While the first installment, released in 1993, included the imagery of classic Blue Note records (complete with an appearance by jazz virtuoso Donald Byrd) and appearances by respected jazz musicians Roy Ayers and Courtney Pine, Guru knew the shtick wouldn’t stick. On the second and third installments — released in 1995 and 2000, respectively — he added more appearances by R&B acts (i.e. Chaka Kahn, Angie Stone, Erykah Badu), likely in an effort to add some soul to his monotone voice, which often got lost amidst the smoky jazz production of Volume I. 

   But on the fourth installment, Guru blends a mix of clear 1980s influences into a 16-track album with name-brand reggae and jazz acts that exploits the sounds of the Regan-era. Damian “Jr. Gong” Marley appears on the chorus of “Some Things Will Never Change” (which employs a rhythm almost identical to the famous “Apache” beat) and Guru finds himself rhyming alongside Common on “State Of Clarity,” which includes an appearance by “smooth jazz” staple and the often-sampled Bob James. The noteworthy collaborations are certainly worth a listen. 

   However, the album loses points with a number of R&B tracks that fall flat. Previous installments have included Guru working with established singers, but appearances by Raheem Devaughn (“Wait On Me”) and Bobby Valentino (“International”) are nothing but annoying, and the reworked version of “Summer Breeze” — which the Isley Brothers made famous in the 70s — is a weak attempt by Guru to broadcast his sexual bravado. 

   While Jazzmatazz Vol. 4 is uneven, Guru wraps up the record with “Living Legend” — a track that sounds like the Gangstarr MC rhyming over the theme music to “Saturday Night Live.” In theory it is hard to imagine what a collaboration between Guru and saxophonist David Sanborn (who is best known from his appearances as part of the David Letterman backup band) would sound like, but in practice the song is well executed and somewhat memorable. It also gives Guru a platform to remind listeners that he is, in fact, a living legend (despite his efforts to team up with throwaway R&B acts), and that the Jazzmatazz series has been a worthwhile endeavor that hasn’t flown up in his face. 

    D.I.T.C brethren Lord Finesse and Show appear once each on Get Dirty, allowing for some reminiscing of the early ’90s classics (see Funky Technician and Runaway Slave) and both producers deliver solid tracks.  “We Don’t Care” finds Finesse using ’70s blaxploitation-era congas and horns and A.G. issuing macho raps without sounding contrived; and Show’s haunting strings on “The Struggle” work well with the rhymes about the reality of their native Bronx.

     But the real gems of the album lie in the collaborations between A.G. and California-bred producers Madlib and Oh No, both of whom are Stones Throw Records staples. Because hip-hop often finds artists sticking to their regional sounds, it is big step for A.G. to move to the West Coast and begin working with producers from a well-respected, but minor independent label.  Stones Throw’s aesthetics mirror those of the original D.I.T.C records (i.e., record digging) and in all the cases (Madlib’s “Frozen” and “Take A Ride” and Oh No’s “Love’) these blood brothers prove that a cross pollination of East and West coast talents may in fact lead to a great sound. 
      However, for all the impressive tracks garnered with the D.I.T.C. and Stones Throw-produced beats, A.G.’s album is stunted by sub-par tracks and mediocre rhymes on much of the remaining material.  Little known producers Tommy Tee and DJ Design (except for his creative use of ’80s synthesizers on “Triumph”) don’t due A.G.’s legacy much justice, and the Giant himself harps on the same boring subjects (himself, his women) too often.

    With that said, Get Dirty Radio has a few highlights that will keep A.G.’s name in the rap mags and on the tip of aficionados’ tongues for a while, but the throwaway tracks are enough to keep the album off any “best-of” lists and relegate it to the “uneven” category.

    Enter Love Gone Wrong/The Butterfly Theory. One can speculate endlessly over the album title or the not-so-hidden meaning behind the words, but the truth is that the trio comes hard with jazzy riffs, odes to the female form and endless tributes to their true love: hip-hop. While the subjects of the songs are nothing new, the record is nonetheless sincere in its affinity for the four elements, the beats are consistently solid and the braggadocio is limited. 

    “That’s How It Was (Love Music)” is yet another call out to rappers who are trying to pimp the culture (“That’s how it was, that how it is/ I stole hip-hop while you was in prison … If you can’t rock then leave it alone/Love Music”) and “Make It Fresh” is a head-nodding and aggressive banger that is yet another “remember how it used to be” song. Also check for “Butterfly Theory,” a horn-laced track that centers around the hurdles in life that can hold one back and the love of hip-hop that remains consistent despite the everyday challenges.

    All in all the new effort by the remaining members of Electric Company is solid, sharp and sincere with nothing but love for hip-hop. It is refreshing and a reason to visit the underground clubs in Boston, because the threesome with likely be blessing a crowd with the respected live show on any given night.

    Welcome to The Starr Report, the pre-LP release mixtape that is supposed to whet the palate in anticipation of the upcoming Starr Status. With an easy-going flow and an honest approach to his rhymes, the Maryland resident is a refreshing newcomer whose reputation is on the rise. “Y’all been warned so back off us/ Why hate us?/ Be actin’ like they strapped and packin’ gats when they not tough/ They tough actin’ like Tinactin/ Give me applause, I spit classic,” he rhymes on “The Answer.” Also check for Starr rhyming over the beats from the Pharcyde’s “Passin’ Me By” and The Roots’ “Everybody Is A Star.”

    Chock full of recent appearances on Brown’s I Do What I Do, the Foreign Exchange Connected album and other recent records, Report is a solid mixtape that proves Kenn Starr is an emerging talent to keep your ears out for.

     But then again, there are few things that hip-hoppers love more than conflict, rumors and endless digressions about how it was “back in the day.”
 With all that said, The Unusual is a solid album chock full of reliable beats and consistent rhymes - something that you can’t expect from everybody in the game. As El said in his recent interview with HipHopSite.com, “I have people come up to me and say they have been listening to me since they were 10 years old and now they are 20 something.  People grew up with my sound, so I cater to that sound and I’m not going to abandon that.”

    From the opening track “Crowd Pleasa”, with its strong snare drum beat and boisterious rhymes, to “Blow Shit Up”, with the military-march beat and clever couplets, this guy proves he still knows how to spit a line or two. El also builds on his relationships with other tri-state area rappers by tapping O.C. (“Nuttin’ To Lose”) and Sean Price (“No Matter”) to appear on the record, giving more strength to The Unusual. His guest rappers go beyond cursory contributions and the album’s producers - including Illmind, Jake One, Saukrates, DJ Revolution, K-Def and J Rawls - more than deliver.

     Few artists of El’s generation (Tame One included) have been able to sustain a presence and remain relevant. El, however, is of a special class of rappers who has a history that is deep-rooted in the four elements, which may be why he is held on a pedestal by the true blue hip-hoppers. This album is not Between A Rock And A Hard Place, but at the same time El is no longer the 20-something in the Hilfiger polo shirt with the marker in his sock.  Remember that, kids, and go cop the album.

    The 18 tracks on the CD are a solid collection of freestyles, bi-polar street kid musings and political statements you won’t likely hear elsewhere, this presidential election season. With 2Pac-esque contradictions, Saigon is equally as mystical; one moment Saigon is celebrating the life of an out-of-control pseudo-celebrity (“Stocking Cap”), and the next he is letting the audience in on his fragile feelings regarding his mother (“If…”). On “Kiss the Babies,” Saigon offers his thoughts on reparations (“If we don’t get our 40 acres, then I think the blacks at least shouldn’t have to fucking pay sales tax/ Gotta give use something back/ GMC should give every black man a damn brand new ‘Lac”). “Papi” finds him negotiating the purchase of an economy-size package of the best the streets have to offer, and his pseudo-cover of “My Favorite Things” would be enough to make Julie Andrews furious. Needless to say, Saigon doesn’t stray too far from his New York hardcore roots.

            Nearly seven years in the bing was enough to turn Saigon into the tough griot he is today. Warning Shots offers nothing new in terms of subject matter, and the freestyles can tail off at times. But as he says on an interlude, these are freebies, “Go cop the album.”

    Now riding off the success of the debut and the rising stock of their 7Heads label (J-Live, El Da Sensei), these two University of Virginia college buddies have re-released their work from 1995 to ’99 – the years of grinding on the hip-hop chitlin’ circuit that eventually birthed Soon Come.

     “The Music” and “Jamboree” were on 12-inch releases in the late ’90s, and “Better” and “Smiley (The Woh Woh Song)” were released around the same time. However, with not enough material or funds to release a full-length during these years, 7Heads successfully crated a buzz by making the duo requisite openers when club dates were scheduled in the Washington, D.C., area. Their status was even big enough for years that Last Emperor, J-Live, and Talib Kweli  were opening up for the Unspoken Heard when they traveled to the nation’s capital.

A dedication to their love over a steel drum/go-go beat, “The Music” was a favorite for years among their core audience (“Hip-hop will never leave its rightful rulers/ That’s why I still make jams for b-boys and old schoolers/ While y’all fools be at the jewelers, I’m dropping gems…). Also, the 88 Keys-produced “Jamboree,” which appeared on their LP, is as happy as it gets. With soft guitar licks, a bouncy piano rhythm and an excellent horn sample, the feel-good song has characterized Asheru and Blue Black’s shows and sound for years.

While none of the tracks on 48 Months are fresh, they are still a tribute to talent these working men possess. Both Asheru and Blue Black have been schoolteachers since graduation day, making beats and writing rhymes in their free time.

Now cult-like figures in European hip-hop circles, they have managed to tour consistently on the other side of the Atlantic, while maintaining their following in the Mid-Atlantic (note the song by the same name). However, a collection of their early work is eye-opener for those who don’t already know, and a refresher course for those who have followed them since the since the start.

    The Bootleg of the Bootleg EP, her second solo effort in as many years, is a perfect name for the record. Often used as a way to give the world what the major record distributors and marketing teams won’t touch, the bootleg is an open canvas for many rappers these days. It limits the constraints of other hands touching one’s product and goes directly to the consumer. The abstract thought of bootlegging an original bootleg allows for even less diluted material - simply a novel idea.

    On Bootleg, Grae’s six full songs and a 45-minute freestyle session allow for plenty of quality material to reach the listener. “Hater’s Anthem” is her response to her detractors over an Alchemist -like beat, and the wah-wah of ’70s funk on “Take Me” is a cry for help, as Jean Grae admits, “I am blinded like a junkie shooting up with emotional Novocain.” And those are only the first two songs on the EP. “My Crew”, with its subtle Jay-Z sample in the background, is the admission to troubles of hip-hop today. “I represent for a nation/Thought we was in it together/But I guess it gets strange when money rains in sunny weather,” she raps. “….Rap’s dead/ Rap sucks/ But thanks to y’all for killing it/ Grilling it down and spilling its guts and filling it back up with trash/I mean cash….” Once again, self-aware and brutally honest.

    The most impressive of all the music are Grae’s rhymes over the relatively happy beat of Scarface’s “My Block.” The frank tone is striking as she recites lyrics that will leave the listener with raised eyebrows by the second line. “I’m feeling numb, thinking of changing my name to crystal meth/ Playing this game, holding my mic like a pistol/ Aiming at death/ And I love nobody/ Alone in this world, that how I came in it/ But shit can flash and reverse the same in a minute,” she raps. “….Drowning in a haze of smoke and glasses that never ran empty/ Bottles of SoCo, cheap vodka and 20-20/ Spending my pennies for thought on quarts of Henny….”

    With few weak points (namely a sub-sub-par guest performance by Cannibal Ox). The Bootleg of the Bootleg is a fantastic album. Perfectly placed strings and piano loops (the record even samples Mozart), and excellent production by several newcomers (Wizard, Brooklyn Academy, Ruddy Rock and Belief, Bravo, China Black, etc.) make the record complete. Jean Grae also shines as she manages to rhyme over Jay-Z, Nas, and Eminem beats as well as the originals. During the 45- minute mix that follows the original six tracks, Grae provides her version of the hits (see the previously mentioned Scarface beat).

So for those who appreciated Attack of the Attacking Things, this record will not disappoint. For those who haven’t heard the first album, pick up the Bootleg.

With Still Reportin’…, the Queensbridge legend breaks no new ground, but delivers stark narratives and his own political agenda. Snippets of Black Panther speeches pepper the album, and a proclamation that “this is for Brother Malcolm and Brother Martin” remain relevant throughout the effort.

The previously released “Walk Wit Me (911)” plays to his sorrowful feelings on the state of the world. “And the media wonder why I write such anger/ Imagine life as a lost soul/Cold, no guidance… And me no love Bush/Despise bin Laden/Its like I’m caught in the middle between two fascists,” he raps. In addition, the title track addresses the state of harsh urban living with which he is all too familiar.

Tragedy also manages to prove he is a rapper who wears his heart on his sleeve. “Hood Love” is a dedication to the woman who is the “female version of me,” and “The Message” is an admission of his weakness to promiscuity in his younger years. In addition, the heartfelt “Crying on the Inside” is a dedication to his only parent – his deceased mother.

However, despite the aforementioned positives, Still Reportin’… the LP’s production is a bit thin in places and the contributions by his Queensbridge brethren Capone, Littles, and Havoc are all from previously released material.

Ultimately, Still Reportin’… is a dependable album. Requisite narratives, dedications to the hood and hard-edged love songs characterize the album and its a solid addition to anyone’s QB collection.


On Tragedy Khadafi’s Thug Matrix II: The Fugitive, he is guilty of recycling material and adding goods that would make the package more attractive. But then again, who can blame him. Employing some of his most talented neighbors (Littles, Capone, Nas, Prodigy of Mobb Deep), as well as delivering impressive performances throughout, Tragedy is a schooled vet who know’s what he’s doing.

Collecting some of his best collaborations in recent memory on Thug Matrix II, the thoughtful former Intelligent Hoodlum is just that – a street poet who clearly understands how to deliver 16 bars without using hackneyed catchphrases. “The Wait” is a confession of his own anxiety and fears in this world, complete with a stunning description of a mother’s death not from the drugs in her system, but from the stress that brought her to that point. The cover of soft rock darling Paula Cole’s “I Don’t Want to Wait” on the hook was a risky move, but the subject matter makes it appropriate, quelling any fears of the song losing its sincerity. The track “911″ follows in the same vein, with sidekick V-12 and Tragedy flowing ever so easily over the dawdling track, “And the media wonder why I write such anger/ Imagine life as a lost soul/Cold, no guidance?.And me no love Bush/Despise bin Laden/Its like I’m caught in the middle between two fascists.”

However, while there is a definite emotion to the album, it is unclear as to what the overall goal of the project is. “Welcome to Q.B. City” is a prerequisite shoutout that uses the “Welcome to New York City” beat from Cam’ron’s Come Home With Me and the near rip-off of Notorious B.I.G.’s “Dead Wrong” on Syn’s “Dead Wrong Syn’s Debut” would be more appropriate in a mixtape format. In addition, nowhere on the nearly two-minute track does Tragedy appear. Apparently part of the Thug Matrix is to promote future Q.B. artists (see Jay-Z’s Dynasty: Roc La Familia for directions). Also questionable additions abound on Thug Matrix II: as the latter half of the LP includes songs that were released years ago. “T.O.N.Y” from Capone-N-Noreaga’s War Report appears as does an old DJ Clue mixtape inclusion (“Triborough’).

While the point to this effort is unclear, one thing that remains is that the music is still fresh. Numerous appearances out of left field will make some listeners stop in their tracks (yes, Mic Geronimo even makes a guest appearance), and some will listen closely for Tragedy’s voice without ever hearing it, but in the end the tracks are a lot better than what appears on projects that somehow become “Queensbridge” albums.

While Fredro’s flow and delivery are still on-point and his powerful, gruff voice, can still blow listeners back.  Too much fun in the sun and politicking with movie label execs appears to have left this emcee looking to make a Jerry Bruckheimer-style album instead of a well-constructed rap album. Complete with a Neptunes knockoff (“California Girls”), a monotonous G-funk anthem (“Funtime”) and the obligatory track about footwear (“Timberlands”), Don’t Get Mad is a paint-by-the-numbers album cluttered with throwaway beats and a Hollywood edge – not a hip-hop one. Fredro Starr’s work with Onyx seems appropriate for his flow and delivery – energetic, rough and distinctly New York – but poor melodies and lackluster production make his rhymes seem out of place and in need of serious help from the big boys.

Like the hood flick sold outside the subway station, or available for rent at your local Blockbuster Video, Don’t Get Mad is lazy and contrived, attempting to bank in on the pseudo-celebrity of Fredro. Employing overused formulas and weak production, Fredro Starr’s second solo effort isn’t as sloppy as his solo debut Firestarr, but with aimless threats, odes to women and overused production techniques, listeners won’t get mad, they’ll just get bored.

In the midst of all of this four bald-headed rappers from Queens knew they couldn’t play the game of ’64 Impalas and Parliament samples, so they injected their urban frustrations into head-banging hip-hop that MTV couldn’t help but love. Unfortunately, none of the members of Onyx have really ever been able to repeat this.

On Decade, Sticky Fingaz relies on tried and true formulas that are unfortunately poorly executed. What made his initial success specifically interesting is that his scratchy voice was unique and caused him to become the “inspiration of a whole generation,” stealing the show every time on Onyx’s debut. While it is has never been proven that this statement is true, “Slam” was a cross-over smash and made him a small-time rap star (by today’s standards certainly). His manic nature translated well to record with Onyx’s hardcore anthems, but now ten years later, he has regressed to Casio-style beats and a weak production squad.

“I Love Da Streets” is a cookie-cutter G-anthem paying homage to the hood; “Bad Guy” is the story of Sticky as a young’n hustling for the material goods that make him satisfied, complete with the regretful tone and a hokey male R&B singer trying to sound too much like Jaheim on the hook; and “Let’s Do It” is an aimless track with production that sounds like a throwaway Swizz Beatz/Roger Troutman  collaboration. 

The negatives far outweigh the positives, but a few tracks work well and prove that with better producers (meaning not Sticky himself behind the boards), this effort may have salvageable. “Do Da Dam Thing” is a Scott Storch gem that maximizes Sticky’s delivery and “Suicide Letter,” while obviously depressing, appears honest and visceral to say the least. Despite what one may think about the content, these tracks prove that Sticky does have talent when he chooses to turn it on.

After several failed comebacks by Onyx, and lukewarm reactions at best to his first – albeit highly slept on and creative – solo debut Black Trash: The Autobiography of Kirk Jones, Sticky seems lost when it comes to his music. Wavering between doing what everybody has done before and sticking (no pun intended) to what he is most effective at, Decade is hardly a celebration of ten years in the game. It is simply a reminder of what he once was.