As far as the overall vibe is concerned, their latest album, Expose Negative, is a logical next step after 2003′s dark Shopkeeper’s Wife EP. It is guitar-heavy and sparse; rock-influenced without being a self-conscious crossover. When considering the group’s entire catalog, dating back to their first official release, Absorbing Playtime, one realizes just how versatile they have been.

   But when focusing solely on Expose Negative, it’s hard to reach the same conclusion. The general theme of the album is emotional distress, whether caused by the ills of society or by women. The individual songs are all at the very least listenable (though most are enjoyable). Expose Negative is a very specifically composed record, one in which songs bleed into one another, yet it doesn’t have the form that we find in great hip-hop albums. There is no introduction, no conclusion– just a lot of what seems to be venting. Listening to just one song on the album yields the same reaction as listening to the entire thing.

   Another critical flaw is that unlike previous Oddjobs offerings, it is difficult to discern the three emcees from one another. Nomi, Crescent Moon and Adviser are all very capable writers, and listeners cannot avoid having their ears perked by individual lines and insights. But as far as their deliveries are concerned, there is something lacking. This has always been a problem for the group, and credit should be given for general improvement over the years (especially to MC Adviser, who has stepped his game up significantly). Their personalities and voices on Expose Negative blend in to the point where they sound like one person. This is never a good thing in a group setting, and on this particular album it just serves to add to the monotony. The album’s final track, “Stone Cold,” features a guest appearance from the underrated I Self Divine, and it is really refreshing to hear him do his thing. When compared to I Self, the Oddjobs crew still have an unnatural, rough sound that isn’t the easiest to listen to, especially when there aren’t other strong qualities for the listener to focus on.

    To an extent, there actually is diversity within the songwriting of Expose Negative. “Self-Taught” may just be the very first hip-hop song that’s entirely in 7/4 time signature, and its follow-up, “7th Street Entry – Minus 3″ bears a greater resemblance to the music of Steve Reich than to anything on any previous Oddjobs releases. The compact and well-produced “Dear Parasite” is one of the better tracks on the album but after the likes of “En Pocket” and “Rather See You… Never,” another song that reacts to a bad relationship is just not necessary.

    When all is said and done, Expose Negative is a pretty serious misstep from a very talented group. Producer Deetalx did create some nice beats, but they are just too similar to one another and together, they do not make for a good album. Some of the material on the twelve-song record could have made for a solid EP, but even then, it would weigh a listener down. After listening to Expose Negative, fans of the group will be disappointed, and those who never heard of them before will never give them another chance.

     His 2001 Plantation Rhymes EP was almost universally panned by the underground hip-hop press, who generally favors music that tries to appear creative and unique to music that is legitimately creative and unique. The EP was challenging, at times, befuddling, but ultimately incredibly rewarding, with a completely new sound that nobody else but Jus could possibly create. His record label, Subverse, has since folded despite at one point having had one of the hottest lineups in hip-hop. Fortunately for the few Bigg Jus fans out there, he had an extremely good showing on the NMS side project, and its success was enough to force people who passed the Plantation Rhymes EP over to give it a second chance.

     Jus’ first solo full-length, Black Mamba Serums, has been available outside of the US for over a year, but is only now seeing the light of day on this side of the Atlantic. And fortunately, those who have waited will definitely be satisfied with its trimmed-down domestic release. The album radiates with the same brash energy that made Plantation Rhymes awesome, and its sound is less harsh and digital than the NMS album. Though four of the tracks here share names with tracks from the EP, only two of them are straight rehashes.

     But regardless of the newness of the songs, the music on this disc is pretty great. Overall, the disc lacks the type of mind-blowing material that was the bulk of Plantation Rhymes, but its length allows for a greater variety of styles to be flipped, and Jus does a great job. His flow has a mysterious sense of rhythm that won’t appeal to everybody, but is worth following just to catch up to his wild metaphorical lyrics. And the beats are always interesting. “Kingspitter” is just disgusting, as close to a car track as Bigg Jus could get, with sick lyrics that “turn the poison into antivenom.” Another highlight is the original “Dedication To Peo,” which is the heartbreaking but at the same time empowering story of Jus’ childhood graffiti inspirations. Jus pulls no punches throughout the record, and though it might be a turnoff to some listeners, it works if you are able to open your mind to it.

     Black Mamba Serums v 2.0 is a cohesive, well-crafted album that is definitely up there as one of the finest albums of the year. It is uncompromising and it might very well refresh peoples’ faith in the experimental side of hip-hop. But it is more than just new, unusual aesthetics that make Black Mamba Serums dope. Bigg Jus utilized the tried and true approach of being one hundred percent honest and reaching deep within yourself to create music that other people will find meaningful. If you’re as sick of fake gimmickry in the 2004 hip-hop scene as he is, this album might just be for you.

     The music on this album is a sort that would never really be called hip-hop. An appropriate name for the style would be “intelligent house music,” and it can be lumped in with artists like Aphex Twin and Squarepusher. Theme For A Broken Soul comprises of hypnotic, fast grooves that would be appropriate music for a trendy downtown lounge. For that reason, it is difficult to find much to say about Theme For A Broken Soul, positive or negative. The music on this album is never particularly bad, but at the same time, it doesn’t really keep a listener’s attention very well. For the majority of the tracks, it seems as though the music on this album is meant to be in the background.

      The record starts out with its two strongest tracks, “Don’t U Know” and the sublime “Sunrise.” The tracks are very well composed, with strong beats and catchy melodic samples. The drum tracks in particular are very interesting, with great grooves and unusual tonalities. But later in the album, you have tracks such as “Sao Paolo” and “Eclipse Pt. 1 & 2″ that simply don’t sound as good. In fact, a few songs on this record, including the aforementioned two, sound as though they were artificially sped up, and that just doesn’t make for good listening.

    It is kind of amazing that despite all his creativity and experimentation, Madlib has actually released three lackluster albums this year, (but in a sense that sort of balances out the classic Madvillain LP). Theme For A Broken Soul is an alright album, but the music-listening world should never be satisfied with buying albums that are just alright. This DJ Rels album, while never particularly offensive, is monotonous (most of its songs being in one narrow tempo range) and overall uninteresting. Madlib could have done a lot better than this album.

    Madlib, the mad hip-hop genius from Oxnard, California shares a musical sense with Irvine. They both have a sound that combines familiar, honest grooves with an otherworldly drive and desire. And, more simply, they both see clear connections between jazz and hip-hop. Madlib got his start by producing for Tha Alkaholiks and then moved on to create albums with the Lootpack and on his own. He debuted his jazz side project, Yesterday’s New Quintet in 2001 with a pair of EPs and the full-length album Angles Without Edges, which was a blunted but very well-composed revision of the meaning of jazz. Under the YNQ moniker, Stones Throw records has now released Madlib’s tribute to Weldon Irvine, and given Lib’s ravenous following, it is sure to be a success.

    However it’s important to note that Madlib didn’t create A Tribute To Brother Weldon for public consumption. It, like the recent Stevie project, was made by Madlib, for Madlib and a small group of privileged listeners. But it doesn’t really hurt anybody to release these albums, and many more people can enjoy them this way. But the thing with Brother Weldon is that you can tell that you weren’t meant to hear it.

    From start to finish, Brother Weldon is an extremely intense record. Its brooding experiments make it a challenging listen to those expecting to hear clear melodies or consistent grooves, and unfortunately, its breakneck pacing doesn’t make it the most rewarding project Madlib has released. It starts with the nine-minute-long “Prelude/Run With The Sun,” which offers the listener no time to get acquainted with the record; you just have to dive in. It is a free-flowing collection of drum-based sketches, and it’s tough to really grab onto anything. Like much of the album, the amelodic nature of the track makes it hard to grab a hold of, and Madlib’s constant tempo shifts make the tension palpable.

     Some of the numbers are less free, such as “Time,” which is a dense 3/4 groove that most certainly flies. “Still Young, Gifted & Broke” takes its title from Irvine’s first venture into musical theater, and it begins with a easy going riff that would be at home on Angles Without Edges, and slowly, but efficiently, builds into a maddening climax. Other tracks are more demanding of the listener. “The Beginning, The Middle & The End,” nearly seventeen minutes in length, is perhaps the most self-indulgent piece of music Madlib has ever released (though it’s hard to fault him for being self-indulgent on a record that was made for himself). Though the motif of the song is constantly changes, it always feels like it’s building towards something that never materializes. There is really no reason to listen to it more than once, and even that might be too much.

     Given the amount of music Madlib puts out, it would be wrong to say that Brother Weldon is a misstep. It most certainly is an interesting record, but it lacks focus in any musical sense of the word. You can feel the passion behind Madlib’s playing, but an album with almost no melody and very little in the way of composition can only have so much replay value. It is truly great that in today’s hip-hop culture, where “originality” is a quality that only applies to those who are already famous, Madlib chooses to experiment constantly. But not every experiment can yield a Quasimoto or a Madvillain. A Tribute To Brother Weldon is more of a curiosity than anything else, and by the end of the year it is sure to be obscured by other Madlib projects.

     But if you’ve slept and you don’t have Ready To Die on CD, or you just want to soak in the new fancy packaging, you should buy the re-release right now. Really. It might be redundant to even review the music on the record, as in today’s hip-hop world it is an unscrutinized given to consider every track that Biggie ever touched to be a classic. But it is important for us to examine what makes Ready To Die a brilliant record so that we can apply these lessons to other music, rather than blindly worshipping Biggie without learning anything from his work.

    In this writer’s experience, newcomers to rap often question the validity of Christopher Wallace’s huge following, pointing out that his lyrics weren’t that “tight,” and that emcees like Wordsworth, Fabolous or Sage Francis have more complex rhymes. But rap is not about how many syllables one can cram into a line or how many clever punchlines one can come up with. It is about effectively communicating meaningful ideas, and Biggie just didn’t need to use devices such as the punchline or the multi-syllable line in order to do that. His personality and his incredible choice of words were all he needed to move people. It didn’t hurt that he had a rich, booming voice and a precise, straightforward flow either.

     In his first single, “Party And Bullshit,” Biggie portrayed a character that was rather common in 1993′s more honest hip-hop world. He was the fun-loving thug, someone for whom violence is such a common part of life that he is capable of being numb to it, choosing instead to enjoy good-natured partying, which is the primary focus of the song. This dichotomy, between Biggie’s good values and the cruel, sadistic environment that influences him, is expanded on Ready To Die, and it is part of what makes the record so amazing.

     The first two songs on the album, “Things Done Changed” and “Gimme The Loot,” very clearly display the “good” and “evil” sides of Biggie, and the music is so powerful that that the listener actually revels in both. “Things Done Changed” features understated but banging production from Dominic Owens and Kevin Scott, over which Biggie takes a step back from the crime that he himself is involved in in order to reflect on the streets. No sociologist could ever express the hopelessness of slum living the way Big did: “Because the streets is a short stop / Either you’re slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.” The very next track, “Gimme The Loot,” is an undeniably fun, but nihilistic, celebration of the violent lifestyle that Biggie laments, to a degree, on “Things Done Changed.” Easy Mo Bee’s production is appropriately psycho, and Biggie uses the opportunity to rhyme with two different voices, as two characters talking about heists. As much as he loved Biggie’s extreme lyrics, Puffy just had to censor “I wouldn’t give a fuck if you’re pregnant / Give me the baby rings and the ‘Number One Mom’ pendant.” And as despicable as robbing a pregnant woman is, when you’re listening to “Gimme The Loot,” you want to do it too!

    Clearly, this is a remarkably raw album we’re talking about. As much as rappers today try and bite Biggie, they just can’t come close to affecting fans the way Biggie did. Very few artists have the guts to pour out every little thing in their hearts and minds the way that Biggie did throughout Ready To Die. He gets as deep as humanly possible on the tragic “Me And My Bitch,” where the misogyny and cruelty that are the bad sides of Big’s street culture can’t overpower his loving nature. And he gets just as deep on the single, “Juicy,” which is easily one of the most inspirational songs in the history of hip-hop music. Whatever the message of the song is, the honesty that Biggie can?t help but exude is always what makes it work.

     Yet not every song on Ready To Die is incredible. The title track, for instance, is basically a summary of what Biggie says elsewhere on the record, and occasionally there is redundancy and overcooked production. But a piece of art doesn’t have to be flawless in order to be classic and meaningful. With very little exception, the beats are great, the rhymes are great, the pacing is great, the songs are great and it all works together.

      The bonus features on this re-release aren’t, on the whole, that hard to find, but they are very dope. “Who Shot Ya” and “Dreams” are another pair of Biggie classics from that era that make fine bonus tracks. The DVD features three videos that we’ve probably all seen before, “Juicy,” “One More Chance,” and “Big Poppa,” but we can’t possibly complain about having them accessible to watch at any given time. There is also an extended version of the “Warning” video and an exclusive live performance of “Unbelievable.” It wasn’t really necessary for Bad Boy to add these bonuses to sell such a celebrated album, but it certainly can’t hurt. The already-classic status of Ready To Die is simply boosted with this re-release, and if you have yet to pick up the initial release, consider your newjack ass lucky that Bad Boy is doing you a favor. Buy this new edition immediately.

     Today, the Clan looks a lot weaker than it did back then. The RZA’s production output has diminished greatly, and the group’s latest solo albums have been mediocre on the whole (with the very notable exception of Ghostface’s Pretty Toney, which doesn’t carry the signature Wu-Tang sound at all). Method Man is the co-star of a sitcom that rivals Homeboys From Outer Space in horrendousness and U-God is publicly beefing with everybody else in the group. For a minute it seemed that nobody in the group is carrying the torch and releasing that dark, slightly twisted hip-hop we all love without any concern for the rest of the hip-hop world. But Masta Killa didn’t drop his solo album yet.

    As fans gradually lost faith in other members of the group, MK became a lot more appealing, displaying great consistency and, with “One Blood Under W,” the ability to hold down songs by himself. By the time 2004, a great deal of people were excited for the release of his own album, No Said Date, which just could not possibly be as lazy and commercial as some of the weaker Clan records. Well, it’s out… and just about everybody who’s heard it is satisfied that it’s not.

    The album starts out reassuringly with some kung-fu flick dialogue, and a nice, unobtrusive beat from newcomer Brock for the first song, “Grab The Microphone.” Killa’s flow is as on-point as ever, creating a relaxing, rhythmically interesting listening experience that’s occasionally sprinkled with dope visuals like “flow roll like water off the brim when it rain.” The RZA’s first production contribution, “No Said Date,” is a much more intense track, but the Masta handles it with an equal amount of prowess, conveying a sense of urgency without having to rely on screaming or using shock-value lyrics.

     But unfortunately, No Said Date’s pacing is not nearly as consistent as it is at the beginning. Tracks like “Love Spell,” whose mediocre beat sounds even uglier when coupled with truly awful singing, and “Queen,” which just sounds unnatural, become must-skips after the first couple of listens, and even tracks with cool guest appearances such as “DTD” and “Silverbacks” soon become boring. There’s something in the album’s overall production that just doesn’t hold a listener’s attention, and after several listens, one has to narrow the forty-eight-minute-long record down to a handful of songs.

     Which is not to say that No Said Date is a bad album. Those five or six songs with replay value are truly fresh, particularly the eccentric “School” (produced by the RZA, of course), which unexpectedly switches beats midway to a rapid-fire, light-hearted reflection on the good old days. Wu-Tang guest appearances are interesting on any record, and this one is no exception. Despite spitting characteristically hot verses, Ghost ( who insists, “I’m not a bullshit rapper, my gun really do go off like that”) and Raekwon can’t redeem the lifeless beat of “DTD.” The underappreciated Streetlife contributes an impressive verse to “Whatever,” and ODB silences those who claim that he isn’t a great musician by using the Big Mac song (“Two all-beef paties, special sauce,” etc.) to tie “Old Man” together.

    Masta Killa’s album isn’t great by any means, but it does have plenty of great moments that make it worth checking for. You may have to keep your finger on the fast-forward button, but there is a good twenty minutes of fresh hip-hop that ought to be enough to satisfy all but the most demanding Wu-Tang fans. And in a time where hip-hop hasn’t seen a legitimately classic, well-rounded album in years, No Said Date holds up as a solid, entertaining and overall satisfying debut.

    But the less interesting their new album might seem to those who judge books by their covers, the more shocking it is when it is actually listened to. The album title proves itself to be appropriate as the absence of Cee-Lo allows the rest of the Mob to shine as a collective, and arguably, for the first time it is possible to praise the group for its chemistry. Its sound has evolved, more mature version of 1999′s World Party, a record that was almost universally panned. But in today’s hip-hop world, it is actually refreshing to hear ATL music with meaningful lyrics that can actually be described as “crunk.” The limited amount of Organized Noize production allows One Monkey to have a unique sound that for once isn’t under Outkast’s shadow.

     If you’ve heard any of this album yet, it is probably the closing track, “Play Your Flutes”. It differs from the rest of the album in that its guests are what make the song fresh, but it also carries a chill-out vibe that permeates One Monkey, even on its most energetic tracks. The simple production allows Sleepy Brown to craft a hook that is catchy without being annoying. Kurupt also comes through with a surprisingly fresh verse, sounding great and kicking some terrific rhythms. The Mob does their thing as well as they do throughout the album, but it’s clear from “Flutes” that they still don’t compare to top-level hip-hop talent.

     What they do extremely well is incorporate current pop trends with their pre-existing styles in a convincing way. “Shawty Wanna Be A Gangsta”, for example, features a drum machine track that’s clearly influenced by the now-fashionable style of hip-hop and a falsetto hook straight out of the Neptunes recipe book. But the Goodie Mob sound is far from biting, as the emcees maintain the styles they’ve had since they first came out. You’re not going to hear ironic lyrics like “Assassinate your sons, take your oil and your land, understand that’s a gangsta / steal millions from the blue collar children, that’s a gangsta / five billion on the beach with tall ceilings, that’s a gangsta” on any Lil Jon songs anytime soon.

     People who like thought-provoking hip-hop lyrics have always appreciated Goodie Mob, but their new album has a more universal appeal– you can also zone out to this album or get moderately crunk with it (which cannot be said about 1995′s Soul Food, as great as that album was). It’s not going to stand the test of time, but it is an excellent summer album that has more than a little bit of replay value. The show might not be quite as fresh without Cee-Lo, but it’s still entertaining.

      With his latest record, El has almost completely abandoned his signature sound. High Water is a collaboration with a group of jazz musicians on the Thirsty Ear label, led by the pianist Matthew Shipp, and it sounds very little like anything else in the El-P catalogue. It is a largely improvised recording in which sampled electronic sounds interact with acoustic instruments, a concept that is very promising considering El-P’s bravado in the hip-hop world, and the reputations of the other instrumentalists. Matthew Shipp has made a name for himself by being on the cutting edge of modern exploratory jazz music (in fact, one of his previous collaborations includes the underground hip-hop group Anti-Pop Consortium), and the entire Thirsty Ear label is generally noted for its willingness to experiment. So, High Water should be an exciting album, right?

      Well yes, it should be. From the beginning of the album, almost until the end, it seems like it is Shipp and the brass section of Steve Swell and Roy Campbell who are running the show. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it often feels like the music lacks direction from El-P (or anyone else, really), and is a bit stagnant as a result. The second track on the record, “Sunrise Over Bklyn”, is a ten-minute vamp over two chords. Besides a few cool moments, there isn’t really enough material within the song to warrant “Sunrise’s” length. It doesn’t feature El-P or any of the players, and the only elements that can really keep a listener’s attention are volume shifts.

       “Get Modal” is a more successful track. Featuring fresh, fast-paced drums and a nice piano riff, this song lasts just long enough to stay interesting. It also features a healthy amount of interaction between the instrumentalists and El-P’s samples, which is a pleasure to hear. Another track that works is “Intrigue In The House Of India”, which features several moments of cool polyrhythmic playing between Shipp and the slap-happy drums. But what really holds High Water back is the sound of the instruments. The recording or post-production process has left the piano and the drums sounding lifeless and flat, and considering the nature of the music, which emphasizes dynamics and timbre over melody and harmony, that is a big problem. Perhaps if there was more going on within the music, this wouldn’t be as big of a deal, but when there aren’t any distractions, it’s easy to be bothered by flaws.

     High Water isn’t a bad album, it just isn’t very interesting. Though El-P seems to be diving headfirst into the world of improvisation and jazz, there really is nothing amateurish about it whatsoever. In fact, it seems that El made a lot of “safe” choices, laying back and letting the instrumentalists give the music direction. If he took more risks, as he has done throughout his hip-hop career, this could be a more rewarding record. But as it stands, it is just an alright album. Hopefully, El-P will try to get involved in the jazz world in the future, because given his past successes and his desire to grow musically, he could definitely do something a lot wilder than High Water.

      Though the status of his crew is a bit up in the air right now, it’s difficult to imagine any underground hip-hop fans fronting on Del The Funkee Homosapien’s work in the early-to-mid-nineties. In this time period, Del and Hieroglyphics authored a number of classics that are still getting burn in the systems of true school rap heads, and it’s tough to take somebody seriously as a hip-hop conoisseur if they don’t have at least one Hiero record.

     With all of this information in mind, one has to wonder what the point is of picking up this new Best Of collection. The two Del albums that Elektra released are both arguably classic, and if you’re reading this review, you’ve probably heard both of them. But what’s so dope about this CD is that it isn’t an authentic Best Of album. For one thing, it only features music from Del’s Elektra catalogue, which spans the the years 1991 through 1994. Many people would consider this time period to be the prime of Del’s career. The other reason why this is a worthwhile album is that it doesn’t actually focus on showing the very best of Del. Instead, its focus is material that, for the most part, was not available on compact disc. There is a wealth of remixes and b-sides on this collection that only the most hardcore Heiro fan could match on vinyl– and now they don’t have to change records after every song.

     Those who are familiar with the incredible “Catch A Bad One” will be shocked by the funky, upbeat remix on this collection. While the theme of warning wack MCs of there inevitable doom remains, the only recognizable thread that connects this remix to the original is the “Who caught the harm?” hook. Yet another great thing about this compilation is the fact that so many of Del’s remixes bear little resemblance to the originals. When looking at the tracklist, one might as well consider these remixes to be all new joints.

     Also to be noted are the non-album original tracks. One of the highlights on this album is “Undisputed Champs”, which features Pep Love and Q-Tip flowing over a jazzy, blunted beat that sounds like a combination of Madlib and Scott LaRock. Del and Pep Love most certainly come through, but Q-Tip steals the show, flowing marvelously over the production and dropping lyrics like, “You’re babbling, you’re babbling, son, what the fuck? / Anybody can grab the gun and go buck / But can you grab the mic and kick ill shit? / Stun them with the verbs instead of using clips?” “Missing Link” is another cool track, though it is probably the most novelty track on the Best Of album. The alternative rock band Dinosaur, Jr. provides the backdrop for Del’s rhymes complete with background vocal harmonies and guitar solos. It may not be the tightest track musically, but nobody can say that “Missing Link” isn’t fun.

     Having been in the game for over ten years, Del’s sound has become synonymous with West Coast underground hip-hop to many fans. His witty, offbeat lyrics and his unique vocal style are difficult to hate on, and Heiro production rarely falters. Every track on The Best Of Del is dope as hell, making it a must-buy for any underground head, whether as a supplement to an already sizeable collection, or as an introduction to him.