ego has him thinking he can fuck all his exes and them being in new relationships is a challenge he welcomes: “Now I can still fuck all my ex girls/ I can give a fuck if they were Johnny Gill’s or even Keith Sweat’s girls/I can push up on your stunt/so you can ‘woo woo’ and ‘my my’ all you want/niggas get mad when they see the ‘Wick comin’/just because they bitch used to be my woman.” Bido & Dean lay down some cool southern-fried bluesy instrumentation to support Bushwick’s cocky misogyny, which left me wondering if I could…never mind.

Only God Knows – Bill grapples with his mental health on this track. He admits to struggling with self-worth, contemplates suicide, and ponders how and when he will ultimately die. The content is very dark, but the upbeat mood of the instrumental (built around a loop from Issac Hayes’ “Walk On By”) brings levity to an extremely bleak subject matter. Considering Bushwick is gone, listening to this record feels morbid.

Already Dead – Bushwick resurrects his Chuckie alter-ego as he plays a hopeless mass murderer who is ready to die. Swift gets his first production credit of the evening, soundtracking Bill’s, excuse me, Chuckie’s bloody bars with cheesy horrorcore instrumentation.

The Bushwicken – More of the Chuckie act on this one, or as Bill refers to himself during the first verse, Chuckwick. I have no idea what’s going on with the whole “Dr. Wolfgang, Von Bushwick, and the Barbarian Bill” thing, but I do know that Bido & Dean’s funky bassline and sensuous guitar licks made me immediately want to see something thick shake her ass and strip to this sexy instrumental.

Subliminal Criminal – Chuckwick spews more mundane mass murder rhetoric with his special guest, Sherm, while Mike Dean provides a cinematic thriller-esque backdrop that I thoroughly enjoyed. And this concludes the Chuckwick three-piece suite.

Inhale Exhale – Rapra was released in ‘95, so of course, it had to include the mandatory weed record. Bill invites his homies/inspiring rappers, Menace Clan, all the way from South Central L.A. to spew generic weed raps as they get high all over Swift’s slick, bassy backdrop.

Mr. President – Bushwick invites 3D from a group called RAG (I’ve never heard of them before either) to rap about the crookedness and hypocrisy of the United States government. 3D does the heavy lifting while Bushwick plays facilitator, calling out elected officials and a few historical American figures on their bullshit in between 3D’s verses. Bill closes the song on a loose cannon rant aimed at the white oppressors, past, present, and future. I appreciate the song’s sentiment, but 3D’s skill set and Freddie Young’s lackluster instrumental make this a hard listen.

Phantom’s Reprise – The interviewer from “Phantom’s Theme” comes back asking more questions, leading Bushwick to give some pseudo-deep meaning behind the Stars and Stripes on the American flag, which leads the interviewer to ask Bill where she should place her allegiance. Wisely, Bill tells her that only God knows, but then he goes into some spiel about illusion and people wearing masks to deceive others, so I guess that explains the Phantom part of the album title, in a weird oddball from left field kind of way. They end the interview back on the “secrets” and “hidden temple” riddle with Bushwick giving the big reveal, which leaves the whole thing sounding like a “Who’s on First?” joke. And we’re done.

Based on Bushwick’s previous solo outing and the cheesy album title and artwork cover for this one, I was a little nervous about what Phantom Of The Rapra would sound like. Bushwick’s convoluted explanation of the album’s title on the opening track increased my fear, but once I heard Bido & Dean’s gritty southern instrumentation on “Wha Cha Gonna Do?” my concerns began to decrease, as I was sure Little Billy was in good hands.

On “Phantom’s Theme,” Bushwick Bill tells the interviewer that the album would be full of content that covers sex, rape, violence, incest, and suicide. While he never touches on incest (which he may have conflated with molestation, which he does briefly talk about during “Wha Cha Gonna Do?”), he does deliver on his promise to tackle the rest of the topics, with a strong emphasis on violence and suicide. Bill spends most of the album in his Chuckie alter-ego persona, spewing psychotic manic-depressive threats to others and himself. He does snap out of his manic state to get vulnerable on a few tracks (see “Time Is Hard” and “Only God Knows”), high on another one (see “Inhale Exhale”), political on one song (“Mr. President”), and of course, he leaves room for a little misogyny (“Ex-Girlfriend”). The Chuckie bit gets a little redundant, but overall, Bushwick’s easy-to-follow rhyme style delivered in his semi-deadpan flow proves effective. But even more effective than Bushwick’s bars is the production. I was excited to see John Bido and Mike Dean’s names as producers in the liner notes, and they more than lived up to my expectations. I wasn’t familiar with the other names: Mad, CJ, Swift, and Freddie Young, but for the most part, they match Bido & Dean’s energy, collectively creating an impressive soundscape for our host and his guests to rhyme over.

Phantom Of The Rapra is another example of why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover or title. It’s a vast improvement from Little Big Man (so much so it makes me want to go back and listen to Little Big Man again to make sure I didn’t miss something) and a solid album with a bullshit theme sandwiched in between a perplexing intro and a laughably bad outro.

-Deedub

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