Before listening to a Visionaries’ album, you pretty much know certain types of tracks are coming. As usual, they deliver a Southern Cali anthem, a turntablism cut, and a track dedicated to the breakers (“In The Good,” “Talkin’ Handjive,” and “Crop Circles” respectively). Even though the listener knows what’s around the corner, these traditional numbers are some of the album’s best-particularly the lead single “In The Good.” Atop a classic left coast, Dre-esque beat, each one of the Visionaries takes us in detail back into the ‘hoods they grew up in, whether in San Diego or in the South Bay of L.A. And the chorus, provided by the husky-toned vocalist Ariano, helps tie things together.

     When it comes to the unexpected material, the results are a little mixed. Lucky for the Visionaries, they were able to receive a production from J Dilla before his untimely passing for the uplifting number “All Right.” Here, Dilla’s dusty female vocal samples and a muted horn are ideal for this song about reflecting on family struggles. It doesn’t even sound like a beat the Visionaries would normally select, yet it’s a perfect fit for their most personal effort to date. Then on “Do Gooders,” an acoustic guitar-laced beat by J Rocc works just as nicely with the group’s tales of being stereotyped and misunderstood. But then the uber-eccentric singing of Georgia Anne Muldrow on the song winds up clashing with the Visionaries’ clear-cut style more than it compliments it. Sure, they wanted to take a risk here, which is respectable, but the addition just doesn’t work.

    Lyrically, the group’s tendency to fall into “let’s reform misguided MCs” mode also works against their favor. On the Kev Brown-produced “1%,” they beg unimaginative MCs to “do something.” Then on “Lately,” they hop into soapbox mode as they proclaim that “music is a mission, not a competition.” Now, these tracks aren’t bad, but preaching gets old real quick. The Visionaries do redeem themselves when they opt to talk about themselves and not others on the feel good dancehall-tinged heater “4wd” or the rugged flashback high school anthem “School Daze.”

    We Are The Ones sees this L.A.-area crew do what they’ve done since ’98, and on occasion their rising maturity is noticeable through their poignant reflections. Looking past a few misfit and preachy tracks, this is a solid effort.

    On the surface, this album’s title may seem a little self-righteous, but while Zion and The Grouch are trying to evoke change with their raps, they’re not doing so from an elitist stance. As The Grouch raps on the bottom-heavy track “The Faint of Heart”, “I’m the Skywalker / I talk the way I wanna be/but sometimes how I am and that don’t always agree.” Simply put, these cats realize that they’re only human. And whether they’re capturing the state of paranoia the government has created for non-”patriotic” Americans these days (“Current Affairs”) or paying respect to the women in their lives (“Make U Fly” feat. Esthero), Zion and The Grouch consistently craft intelligent yet easily digestible raps.

    While both Zion and The Grouch remain easy to relate to, some of the album’s best tracks see these MCs unveil elements of their lives that most listeners have probably yet to experience themselves. Take “Trains and Planes”, which features Zion and The Grouch painting an admirable portrait of what it’s like to regularly travel the globe as performers over Headnodic’s melodic beat. Then on “10 Fingers 10 Toes 10lbs 10oz”, The Grouch divulges in how having a daughter changed everything in his life: “I swore I had shit figured out before / baby, the old me went right out the door / I just want to be the father / folks rarely do / stand up and be there for you.”

    All throughout, the palette of subject matter is remarkable – so much so that there is a little something for (almost) everybody. While they don’t kick any mind-blowing metaphors, Zion and The Grouch’s strength lies in their versatility and articulation. Moreover, the Cali thump provided by producers Amp Live, Headnodic, Eligh and The Grouch is typically right on-point. Amp Live specifically deserves props for extending his sound on a few cuts like on the danceable ska-inspired production of “Kickin It” (a track which is incidentally a rough throw back to Boogie Down Production’s  “9mm Goes Bang”). Sure, there a few beats, like The Grouch’s instrumental for “Open The Door”, which could have been injected with a little more gusto, but all in all, the production is as solid as the rhymes.

    With the year quickly coming to a close, it’s no long shot to call Heroes In The City Of Dope one of the best independent albums to come out of the West Coast in 2006. After putting out countless releases amongst their own crews, the union of Zion I and The Grouch was just what both these acts needed to propel their careers.

    On the album’s most haunting track, “How I Feel,” WT lays down thick drums and tops them off with an assortment of laidback horns, somber strings and some bluesy sampled vocals. This mix of rich percussion, moody samples and vocal snippets is used often. But WT’s sound isn’t all about the dramatic instrumentals. On “Damn That Music Made My Day,” he pays homage to his favorite hip-hop tracks by expertly sewing together a mix of samples from EPMD, Jeru, BDP, Digital Underground, Eric B & Rakim and more. Then he connects with North Carolina’s criminally slept-on true schoolers The Others on the high-energy hip-hop flashback “Where My Heart’s At.” As The Others appear again on the equally impressive “Walk The Line,” it’s evident that WT has an ear for quality, under-the-radar MCs.

    The one major drawback to this album is Wax Tailor’s tendency to sometimes try and emulate the sounds of trip-hop pioneers Portishead. On songs like “Our Dance,” the sci-fi vibe and Charlotte Savary’s Beth Gibbon-esque vocals simply sound too akin to their eerie resonance. The suspenseful “Don’t You Remember” suffers from a similar fate. These tracks aside, Tales of the Forgotten Melodies proves to be an exceptional debut. Hopefully, listeners stateside pick up on it as much as they have in Wax Tailor’s native France.

   The interesting thing about AOTP’s debut is that while most of these cats (Esoteric, Reef the Lost Cauze, Apathy, etc.) have long since graduated from being in constant battle-mode, when these 12 come together, their combative rhymes sound absolutely ideal. As the independent movement is so saturated, they’re not targeting imaginary rappers-they’re fighting to take back the underground to its original rawness. Chief Kamachi says it best on “All Shall Perish,” when he calls AOTP “independent warriors taking over the game.” From Vinnie Paz to Kamachi, almost everyone is at their best. At times, though, the battle can become a little over the top. For example, when Celph Titled claims that he’ll “catch you sleeping, stab you so deep the tip of the blade puncture your water bed / ’cause I’m the type to slice the skin on your back off / come back a week later and slice the mutha fucking scab off” (“King Among Kings”), it’s hard not to cringe. But that’s kind of the point. These guys are out to shock and awe, not pull their punches.

   Amid the large quantity of MCs in AOTP, everyone does seem to be on the same page. Even as a different combination of the Pharaohs gets down on every track, they consistently provide a similar hardcore East Coast sound – just as producers 7L, Shuko and all of the featured up-and-coming European beat-makers do. Obviously posse cuts like these aren’t going to be heavy on concepts because of the coordination obstacles. But on a few tracks like “Into the Arms of Angels,” Vinne Paz and company share heartfelt stories of family-centered strife without sounding soft.

   When all’s said and done Army Of The Pharaohs is about relentless battle rap with a purpose. There really is no telling when a collaborative effort of this significance and size will happen again, so don’t sleep on these “independent warriors” because they’ve just made history. 

     Thick bass licks, playful trumpet sections and pulsing bongo taps are only a few elements of this 11-piece assemblage. And they use their massive orchestra to create cool afrobeat-induced rhythms one moment (“Monkey See, Monkey Do”) and wild soul escapades the next (“Budos Theme”). Their compositions often sound like something you’d dig out of a dusty bin at the record store, but while The Budos Band creates a vintage feel, there’s also a certain element of freshness about this record. And this is largely due to the youthful vigor these cats bring in creating these undeniably funky instrumentals. These are the type of beats that hip-hop was created from and they’re the type of beats that will help keep the essence of hip-hop alive. Don’t let this one slip through the cracks.

    While Vadim has done his share of cross-coastal collaborations over the years, his production with One Self sounds more tailor made than ever before. From overcast to bouncy, Vadim lays out an ever-altering palette of sounds that he knows his MCs can work with.

    Yarah Bravo and Blu Rum 13 not only do a remarkable job of flowing in accord with Vadim’s wide-ranging beats, but they actually have something to say in the process. And Blu Rum’s gritty East Coast tonality coupled with Yarah’s accented silky-voiced flow equals an unprecedented verbal output. On “Over Expose,” Yarah convincingly assures music video ?models’ that they’re worth far more than their T&A factor. With her friendly delivery, it’s hard not to pay attention when she sings: “If you chose not to rip off them clothes / you would know life is not those videos.” Then on “Be Your Own,” both MCs stress the importance of maintaining your own identity in a relationship while Vadim’s eerie Middle Eastern-flavored pounds. Sure, their rhymes can come dangerously close to being preachy, but Yarah and Blu Rum aren’t offering hollow advice?they speak on problems they can’t ignore and offer a viable solution.

   “Bluebird,” arguably the album’s best song, sees Vadim lay down some easygoing funk while Yarah and Blu Rum encourage listeners to not let their aspirations slip away. Alluding to the album’s title (Children Of Possibility), this song sums up the group’s aim to make everyone aware of their potential. But that’s not to say that One Self isn’t going to delve into more traditional subject matter like calling out insecure rappers (as Blu scathingly does just that on the latest single “Paranoid”).

   It’s not often that a group with members from three different countries comes along, but with the triumphant junction of their individual talents, One Self looks like they’ll be around for the long haul.

     Aside from a few overly busy tracks (“Tent of Miracles” & “LSD”), in which Mr. Greenweedz comes at the tracks too eager for the beats at hand, this album consists of on-point material. This Chicago duo shines through the brightest, though, when they really pay attention to each other’s styles. Take the title track, “G-Strings,” for one, where Mr. Greenweedz coolly flows in accord with G.Riot’s playful piano loop. “Carlos Castaneda,” is another highlight, which sees Greenweedz rhyme and harmonize, becoming one with G’s cinematically jazzy instrumental.

     Amid the chemistry between Mr. Greenweedz and G.Riot there are personal highlights as well. While G.Riot contributes a few lengthy instrumentals, his composition “The Child Won’t Sleep” is the most intriguing. Complete with live sax playing, this track sounds like a sporadic studio session that sits well between the rest of the album. As for Greenweedz, his lyrical highlight comes on “Moment of Clarity.” This wake up call of a track sees this inquisitive MC remind us that we all should reach some sort of turning point in our lives. As he raps here, “Some cats are afraid to die broke and penniless / but what is that worth if your soul has emptiness?”

     The material on G-Strings may not be catchy enough for major radio airplay, but it’s good enough to place these two Chicagoans among the underground’s best. These are the type of beats and rhymes that helped make Chicago hip-hop famous. And with their spontaneous touch, hopefully Mr. Greenweedz and G.Riot can help further put the Family Tree and Chi-City on the international hip-hop radar.

     When you first look at pictures of Karl with his blazer, designer jeans and nerd glasses on, you may be tempted to quickly pass up this release, just as this critic first did. But corny as his image may be, Karl’s got a nice flow, a cunning sense of humor and some pretty good beats to top it off.

     On his overdue debut, The Great Escape, Karl has a damn good time because he’s just being himself. While his lost Interscope debut, Your Housekeeper Hates You (featuring Redman, Fabulous Mya, et al.) was never released, Karl almost seems happy it didn’t. With a series of comical skits featuring Karl and a pushy A&R named Dave Gossett on The Great Escape, he pokes fun at the ridiculousness of major label dealings and A&R’s expectations-all of which he has experienced first hand. The album’s first cut (“Let’s Talk”) even features MC Search playing devil’s advocate as a money-hungry record exec while Karl pleads his case as a hip-hop purist. Simply put, this album sees Karl jubilantly celebrate his creative control.

     Upon listening to his official debut, you’ll find Karl paying tribute to the ’80s (“Kerk Gybson”), calling out ladies with tight bodies but busted faces (“ButterFace”) and unveiling the absurdity of suburbanites and their privilege (“Home Sweet Home”). While he usually keeps his tone slapstick, he does so without sacrificing the quality of his lyrics or breath control. Yet, the most interesting song, “I’ve Heard” produced by 9th Wonder, is also the most serious. This song is in part dedicated to 9th Wonder, who initially rejected working with Karl. But after 9th heard Karl’s heartfelt verses written in response to the rumors surrounding his career, 9th hooked Karl up with a ridiculously tight violin-driven instrumental. Lines like: “I’ve heard I’m just a gimmick that cashes in on a fad / well if it’s so hot / why’s my career so bad?” say it all.

     As tempting as it is to hate on Karl because of his image, hearing this album will likely cure any doubts you have about his skills. Sure there are a few songs like “Suburban Superstar” that are simply too soft for most heads, but if you can appreciate blatant honesty and hip-hop with a sense of humor, this album is actually pretty enjoyable. As Karl says on the ending of “I’ve Heard,” “I mean hey, even if you hate me, you got to at least admit I’m saying something different.” Fair enough.

    Digging in the vaults of defunct or negligent record labels is becoming an increasingly popular and wise decision on the part of independents. While the early-90s was undoubtedly a high point for hip-hop, even then, labels were more often concerned about capital than creativity. But thanks to labels like Stones Throw, abandoned projects now have a new home and new shelf life. Taking note of this development, Glow In The Dark Records aptly presents the Afrocentric sounds of Zimbabwe Legit with their impressive 1992 full-length debut, Brothers From The Mother.

    As the title alludes, MCs Akim and Dumi are natives of Africa, who were already established hip-hoppers by the time they touched American soil (New York) in 1990. But by no means is their heritage a gimmick. It’s their foundation; it’s the way they “rock to the drums” with a rich effortlessness. As this duo displays on the refined opening cut, “Basically Speaking,” just because they’re not American-born doesn’t mean they’re not well aware of slavery and racial injustice. All throughout this compact, 41-minute effort, they make it evident how well read they are without going over anyone’s head in the process. And as songs like “To Bead or Not to Bead” prove, Akim and Dumi are also well aware of culture counterfeits as they cunningly examine the authenticity and commercialization of Afrocentricity in America. On a lighter note, Zimbabwe Legit can drop straightforward golden era hip-hop (see the up-tempo Black Sheep-esque “Straight from the Mothership”) just as convincingly. 

   Zimbabwe Legit arguably would have had an edge up on other Afrocentric acts of the early-90s because of their experience of living in both Africa and America and their ability to so eloquently relay this. Yet the industry didn’t see it that way. Nonetheless Zimbabwe Legit’s magnetic debut is aptly getting a second chance. While Akim and Dumi carry a sound all their own, fans of X-Clan, Poor Righteous Teachers, Das Efx and Black Sheep are all likely to find solace in this rock solid, golden era composition.

    As ?uestlove says himself on the album’s intro, The Chapter is “pretty dope.” Like many debut albums, Us vs. Them is a little rough around the edges, but the potential for greatness is clear. With 3Sixty’s implementation of live instruments into the production and Verbal E’s down-to-earth lyrics and composed delivery, this duo creates a simple yet soulful output. As 3Sixty’s oft-keyboard laced productions knock, Verbal E keeps things fresh with a good range of engaging subject matter. On “Life in the City” E gives listeners a tour of his Las Vegas locale beyond the parameters of “The Strip,” then shares lessons he’s picked up from his elders and from his life on “Pop Said.” Moments like these successfully capture his own observations and experiences while maintaining a universal appeal. Even when he simply has something to get off his chest, like on the unyielding “… I Do Despise,” Verbal E comes off just as nice. And 3Sixty provides a fitting, xylophone-driven melody.

    With plenty of noteworthy material featured, Us vs. Them, is likely to stand as one of the better debut albums of 2005. But despite making a strong entry onto the scene, The Chapter’s best material is likely yet to come. As 3Sixty has only recently begun to play live instruments (bass, drums, keys, guitar, et al.), the potential to create more innovative organic melodies will only grow with time. While the potency of the beats remains stable on their debut, it’ll be interesting to see if 3Sixty will further diversify his production by introducing more instruments and new arrangements. And if he does, it will also be interesting to see how Verbal E will compliment them. If not, he and E have a solid enough formula going that should please fans of The Roots and other neo-Native Tounges artists for years to come.

    Whatever happened to the great benefit compilations? From raising awareness of AIDS to helping fight gun violence, not too long ago hip-hop artists would gladly unite for a noble cause. While this may seem like a thing of the past, the Impeach The Precedent compilation is a return to this unification and dedication to creating change—in this case for the environment and our political system.   

    This compilation, being dubbed as the “first authorized” sequel to the 1999 Funky Precedent (Was The Funky Precedent Vol.2 unauthorized?) project, features contributions from both hip-hop heavyweights and suppliers of soul. But what really sets this collection on another level is how the lines between hip-hop, funk and soul often become blurred. 

      And what better way to get the party on wax started than with a fresh blend of modern hip-hop and vintage soul? On the title track, Roy C Hammond and The Honey Drippers’ classic JBs-ish creation is complimented by the precise cuts and turntablism of DJ Shortkut. Medusa’s high-powered link up with producer That Kid Named Miles (“New Definition”) is another first class old-meets-new cut in which old school-influenced break beats are melded with modern, socially vigilant lyricism. Even when things aren’t quite as jubilant, they can be just as affecting. Just take a listen to the meeting of J-Live and Thes One (of People Under The Stairs) on “Give It Up.” On one of his better songs in some time, J makes an uplifting call for everyone to take it easy on Mother Earth. Meanwhile Thes’ funky drum pattern and flute loops rolls along with briskness. 

      Unlike the first installment in this series, this one’s not as hip-hop-centric. But, the roots are still present. Whether it’s the tribal, jazz-tinged rhythms of Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra on “P.A.Z.” or the revivalist funk of the Poets of Rhythm on “Flight To St. Vincent,” this compilation consistently radiates the good vibes of rhythm and soul. While not every track carries quite the same weight or the same direct, socially aware approach, there are a number of remarkable acts featured at the top of their game—and they come through for a good cause.

    With heavy-hitting production tinged with a hint of spookiness (a la early Swollen Members) and lyrical deliveries as upfront as the MCs of Non-Phixion, this album is satisfying from start to finish. But where it really differs from your average indie hip-hop outing is in its underlying mystic quality, which in part spawns from Grayskull’s Latino heritage. Thus, if you don’t mind the occasional rhyme about spirits and fighting evil, you’ll be treated to some truly top-notch production (from Mr. Hill, Fakts One, Onry Ozzborn and others) and well-delivered raps (from Onry and JFK).

    This album is certainly guest-heavy and the featured MCs Canibus, Abstract Rude, Mr. Lif and Aesop Rock all drop impressive verses. But Grayskull’s very own Onry and JFK more than hold their own without them. When they go for dolo, their songs tend to be slightly more thematic. On the bouncy “Once Upon A Time,” some wild xylophone and tuba loops set the stage for Onry and JFK to kick into story telling mode; then on “Vixen” they get loose over a Mexican-flavored production speaking on repelling groupies—especially the emotionally draining ones. Another standout, the album’s lead-single “Prom Quiz,” is an absorbing piece of social commentary. Here, the stories of troubled teenagers devoid of self-esteem are superbly told over a head nod inducing production by Mr. Hill. 

     The powerfully delivered variety of subject matter and tight beats outright make Deadlivers an all around high-quality release. Sure, Grayskull’s overall steez may be a bit too eerie for some. But anyone who digs the ghoulish quality of the Swollen Members’ early albums and who is open to the enigma of Latino mysticism will be more than satisfied. With the independent scene becoming more crowded by the day, don’t let this one become another album to get lost amid all the hype of unworthy releases. 

      While All Natural is often intent on staying on-point and creating change, that doesn’t mean they’re not going to have a good time. On “Corner Pocket” the Jungle Brothers and Cap D come together to share thoughts on making moves over Andy C’s extra funky production. With its sing-a-long chorus and upbeat sentiment, this is a proper alliance of the original Native Tounges crew and a couple of their most talented disciples. On Cap D’s self-produced, up-tempo cut “Heel-Toe,” he brilliantly uses a vocal sample (“Put your left foot up and then your right foot next”) as an advisory for reckless MCs to put their best foot forward. The oft-silent Tone B. even speaks up on this album when he plays call and response (a la A Tribe Called Quest) with Cap on the mellow “Check The Time,” which is sure to become a future All Natural classic. In contrast, when they return to an old classic on the sequel to the anti-gold digger anthem “Queens Get the Money,” they fail to recreate the essence of the potent, Panik-produced original. 

         Relying much less on the sure shot production of the Molemen, All Natural reaches out to relatively unknown (outside of Chicago) local talent like Kenny Keys and Stoney Rock. The beats of the Molemen’s Panik and Memo are definitely missed here, but the seemingly risky decision to enlist new talent almost always pays off. While Kenny Keys’ beats are much more laid-back than those of most All Natural tracks, they definitely fit the whole Vintage theme well. Meanwhile Dug Infinite (of Common fame) cooks up a few hot instrumentals himself?especially on the soulful “Keep It Movin” featuring El da Sensai and Allstar.

     All Natural proves that you don’t have to be uptight to be righteous. But despite sticking to his guns and having fun, Cap is clearly dealing with the repercussions of keeping it true. On the candid “New Dawn,” he asks: “How can I turn my way of living into a salary?”  This is a question that many underground and independent acts ask themselves daily. Hopefully, Capital D and Tone B. Nimble won’t have to be asking it much longer as this is arguably their best all-around album to date.                  

     Aside from the dramatic, Meaty Ogre-produced opening cut, “Kept”, the mood of this EP remains bleak throughout. Take the dark title cut, “Bow To The Sceptor”, which utilizes an eerie snake charmer-like melody as Offwhyte provides a brutally honest wake-up call for all of us living in times of war. Loaded lines like, “There is no emancipation coming for those who don’t live the cult of war” are sure to get people contemplating our government’s elitist attitude. And cuts like “Kid is Raw” and “On Purpose” see this Galapagos4 rep declare he and his crews’ significance in hip-hop with just as much direction. While doing so he aptly raises awareness to his dedication to hip-hop and rocking the mic, albeit alongside some rather bleak production.

     Through this EP, Offwhyte offers hip-hop to stimulate awareness and self-confidence in times of strife. As he raps on “On Purpose”, “People, let’s coagulate and save our fate”. While his lyrics are on point as ever, it’s hard not to imagine what these smart, bravado-heavy songs like “Kid Is Raw” would have sounded like over more bouncy production. Not to take away from the beats featured here, but the core of this EP may be too dismal for some. Thankfully, Offwhyte aptly closes this mini-album out with the climactic instrumental of “Kept”, rapping things up nicely. Those who don’t mind a lack of quantity (only five songs and two instrumentals) and who dig gloomy yet forthright hip-hop will find Bow To The Sceptor to be a worthwhile effort.

     While not quite as introspective as the title may lead you to believe, what this album does depict is a socially-alert lyricist who admittedly represents neither gangsta nor backpack rap.  As Edo raps on the opening cut, “Boston”, “I’m a throwback from the ’90s whose return is timely for hip-hop consciousness that’s grimy.” Edo’s grimy consciousness is delivered most effectively on his lesson to young bucks wanting to enter the oft-corrupt music industry (“School’em”) and on his look into how a life of crime will come back to haunt you (“Pay The Price”). But Edo ain’t preaching. He’s merely sharing his sound advice.

     And Pete Rock’s melodic, multilayered production sets the perfect mood for each cut–from the triumphant (“Just Call My Name”) to the the emotive (“Pay The Price”). Pete even provides the chorus on multiple occasions and drops a verse on the live-in-the-now anthem “Right Now”. But DJ Supreme One proves to be adequate comp for Pete on the moving, Martin Luther King-inspired “Wishing”, featuring Masta Ace. Over a soulful guitar loop, Edo drops lines like, “I wish my people stopped avoiding the truth/ BET stopped poisoning youth/  We need changes for teenagers as they go through phases/ more than just a concrete jungle–a world of green acres,” which are bound to get people thinking.    

     Despite the strength of Supreme’s “Wishing” instrumental, my one complaint about this album is if Pete Rock’s name is on the cover as visible as Edo’s, why didn’t he just lace all ten tracks instead of seven? Edo G’s latest remains tight throughout, but utilizing one producer would have resulted in an even more congruous record.

     While not quite a classic,  My Own Worst Enemy is a must own album for fans of Pete Rock, Edo G and gimmick free hip-hop reminiscent of the music that these two artists made over ten years ago.