This album is a success in two ways. One, compiling this many Project Blowdians on a single album (albeit 39 tracks!) and two, and most importantly, producer Fat Jack’s praiseworthy accomplishment of taking those emcees (many of which fans outside the Blowed functions have only heard rhyme over dusty-n-crusty dubs and demos) and successfully meshing them over sonically crisp beat-scapes. Not nearly the crossover as some may of expected, just a logical approach to exposing some of the best emcees from Cali you never heard of. And with close to 40 whole songs, that on a regular double album the listener would have to sift through like garbage, the relatively unknown rapper shines just as much as their heavyweight counterparts.

Aceyalone and Abstract Rude’s new combo, The A-Team set things of proper-like with “We Like Break Beats” an ode to the boom-bap formulated a little differently in the west. P.E.A.C.E. from Freestyle Fellowship makes a valiant return for self, highlighting some of this super-compilation’s better tracks. “I Don’t Gang Bang” and “It’s A Packed House”. Both compliment Fat Jack’s versatility as a producer and P.E.A.C.E.’s wide topical range and powerful voice. Blowed favorite, Busdriver leads the listener frantically on the tails of his lyrics only tamed by the subtle smoothness of the bump on “Drive Safe”. While Puzoozoowatt “rides this beat until it hurts” kind of like Phife Dawg on “Ham N Eggs” except on serious pharmaceutical drugs during “Everyday MC Work”. The always battle-ready Otherwize rolls along well with the motional vibes and cuts of “A Wize Man’s Advice”. Even B-Boy Kingdom business man J-Smoov flips the scripture (and quite well in fact) on “Wrong MC”, hushing rumors of shady biz interactions. Aceyalone and Ab make the most appearances throughout, and as we’ve come to expect (especially working with the Fat one) they come off, “Gimmie Five Feet” being the pinnacle. Acey’s diatribe on the touchy-feely in life, and he makes some valid points. “Why you all up under me? Screaming in my ear, why you trying to talk over the music when you know we can barely hear? Why you tugging on my coat tale? Grabbing on my sleeve, yo cover your mouth when you cough on me, don’t touch me when you sneeze!” Before you start emailing everyone you know that Acey is an ass, peep the resolution, “Just back the fuck up, naw I ain’t stuck up, I just don’t want hear you moans and groans and hiccups and stuff.” Thank you.

Lets recap, Fat Jack has done something many have come up short at. Producer-based albums have become more like a posse cut freak-shows in between half-baked commercial attempts at crossing over to an audience that wasn’t going to check the album in the first place. Cater To The DJ has artists respected in the most underground circles, yet provides them with the musical platform hopefully acceptable by those both above and below whatever imaginary boundaries we’ve created for ourselves in hip-hop. With contributions by Medusa, AWOL One, Ellay Khule, Ganjah K, Volume 10, and many others lets hope that this project is just the beginning of hearing from these talents on a regular basis, and in a form where we can hear the actual song MORE than the hiss of the dub.