Southern acts like Cash Money’s Hot Boys made the big mainstream jump instead, while Rawkus’ output and relevance dropped sharply. (Pro tip: Brace yourself for-or altogether skip-“Rape,” an extremely problematic extended metaphor that compares rapping ability to sexual assault.)ĭespite the bright spots on this album and other Rawkus releases, the graduation of Monch and his compatriots to commercial overground never came to be-at least not for New York rap. Monch’s rhymes aren’t quite as mind-bogglingly dense as they were on Organized classics like “Bring It On,” but his ability to fit thoughtful lyrics into intricate and unexpected rhyme schemes and rhythms is still legitimately jaw-dropping. In between are Easter eggs for the heads, such as “The Truth” with Common and Kweli and “God Send,” a reunion with Organized Konfusion bandmate Prince Po. And “Simon Says” gets a Funk Flex-friendly extended posse cut remix featuring Method Man, Redman, Busta Rhymes, and others.
“Hell” and “No Mercy” featured Canibus and M.O.P., peers who had their own brief dalliances with commercial acceptance love song “The Light” has Monch flexing his melodic smarts and impassioned singing voice “Right Here” and the caffeinated Busta Rhyme duet “The Next Shit” wouldn’t have sounded wildly out of place on a DJ Clue mixtape. Although the rest of Internal Affairs never reaches the riotous heights of “Simon Says,” it generally follows that song’s approach-an underground hero opening up the cypher a bit to the audiences rapidly coalescing around rap radio and mixtapes. It debuted prominently on Funkmaster Flex’s Hot 97 radio show amid his signature bomb sound effects-rap’s most important commercial cosign. But Monch and Rawkus had more ambitious plans, as the seminal single “Simon Says” made immediately apparent.īuilt around a catchy-as-hell sample of the Godzilla theme, the song was an indie-rap-friendly club banger at a time when that juxtaposition seemed impossible. So when Southside Queens’ Pharoahe Monch-who had dropped three highly conceptual cult favorite albums as half of the duo Organized Konfusion-signed with Rawkus in 1999, it felt like a natural match, a safe homecoming for an underground veteran. That scene was dominated by Rawkus Records, the NYC indie that in quick succession released proudly noncommercial formative music from then-unknowns Mos Def, Talib Kweli, and EL-P’s group Company Flow. At the time of this record’s initial release in 1999, a fiercely underground, "independent as fuck" (to quote a young EL-P) backpack scene had sprung up in seeming opposition to the mainstream successes and excesses of Bad Boy Records’ so-called shiny-suit era. But it’s just as notable as a fascinating time capsule of the state of hip-hop at the end of one of its most consequential and dynamic decades. Internal Affairs stands out as an impressive solo debut from one of rap’s most skilled-and underappreciated-technicians of all time.
0 kommentar(er)
