Why don’t you know about these albums? You either been sleeping or hating and if you continue to do so, someone is going to pull your card. So all you sucka DJs and so called “heads” better take some listening advice from the man with the deep crates.
M.F. Grimm, The Downfall of Ibliys
Where: New York When: 2002 Label: Fat Beats
The first full-length album released by the original horror rap MC who was rhyming about killin’ mothafuckas way before Mobb Deep. This cat is so hard that not even Method Man’s rusty ice pick could penetrate his scrotum.
Don’t run off and cry to your mommies just yet Anti-con listeners, Grimm does have a philosophical side that will leave you contemplating the meaning of life. Grimm’s flow, that tends to follow the highs more than the lows, is complemented by the zany production of M.F. Doom, leaving no room on the album for weak sauce. Listen to it enough and you’ll break a bottle over your best friend’s dome for talking the slightest bit of shit, the steal his girl by reciting some of Grimm’s poetics.
Saafir, Boxcar Sessions
Where: Oakland When: 1994 Label: Qwest
One of the Bay area’s best releases of all time; thrown down by a 19 year old prodigy that even the entire Hieroglyphics crew couldn’t phase in a freestyle battle. Even though Saafir’s juice has run out as of late, his flow is still the most unique to ever bless the hip-hop community. The twists and turns of his delivery are more indefinable and more complex than the usual off-beat, on-beat style and yet it doesn’t require any getting used to.
The content isn’t lacking either; he will hit you with some shit that will make you yell out “damn” a number of times. The whole album is ripe with jazzy style beats that would make the east coast cry. And Jay-Z (not the one telling you to change clothes) demonstrates some innovative scratching for the time. Hobo Junction’s one and only classic, showing that the Bay is, at times, untouchable.
Blackalicious, Melodica
Where: Davis When: 1994 Label: MoWax
I know what you’re thinking, “How could the name Blackalicious be slept on? The sad truth is that most fans have no idea that this album even exists, so rare that it is impossible to find on any format, even in their hometown of Davis. An album so solid, that it is rap constipation, whereas the newer material is the result of taking too much Ex-lax; when they were still rhyming about the 40 oz, and not about the soap dodging hippie revolution. That is not to say the moonbeams should evade, cause the album does still preach love to your brother, but without being so detached from hip-hop roots. The production was masterminded by the one and only DJ Shadow and is, hands down, some of the best shit he has ever done for emcees. The vibe is so down tempo that it can be played while banging your girl, smoking weed in the car with your homies, or the circle chant at the park.
Sacred Hoop, Retired
Where: Palo Alto When: 1999 Label: Mismastic
What do you get when you cross an avid hip-hop fan, a drunk and an English literature major? Luke mothafuckin Sick! Add Verse Murphy’s beats to the equation and the result is one crunk ass project. Luke uses the dynamics of his personality to create an album for the lush and the bookworm, while Verse keeps the rhythm section interesting by constantly flippin’ the beat. One song might have several different changes to keep the head nodding, much different from the usual production of beat an chorus. The song Sugar should be a university anthem:
“The students want salt, I’m sugar/ don’ t wait round for the teachers to mug ya.”
Appearances by Live Human, Jihad and Eddie K only intensify the fuck-you style of one of the south Bay’s finest. You thought that your other rappers knew how to party, try huffing paint with the Hoop.
Count Bass D, Dwight Spitz
Where: Ohio When: 2002 Label: High Times
Making beats has become a trend of late. Supposed hip-hop heads buy a beat machine with little or prior knowledge of music. Deejaying or digging and hope to become the next Pete Rock. The result of this trend has led to sort of a stalemate in creative production, leaving the listener with little substance. New Jacks step the fuck back cause the Count has come to shed new light on the subject. His musical knowledge runs very deep due to the fact that he can play almost any instrument. In fact, his first album was all done with live sounds, but on his second run Count decide to apply his art to the MPC and proves that the true art of making bangers only comes after paying some dues. The album is on hit from beginning to end, the beats never disappoint, sampling snippets from all music genres, jumbled then re-arranged correctly by a real music composer. If dope beats weren’t enough, the Count comes sick with rhymes as well. Nothing over the top, with just enough flavor to make a thug crack a smile. He also displays that doing hip-hop can be done without selling out the wife and kids; they are his inspiration for making music, not ho’s and ice. The line says it all,
“a Fender Rhodes scholar, not a studio gangsta.”
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