It is a genuine travesty that the corporate powers-that-be never took enough of a liking to Organized Konfusion or O.C. to give their material a fair and adequate push.
Still, AZ falls far short of a consistent album once again, so much so in fact that its difficult to pinpoint why such a clearly talented emcee fails to make magic in the studio.
Sadat X's latest release hearkens back to an earlier rap era in which rappers dipped into a rich pallette of emotions and rhyme styles to narrate a wide experiential range.
The duo play up their West Indian heritage, Bronx address, and Zulu Nation affiliations while censuring rappers who do not meet their puritanical expectations of rootsy realness.
The NE sound best when they chop off domes with the thoughts that come out of their pineal glands over gutter tracks that sparkle just enough to garner the attention of hard rocks and party people alike.
Between scrubs strutting in lavender Cross Colours pantaloons and overly defensive wiggers traipsing around in billowy overalls, something’s gotta give.
Before unwittingly contributing to hip hop’s romanticist movement and doing a bid in major label purgatory, the Troubleneck Brothers put out an entirely independent tape-only album.
Ras sounds more at home (and a bit less refined) over these muddy beats than he does on some of the lighter fare found on the official version of Soul On Ice.
In Cube’s estimation, there is no funk without righteous rage, and there is no creative process without an explicit and deliberate critique of the status quo.
I am inclined to believe the title and comfortably assume that it’s a demo, or maybe two demos, or at least a demo with some rarities tacked on, recorded in the early to mid-90s.
The nimble and determined flows of Butterfly, Mecca, and Ish are finally rendered appropriately audible and thus consonant with the spacey and dynamic funk.
With the unsmiling, measured coldness of Parrish Smith and the colloquial clarity of rival KRS-One, Poet obliterates lesser emcees, corrupt cops, and damn near all of his detractors.
DJ Mark the 45 King’s signature hard-bop, arguably New Jeruz’s greatest contribution to hip-hop, seeps into every second of this compilation, including the two songs that are not officially credited to him.
On the mic Scientifik operates correctly, dropping jewelz and relating crime sagas in a soldierly, commanding voice that flexes just enough to reveal his famished intensity.
All vinyl nerd matters aside, the EP is a solid, ambitious, and highly enjoyable piece of music. It is not, however, the major coup that many have made it out to be.
Dedicated lies at the intersection of major label aspiration and indie self-assertion, forged out of Ed O.G.’s inevitable and wise entry into the burgeoning vinyl-only underground scene.
In keeping with tradition, both Def Jef and The Grand Verbalizer seem to share a common stylistic ancestor in Kool Moe Dee’s resonant and righteous articulation.
Musically, the Hard Knocks are indebted to DJ Mark the 45 King’s indelible horns and Marley Marl’s powerful snares. Their lyrical influences include Rakim and Chuck D, whose timely vocals are respectfully cut into the mix.
The early 90s saw hungry clans and cliques land impossible big label deals, drop mixshow favorites on 12” wax, shoot zero-budget fiery trash can videos, hit #1 on the bootleg charts … only to fall the fuck off the map.
Anttex hails from a non-descript middle-class neighborhood in southeastern Queens and wears this association ironically but not without a little pride.
"The defined mission is to speak perfect slang and emulate the chillest villains of Blaxploitation, to be slick yet gutter, to look fresh but remain largely unseen." R.H.S. takes a look back at Blowout Comb.
The villains of hip-hop videos have long been overlooked and marginalized. In the spirit of shining light on the unrecognized, we caught up with Ignorance, Jeru The Damaja’s arch-nemesis and rap video legend.