Time Is Illmatic

Hailing from East Orange, New Jersey, Rottin Razkals was a three-man team composed of Fam, Diesel, and Chap. With Treach being Diesel’s older brother, it only made sense that Naughty By Nature would embrace the trio and help them get their start in the rap game. My introduction to Rottin Razkals came from Fam and Diesel’s cameo on “Knock Em Out Da Box” from Naughty By Nature’s 19 Naughty III album. Then, later in ‘93, Fam would get off a verse on Zhane’s good vibes party classic, “Hey Mr. D.J.” Neither appearance moved me, so I had zero interest or anticipation to hear music from the group. Nevertheless, Rottin Razkals would sign to the Motown Records sub-label, Mad Sounds, releasing their debut album, Rottin Ta Da Core, in March of ‘95.

Another benefit of being in a crew with Naughty By Nature is having access to the extremely underrated producer, Kay Gee. Even though the liner notes for Rottin Ta Da Core credit “Naughty By Nature” for the album’s production, Kay Gee has always been the maestro behind the boards. The Razkals would also invite some extended Illtown crew members to join them on a few of the album’s tracks. RTDC made very little noise and barely cracked the Billboard Top 200, peaking at 190.

I wasn’t even aware that RTDC existed until last August when I saw it begging me to rescue it from a sea of other used CDs in an oversized plastic tub at a New Orleans record store. The two-dollar price tag and Kay Gee’s production credits were enough to pique my interest and close the deal. Hopefully, the music sounds better than the cameos that introduced them to me.

Intro – The first thing you hear on RTDC is a male voice leaving a message on Diesel’s answering machine, stressing that D needs to get to the studio to finish the album (for those under thirty, an answering machine was the physical version of a voicemail box). Then, Rottin Razkals perform a unified chant, making their official introduction to the world and welcoming the listener to the album. The menacing bassline and dark organ chords in the background sound super fire.

Batter Up – After the sound effect of a bite from an apple, a grungy stripped-down synth backdrop comes in for the Razkals and their extended crew to flex on this Wu-Tang style cipher session. If the mighty Treach is in your crew, it’s only right that you allow him to set shit off, and he does, setting the tone for the rest of the team (Diesel, Fam, Headache, Bad Newz, Road Dawgs, and Steel Handlers, which is a sick group name). Collectively, they do a solid job of keeping the energy up for the remainder of the song, which goes pretty damn hard.

Oh Yeah – This was the lead single from RTDC. If you listen to the Commodores record, “Say Yeah,” that Kay Gee takes a two second loop from and builds this instrumental around, you’ll understand why sampling is truly an art form. With the help of Dave Bellochio on keyboards (the same Dave that dropped “a load on ‘em” on “O.P.P.”) and Jack Daley on bass, Kay transforms the Commodores slow jam love ballad into a high energy hip-hop canvas that Fam and Diesel paint with boasts as they attempt to hold down the fort for RR and their Illtown crew. I’m sure the duo’s rhymes didn’t leave their rivals shaking in their Timbs, but they give a decent enough performance. The instrumental does the heavy lifting on this record, though.

Frustration – Rottin’ Razkals use this one to discuss the everyday stress and mental anguish that comes with coming up as a young man in the hood. Chap makes his first appearance of the evening, joining Fam and Diesel as all three members of the group touch on the subject at hand. They don’t profess to be experts on the matter or offer methods on coping with it. Instead, they come off like young men who can relate to the struggle, thus making them relatable to the listener. Once again, Mr. Bellochio and Mr. Daley provide live instrumentation to feel in the spaces in Kay Gee creamily melodic production that almost feels like therapy in itself. The drunken homie skit that follows was pretty useless, but whatever.

A-Yo – This one begins with a few uncredited ladies harmonizing about loving some anonymous person but not having the time to fuck with that unidentified someone. Then an instrumental that sounds like a low-budget version of the “Klickow-Klickow” backdrop (see Naughty’s Poverty’s Paradise) comes in for Fam and Diesel to rhyme like they did on “Klickow-Klickow,” minus the undeniable lyrical force that is Treach and the synergy from the rest of their Illtown crew. It doesn’t hit nearly as hard as “Klickow,” but still passable. I’m still confused what the opening interlude was all about, though.

Hey Alright – This was the second single. Kay Gee loops up Isley, Jasper, Isley’s hit eighties record, “Caravan Of Love,” for the backbone to this track. Fam rolls dolo this time, as he offers up heavy fluff on the verses and the hook, relying heavily on the instrumental to carry the weight, and the plan works out fairly well. The feel-good vibes in this song make it an obvious choice for a single. This one ends with the Razkals chanting about how good they feel before the next song begins.

Lik A Shot – Black from Zoo Crew, Cruddy Click, DUEJA, Headache, The Roaddawgs, and Supreme C join Fam and Diesel for another Wu-Tang-style cipher session. Kay Gee maestro’s darkly pristine synth keys and crisp drums to support the posse’s overall solid round of verbal jousting. 

One Time For Ya Mind – Fam’s opening line is “I’m creative, creatin’ with creativity,” which sets the tone for the plethora of throw-away bars he and Diesel flood this record with. I did enjoy the chill, slightly drowsy instrumental, though.

Get Up, Stand Up – Kay Gee would later use the opening interlude on this track for Poverty’s Paradise (see “Double I Skit”). Then things get serious when Kay and company serve up some gully instrumentation (Dave plays what has to be the filthiest keys of his career) that I would have loved to hear Treach rap over. But Treach doesn’t show up, and Fam and Diesel give it that old college try with lukewarm results.

Life Of A Bastard – As the song title suggests, Fam, Diesel, and Chap (who re-emerges from the world’s longest bathroom break) brood over coming of age in the hood without a father in their lives. If you’re going to do a song about being a bastard and Treach is your big bro, you have to invite him to the affair, and wisely, they do. As vicious as a boasting/battle emcee that Treach is, he is just as potent when he gets into his reflective/introspective bag. He delivers a vividly callous verse on this one, and it’s easily the strongest verse on the entire album. Kay Gee uses a sped-up interpolation of the same Syl Johnson loop that Rza used for Raekwon’s “Heaven & Hell,” and it sounds great, especially paired with Treach’s verse.

Homiez Niggaz – Generic hook and forgettable “reality raps” over soulful keys from Mr. Bellochio, all capped off by a couple more bites taken from the same rotten apple bitten on the intro.

Come On Ya’ll – Rottin Razkals close out the evening with a subtle banger credited to DOUBLE I (although the liner notes also credit Naughty By Nature for the music). The instrumental sounds like a disco break got involved in an entanglement with cool drums and a discretely gully bassline. Fam and Diesel don’t add much lyrical value to the record, but a musical threesome never sounded so good.

There is definitely privilege that comes with being related to one of the greatest emcees of the nineties, who also happened to be the lead mic for one of the most commercially successful hip-hop groups of that era. Diesel’s privilege as Treach’s younger brother benefited him and his Rottin Razskal bredrin, Fam, and Chap, who collectively are an apple on the Naughty By Nature tree. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but every once in a while, it falls, takes a tumble down a hill, and ends up miles away from its life-giver.

On Rottin Ta Da Core, the Razkals rely heavily on simple high-energy hooks and the Kay Gee-led production to make up for their middling rhyming abilities. Big bro, Treach contributes a couple of sharp verses, and when their extended crew members show up (Roaddawgs, Steel Handlers, Cruddy Clique, etc.) the synergy makes the tracks sound more interesting. But when Fam, Diesel, and Chap (whose MIA for most of the album) are left to handle microphone duties alone, their mediocrity and aimlessness make it easy to lose focus on the rhymes and hone in strictly on the music, which is overall pretty damn solid. It’s like listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher speak over a dope batch of beats. The Razkals aren’t completely rotten rappers, but their limited skills are the core problem with the album. Pun intended.

-Deedub

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The last time we checked in on Slick Rick was with his 1991 sophomore effort, The Ruler’s Back. As the story goes, Rick was facing attempted murder charges (you can read my review of The Ruler’s Back for all the intricate details), and since he was signed to Def Jam and coming off the platinum success of his debut album, The Great Adventures Of Slick Rick, Russell Simmons posted his bail giving the London born emcee three weeks to record the album. The overall consensus from critics was that the album sounded rushed, and while I enjoyed most of the production, the mixing felt hurried, and so did some of Rick’s concepts and rhymes. The album sales were also disappointing, as it wouldn’t come close to matching the numbers that The Great Adventures put up. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. During that same three-week bail period, Rick would also record what would be his third album, appropriately titled Behind Bars.

Behind Bars would feature production from some of hip-hop’s most elite producers: Easy Mo Bee, Prince Paul, Warren G, Large Professor, Pete Rock, and Rick’s longtime production partner, Vance Wright. Rick has said in interviews that his vocals were recorded first, and a lot of the music was added to the tracks afterward, similar to the process used for The Ruler’s Back. Despite a couple of mild hits, Behind Bars received mixed reviews from critics, and like its predecessor, it was a commercial failure.

I bought Behind Bars when it came out, but it would become victim to my soul-searching cleanse in the late nineties, finding its way to a landfill near you. I found and bought a used CD copy of the album a few months back to complete my Slick Rick solo collection. I wasn’t crazy about the album back in the day, but maybe time has been kind to the project.

Behind Bars – Rick kicks off the night with the title track that he uses to lightheartedly discuss his time spent in prison. The instrumental (which the liner notes credits to Prince Paul but also reads, “Remixed by Epitome Of Scratch”) matches Rick’s antics, and I might have enjoyed it more had my ears not already been exposed to Warren G’s amazing work on the remix. More on that later.

All Alone (No One To Be With) – The album’s energy takes a drastic shift with this track. Vance Wright serves up a smoothly somber instrumental that our host uses to share a story about a lonely single mother named Dawn and her troubled son. This might be the most depressing story rap in the history of hip-hop. They could have at least tucked it later in the track sequencing so not to sadden the listening audience so early into the experience. I still enjoyed the calming melody in the music.

Sittin’ In My Car – Rick reunites with his Get Fresh Crew partner, Doug E. Fresh, who’s responsible for the beatbox laced throughout the song. Vance Wright loops up Billy Stewart’s “Sitting In The Park” to create a delectable soulful sonic for Rick to break down the love triangle he’s involved in with his girl and her best friend. How in the hell do you cheat on your girl with her best friend and then have the audacity to paint yourself as the victim? Fuck outta here! The single/video version used a cheesy manufactured R&B heavy instrumental (courtesy of Jermaine Dupri) that I always despised. Plus, the singers on the hook sound horrid compared to the sixties soul sound Rick also borrowed from Mr. Stewart’s record for the original mix. If Rick were a free man when Behind Bars was released, I’m sure he wouldn’t have approved the remix.

A Love That’s True (Part I) – Rick makes the listener feel like his best friend or counselor as he gives three examples of his lousy choice in women: the coke head, the Herptress, and the young groupie, and according to Rick, they all struggle with monogamy. Rick’s dancehall-tinged backdrop sounds like the identical twin to he and V. Wright’s work on “Runaway” from The Ruler’s Back album. I still enjoyed the music, and Ricky’s tales on this record are probably the most engaging (and easy to follow) on the entire album.

Cuz It’s Wrong – One thing that consistently plagued The Ruler’s Back was the mixing. Far too many times, Rick’s soft high-pitch vocal tone got buried in the music, making it nearly impossible to follow his storylines. The saga continues on this track. Rick uses each of his three verses to outline a sexcapades with three different cheating women. I gave up trying to decipher Rick’s rhymes after the ninth or tenth time listening to the song (although I clearly understood the line when one of the ladies requests that Rick stick it “more deeper in my asshole”), but Easy Mo Bee’s jazzy instrumental is so fire, I keep coming back for more.

Let’s All Get Down – Rick links up with Nice & Smooth for this cipher session. The Greg Nice produced track was first released on Nice & Smooth’s Jewel Of The Nile album five months before Behind Bars. It sounds equally unimpressive on both albums.

I’m Captive – This might be the most bizarre narrative in Rick’s extensive story rap career. Rick comes from the perspective of a slave whose enslaved wife is repeatedly getting raped by their master, which somehow leads to Rick bangin’ out his master’s wife. Things get even wilder when the master starts making sexual advances towards Rick before Rick’s son shoots their oppressor in the dick and then tells his father that he’s also killed his own mother, so Rick can now live happily ever after with the master’s newly widowed wife. On paper, it sounds dark, twisted, and depressing, but Rick turns the subject into a zany audio cartoon that only with the help of Genius.com was I able to follow the details. The legendary Pete Rock gets his first of two production credits on the evening. Per usual, he builds the instrumental around his signature pounding drums and jazzy horns, and of course, he has to talk over the track in true PR fashion. Unfortunately, the instrumental falls flat, giving me zero interest in listening to Rick’s weird and hard-to-follow storyline.

Get A Job – Rick uses this one to not so nicely encourage begging broads (or, as he affectionately calls them, “half-cent hookers”) with their hands out to get a job. Pete Rock’s credited with the backdrop that sounds nothing like his usual M.O., but it’s still passable.

A Love That’s True (Part II) – Rick brings back the instrumental from Part I and continues on his disgust for women tirade. Instead of rapping, this time Rick reggae chants his rant before closing things out by encouraging his son to “Don’t trust no bitch” and hi-lariously singing/whistling a lullaby about how much he loves his little whippersnapper. A reggae chant done with a British accent sounds pretty interesting, and his words are even harder to decode.

It’s A Boy (Remix) – The original mix of this song, which finds Rick celebrating becoming a father, was on The Ruler’s Back album. I like Extra P’s jazzy interpretation on this remix, but unlike the original mix, Rick’s vocals get drowned out by the music. And wouldn’t it have made more sense to put this song before the “A Love That’s True” suite? Have the baby, then rant about how trash the baby mama and all other women are.

Behind Bars (Dum Ditty Dum Mix) – This is the remix I mentioned earlier in this write-up. It will forever be sketched in my memory as the time Warren G did his best Premo impersonation. The mysterious chimes and warm vibrations in the music sound incredible. Warren’s instrumental has gone criminally underrated through the years.

I’ve mentioned a time or two on this blog how much I dislike posthumously released albums. The whole idea of taking a deceased rapper’s old verses, which are often still rough drafts and incomplete ideas, and forcing them to fit within the construct of an instrumental the rapper probably never heard or intended the rhyme to be paired with feels inauthentic and usually equates to very low-quality music. There are two exceptions to my posthumous album rule, and that’s Pac’s The 7 Day Theory and Biggie’s Life After Death, both of which were already complete or pretty close to completion when the rappers passed, so they actually deserve a posthumous asterisk. After listening to The Ruler’s Back, Snoop’s Tha DoggFather, and now, Behind Bars, I might have to put albums recorded when the rapper is facing murder charges under the same umbrella as posthumous releases.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I enjoyed the production on The Ruler’s Back, but Rick’s rhymes felt rushed, and his stories were hard to follow due to the horrible mixing of the tracks. That problem persists on Behind Bars. The A-list producers do a pretty good job on the production end, but Rick’s hurried rhymes and mostly uninteresting storylines, along with the copy-and-paste recording approach and odd track sequencing, end up hindering the final product.

Ultimately, Behind Bars is a failed cash grab that hasn’t aged well, and a great example to all incarcerated rappers to not release bars while still serving time behind them.

-Deedub

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It has been said that Snoop Dogg is the most recognizable human on the planet. He became famous during his successful rap career dating back to the early nineties, but in the last ten to fifteen years, he’s become an ultra-successful businessman, transcending hip-hop and becoming quite the endorsement whore. Turn your television on any random day at any given time, and you’re guaranteed to see Snoop pitching a product. Scroll through one of the social media apps on your phone, and his face is bound to pop-up advertising something. There is not an algorithm or demographic safe from his crazily diversified endorsement portfolio. I agree that there is not another celebrity as recognizable as Snoop, but I’d be willing to bet that Shaquille O’Neal is a close second.

Shaq’s claim to fame was basketball, a sport he dominated for most of his nineteen-year professional career. He won four championships, accumulated a slew of individual accolades, and was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame in 2016. Since his playing days, he’s had endorsement deals with major companies like Pepsi and Reebok. And now that he’s retired, when he’s not winning Emmys with Charles Barkley, Kenny Smith, and Ernie Johnson on TNT’s Inside The NBA, you can catch him on a TV commercial slangin’ Gold Bond, Icy Hot, General Insurance, Pepsi, even pizzas for Papa John’s racist ass. With all his accomplishments, he’s also low-key had the most successful rapping career of any professional athlete.

During his second year in the league while still with the Orlando Magic, Shaq released his 1992 debut album, Shaq Diesel, on Jive Records. I didn’t care much for the album, but it was still a commercial success for Shaq and the label, as it would produce two gold-selling singles and become platinum certified less than five months after its release. Just over a year later, Shaq, who apparently became the unofficial fourth member of the Fu-Schnickens, would try to build on the success of Shaq Diesel with Shaq Fu Da Return.

Like its predecessor, Da Return would rely on a handful of respected producers to sonically shape the album and a slew of cameos from some of your favorite artists. Da Return wasn’t quite as commercially successful as Shaq Diesel, but it would earn Mr. O’Neal a gold plaque. What other athlete can you name with two RIAA certified albums? Definitely not Dame Lillard.

I remember the singles from the album, but I didn’t buy Da Return when it came out back in the day. A few months ago, I found a used CD copy for a couple of bucks, and the completist in me immediately made me reach for my wallet. Hopefully, this fares better than Shaq Diesel.

No Hook – Da Return begins with what would end up being the second single from the album. Rza cooks up a semi-polished version of his early dark and grimy 36 Chambers style production sound and spits the lead verse, delivered in his old manic-frantic rapping style that I adored so much. Shaq, aka Shaq Diesel, aka Shaq Fu, aka Shack Attack, aka Superman Emblem bats second, getting off a solid verse and sounds very comfortable rhyming over the beat. Then the 1996 co-cameo whore recipient, Method Man, swoops in to close things out with a satisfactory performance. The fellas claim that they don’t need a hook in-between the verses ends up working as the hook, which was kind of silly. This record has held up pretty well over the past thirty years.

Newark To C.I. – This song has all kinds of issues. Issue #1: Shaq begins the song clarifying that they are “only saying ‘funkin’ (not to be confused with fuckin’), but then you never hear the word used during the song, unless the sample of the ladies on the hook are saying it, and if they are, no one can understand that shit, so no apology necessary. Issue# 2: At the end of his first verse, Shaq tells the listener to “Prepare for the Redman,” who never shows up. God bless Keith Murray, who does show up and does a great job of trying to clean up Shaq Fu’s snafu by telling the crowd Redman couldn’t make it “due to certain circumstances.” Then, on the final verse, Shaq destroys all Murray’s repair work with his closing bar: “Newark representing lovely, Redman and the Shaq.” Obviously, this was supposed to be a Shaq/Redman duet, but why couldn’t they edit Shaq’s Redman references out in the final mix or have him redo the verse when Red failed to come through? Issue# 3: Redman might not have been able to make a verbal appearance, but he is responsible for the mid-on-a-good-day instrumental that draws blah output from our host and his gracious and slighted guest, Mr. Murray.

Biological Didn’t Bother (G-Funk Version) – The album’s lead single finds Shaq honoring his stepfather, Philip Harrison, who stepped up (no pun intended) and filled in for his absentee sperm donor: “Biological father, left me in the cold, when a few months old, I thought a child was greater than gold, but I guess not, you brought me into this world but you’re not my dad, mess around with them drugs made my moms mad, so we left you with no remorse or pity, took the first bus from Newark to Jersey City.” This song sounds strongly influenced by Scarface’s “I Feel Ya.” From the detailed storyline of his childhood, to his biological father leaving and a stepfather filling the void, to the Warren G led instrumentation that sounds eerily similar to John Bido’s work on Face’s record (which is probably my favorite Scarface record of all-time). Despite the biting, I mean, the similarities, Shaq’s sincere rhymes and the smooth instrumentation make this an enjoyable record, and the CL Smooth snippet during the hook was a nice added touch. By the way, I was today years old when I found out this was the remix, as the single/video used this instrumental. We’ll discuss the original mix in a minute.

My Dear – On the previous song, Shaq paid homage to his father, so it’s only right that his mom gets love on this track. Shaq uses the buttery Warren G produced instrumental to express his desire to find a life partner with attributes like his dear old mom (“Tall, slender, brown eyes with the jet-black hair”). Warren also chimes in on the mic as he gets off a quick eight bars that adds very little value to the song, and Shaq remixes a couple of classic Phife Dawg lines so I can resurrect my Tribe Degrees Of Separation segment.

Shaq’s Got It Made – Maybe the fact that Snoop successfully pulled off remaking Dougie Fresh & The Get Fresh Crew’s classic “La Di Da Di” made Shaq feel he could do the same with Special Ed’s “I Got It Made.” Some classics should be left alone. Fried chicken souffle? Come on, Shaq.

Mic Check 1-2 – Big Ill and Al Skratch, better known as Ill Al Skratch, join Big Shaq on this one. The threesome share the mic (pause), strategically interrupting each other and randomly finishing each other’s lines throughout, and it all sounds entertaining as hell over the smooth and darkly tinted backdrop, credited to The LG Experience and LoRider (who were also responsible for providing the soundscape for Ill Al Skratch’s debut album, Creep Wit’ Me). It’s easily my favorite song on the album.

My Style, My Stelo – Redman finally makes good for ghosting Shaq on “Newark To C.I.” as he joins Shaq and Erick Sermon for this cipher session. E-Double gets off the best bar of the entire album (“My style is sharper than a razor blade dressed in a black tuxedo”), but its not enough to overcome Red and Shaq’s underwhelming output or E-Double’s lifeless backdrop.

(So U Wanna Be) Hardcore – Shaq uses his platform responsibly by making this stop the violence/gun control record. Chyskillz provides a warm, blunted melodic bop, laced with a clever Biggie snippet on the hook, and Shaq does a nice job of keeping his rhymes from sounding like a preachy PSA.

Nobody – Erick Sermon loops up Steve Arrington’s “Nobody Can Be You” for Shaq to celebrate the fearfully and wonderfully way God made him. And he makes sure to shoutout Pepsi for the third time tonight (see “My Dear” and “My Style, My Stelo”).

Freaky Flow – I had no idea who Mr. Ruffneck or General Sha were before hearing this joint. Apparently, they made up (or were a part of) a group called Missing Link, and Shaq invites them to rap and chant, respectively, on this record. All three parties turn in serviceable performances, but I found the tough drums, warn bassline, airy melody, and slick horn loop in Chyskillz’s instrumental more interesting.

Biological Didn’t Bother (Original Flow) – As promised, the O.G. mix of the lead single that I’m sure I’m not the only one who didn’t know was the original mix. The LG Experience and LoRider put a creamy and glooming melodic twist on the lead single, which is quite the contrast to Warren G’s pristine instrumentation on the G-Funk Remix. I think I like them equally.

Stand & Deliver – Oh, how I miss the days of buying a CD, reading the track list on the back jewel case panel, only to later listen to the album and discover there’s a hidden track not listed in the track listing. It used to feel like receiving a surprise gift. And if that extra track was good music, the surprise was even better. Thankfully, “Shaq Diesel” (which sounds like it could be a leftover from the Shaq Diesel sessions) features a high-energy instrumental backed by a high-octane hook (no pun intended). Mr. Diesel himself also does a solid job on the mic, and of course, he gives Pepsi a closing shoutout.

As I mentioned during the opening of this write-up, I wasn’t a fan of Shaq’s debut album, Shaq Diesel. Jive billed it as a blockbuster release, pairing the NBA’s hottest new player turned rapper with a few respected hip-hop producers and cameo appearances from some of the label’s hottest hip-hop acts. The album was filled with gimmicky fluff and had no real direction. While a few of the songs worked, most of the production was lackluster, and Shaq sounded like an overgrown puppet spewing Erick Sermon, Phife Dog, and others written thoughts. But Shaq would rebound nicely. *rimshot*

On Shaq Fu: Da Return, Shaq does a decent job balancing braggadocios bars and lighthearted rhymes with personal perspectives and conscious content. He shows vulnerability (“Biological Didn’t Bother” and “My Dear”), touches on self-pride (“Nobody”), gets into his social commentary bag (“Hardcore”), but still leaves room to have fun and talk his shit. Shaq will never be on anyone’s top ten list, but he sounds more polished on Da Return than on his previous album. Based on some of the personal material, I’d be surprised if Shaq had ghost riders this time around, but if he did, they did a masterful job of customizing the bars to fit the big fella’s image. Along with Shaq’s rhyming, the production also improved. Everyone who produced a track on the album that is not a part of the Def Squad, serves up a minimum of moderately dope music to support the Diesel one’s rhymes.

When it’s all said and done, Shaquille O’Neal will forever be remembered for his hall-of-fame basketball career. Even though the man has sold millions of albums, most will forget or never know about his successful rap career. It will be a footnote on the seven-footer’s illustrious timeline, even though Da Return was a decent listen from my favorite era of hip-hop. It’s far from essential listening, but well worth the three dollars I paid.

-Deedub

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During my write-up of Above The Law’s Time Will Reveal, I mentioned that ATL is one of my favorite underdog hip-hop groups. You never hear the Above The Law name mentioned in the discussion of greatest rap groups or hear Cold 187um and KM.G’s names brought up in barbershop debates about best rap duos. Meanwhile, ATL has kept its hand to the plow, steadily putting together a solid catalog with at least one unsung classic under its belt (Livin’ Like Hustlers). I also mentioned during my TWR write-up that I had never heard Uncle Sam’s Curse before, and I had recently bought a Sony Music reissued CD version of the album and was chomping at the bit to give the project a thorough listen and dissect it. Just over a year after uttering those words, here I am reviewing Uncle Sam’s Curse.

Like Black Mafia Life before it and Time Will Reveal after it, ATL would keep all the production in-house for Uncle Sam’s Curse. The album would yield two singles and peak at 15 on the Billboard Top Hip-Hop/R&B Charts and 113 on the Billboard Top 200. Vibe Magazine would include it on their 50 Best Rap Albums Of 1994 list.

The album title and the intriguing cover artwork (credited to Kurt Nagahori) makes me wonder if the pimps/drug dealers from Pomona turned in their underworld cards for conscious content this time around. Let’s jump into it and see what happens.

Continue to rest in peace, KM.G The Illustrator.

Return Of The Real Shit – The album begins with a snippet from the 1994 movie Against The Wall (which was a movie about the Attica Prison riots of 1971, starring the legendary Samuel L. Jackson). Then the beat drops, and Cold 187um does a quick mic check before he sprays his hood rhetoric all over the track in his signature high-pitched, slightly-raspy vocal tone. 187um gives a big middle finger to Hitler, the swastika, and the skinheads, Mr. Rogers catches a shot (Why Mr. Rogers gotta get the pervert title? Or maybe ‘pervert’ is a metaphor for drug dealer, since his next line is he’s “steadily selling candy to the kids, man”), and he asks the listener some poignant rhetorical questions along the way (KM.G answering them all in his adlibs makes me crack up every time I listen to it). KM.G slides in second, spewing his cool player/gangsta shit, and his poker face never wavers. The instrumental consists of synth chords (one of them being a loop from Zapp’s “More Bounce To The Ounce”) and a bunch of random noises thrown together, magically blending into a mobbable, gargled funk groove.

Set Free – KM.G and 187um may have participated in drug dealing, pimping and other criminal activity, but they take pride in being able to say they’ve never been involved in a gang (though they constantly boast about being gangsters). I understand that by the time the nineties rolled around, what Black gangs in America stood for was much different than the pure intentions and unified principles they were founded on in the sixties and seventies. But it feels contradictory for ATL to look down on gang banging as if selling dope to Black people or pimping women of color isn’t just as destructive to the Black community. Regardless of the conflicting messaging, the stank bassline, slick twangy guitar licks, along with 187um’s skats and the harmonizing ladies on the hook, sound amazing.

Kalifornia – Kokane makes his first of several appearances on this ode to the place he and ATL call home. Of course, the three gentlemen’s perspective of Cali comes from a street lens. I wasn’t crazy about this one, but the sample from The Time’s “Gigolos Get Lonely Too” that the instrumental is built around made the record semi-interesting (but that’s probably just my Minnesota bias kicking in).

Concreat Jungle – There was absolutely no reason to misspell “concrete” in the song title, but moving on. 187um and KM.G step firmly into their street hustler roles, issuing threats to their rivals and putting a strong pimp hand down on their hoes. The G-funked jazz arrangement sounds lovely, and the WALZ radio host Michelle Devine, who opens the record and closes the record, sounds like she has an incredible fatty.

Rain Be For Rain Bo – 187um and KM.G get their shit off on the mic, but the instrumentation was a bit drab for my taste buds, and Kokane’s singing on the hook was annoying as shit.

Everything Will Be Alright – What would an Above The Law album be without a song celebrating players, male chauvinism, and misogyny? Kokane’s harmony on the hook sounds much better than his performance on the previous song (he also spits a cringe worthy bar about getting “An eight-year bid” for “a rape,” which I hope I misunderstood), but the true star of this record is the instrumental. The way the heavenly melodic chords dance with the thunderous funk instrumentation is a thing of beauty.

Black Superman – After another clip from Against The Wall plays, the album’s lead single begins. ATL creates a synthy melancholic mid-tempo groove for the dynamic duo to take turns explaining why their underworld deeds qualify them as hood superheroes: (Cold 187um) “I got my mama up out of there/because ya’ll motherfuckas just don’t care/Uh, you really want to know why I sold scum/because my mama to me comes number one/now you sucka motherfuckas don’t understand/but to my mama, I’m her real Black Superman.” The Roger Troutman-esque voice box cosigning K and 187um’s dark heroism on the hook is the delicious topping on top of this audio dessert that sounds just as amazing today as it did thirty years ago.

The ‘G’ In Me – Over an elegant G-Funk score, our hosts explain the double meaning of being a G, giving proper context for both sides. 187um sums it up best in two bars: “I got stripes, oh yes, I gots many stripes, from checkin’ a gang of niggas, and layin’ a gang of pipe.” His verbal visual later in the verse, left me salivating: “Time, and time, and time again, I find myself in between two big, gorgeous ass thighs, going for a long, long ride.” If I had to pick a G-side, I’m rollin’ with the gigolos.

Uncle Sam’s Curse – This one starts with another movie soundbite. The clip comes from the 1988 film Mississippi Burning, which is loosely-based around the murder investigation of three civil rights workers in Mississippi during the Civil Rights Movement of 1964. The clip features one of the agents conducting the investigation, Rupert Anderson (played by Gene Hackman), singing a white supremacy jingle before the song begins (boy, I felt like I spent too much time explaining that clip with little ROI). Then soulful synthesized chords come in for KM.G to list off a bunch of examples of Uncle Sam’s Curse, followed by verses from he and 187um talkin’ that gangsta shit. The instrumental gets progressively more interesting as the song goes on when the chords get chopped up and the melody switches. This was fire.

One Time Two Meny – This one begins with a movie clip of a police officer rolling up on a couple of young brothers to harass them (If you know what movie this snippet came from, hit me in the comments). It works as a flawless segue for ATL to address the never-ending strained relationship between Black males and the police. 187um shares a story about being stopped by the police, who then search his vehicle on “probable cause.” KM.G comes from a completely different angle, detailing a drug dealing partner of his who gets seduced and duped by an undercover female cop and is now looking at twenty-five to life. I don’t think KM.G’s friend’s situation falls under the “One time always trippin’” category that’s sung on the hook. She was just doing her job, but I digress. I love the dark descending bells and crashing drum claps in the instrumental, which makes for the perfect soundtrack for the album cover artwork.

Who Ryde – KoKane joins KM.G and 187 one last time to take a ride with his homies for this verbal drive-by. They also invite Tone Loc to the party, as he dusts off his old derringer to get off a couple of bars on the song’s final verse. Tone doesn’t sound bad, but I wouldn’t have expected the maker of “Funky Cold Medina” and “Wild Thing” to appear on an Above The Law record. All parties involved turn in decent performances, but something about the loop in the instrumental (that sounds like it was played backwards) makes the song feel sleepy like it drunk a gallon of lean.

Gangsta Madness – This one begins with yet another Against The Wall interlude (which is easily the most touching of them all), setting up the final song of the night. KM.G and 187um contemplate the inevitability of death over beautifully somber music (which includes an interpolation of Kool & The Gang’s “Summer Madness,” hence the song title). KM.G closes the song by shouting out the names of his deceased people, which feels super sad and eerie now that KM.G has also passed away. Fittingly, the album ends with one final snippet from Against The Wall.

The album cover, which shows the image of an angry Uncle Sam in the form of a storm cloud coming down from above to wreak havoc on the inner city, is both incredible and chilling. Since the 19th century, Uncle Sam has been the symbol for the United States government, and since the Atlantic slave trade, which brought millions of Africans across the ocean to build the United States on the backs of the enslaved, the treatment of African Americans by the American government has been tumultuous, and that’s being kind. The artwork gives the impression that Above The Law is going to pivot from their normal pimp rhetoric and gangsta posturing to focus on social commentary and a deeper message. But you know what they say about the cover of a book. The same rules apply for albums.

During a 2014 newspaper interview, Cold 187um recalls the group playing “Black Superman” for Eazy-E (who was the founder of Ruthless Records, the label that released Uncle Sam’s Curse) before the album was released, and Eazy telling the group it had to be the lead single. “He (Eazy-E) said the reason why ‘Black Superman’ is the single is it explains what the whole album is going to be about.” “Black Superman” and “One Time Two Meny” are solid social commentary pieces, and there are a few other songs on the project that sprinkle in socially conscious tidbits, but Uncle Sam’s Curse is far from a woke album.

There are certain emcees that I look to when I want a conscious message or some lyrical substance to feed my soul: Public Enemy, KRS-One, old Ice Cube, Common, Talib Kweli, J.Cole, Kendrick Lamar. There are several more I could list, but Above The Law isn’t one of them. When I listen to ATL’s music I’m not looking for righteousness, but a sufficient dose of ratchetness and an occasional street jewel. Don’t let the slew of movie soundbites laced throughout the album fool you. At its core, Uncle Sam’s Curse finds Cold 187um and KM.G up to their old antics: gangsta talk, random acts of violence, drug dealing, pimpin’, and an occasional gem droppage. And as usual, they make it entertaining. But even more entertaining than the rhymes is the music underneath the bars. Production wise, Uncle Sam’s Curse might be ATL’s best work, as it’s full of enough pristine layered G-Funk-esque fire to overshadow the occasional dud that the album bears.

I’ve only heard Above The Law’s first four albums, and if Time Will Reveal is any indication of how their last three albums sound (Legends, Forever: Rich Thugs, Book One, Sex, Money & Music), then I’m pretty sure their best artistic days were behind them. Uncle Sam’s Curse might not only feature ATL’s best production work, but pound for pound, it may be better than Livin’ Like Hustlers. Even with the artwork being a bit misleading.

-Deedub

Follow me on Instragram@damontimeisillmatic

My first post of 2024! I hope you all had a wonderful Holiday season and that the new year brings you joy and prosperity. A few more housecleaning write-ups to go before we get back to our regularly scheduled program (1997 is right around the corner…um…well…you know what I mean). Thanks for your support, and Happy New Year!

Ant Banks is an unsung producer out of Oakland, responsible for providing stinky heat for some of your favorite West Coast rappers: Snoop Dogg, Too Short, Spice 1, MC Eiht, E-40, Rappin’ 4-Tay, Mac Mall, Dru Down, South Central Cartel, MC Ren, Mack 10, WC, and I could continue with the list, but this is where I’ll stop. Banks was also a part of the Too Short led Dangerous Crew, and when he wasn’t producing tracks for different members of his team and others, he was putting together raps of his own. Ant’s Dangerous Crew affiliation would help him secure a solo deal with Jive Records (which was also the label home to his Dangerous Crew bredrin, Too Short and Spice 1, in the nineties), where he would release three solo albums, including the subject of today’s post, The Big Badass.

Released in 1994, The Big Badass is the second of Ant Banks’ three solo albums released during his Jive run in the mid-nineties (the other two being Sittin’ On Somethin’ Phat in ‘93 and Do Or Die in ‘95). Unsurprisingly, Ant would handle all the production on the album, and he would call on a bunch of his Dangerous Crew members to help him bear the lyrical load. The Big Badass didn’t make a ton of noise, but even without a hit single, it would peak at number 80 on the Billboard Top 200.

I’ve never listened to The Big Badass before this write-up. A few months ago, I came across a used CD copy of the album while browsing the used CD bins at a record store in my city (shoutout to Electric Fetus!). Let’s jump into it and see how much of a badass Ant is, musically speaking.

The Big Badass – The album begins with the title track, which finds our host and his chipmunk-voiced alter ego (or sidekick?) celebrating the life of a big dick gangsta who smokes weed, gets drunk, and fucks hoes all day. Speaking of hoes, Ant’s poorly worded hook (“I’m havin’ so many hoes, I don’t know what to do”) made me wonder if he was giving birth to them or fuckin’ them. Ant’s instrumental fares a little better than his adolescent rhymes, as it’s laced with one of his signature dense rubbery basslines, but the cheesy synth chords surrounding it gives the music a slapstick feel.

2 Kill A G – Spice 1 and Too Short drop in to join Ant, turning this track into an all-Oakland affair. Mr. 187 kicks things off with a reggae chant for the hook, and he continues to increase his body count since we last heard him on 187 He Wrote (he also continues to shoot his punny twenty-two during his adlibs). Too Short bats second delivering a decent verse, followed by unconvincing mailed-in bars from Ant, then Spice returns to get off his reggae shit, making this feel like a Spice 1 record instead of Ant’s. Even with Spice 1’s admirable performance, the wacky sound effects in the production sours the experience, and not even the sexy bass guitar licks and slick wah-wah strokes at the end of the record could clean it up.

Streets Of Oakland – In two verses, Ant sums up the streets of Oakland to gangstas, hustlers, pimps, hoes, violence, and flossin’: “Welcome to the danger zone, where the niggas don’t play that/Every man for self, the rule is to stay strapped/’Cause rat packers try to jack that ass/From the jealousy that’s built in the streets when you stack cash/And they’ll blast, hopin’ they can get it/Punk, so if you got it, you best to get wit it/Or quit it, ’cause niggas be flippin’ over dope and/Your friends might get you if you’re slippin’ in Oakland.” Boots Riley from Coup, and fellow Oaklandnite, closes the record out with an abstract spoken word poem that sounds great over the hard instrumentation.

The Drunken Fool – This song contains a high dosage of misogyny delivered with criminally elementary rhyme schemes that Ant and Pee-Wee from Digital Underground (who drops in late in the debauchery to do his best Twista impersonation) should be embarrassed of. The singing duo of Otis & Shugg also contribute to this horrendous musical orgy by singing the shamefully bad hook. Harmonizing “All you hoes know that it’s time for you to suck the dick” sounds crazy.

Parlayin’ – Ant loops up some Bootsy Collins to create a breezy backdrop and invites Goldy to hot potato the mic with him as they discuss staying fly and enjoying life despite their haters and naysayers. Decent record.

Clownin’ Wit Da Crew – Ant Banks invites the extended Dangerous Crew to join him on this cipher session: Rappin’ Ron, Pee-Wee, Ant Diddley Dog (which has to be one of the worst rapper aliases of all time), Father Dom, and Too Short. This might be the driest posse record in the history of posse records. I could barely say that last sentence without coughing. Someone, get me a bottle of water, please.

Fuckin’ Wit Banks – Pooh-Man was an Oakland-based rapper down with the Dangerous Crew in the early nineties. Thanks to his DC affiliation (more importantly, his Too Short affiliation), he secured a deal with Jive, releasing his first two albums on the label: Life Of A Criminal in 1990 and Funky As I Wanna Be in 1992. Sometime after the release of Funky As I Wanna Be and 1994, Pooh-Man fell out of good standing with The Dangerous Crew, and this dis record is aimed directly at him. But Mr. Banks doesn’t come alone; he invites Too Short, Goldy, and his Chipmunk alter ego to help verbally jump their adversary. Ant gets off a couple of decent bars (specifically when he calls Pooh “A little wanna be Too Short clone,” which I’ve thought since my introduction to him on the “Sex, Money & Murder” record from the Juice Soundtrack), but does anyone really care about an Ant Banks/Pooh-Man beef? The instrumental is tough, though.

Straight Hustlin’ – The song title might lead one to believe that Ant is talking about selling drugs, but the hustle he speaks about is his music. Our host chronicles his grind in the game to become a viable producer and encourages anyone listening with a dream to continue to chase it. Kudos on the uplifting message and the nasty bassline in the instrumental.

Pimp Style Gangstas – Rappin’ Ron and Ant Diddley Dog join Ant Banks as the three parties take turns displaying their pimp/gangsta style. Ron and Diddley Dog sum the song’s message up best during their opening verse: “I’m a muthafuckin’ pimp with a street full of prostitutes, (and if a nigga talkin’ shit), Well, I’m a gangsta so I gots to shoot, a fake busta with the quickness, I got hella bitches, and more niggas on my hit list.” Mr. Banks provides a mildly funky backdrop, but not funky enough to make me ever want to listen to these three’s fuck shit again.

The Loot – Ant Banks yields and allows his Dangerous Crew leader, Too Short to take center stage. Mr. Shaw uses the opportunity to talk about his humble beginnings in the game, boasts a bit, takes what appears to be a couple more shots at Pooh-Man (the “You just a fat fuckin’ needle in a haystack” line made me come to that conclusion), and spits game about the ultimate mission: to get money. Ant samples Parliament’s “Chocolate City” for the instrumental, and Short Dog sounds great rhyming over it. This is easily the strongest record on the album. If only Banks could have come up with eleven more of these.

Packin’ A Gat – This record was released on the Menace II Society Soundtrack in 1993 under a slightly different song title (“Packin’ A Gun”). Our host concocts a discreetly funky groove to discuss the importance of carrying your piece for protection whenever you leave home. Great advice, adequate record.

Hard As Hell – Ant shows a little vulnerability on this one as he contemplates the struggle of maintaining and keeping his sanity while dealing with death and violence all around him. His semi-cerebral rhymes are backed by a G-funked interpolation of Steely Dan’s “Home At Last.” Ant also invites his friend, J. Spencer to sprinkle cool jazz saxophone notes over the track, giving the song Kenny G vibes. It’s not a superb record, but a mildly entertaining way to cap off the evening.

Much like Pete Rock, Madlib, and Dr. Dre, Ant Banks is a producer who sometimes dabbles with rapping. With that in mind and having heard him rhyme before this listen, I wasn’t expecting much from Mr. Banks lyrically, so the meager bars he spews throughout The Big Badass didn’t really disappoint me. I don’t buy Ant Banks albums looking to hear great lyrical content. I buy his albums to hear funky slaps.

On the album’s title track, Ant Banks rhymes, “Makin’ funky beats is my thing.” When Ant is at his best, his thick skunky basslines, smothered with funky synth chords and live instrumentation, makes for audio delights that will leave you with a stank face while you bob your head uncontrollably. Ant Banks is the Pepe Le Pew of Oakland hip-hop when he’s in his bag. Unfortunately, Mr. Le Pew doesn’t get in his bag often enough on The Big Badass.

Ant’s production on the album isn’t all bad (no pun intended). He does manage to chef up a few undeniable bangers (i.e., “Streets Of Oakland,” “Fuckin’ Wit Banks,” and “The Loot”), but most of his musical work is drenched in mediocrity. And the mediocre music mixed with the meager rhymes, makes the The Big Badass a big disappointment. Pun intended.

Deedub

Follow me on Instragram@damontimeisillmatic

M.O.P. will forever hold a special place in my heart for creating arguably the most energetic testosterone-driven thug anthem in hip-hop history with “Ante Up” in 2000. (You don’t agree? Throw the record on right now and tell me it doesn’t make you want to get gully in a mosh pit, or rob somebody, or at least stomp a nigga out). While I’ve always respected the mixture of energy and animosity (shoutout to Tony W) in Billy Danze and Lil Fame’s music, I don’t know if I qualify to call myself a fan of M.O.P.’s music. Allow me to explain.

As I mentioned during my review of M.O.P.’s sophomore album, Firing Squad, that review marked my first time listening to the album. Well, I have another confession to make, folks: Firing Squad was the first M.O.P. album that I’ve ever listened to in its entirety. Throughout the years I’ve heard some of their singles and a handful of cameos they’ve made on other rappers’ songs, but I’ve never gotten around to taking a deep dive into their catalog, which is partly why I started this blog (not specifically for M.O.P., but for artist in general that I’ve never made time to dig into). I’ve had copies of Firing Squad, First Family 4 Life, Mash Out Posse, and St. Marxmen in my collection for well over a decade now, so God willing, I’ll get to them someday. A few months ago, while browsing Amazon for my “most wanted list,” I came across a brand-new reissued CD copy of M.O.P.’s 1994 debut album, To The Death for less than twenty dollars. I had to cop, and since I’m playing chronological catch up at the moment, here we are today (I promise, I’ll be getting to 1997 soon).

To The Death would be the only album M.O.P. would release on Select Records, which was also once the label home to UTFO, Kid ‘N Play, Chubb Rock, and AMG. The Mash Out Posse would pretty much put the production keys into the hands of fellow Brooklynite, DR Period (who is also responsible for creating the heat that backed Danze and Fame’s hostility on “Ante Up”), as he’s credited with producing all but one of the album’s songs. To The Death would render three singles that made very little noise outside of the East Coast region and would peak at 68 on the Billboard US Top R&B/Hip-Hop charts.

It feels like it was just a few months ago that I was listening to and writing about Firing Squad. But it was actually just over a year since I posted my Firing Squad write-up (December 13, 2022, to be exact). Time is truly, illmatic.

Crimetime 1-718 – The album begins with a pensive instrumental that Billy and Fame use to shoutout their home borough of Brooklyn, that they also affectionately refer to as Crooklyn, for very specific reasons. And if you’re wondering, “718” is the area code where their criminal activity takes place.

Rugged Neva Smoove – DR Period follows up the intro with more mid-tempo heat, meshing synth chords with soulful choir notes, and a rough rockish bassline. Danze and Fame make their proper introductions as they dish out their first round of verbal beat downs and aggressively let the listener know their musical preference during the hook.

Ring Ding – Things get a lot grimier than the previous two tracks with this raw boom-bap backdrop that Billy and Fame continue to scream hostilities at. The instrumental sounds a little empty, but the gully bassline adds some much-needed meat to what otherwise skimpy backing music is.

Heistmasters – The Mash Out boys use this one to outline the deets of a few robberies right in front of our ears, and it’s all soundtracked by jazzy horns and poppin’ swing drums. Heisting has never sounded so pleasant.

Blue Steel – Bluing is the process of coating steel with black oxide to protect it from rusting, which also gives the steel a black/blue shine. Danze and Fame prefer their guns blued. They wrote a song about it. Wanna hear it? Here it goes…

Who Is M.O.P.?? – Fame and Danze use this short interlude to list all the extended members in the M.O.P. family.

To The Death – If the instrumental for “Ring Ding” was grimy, this one is bottom of the gutter gully. Danze and Fame sound at home rhyming over the dark and dirty canvas as they pledge allegiance to each other and the M.O.P name. This is definitely one of my favorite joints on the album.

Big Mal – M.O.P. pays respect to one of their fallen bredrin on this side one ending seven second interlude.

Top Of The Line – M.O.P. brings the same aggressive energy they’ve had during the rest of the album, but something about the weary bassline and the synthetic horns brought in between the verses turned me all the way off. Despite the song title, this is definitely at the bottom of the line as far as tracks on the album go.

This Is Your Brain – M.O.P. reinterprets an old eighties drug prevention PSA for this interlude. There’s no need to listen to this one more than once.

Drama Lord – Decent.

F.A.G. (Fake Ass Gangsta) – This instrumental is the audio equivalent of fire falling from heaven during the apocalypse, consuming Earth and all the fake ass gangstas who roam on it. Kudos to M.O.P. for successfully disguising a derogatory term in an acronym to dis their adversaries. But there is nothing derogatory about DR Period’s fire backdrop.

How About Some Hardcore – This was the album’s lead single and the only song I was familiar with going into this write-up. DR Period’s blaring horns and cool bassline sound just as enduring today as they did thirty years ago, while Danze and Fame’s aggressive thuggery still entertains (Fame’s “Mother made ‘em, mother had ‘em, so muthafuck ‘em” might be the best line on the entire album).

Positive Influences – One last interlude before the final song of the evening.

Guns N Roses – Billy and Fame use the final song of the night to discuss the intriguing dichotomy of shooting their rivals and bringing flowers to mourn the homies they lost to gun violence. M.O.P.’s content doesn’t sound nearly as serious as described in the previous sentence, and Silver D’s dull instrumental makes it easy to mentally check out of this record. Shoutout to Axl Rose and Slash.

In my previous write-up, I praised Spice 1 for standing firm on his square and never wavering in his gangsterism. Similarly, M.O.P. is a group whose messaging stayed consistent throughout the nineties as they were unapologetic and direct with their objective: to let all fake ass gangstas know that they were better than them, and if you opposed them or disagreed, prepare to get beat up, robbed or shot. On To The Death, the Mash Out Posse stays true to their mission statement, mixing Brooklyn bravado with bully bars backed by a hefty dosage of boom-bap beats.

I will always champion rappers who go against the grain and refuse to make formulaic records, but one of the challenges that comes with staying in a specific lane for an entire album is keeping things fresh and interesting. On To The Death (as well as Firing Squad), the bully lane traveled by Billy and Fame gets redundant quickly, as their “rah rah” begins to lose its potency by the midway point, and I found myself zoning in and out during several of the album’s songs. Thankfully, DR Period’s solid production keeps things afloat even when M.O.P.’s rhymes get a little stagnant.

Despite its lyrical redundancy, To The Death is still a decent debut from the Brownsville duo. But if Billy and Fame put guns to my head and made me choose between To The Death and Firing Squad, I would think Firing Squad, but of course, I’d tell them that both albums were flawless masterpieces. What? I ain’t trying to get shot.

-Deedub

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By 1993, Sex, Pistols, Indo, Cash, Entertainment-One, better known to the world as the Oakland-based gangsta rapper, Spice 1 was one of the hottest artists in the game. Fresh off his gold-selling 1992 self-titled debut album, Spice 1 would score the biggest hit of his career in the summer of ‘93 with his single, “Nigga Gots No Heart,” from the Menace II Society Soundtrack. The record would help propel the Menace Soundtrack to number eleven on the Billboard Top 200, number one on the R&B/Hip-Hop charts, and along with MC Eiht’s “Streiht Up Menace,” would play a large part in the album earning a platinum plaque. Spice 1 would look to capitalize on the momentum of his Menace success by releasing his sophomore album, 187 He Wrote in the fall of ‘93.

For the few of you who may not know, “187” is the California penal code for murder. Spice 1 would call on some familiar names to musical back his violent tales, including Too-Short, Ant Banks, and E-A-Ski & CMT. He would also get production work from a few lesser-known producers, and the album would include cameos from a few of hip-hop’s heavy hitters. 187 He Wrote would receive favorable reviews, climb to numero uno on the Billboard Top R&B/Hip-Hop charts and number ten on the Billboard Top 200. It would also earn Spice 1 another plaque, becoming gold certified just sixty days after its release.

I bought 187 He Wrote on cassette when it came out back in ‘93. But like most of my tapes, it fell victim to my hungry cassette player or just got lost in the shuffle when I started converting to CDs in the mid-nineties. Nevertheless, nostalgia struck when I discovered and bought a used CD copy a few months ago. It’s been a minute since I’ve listened to the album, so let’s see how Spice 1’s murderous tales have held up these past thirty years.

I’m The Fuckin’ Murderer – After some heavy breathing and a few words from a way too often used demonically distorted voice, Spice 1 sets the tone for the evening with this opening song. Prodeje from South Central Cartel lays down a dark, slick, deep funk groove for our host to go on his verbal murder spree, spilling blood all over the track. Spice sounds great on the mic as he rides the beat like an elite equestrian, and he takes his performance to another level when he breaks out his stutter flow (that I first heard him use on “Money Gone” off his debut album) for the last two verses. The “High Powered” RBX vocal snippets embedded into the hook are the cherry on top of this fire record that’s sure to get your adrenaline or your shotgun pumpin’.

Dumpin ‘Em Ditches – This was the lead single from 187 He Wrote. E-A-Ski & CMT get their first of four production credits of the night, providing a solid synth mid-tempo bop for Spice to catch more bodies on, and he’s polite enough to give them all proper burials. I could be wrong, and the liner notes don’t support my theory, but I have a sneaking suspicion that MC Eiht wrote this one for Spice. Listen closely to Spice’s cadence and adlibs and let me know in the comments if you hear it too.

Gas Chamber – This one left me scratching my head. Per usual, Mr. 1 spends the entire song talking about his criminal past (question: how does one “pack” an AR 15?), but throughout the record, he subtly suggests that brothers find other means of making ends meet, as an early death or prison are the only rewards earned from the street life. He even ends his final verse by saying, “In ’93” the criminal lifestyle “ain’t for you and me.” Then he closes the song with his moral of the story: “When you shoot the next muthafucka, you goin’ to jail regardless of what muthafuckin’ color you got on, you know what I’m sayin’? You gonna get the gas chamber, regardless. So, why not do it for some cash, anyway?” If that soliloquy made sense to you, please explain to me what the hell he’s talking about in the comments. Regardless of Spice’s nonsensical utterings, I enjoyed Too Short’s low-key funky instrumental.

187 He Wrote – The title track finds Spice in his 2pac bag as he plays a paranoid gangster whose criminal history and surroundings have him looking over his shoulder awaiting a visit from the grim reaper: “I’m tryna keep my aces and my deuces all together/I’m thinking of self-murder, I know I won’t live forever/this chronic got me noid, I need to get a job/but instead I wanna sell dope, hang on a rope and steady mob/I’m waking up in the morning thinking of death/as I break out in a cold sweat/I’m havin’ dreams of a whole family put to rest/visions of a dead man, body bags/and all the youngstas gettin’ they cap cooked over colored rags.” Spice’s dark content is backed by silky smooth emotional instrumentation (credited to Mentally Blunted), and we get our first taste of his puny-sounding gunshot adlib (“Bloah!”).

Don’t Ring The Alarm (The Heist) – Boss flies in from Detroit to join the East Bay Gangsta for a bank robbery. Spice makes it clear to the listener and Boss what the mission is early on during his opening verse, when he hi-lariously instructs Boss to “Put this gat up in your panties, ‘cause we gon’ rob these muthafuckas for every nook and cranny.” They seem to have the perfect team, scheme, and theme music for the heist (Mentally Blunted’s sinister backdrop is extremely hard), but when the cops get involved their plan foils, and they literally fumble the bag (Wait…was Spice thinking about killing Boss before the cops showed up?). Regardless, it makes for a very intriguing listen.

Clip & The Trigga – Ant Banks maestro’s one of his signature animated rubbery funk grooves and helps with part of the hook for this ode to the clip and the trigger, or “trigga.” Spice continues his violence spree and sprinkles a little reggae seasoning on the record. No pun intended.

Smoke ‘Em Like A Blunt – The reggae seasoning Spice 1 sprinkled on the previous track turns into a full-fledged reggae lathering on this one. Mr. Sex & Pistols chants about smoking some random dudes and cops like blunts over a solid reggae riddim (surprisingly, credited to Too Short) that’s bound to put you in a trance as you put something in the air. We also get a heapin’ helpin’ of his mega corny gunshot adlib (smh). He has to be firing off a pink twenty-two.

The Murda Show – Now, this is a collab that makes perfect sense. Spice 1 and MC Eiht were both coming off the success of hit records on the Menace II Society Soundtrack, released in the summer of ‘93. Add the fact they both love to shoot people on wax, and this aptly titled record is a match made in gangsta heaven. Eiht’s credited for the passable instrumental, and both emcees do a solid job sticking to the script.

380 On That Ass – I always found it interesting that there were two different hip-hop groups with a Havoc and a Prodigy in the mid-nineties. On the East Coast you had Havoc and Prodigy of Mobb Deep, and the West Coast had South Central Cartel, which had Prodigy (Spelled “Prodeje”) and two Havoc’s (Havoc Da Mouthpiece and Havikk The Rhyme Son). All three of them join Spice 1 on this record. The song begins with Havoc Da Mouthpiece and our host in the middle of a smoke session reminiscing about Spice 1’s ode to his 9mm from his debut album (“Peace To My Nine”). Then Spice informs Havoc that his weapon of choice has changed to something more sleek and easier to conceal. Spice and Havikk proceed to rap praises to their .380s, while Prodeje spends most of his verse bragging about the damage his nine can do. Then at the tail end of his verse, he gets back in line with the song’s subject. Prodeje is also credited for the hard instrumental, so I’m willing to show him grace for conceptually missing the mark.

Mo’ Mail – More drug and murder talk from Spice 1, as his Bay area comrade E-40 stops by to splash the track with adlibs in the form of his signature gibberish, I mean, slang. I’ve never been a fan of E-40, so I was very happy that he didn’t rap on this record. But even with 40 restraining from rhyming, I didn’t care much for this one.

Runnin’ Out Da Crackhouse – A shootout with crackheads at a crackhouse, quickly turns into a scuffle with police, a wrestling match with Rin Tin Tin, and jail time for our host. Spice’s storyline is all over the place, but the soulful instrumental makes his theatrics a little more enjoyable.

Trigga Gots No Heart – This was the hit single from the Menace II Society Soundtrack that I mentioned earlier (it’s actually the edited version of “Nigga Gots No Heart,” as both versions appear on the soundtrack). Spice comes from the perspective of a drug dealer who feels trapped in the hood and his hopelessness has him living recklessly as a self-proclaimed “madman killer”: “Release the trigga as I hurt off the liquor/nina put a cease on his Timex ticker/and uh, Prez, he can’t give me no love/‘cause I’m stuck on the corner in the ghetto slangin’ dub sacks.” The song ends on a sad note as karma finally catches up to our host. E-A-Ski & CMT are responsible for the layered melancholic and callous backdrop that’s sure to tug at your heartstrings.

Trigga Happy – Our host tries to recapture the magic he created with his debut single, “187 Proof.” Instead of bringing different alcoholic beverages to life for his storyline, fittingly, he turns different types of guns into people for this hood tale. The song doesn’t hold a candle to “187 Proof,” but it does bring some levity to what has been a dark and violent listen to this point.

RIP – E-A-Ski & CMT build this glossy somber backdrop around the same Gwen McCrae loop used for Boss’ “Deeper,” as Spice reflects and reminisces about some of the homies he’s lost to the streets. Spice continues to diversify his flow portfolio, delivering his rhymes with a restrained saddened baritone flow (reminiscent of Scarface) that completely cooperates with the solemn vibes of the music.

All He Wrote – Our host ends the album giving shoutouts with another uncredited gentleman, over silky wah-wah guitar licks and a drumbeat that even a rapper with Spice 1’s versatile flow could only give shoutouts over. And that’s…all he wrote.

In a genre where most of its artists and acts follow trends and make formulaic records to gain commercial success, it’s always nice to see a rapper who knows his lane, stands firm on his square, and sticks to his guns. There might not be a rapper who has stuck closer to his guns throughout his career, both literally and figuratively, than Spice 1.

From beginning to end, 187 He Wrote finds our host blooding each track with violent tales, never wasting time on contrived love/lust songs intended to win over a female fanbase or bothering with making a forced club banger to make you feel good and dance. Spice 1 gives no fucks about love, your feelings, or expanding his fanbase. He’s more concerned with feeding the listener a constant and consistent diet of murder, drugs, guns, and more murder while showcasing the versatility in his flow. Spice’s rhymes are backed by a nice mixture of West Coast bangers and soulfully cinematic grooves that help keep his redundant content interesting. The handful of cameos are scattered proportionately throughout 187 He Wrote, so it still feels like a Spice 1 solo album; and even while in the room with some prominent names, Spice 1 not only holds his own but shines the brightest. There are a couple of songs that could have been left off the final product, and the “bloah” adlib that Spice saturates 187 He Wrote with is one of the worst in hip-hop history, but overall, 187 He Wrote is a darkly entertaining listen that lives up to its title.

-Deedub

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The last time we checked in on the Brooklyn-based rap group, X-Clan, was in 1990 with their debut album, To The East, Blackwards. The album may not have been commercially successful, but it was a critical darling with beats that hit harder than Ike Turner and the conscious messaging from Brother J and Professor X was blacker than Whoopi Goldberg’s lips, the back of Forest Whitaker’s neck, and Wesley Snipes, combined. Many regard the album as one of the best hip-hop albums of the nineties, and The Source Magazine would even include it on their 1998 list of 100 Best Albums of all time. After a two-year hiatus, X-Clan would return on the scene with their sophomore effort, Xodus.

Like their first go-round, X-Clan would keep all the production in-house with no featured guests and stick with an eleven-song track count. Adding to the similarities with To The East, Xodus would peak at number eleven on the Billboard R&B/Hip-Hop Charts, but it would rise higher than the former on the Billboard Top 200, peaking at 31.

Xodus is another album that I didn’t buy when it originally came out, although I do remember a couple of the album’s singles. Nevertheless, I bought a used CD copy a few months ago and now I get to unpack with you all.

Rest in peace to Professor X and Sugar Shaft.

Foreplay – The album begins with a dense bass line, hollow drums, and a few of X-Clan’s naysayers whining, I mean, complaining about the issues they have with the group, while a sample of a crying baby in the background pokes fun at their haters. The first part of this intro ends with a snippet of a speech from what sounds like Professor X, crediting Minister Louis Farrakhan as “The leader of the real X-Clan.” The second half features Professor X sharing a poetic lecture on Black consciousness over the same dense bassline used on part one, but with softer drums, and the crying baby loop is replaced with a laughing one.

Cosmic Ark – After thunder strikes and rain falls, an ominous horn loop meets Brother J’s authoritative voice and his opening remarks. Then a simple but effective drumbeat drops, and Brother J gives us his first dosage of militant pro-Black parables: “And as we dig down deep for ark feel/and none try to steal, when they know they can’t deal/my rhythmist vibe is more effective/potency vibes for all the pro-Black selective.” The Overseer also gets off a quick verse, and of course, he closes the song with his signature Pan-African colors stamp of approval.

A.D.A.M. – This was the third single released from Xodus. The team loops up Grover Washington Jr.’s “Mr. Magic” (making this the third consecutive post that I’ve mentioned his name) for this smooth laidback musical canvas, as Professor X and Brother J, once again, do their respective things, effectively.

Xodus – X-Clan builds this instrumental around a couple of very familiar samples (the Ohio Players’ “Funky Worm” and a funky sample from The Turtles’ record that D-Nice previously used and made hip-hop famous with “Call Me D-Nice”). Brother J stand firmly on his soapbox and spits another well-articulated Black pride sermon with cosigns from the Professor. J also continues his feud with KRS-One over his humanist stance (“Or would you ask me if I’m a humanist?”) and takes what appears to be a subtle jab at MC Breed (“I hear some niggas talking ’bout they’ll paint the White House black/I’ll blow the sucka up and pressure on the attack,” referencing a line from Breed’s 1991 hit, “Ain’t No Future In Yo’ Frontin’,” which also sampled “Funky Worm”). All in all, another solid record.

F.T.P. – If you’re not sure what the acronym in the song title means, it’ll quickly click once the first hook rolls in. X and J use a funky little rhythm (built around a Ripple loop that most of you will recognize from Special Ed’s classic, “I Got It Made”) to discuss the turbulent relationship between the police and the Black Community. The message (which remains as relevant today as it was thirty years ago) is the same as N.W.A.’s infamous record, but naturally, X-Clan delivers theirs with more sophistication. The smooth En Vogue “Hold On” break placed in between the verses was a nice added touch.

Fire & Earth (100% Natural) – This was the lead single from Xodus. The record opens with a sample of a choir singing an old negro spiritual with snippets from Jimmy Castor’s “Troglodyte” woven in and calling the white man a few different colorful names (no pun intended). Then the sick instrumental drops and X and J commence to share with the listener what kind of “niggas” they are. Oh, and if you didn’t catch it during “Xodus,” X-Clan hates humanists, which means The Blastmaster catches a few more shots (including being called Captain Human, leader of the Rainbow Crew, and Professor X sends him a smug dis at the end of the record, in riddle form, of course). I was today years old when I looked at the liner notes and found out the instrumental was built around a loop from B.B. King’s “The Thrill Is Gone.” The sample is so amazingly chopped, sliced, and diced that I didn’t recognize, even after listening to B.B.’s record, again.

Holy Rum Swig – Brother J’s dexterity is put to the test on this one, as the beat changes up no less than six times trying to stifle are host’s flow; but he never misses um, a beat. This was fire, and another great song title.

Ooh Baby – The Overseer and Grand Verbalizer use this one to discuss Black women, sex with Black women, and the power of the vagina. Brother J’s rhymes are deeply coded on this one, while Professor X’s riddles are a lot more straight forward: “Behold, the land of P, has something to do with the V,” and later he closes the record with: “If you haven’t discovered yet, we’ve come out of a hole, brother, to spend the rest of our lives to get back in…ask your mother.” Years before No ID would use the harmonic loop from Stevie Wonder’s “Love’s In Need Of Love Today” for Jay-Z’s “Smile,” X-Clan would tap the sample for this record. Unfortunately, the loop is only brought in during the hook and the rest of the instrumental doesn’t sound that interesting.

Rhythem Of God – A loop from George Kranz’s “Din Daa Daa” meets frantic-paced mega-intense drums to back Brother J’s pro-Black doused verbal darts. Random thought: “Din Daa Daa” always reminds me of Yello’s “Oh Yeah,” which immediately makes me think about the closing scene of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off when a depleted and defeated Principal Rooney gets on the school bus after an unsuccessful attempt to catch Ferris playing hooky. Easily my favorite song on Xodus.

Verbal Papp – Our hosts slow things down to a soothing pace, placing the drums from Lee Dorsey’s “Get Out My Life, Woman” under a very familiar and melodic Barry White loop (it’s been sampled a million times, but always sounds amazing). Brother J honors his father and ancestors and continues to verbalize his strong Black pride. Even if you don’t catch all of J’s rhymes, he and Professor X’s mellifluous voices will leave you hypnotized, along with the beautifully airy music.

Funk Liberation – X-Clan ends the album “Fired up and can’t take no more,” as they refuse to conform to societal norms and hip-hop cultural trends: “I’m bout sick of that conform shit to my stomach, it’s time to liberate or funk it.” Per usual, Brother J offers up some meaty verses that’ll give you something to think about even if you don’t completely agree with his perspective. I think we all can agree that this bassy, hard drum-driven instrumental is dope.

Xodus finds X-Clan carrying on the mission they began on To The East, Blackwards. Professor X graciously blesses each track with spoken word riddles, delivered in his signature snobbish tone, while Brother J rhymes with Shakespearean bravado, living up to his Grand Verbalizer title as he spills oodles of “funkin’ lessons” filled with Black pride messages and Pro-Black overtones. And of course, every message gets stamped and approved by the red, the black, and the green. X and J’s cryptic orations will require some brain power to comprehend, and with each listen, you’ll unlock a new rhyme. If you’re a numskull or just a person who prefers superficial or easy-to-understand rhymes in your hip-hop music, lyrically, the Clan might not be your cup of tea, but their blend of soul, funk, and pop loops over hefty drumbeats should keep your head bobbin’, and Brother J and Professor X’s instrument-like melodic voices will also keep you engaged. X-Clan didn’t dig too deep in the crates for their samples, as most of the breaks sound recognizable and recycled, but the familiarity almost gives the album a mixtape feel, that I personally enjoyed.

The book of Exodus documents Moses’ journey of self-awareness, as he discovers his true identity and God, which eventually leads to him leading his enslaved Jewish people out of bondage from Egypt to the land God promised them. Similarly, on Xodus, X-Clan is out to awaken and free the Black man, women, and child of North America from their mental bondage through music. Thirty-one years have passed, and I still don’t know if we can say their mission was successful. But it took the children of Israel forty years to enter the promised land, so let’s reassess the situation in another nine years.

-Deedub

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Motown Records (originally named Tamla Records) was founded by Barry Gordy in Detroit, Michigan in 1959. The Black owned label would introduce the world to legendary artists such as The Supremes, The Temptations, Four Tops, Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, and Michael Jackson. In the sixties, Motown formulated its signature soul sound and throughout the decade would string together a slew of top ten hits (seventy-nine, to be exact). Due to its success, Motown would earn the nickname of Hitsville USA, establishing itself as arguably the most important Black music label of all-time. As the eighties rolled around and hip-hop became more prominent, Motown, who once exclusively focused on soul and R&B, started looking to get in on the growing musical genre. Rich Nice would become the first rapper signed to Motown.

Most of you might not know who Rich Nice is, but through the years, he’s carved out a pretty impressive resume behind the scenes in the entertainment world. He helped found and was once a part of the legendary production team, Trackmasters (you can hear his voice on interludes for Foxy Brown and LL Cool J), he’s been a record label A&R rep, radio host, deejay, produced television, and for a reasonable fee you can periodically catch him on SiriusXM’s Sway In The Morning, hosting the A&R Room segment where he and Sway play new music and let the listeners call in and share their opinion on the songs. But before all of that, the Virgin Islands born Bronx transplant would get his feet wet in the industry as a rapper, inking a deal with Motown records in the late eighties. He would release his debut and only album, Information To Raise A Nation in 1990 (side note: Jesse West’s debut, No Prisoners, which was also released on Motown, came out a few months prior to Information, but Rich Nice signed his deal first). Information would include ten tracks, all produced and mixed by the Grammy Award winning producer, Gordon Williams aka Commissioner Gordon and Rich Nice.

I bought a used vinyl copy of Information for a few bucks at a local record store around my way (that I’ll probably never go to again based on their terrible customer service), strictly out of curiosity. I’ve never listened to the album until now, but my gut instinct (which is pretty much based on the cheesy album cover) has me feeling a little apprehensive.

The Rhythm, The Feeling – Rich Nice starts the album off with a techno-beat, accompanied by dance-themed rhymes, which both sound godawful. Moving on…

Outstanding – Jeff Redd (who I’ll always remember for his single, “You Called & Told Me” from the Strictly Business Soundtrack) joins Rich for this loose remake of The Gap Band’s classic with the same name. Nice spews nauseating pick-up lines and corny cliches, while Redd desecrates the hollow ground Charlie Wilson laid with his vocals on the original. Commissioner Gordon’s cheesy instrumentation only makes matters worse.

It’s Time To Get Hype – Rich and Commissioner Gordon concoct this swiftly paced backdrop that our host uses to spew his best battle bars over. Rich doesn’t sound great by any stretch of the imagination, but delivers a serviceable performance, and I’m sure the B-Boy community appreciated this instrumental way back then.

So What You Gotta Man – Ladies, if a man leads off the conversation with the title of this song (followed by bullshit like “My love will make you understand”) he’s only trying to fuck you. Oh yeah, back to the song. It’s trash.

Desperado (The Mexican) – Rich Nice wraps up side one of Information (if you’re listening on vinyl) with more meager boasts of his lyrical supremacy with no substance to back it up (What the hell does “My rhymes are stuck in your head just like an echo” mean?). Mr. Williams matches Rich’s mediocrity with another mundane musical score. And am I the only one that found it humorously ironic that the song title’s surname is “The Mexican,” but there’s a reoccurring vocal snippet of a brother saying “The first African rhythms were made in Africa”? After a short moment of silence, a snippet of Rich asking Mr. Williams to make a few alterations to a track can be heard, adding absolutely nothing to the album.

Outlaw – Rich claimed to be a desperado on the previous record, and now he’s acting out the role of an outlaw: “Wanted by be the best of them, but it’s all right, ’cause I’m better than the rest of them.” Rich adapts a grimier vocal tone than normal, as if that would make the listener belief the “fugitive image” he’s trying to sell (by the way, what does “finding your heritage” have to do with being an outlaw?). What’s really criminal about this record is Rich and Commissioner Gordon’s blatant heist of the blueprint for the Fearless Four’s “Rockin’ It” instrumental.

Dead To The Knowledge – The low-budget dark and creepy synth chords made me think Rich was going to give us an early horrorcore record. Instead, our host uses it to awaken those with no knowledge of self as he “drops science on ‘em.” Rich’s elementary level woke points delivered with an embarrassingly bad cadence, accompanied by the atrocious instrumental, makes this arguably the worst conscious record of all-time.

Trouble Man – Commissioner Gordon loops up Grover Washington Jr.’s “Hydra” (which seems like I’ve been referencing a lot lately) for this one. For some reason Mr. Williams felt the need to ruin the beautifully bouncy bop with a hideous horn riff placed in between Rich’s verses that sounds as cringe-worthy as someone scraping a fork against a chalkboard. Rich plays it cool as Arthur Fonzarelli, doing his best Rakim impersonation, which was far from impressive.

Information To Raise A Nation – Over a dark danceable instrumental sprinkled with an annoying squealing noise, Rich gets back to “dropping science” as he pretty much covers the same territory that he touched on during “Dead To The Knowledge.” He also drops his only curses on the entire album when he flares up while addressing some of the issues that plague the inner city: “Fathers shootin’ smack/mothers smokin’ crack/making a living on her back/the government smiling ’cause they run the game/ a fuckin’ horror show, it’s a shame.” Even though his message feels a bit contrived, this record fairs much better than his previous conscious content outing.

Two Seconds From Disaster – The song title sounds like a title for a corny apocalyptic movie. Rich does briefly touch on Armageddon, but he also discusses natural disasters, the crack epidemic, racism, AIDS, and a few conspiracy theories. The instrumental was surprisingly decent, and Rich delivers his best rhymes of the evening.

In an effort to inspire and uplift the faith of the church in Corinth, Greece, Apostle Paul wrote two letters to them (which are both books in the Bible: 1 Corinthians and 2 Corinthians). In chapter 9 of 1 Corinthians, Paul talks to the church about how he became a slave to everyone with the intention of converting as many as he could to Christianity. He speaks of becoming a Jew to win overs Jews, putting himself under the law to win over those under the law, living like one without law to win over those who live by no law, and becoming weak to appeal to the weak. He sums it all up by saying: “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.” Rich Nice is not an apostle, nor was he trying to win souls for Jesus (though, he does shoutout the Ancient Greeks on “It’s Time To Get Hype”). But like Paul, Rich was trying to be all things to all people on Information To Raise A Nation.

On Information, Rich Nice tries to wear four different hats: ladies’ man, lyrical hyena, party guy, and conscious rapper. Unfortunately, his limited talent doesn’t allow him to wear any of the hats well, and during his attempt to be all things to all people, he spreads himself thin and comes off like an amateur Jack of all trades, but master of none. To make matters worse, most of the production on Information is dated and downright awful and time has only made the music sounds painfully more bitter.

Information is proof that sometimes you can correctly judge a book by its cover. It’s also a cautionary tale of how an attempt to please everybody can lead to you disappointing everyone. Information just might be the worst hip-hop album of all time.

-Deedub

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If you read this blog regularly, you already know how I feel about King Tee. But if you’re here for the first time, I’ll tell you that he’s quickly becoming one of my favorite underappreciated emcees. At least five years ago, I found a used CD copy of the Compton emcee’s fourth album, fittingly titled, IV Life. I was so impressed by the album that it sent me on a mission to find physical copies of the rest of his catalog (again, to those new to this blog, I’m a collector of CDs and vinyl). A few years later I was able to track down copies of his debut, Act A Fool, and his third release, The Triflin’ Album. Maybe a year after that, while sifting through the used CD bins at Cheapos, I found a copy of his sophomore effort, At Your Own Risk.

Like the other three King Tee albums mentioned above, At Your Own Risk would feature a classic car on the album cover. This time around, KT rides shotgun in a clean light green drop top ’64 Impala, as he and the crew go for a ride through the streets of South Central Los Angeles on what appears to be a peaceful and lovely day. Like Act A Fool, DJ Pooh would be responsible for sonically sculpting the majority of AYOR. The album spawned four singles and would peak at 175 on the US Billboard Top 200. Needless to say, no plaques were handed out for its sales numbers.

This is my first time listening to the album since I bought it. Feel free to listen to the album as you read along. But remember…it’s at your own risk.

Introduction – King Tee kicks off the album with a scarce bi-polar backdrop, as he cordially welcomes the listener to the album, gives a bunch of shoutouts, and sends a playful death threat to those who didn’t purchase the album (I’m not sure how they would get the message, but, whatever).

At Your Own Risk – The title track finds our host flossin’ and talkin’ his shit as he takes claim at being “the champ, smashing all contenders.” King Tee does a solid job, lyrically, and the live jazz piano play, courtesy of The Piano Man (not to be confused with Stan the Guitar Man), helps liven up an otherwise bland instrumental. The “Buddha Mix” on The Triflin’ Album was much more entertaining.

Ruff Rhyme (Back Again) – Pooh builds this funky backdrop with his “hypso-change-o-calypso-beat-o-matic (not to be confused with Doc Brown’s flux capacitor). Tee uses the “masculine beat” to celebrate his return from his short-lived hiatus and joins the exclusive club of “rare word” rappers when he breaks out “impresario.” Teela’s rhyme was rough, but Pooh’s instrumental was rougher.

On The Dance Tip – Thanks to Teddy Riley, the New Jack Swing musical styling (which was an up-tempo synth-heavy driven sound) was very popular in Black music in the late eighties and early nineties. It was generally considered an R&B sound, but rappers would also tap into it if they were trying to diversify their fanbase or score a pop hit. King Tee was definitely fishing for crossover success with this one. Bronick Wrobleski and J.R. Coes (with a co-credit going to DJ Pooh) are responsible for this New Jack Swing-adjace track that our host hi-lariously refers to as a “Rhythm & Blues tune.” Over the song’s three verses, King Tee gives a dance tutorial to those with two left feet and invites anyone within earshot to “Dance all night/‘til your kneecaps break/do the Biz Markie, even the Heavy D shake.” This was very formulaic, but I still mildly enjoyed the record’s contrived vibes.

Jay Fay Dray – Pooh loops up Grover Washington Jr.’s “Hydra” for Tee to get off a silly verse about a drug dealer named Jay, a crackhead named Dray, a chick named Fay (who apparently is down to give you head if you ask politely), and some other randomness. Moving on…

Skanless – Don’t leave your girl around King Tee. Or your mom, sister, auntie, or daughter for that matter. Our host uses this one to brag about his nefarious ways over an infectious bluesy backdrop that will keep your face scrunched up while you simultaneously shake your head in disbelief at King Tee’s triflin’ deeds.

Take You Home – Teela talks more shit over a dark and airy Pooh/ J.R. Coes concoction that goes down smoother than a glass of Grey Goose chased with pineapple juice (bars!).

Diss You – The good times between Tee and his love interest have turned sour, leaving our host with the inclination to diss her before he kicks her to the curb. He wrote a song about it. You wanna hear it? Hear it go. I wasn’t too impressed with KT’s storyline, but the southern-fried soulful instrumental laid underneath his rhymes sounds amazing.

Time To Get Out – Throughout his career, most of King Tee’s rhymes have been filled with lighthearted boast and clowning, but every now and then, he gets into his conscious bag, like this one. Over a slightly zany backdrop with a thick drunken bassline, King Tee calls for an end to gang violence, while an uncredited male sings the hook: “You got the Blood gang shootin’ up churches and shit/L.A. and Compton don’t mix, so its Crips fightin’ Crips/back in the days it was whites against coloreds/now you got brothers just killing each other/and drive-by shooting’s like a sport for you now/but when you shoot for your victim with him you hit a child.” Tee does a solid job of getting his point across without sounding self-righteous or cheesy, and I enjoyed the backing music.

Can This Be Real (Remix) – Super mid. Hopefully the O.G. mix was more entertaining.

E Get Swift – King Tee dedicates this one to one-third of Tha Alkaholiks and his deejay, E-Swift. Pooh lays a very manilla backdrop for King to rap praises to E. And King, being the gracious host that he is, leaves room for E-Swift to get off a quick verse and display some of his scratching techniques. No need to listen to this more than once.

Do Your Thing – DJ Pooh serves up an up-tempo soulful bop for this short intermission break (complete with the crooning vocals that sound like Otis Redding (or maybe Syl Johnson?) scratched into the record), while an anonymous male has nothing but flattering words to shower our host with.

King Tee Production – King Tee playfully boasts and belittles his competition over a cool jazz mash up that takes you on a handful of enjoyable musical trips along the way (the sample of the jazzy guitar take of The Jackson 5’s “I Wanna Be Where You Are” was my favorite). DJ Pooh cleverly places a few J.J. Evans vocal snippets throughout the track, making him serve as the tour guide through this entertainingly zany two-and-a-half-minute ride.

Played Like A Piano – Tee saves the best for last. Pooh builds this dark groove around a few loops from Grover Washington Jr.’s “Knucklehead” (the same record sampled for K-Solo’s underrated banger, “Fugitive”) and invites Ice Cube and Breeze from L.A. Posse to join him on this album closing cipher session. Cube’s presence must have sparked the gangsta in Tee, as his bars sound more hard and violent than the rest of his content thus far this evening (“I’m just anxious to whoop some ass/I went to high school, but I flunked every class/So what makes you think I give a fuck about respect?/I’ll put your bitch in check, and I bet you won’t run up/ son of a punk and a bitch too/I should of did a drive-by on you and your crew”). Speaking of Ice Cube, he easily delivers the strongest verse, spewing gangsta raps with his stern poker face voice and delivery (King Tee’s adlib: “Ice Cube, I heard you was singing now,” right before Cube opens his verse with a disgruntle “Do, Re, Mi” is hi-larious). Breeze bats third and gets off a decent verse (although someone should have explained to him that you get “blue balls” from not busting a nut…and I’ll never forgive him for trying to make “Kangol” rhyme with “piano”) before King Tee comes back to put a thugged-out bow on things (by the way, “three black negroes” is extremely redundant and hi-larious). Awesome way to end the album.

When I write about an album on this blog, I pretty much live with the album for at least three to four weeks. During that time frame, the albums get anywhere from twelve to twenty spins, from beginning to end (sometimes well over twenty…I’m a truck driver, so I spend a lot of hours driving with just me, myself, and the music). This gives me a fair amount of time to make a thorough assessment of an album and not rely on a knee jerk reaction after a spin or two based on a random mood I may have been in on an arbitrary Tuesday. Using this method can make an album that I initially thought was trash, win me over after a handful of spins. But it also can have the reverse effect, making me change my opinion and see all the iniquities of an album I once deemed superior.

After my first few listens to At Your Own Risk, I was surprisingly underwhelmed and disappointed. Act A Fool, The Triflin’ Album, and IV Life, all sounded at minimum, good if not great, on my first few listens to them. And just when I thought Teela had rendered his first dud of an album, week three of listening to AYOR came and suddenly the same charisma and wit that shone brightly on the other three albums began to enlighten my ears; and like a few shots of tequila, the instrumentals snuck up on me, seemingly out of nowhere, and begin to hit and move me a little. What was once ordinarily mediocre came alive and begin to dance in my eardrums (end dramatic dialogue, here). AYOR is by no means flawless, as there are still a handful of tracks that do nothing for me. It’s easily my least favorite of KT’s car edition albums, but time has helped me see its qualities, and it’s an overall enjoyable listen.

On the album’s title track, King Tee claims that people call him the King of the West. I don’t know if KT’s worthy of the fictitious crown, and honestly, he probably wouldn’t want the throne if it did exist. Who needs a crown and throne when you’re a talented and severely underappreciated court jester with great album covers?

-Deedub

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