Time Is Illmatic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Deedub

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Deedub

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Deedub

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Deedub

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

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

Continue to rest in peace, Bushwick Bill.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Deedub

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The last time we discussed Funkdoobiest was for their 1993 debut album, Which Doobie U B? The three-man crew made up of Son Doobie, Tomahawk Funk, and DJ Ralph M (formerly known as DJ Ralph The Mexican) were a part of Muggs’ Soul Assassins collective, which also included his group, Cypress Hill and House of Pain. You can read my complete thoughts on Which Doobie, but in a nutshell, I wasn’t impressed. But even being unimpressed, back in August, when their sophomore effort, Brothas Doobie (which I’d never heard before), was staring at me in the same sea of used CDs that I found Rottin Ta Da Core in, curiosity made me pay the two-dollar price tag, and here we are today.

Brothas Doobie would pretty much use the same cast of characters from Which Doobie, both behind the mic and the boards. The album would render three singles, low record sale numbers, and peak at 115 on the US Billboard 200.

While working on this post, I noticed one distinct difference in the liner notes of Which Doobie and Brothas Doobie. Both albums list the same group of producers: Muggs, DJ Lethal, DJ Ralph M, and T-Ray (aka Ray Roll). Muggs only received co-production credit on two of the tracks on Which Doobie, but he’s listed as a producer for most of the track list for Brothas Doobie. This discovery gives me hope going into Funkdoobiest’s second go-round.

This Is It (Interlude) – Muggs kicks off the show with a soothing bassline and a delectable jazzy xylophone loop placed over cool drums. It makes for a great opening instrumental to vibe to or spit a few wack freestyles bars over in the privacy of your own home.

Rock On – This was the album’s lead single. Son Doobie and Tomahawk Funk go completely left from the class clown antics they participated in throughout Which Doobie with this one. The duo takes on a serious tone as they tackle religion and spirituality in cryptic parables. After at least fifteen listens to the album, I still haven’t unlocked most of Funkdoobiest’s verbal abstractions on this song (although they do have heavy Christianity overtones), but I did enjoy Muggs’ uncharacteristically somber backdrop.

What The Deal – This record gives the listener a glance into a day in the life of Son Doobie, which consists of hanging out, flossin’, drinking, smokin’, partying, sexin’, you know, a whole bunch of nothingness. Speaking of nothingness, Son’s hook has absolutely nothing to do with his verses, but again, I thoroughly enjoyed Muggs’ elegantly soulful mid-tempo production.

Lost In Thought – Muggs may have discovered the funkiest accordion loop of all time with this track that finds Son Doobie lost on the train of thought. Son’s rhymes jump all over the place, covering everything from bills, girls, violence, drinking, and staying alert to hood shit, which all sounds a lot more interesting than anything he spat on Which Doobie.

Dedicated – No matter how many times I’ve heard Roy Ayers’ “Everybody Loves The Sunshine” sampled, it always sounds amazing. Muggs uses it to create the melancholic mood for this record as Son adapts a semi-sorrowful tone (that makes him sound like Masta Ace), reflects on a few societal ills in a fallen world, and shouts out his deceased peoples. The bleakness of Son’s content might make this hard to listen to for some, but I tend to run towards the dark and depressing.

Ka Sera Sera – DJ Ralph M gets his first production credit of the night, switching up the energy with rugged drums and an anxious melodic loop. Son’s “ka sera sera” moment is around a hot girl from high school who’s aged like milk since he’s last seen her. T-Funk’s story comes with more urgency as he details a drive-by shooting of one of his homies and his crew’s retaliation. Despite Son Doobie’s lighthearted verse conflicting with the gravitas spirit of the music, I enjoyed this one.

Pussy Aint Shit – It was only a matter of time before Funkdoobiest showed their true colors. Son Doobie and T-Funk throw maturity to the wind as they minimize the vagina to just lips and a clitoris that they “fuck and then throw out” when they’re finished, and they fill in the rest of the song by listing all the female reproductive organs. T-Funk takes things to juvenile lows when he talks about “farting pussy” during the second verse, and even though most men have experienced what he’s talking about, it sounds embarrassingly corny hearing him say it out loud. Muggs serves up a quirky backdrop that matches his friend’s childish energy. I never need to hear this record again.

XXX Funk – This one starts out with a skit of D-Cup Debbie (which is a great porn name, and if the drawing of the topless chick next to the song credits in the liner notes is Debbie, I would love to see the real life version) asking Son Doobie how he likes his funk. After he answers, a thick stanky bassline mosies on in accompanied by crashing drums for Son to spit a bunch of randomness, punctuated by a catchy as hell hook. This was the third single and a great choice, I might add.

It Aint Going Down – Lethal (aka DJ Lethal from House of Pain) gets his lone production credit on the album, serving up a deliciously poised and controlled jazzy canvas. Son Doobie once again eats by himself and gets off some interesting couplets, resulting in what might be his strongest performance on Brothas Doobie.

You’re Dummin’ – After a slightly amusing interlude, DJ Ralph M brings in a dull instrumental that sounds like it belongs on the Which Doobie album. Son’s boring bars only add insult to injury.

Tomahawk Bang – This one begins with a soundbite from the 1992 film Thunderheart, followed by a clip from The Adventures Of Lone Ranger. The snippets set up Tomahawk Funk and his guest, Sebastian Rosset, to go on a massacre of the white man in retaliation for the evil inflicted on T-Funk’s Native American ancestors and their native land. The duo’s aggravated assault is soundtracked by DJ Ralph M’s chaotic and alarming instrumental, embedded with a sharp PE vocal snippet, along with a clip of a stereotypical Native American war chant that I guess is acceptable since T-Funk is of Native American descent. My description of this record reads a lot more serious than it sounds, but I will be starting my new “Fuck The Pilgrims” playlist off with this record.

Superhoes – This song was originally released on the Friday Soundtrack in April of ‘95. Son Doobie sexualizes comic book heroes/villains, Disney princesses, nursery rhyme characters, Barbie, and a bunch of your favorite childhood cartoon personalities (i.e., He-Man, She-Ra, Judy Jetson, Richie Rich, Tweety, Smurfette, Wilma Flintstone, and Betty Rubble) in this poorly executed and easily forgettable animation orgy.

Who Ra Ra – The final song of the night finds Brett Bouldin joining Son Doobie on some party/celebratory shit as they each get off a decent verse and then get the hell out of Dodge. Muggs and DJ Ralph M combine hard hitting drums, a dense bassline, and warm, jazzy horns that materialize into a tantalizing audio treat.

I mentioned during the opening of this post that I wasn’t a fan of Funkdoobiest’s debut album, Which Doobie U B? The combination of Son Doobie’s poor man B-Real act, his purposeless subpar bars, and the album’s underwhelming production left me questioning Funkdoobiest’s very existence in the genre I hold so near and dear to my heart. Being a thrifty collection completionist can sometimes make you a glutton for punishment, and sometimes what you anticipate being punishment ends up being pleasurable, or at least pleasant.

Muggs served as Brothas Doobie’s executive producer and had a direct hand in producing nine of the album’s thirteen tracks. He and the rest of the production team deviate from his signature dusty blunted sound for a more warm and crisp production, carried by jazz and soul samples that I enjoy much more than the instrumentals on the Doobies first album. Speaking of Doobies, Son Doobie also made improvements behind the mic. He and Tomahawk Funk will never be considered top-tier lyricists, which in the grand scheme of things means nothing when it comes to making records, as some of my favorite wordsmiths were unable to convert their lyrical prowess into quality records or good albums. Son’s no lyrical monster on Brothas Doobie, and he doesn’t completely abandon the immature nonsense he saturated Which Doobie with. Still, he does show growth, displaying depth on a few tracks, and he gets off a few mildly interesting flows on a couple of other joints. And Tomahawk Funk, does Tomahawk Funk.

I’ll admit I went a bit too hard by questioning Funkdoobiest’s existence in hip-hop after listening to Which Doobie. Their debut album still sucks, but the trio proves they could make hip-hop music with some value on Brothas Doobie. It’s far from a classic but worthy of my two dollars, and it left me interested in hearing the rest of their catalog.

-Deedub

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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

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