Twenty years ago today (November 29, 1994), Mary J. Blige released her sophomore album, My Life. More than two years removed from MJB’s breakthrough Pop success surrounding What’s The 411?, the Yonkers, New Yorker made maintained her undeniable vocal skills, but changed directions in making her sophomore LP. With hits on her back and platinum status on her resume, Mary trusted her instincts, her audience, and her heart in making what is undoubtedly a Soul album in the age of Pop-R&B.

As a whole, so much R&B from the early 1990s has not aged gracefully. While Hip-Hop albums by Dr. Dre, The Notorious B.I.G., Snoop Doggy Dogg, Outkast, Nas, and Wu-Tang Clan are heralded as gold standards of creative excellence, many of their R&B counterparts are more or less viewed as bookmarks to a bygone era. Even early albums by R. Kelly and Usher (still thriving stars today) contain little music that is regularly analyzed, played in public venue, or constantly interpolated by the new class. Mary J. Blige thrived in being timeless, for several simple reasons—all of which unwound themselves immensely on My Life.

What’s The 411? scratched the surface of Blige’s depth. Introduced as an “around the way girl” with lots of feelings, the album maintained an upbeat pastiche. Drafting the blueprint for the “Queen of Hip-Hop Soul,” Blige’s debut and remix counterpart employed stacks of reconsidered records from Audio Two, EPMD, Schoolly D, and Pete Rock & CL Smooth. The album was serious, but the party came first, with records exploring feelings, but never letting them completely take over in mood, theme, or tone.

My Life takes ownership of all of that stuff. Mary J’s public relationship with K-Ci Hailey (of Jodeci/K-Ci & JoJo) had become tabloid fodder, and the producer/writer she made hits with in ’92 was wearing her out in ’94. Although K-Ci had participated in the writing of My Life, Blige opened up her heart, her wounds, and her life—telling it so somebody else did not have to. Although 18 years later, many people would closely compare Nas’ Life Is Good to Marvin Gaye’s divorce LP, Here, My Dear, MJB’s My Life is certainly a considered influence. In real-time, Mary showed how hard it is to break-up, despite literal pain and toxic circumstances. The way Blige’s voice moved across the tracks, the pain was real, and the music was so reactionary that it felt like journal entries, too intimate to ever be performed.

Beyond just love, My Life, made no secret of Blige’s drug use and alcoholism. At a time when drugs were not glamorized (aside from weed-smoking), Blige was “Going Down” with a lifestyle that was more ruffneck than many rappers in her circle. Gently and honestly, this album opened up, almost as a public proclamation, something that MJB would hold herself to. “Be Happy” is so real that it hurt, putting clinical depression in a mainstream space, in a much different context than Hip-Hop/R&B adheres to today. Blige never portrayed herself as sad, as much as complicated. She was never emotional, as much as she presented her life as flawed. These qualities made her music endure, as few artists and albums have done this as purely and eloquently.

The production of My Life also showed great progression from 411. Less concerned with Hip-Hop marketing, this LP deftly sampled and re-purposed some vibes, moments, and attitudes from past records. Records like Mary Jane Girls’ “All Night Long” are not Pop-minded records that subconsciously connect the dots. Instead, records like that, and Roy Ayers’ “Everybody Loves The Sunshine,” are careful crate selections that speak to Blige’s own definitively NYC upbringing, as well as just those in the know, who remember an era, a sound, a grit. Chucky Thompson and Puff Daddy assured that there was continuation from 411?, but made it clear that just as Mary was moving forward in her writing, so were they in the sounds that surrounded her.

Like so many albums in the ’60s and ’70s, My Life embraced the cover. Beyond simply sampling, Mary J. Blige tackled legendary contemporary standards like Carole King’s “A Natural Woman” (on some editions), or Rose Royce’s Car Wash epiphany, “I’m Goin’ Down.” Great music makes no bones about its influence or inspiration. Blige had the skills to warrant touching classic records, and she did so with grace and respect for the makers. These moments shined, and embraced an old Soul tradition. It was clear that My Life is anachronistic to so much of the ephemeral R&B Pop of the early 1990s. Simply put, this album is too real to not be a stone in the sand of music, Soul, and the life of Mary J. Blige.

Three times platinum today, My Life proved itself critically and commercially. The risks Blige took at this point in her career are still being rewarded with strong audience support and admiration. Additionally, the difference of one album to the next has been a shape of things to come from Blige, who frequently shifts producers, sound, and energy from album-to-album. Currently, the singer is preparing her London Sessions, an album that’s applying her life and times in writing, to the burgeoning Brit-Soul sound of Disclosure and Sam Smith.

Like so many great artists, with great albums, Blige is constantly held up to her 20-year-old work on My Life. Somehow the singer’s happier moments never seem to get the same level of celebration as her outcry. In all the promotion, The London Sessions appears to be marketed as a complicated time in the superstar’s life–even including the industry jargon of “sessions” as if capturing these moments in time is something very specific, a release. Likely true, that seems to hint at My Life.

As she fought to get clean, get free, and get happy, Mary J. connected with so many other women (and men) out for the same. The music cued to moments that were euphoric, and reminded everybody that great music lasts beyond the moment it’s made and played. Defying genre, era, and style, Mary J. Blige made a classic album, that beyond a touchstone in her career, seems to be the kind of album singers, MCs, and the like are trying to make in 2014. To do so, one has to truly let go of the guard, the pain, and the convention in the way Mary did, in showing her realness, her gifts, and in turn, her staying power.

Purchase My Life by Mary J. Blige

Related: Pulp Fiction, Still Cool, Compelling & Game-Changing 20 Years Later (Food For Thought)

In what felt like the last days of Underground Hip-Hop, a relative unknown named Royce Da 5’9” teamed with DJ Premier to release a 1999 12” single, “Boom.” Although Game Recordings placed their trademark bikini-clad “Hip-Hop Honey” on the picture cover single, no alluring marketing tools were necessary, as the Detroit, Michigan MC and the Gang Starr producer more than seduced ears with an explosive breakout single that took the brag-rap renaissance and joined the elite ranks of Big Daddy Kane, Big L, and Mad Skillz.

It would take nearly two years for “Boom” to belong to anything more than the hearts and headphones of Hip-Hop purists. When Royce’s post-pump-fake debut, Rock City 2.0 hit store shelves in late 2002, two different sets of label executives and internal pressures had taken the highly-confident, sharp cadenced MC and dressed him up in rhinestones, quite literally, and also figuratively in mainstream-aimed production. While marketing promoted the Bad Meets Evil ties of Nickel Nine to Eminem on third single “Rock City,” supporters seemingly gravitated towards the LP’s two Premo collaborations, “Boom” and “My Friend.”

In the dozen years that followed, a lot has happened to the careers of Royce and Premier. A string of challenging events put Royce at a distance from Em, at odds with Proof, and for a bulk of it, seemingly out to pasture from the major label system. As he today admits, the artist nee Ryan Montgomery existed with a microphone in one hand and a bottle in the other.  It was only music that could get close to him. Supplying a lot of that music, DJ Premier was forever steadfast. In New York City, Premier’s career had also altered in the mid-2000s. Gang Starr, an unbreakable 15-year bond, went on a dramatic hiatus. D&D Studios, NYC’s hardcore Hip-Hop Damascus, would suffer the slings of decimated album budgets, hit du jour producers, and an Internet that demanded its Rap music fast, cheap, and constant. With Christopher Wallace no longer at the top, and Jay Z and Nas looking elsewhere, it was Pop star Christina Aguilera who kept a low-profile Premier in the mainstream. Meanwhile, Preem kept a close circle of hardcore artists who did his gritty scratch and sample-driven tracks justice. Standing tall in the mix was always Royce.

In the form of a nine-song album, PRhyme has fully taken shape. This intersection is the sum of more than a decade of standout interludes in the careers of DJ Premier and Royce Da 5’9”. While “Boom” and “Hip-Hop” stood out as enduring exercises in sticking deliveries and cultural commentary, this effort taps more into 2009’s “Shake This.” Rather than hosting an MC clinic, Royce submitted to the track for his own therapy session. PRhyme’s title track lives more in this world, built around self-confidence in the craft. Nickel’s lyrics explore sobriety, commitment to family, and avoiding temptations of all kinds. Preemo meets the moment with minimalism—a tight arrangement of Adrian Younge’s anachronistic drums, with some crisp scratches in the gaps. “You Should Know” builds on this, speaking to the misguided crop of new rappers, who conveniently lease a tough image to cover up weakness. Royce, an artist who served time in the mid-2000s amplifies the reality of lyrics, while championing the type of talk-it, live-it Hip-Hop that DJ Premier has historically produced. Veteran Motown crooner Dwele loans a handful of vocal riffs to the track that enhances the working relationship the two artists have had since Full Clip was loaded. As they do on every song from the project, Adrian Younge’s elements—strings, in the case of “You Should Know”–cannot be overstated. The California-based producer (Ghostface Killah, Souls Of Mischief, The Dramatics) and record-store owner is the sonic source for Premier’s surgery. Credited as the third member of the group, perhaps it is Younge’s role to set many of the tones for this reflective, open album.

“To Me, To You” celebrates individuality. Since his Bad Meets Evil introduction, Royce Da 5’9” has been many things, at many times. Nickel’s five previous albums have teetered at times, between gun-totin’ Gangsta Rap to B-Boy bravado to diary-style revelations. Effortlessly blended together, this Jay Electronica-assisted moment taps into Royce’s complexities. The guest is the wise choice, given his own intricacies and perceived contradictions, which naturally are stirred in the closing verse. “Wishin’” is pure grit. The way Gang Starr honored 1998’s “The Militia” brilliantly with 2003’s “Capture,” this Common collaboration has “Boom” in clear reference. Sharp as he ever was, Royce shines, with Common making his own Preem reunion. On each of the two last mentioned tracks, the Texas-born DJ/producer utilizes more than one beat, which the listen may interpret as joy in the pocket. In the 1990s, on touted tracks by Guru, Jay, and Jeru The Damaja, Premier over-achieved as the producer who could tease ears with snippets, outdoing others’ best. Although PRhyme is arguably EP-length, its nuances and attention to detail are that of an album.

While centered around Royce, Premier and Adrian, PRhyme is an inviting open house. Whether joined by tight knit band-mates Slaughterhouse on “Microphone Preem” or more distant peer acquaintances Killer Mike and ScHoolboy Q on “Underground Kings,” everything relates. Just as Royce and Premier have maneuvered many circles (and circumstances) in their respective careers, perhaps this album asserts that the walls within Hip-Hop are self-imposed. With a combined 50 years, the PRhyme trio blends with keepers of the art, whether that is Mac Miller’s bendable wordplay or Joe Budden’s vengeful mania on the industry. After years of artists seeking Preem tracks and Nickel features looking to accentuate their albums, these two artists seek out those far-reaching corners of Rap to build upon theirs.

Lyrically, Royce Da 5’9” both sheds some of his skin, as well as thumbs through his personal and professional scrapbook. Speaking in sounds and scratches, one can hear that DJ Premier is doing the same. After a handful of clearly defined stylistic periods in his career, largely traceable through the Gang Starr discography, PRhyme is the next step. These nine tracks uphold the reputation for pounding percussion, no-frills audiophile choruses and precise chops. However, the timing is different than the Livin’ Proof and Moment Of Truth standard that Chris Martin has been tirelessly held up against. Cleverly restricted to Adrian’s sources, the HeadQCourterz producer emerges with fuller tracks featuring dense instrumentation. These “deep concentration” cuts are magically scored to moving trains, sidewalks, and the rhythm of the people. While his competition is ducking paparazzi and topping Forbes lists, DJ Premier has been mourning his legendary partner and sketching his next movement, in a legendary studio that’s said to be closing this month. He’s got good reason to be fiery, emotional, even brazen, and the Works Of Mart sound is vibrant and fiercely competitive in PRhyme.

Back on “Boom,” Royce powerfully stated “Me and Premier, we kinda the same in ways…” As a group and as an album, PRhyme proves that to be more than true. With major parts of their lives afire, both of these men walked out alive—with Hip-Hop in their arms. It was the industry that may have burned out, no longer patient, trusting, or supportive of artistic visionaries. With or without the platform, the studio, or even the potential audience, these two men found the embers in themselves, and were able to share it with the masses on nine smoldering tracks.

Purchase PRhyme by PRhyme

Jake Paine is a veteran music industry professional. Prior to 2008-2012’s post as HipHopDX’s Editor-in-Chief, Paine was AllHipHop’s Features Editor from 2002 to 2007. He has also written for Forbes, XXL, The Source, Mass Appeal, among others. He currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Related: Hear All of DJ Premier & Royce Da 5’9″‘s PRhyme EP a Week Early (EP Stream)

For the better part of the last decade, as independent label mainstays have been closing up their doors, going on hiatus, or reconfiguring their audience, Mello Music Group has secured a foundation. The Tucson, Arizona-based label has cultivated new voices, redeveloped lyrical legends, and built an industry model rooted in commissioning art, establishing organic chemistry, and looking for enduring music before return on investment.

Mello Music Group is the brainchild of Michael Tolle. The thirty-something former educator and DJ entered the music industry amidst its great decline of the mid-2000s. A purist at heart, Tolle stressed the value of vinyl and CDs in the face of the digital boom, he asserted paying talent for their work, and believed in creating an idyllic environment for creativity, authenticity, and evolving voices. The conversation grew, and by 2015, Mello has re-introduced Oddisee and Apollo Brown to audiences, and been a place of refuge for veterans such as Ras Kass, O.C., and Open Mike Eagle. From year-end lists to Rap/Hip-Hop charts, BET backroom appearances, and collaborations with iconic figures, Mello Music Group is now a destination label.

In preparation for the just-released Persona compilation, Tolle spoke at length with Ambrosia For Heads. He explains how he’s trying to make Soundboming-like compilations and assume the vacancy Rawkus Records seemingly left a decade ago. Tolle shares some of his philosophies on business, art, and building a fan-base from the ground up. Few behind-the-scenes players in Hip-Hop know their catalog as well as Michael Tolle, and this is one persona fighting the good fight, and seemingly turning naysayers into bystanders of his record company renaissance.

Ambrosia For Heads: Firstly, it’s great to speak with you after years of following Mello Music Group. This Persona album is really phenomenal. For me, I’ve been so jaded with Rap compilations. I remember growing up, buying soundtracks, buying label compilations, buying NBA Hip-Hop compilations. In the burst of the industry bubble, compilations became a bit obsolete. This is not Mello’s first compilation, by any means, but I will say it is the best.

So many of the songs on Persona are about the here-and-now that we’re dealing with as a nation as a human race. Tell me about you fighting the good fight, as far as Hip-Hop compilations, and what really stands out to you about Persona…

Michael Tolle: Much like you were saying, I remember these amazing compilations. They were nothing less than a great album to me, whether they were Soundbombing, or anything else. They were things I looked forward to. For some reason, in recent times, it seems like people use them as throwaways. For me, running the label, they’ve always been like my personal chance to put my album out the way that I would. Instead of just putting anything out on there, my battle is always with the artists, letting them know how important it is to me: this is like my record, so don’t give me throwaways. Because if they make an amazing track, they want to hold it for their record. This is my one chance a year to show what I can do. It’s sort of my vicarious executive producer’s role. Often, I’ll pick the beats. Sometimes I pick who is collaborating with who, and arrange it. While the artists do all the actual work, I take it really personal—as far as the artwork and stuff too.

On [Persona], I think I finally really got in the groove. I know what I’m looking for, and I brought my A-game. The nice thing about the compilation is artists don’t have to wait for their whole record to be done, don’t have to wait for the schedule to open up. We can get this out well in advance, so people can really digest the material.

For me, the political [side] or the activism within Hip-Hop, it’s always been there—at least when you’re dealing with the genuine music that I listen to that comes from an organic place and not a studio deadline, or a corporate office. So I feel like with so much happening in the American landscape today, in recent months and years, everybody is feeling. It just came out of them, and was truly expressed. I was glad to hear it. I had a few people ask me, “Are you sure you want to put something so political out there?” I was thinking, “Of course we do! That’s what this music is and always has been—at least when it’s good.” That’s where this came from.

Ambrosia For Heads: It’s a bad analogy, but it’s not unlike playing God—or online dating. You’re taking an O.C., who may or may not have heard of an Apollo Brown, and having them make an incredible album together, in Trophies. Obviously, Phonte and Oddisee are contemporaries, they came into this thing at the same time—maybe Oddisee even earlier, actually. This is the first time I remember them working together, and to me, “Requiem” is the best song I’ve heard in 2015. For you, it’s gotta be weird to put two strangers in a room and see what happens…

Michael Tolle: That’s what my job has been since the beginning, with the label, in general. It’s finding things and knowing the artist well enough to know things will blend even when they don’t think that they will. Because Hip-Hop has such a crew mentality, that nobody ever wants to work with anybody outside of their group. That’s exactly what fans want them to do. For me, it’s always been about finding people that once they get in the room, or once they start talking on the phone, they’re gonna be as inspired as I am by the idea of it. That’s a huge thing for me.

The other part is, as a label, we don’t have the traditional five guys. “You’re the soldier, you’re the general, you’re the lady, you’re the sex symbol…” To me, as a label, we’re much broader than that. At night, I might want to sit down with my kid, or take my wife out on a date on Friday. Or, I might want to go to the gym. Or, I might just be in battle-mode or something. I need different music for those time frames, but I generally listen to the same spectrum of music within Hip-Hop, Soul, Funk, and so, my roster reflects that. Somehow, I’ve got to convince people that yes, Open Mike Eagle can stand beside Ras Kass, Apollo Brown, Oddisee, Red Pill…all these different sounds actually do go together and fit very well. This compilation is my chance to show that, and I work on that. [Chuckles]

Ambrosia For Heads: We are living in an age when so many artists are emailing each other beats, verses, and stuff. At a certain point, about 10 years ago, it became wildly noticeable to me as a listener that something was synthetic, or “ordered off of MySpace.” Mello has seemingly challenged that, and sent artists to record in a room together, shoot press shots together, etc. Tell me about the value of that in a penny-pinching industry…

Michael Tolle: For me, there’s two versions of this that happened. One is the chemistry. You have chemistry from growing up together, knowing each other. The other is the organic process of building. I want to capture that, whether that ends in destruction and you guys hate each other, or they end up being great friends. You mentioned Apollo. Essentially [in making Blasphemy] with Ras Kass, the same thing happened. Apollo and Ras talk on the phone, they agree they want to do some work together, they admire each other’s body of work—but they don’t know each other, in that sense. The difference in what we do is at that point, then they gotta meet. They’ve got to get together. It might just be for a few days—or in Ras’ case with Apollo, it was a week. Then, they go back to work, they do their separate things, and then we have them back together. We try to have them back together when they do the video shoots, shows, etc. By the end of the campaign for the record, six months into it, they genuinely know each other from doing a lot together. So it becomes more…they grow together with time—and sometimes they grow apart. In most of the cases, it’s really positive.

Ambrosia For Heads: There was a time, and I’m sure you lived this too, when consumers could trust a record label. If you saw that Main Source was on Wild Pitch Records, you’d be curious about The Coup, even if you never heard of them, or weren’t buying Bay area Rap. Vinyl culture had a lot to do with this, but so many labels created a standard and launched careers from the platform. Mello is one of the few imprints I feel any semblance of that with now. I remember taking a greater interest in Has-Lo’s In Case I Don’t Make It, or The Left’s Gas Mask, two of my favorite Mello releases, simply because I trusted the brand, based on Oddisee or Georgia Anne Muldrow. How important is to you, even if it only applies to a few select die-hards, to have created that aesthetic?

Michael Tolle: It’s everything to me. That’s exactly who I was as a fan, and that’s what I want to be. We can all do anything in life. We can work management at a corporation, become singers, dancers. So if you choose something, you’ve got to put everything into it. With me and music, essentially, I’m a selector or a taste-maker in some sense. If I’m gonna do this right, I’ve got to really know what I’m doing. While I can’t change my personal taste to make people like me, one of the processes that I do—and I always say this, “If I haven’t listened to a record 100 times, front-to-back, then I don’t know it.” While most things I listen to for pleasure outside of the label, I can’t say I know like that. But by the time any Mello release comes out, I’ve played it front-to-back at least 100 times—usually, a lot more than that. I’ve got to see, before I buy a record from somebody or cosign it, that I can still listen to it, and know which tracks evolve and change, and which tracks are weak, and which tracks are strong.

One of the things I’ll tell the artists is, “If we lose everything on this, and nobody likes it, I really don’t care, because I’m confident that this is an amazing record.” We have our slips and falls. We have our moments. But there’s usually reasons why it’s picked up, even the ones that don’t do well. I usually can stand by that and feel very confident, personally. That’s because I’ve listened. That’s one thing in the industry that kills me, is I don’t think people are listening. I think a lot people buy records, and listen to it once, or pick their six songs. I miss the era in the industry when people were listening all the way through, all the time.

Ambrosia For Heads: Do you think that it comes from over-saturation?

Michael Tolle: Sure. It comes with trying to keep up with everything, and I’m guilty of it too. But you have to force yourself. It’s like reading a book—it’s hard nowadays. It’s hard in a fast-moving life to read a novel that might take you two weeks, at three hours a day. Most people won’t commit that kind of time to things. For me, I want the consumer to not have to make that kind of decision. I’ve already committed to it for you, so you can at least come in here with something that’s quality.

Ambrosia For Heads: I think it’s super corny when people come into the music business and want to be treated like artists. I’ve read maybe only one interview with you. For more than five years, I’ve been covering Mello and only now are we ever speaking. I’d like to know more about your background, and your deliberate choice to play the background…

Michael Tolle: I grew up, and the first thing I remember is the Ice-T Power tape. It was Public Enemy, and Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Swass, and all that was what we were getting into when we were real, real little. I think I finished high school having never been good at anything. I had never committed myself to being great. It came to a point in my life where I started getting older, my early twenties, and I’m saying, “I’d like to see what I can actually do myself.” I was graduating college, I had a degree in English, and I was trying to write stories in fiction, English Literature, and teaching. I had been DJ’ing and making tapes to pay for things, and having fun. I end up graduating in 2007, 2006, and everything crashes. There’s no economy, there’s no market, there’s no jobs. So I start my own little teaching company for foreign international students coming over from Asia with their parents on sabbatical. I’m teaching the kids.

I started making a little money—which nowadays isn’t much money. Then, it was to me. I didn’t know where to put it, ‘cause you couldn’t buy stocks, couldn’t buy real estate, if you were smart. So I said, “Well, I love music, and I know a little bit about this. Let me try to support some of these artists, ‘cause it seems like some of the infrastructure has fallen out.” Everybody was like, “You’re crazy. Why would you get into music now? Everything is free. Everything is over.” It was ideal timing, because they were right. All these big [labels] had these infrastructure: offices, A&R’s, staff, all these things to support and they couldn’t, and the sales were falling. I was coming in with, “Let’s do this digital, and then let’s revive vinyl, but in small quantities, and build it the way we want to build it.” Artists were receptive, because somebody was giving them a paycheck. It was the perfect time to get into it for me. It was never about dollars to me, in the [capitalistic] sense. Even today, I don’t really care about money—but of course we all want it. You just got to remember it’s a representation. If I want to create a video or a song, or take an artist somewhere to do something, I only look at the price to need to know what I’ve got to do to get that done. Then, somebody should be willing to support it if you do it well enough. In that case, it’s me, most of the time. So that’s how I do it: create the things I want, and worry about the price tag after. And then go get that amount.

For a lot of the years when I was starting, I was still working 60 hours a week at my other company, and then working 60 hours here, and maybe sleeping three or four hours a night for three or four years. I paid the cost in health a little bit, got out of shape, but then things took off. Now I’m able to do what I do now, and enjoy it.

Ambrosia For Heads: There seems to be two schools of thought. People either imagine a label owner something like the Jerry Heller caricature of those Dr. Dre videos, smoking cigars and driving a Lincoln Continental, or they dust off labels—especially in Rap, and assume no money can possibly be made—or even break even.

Michael Tolle: Or profitable. That what I was able to do with teaching English Literature. Ask somebody in the field about how those jobs pay. [Laughs] I was in my early twenties making over $150,000 a year doing that, just because I was really working 80 hours. I was passionate about it, I loved it. I think that’s something that’s true in any field.

You can be as rich as you want to be if you understand how to be talented and devote yourself to your craft. The company has been able to make some money, and the artists have been able to make some money. While we’re not a big player yet, we’re all living comfortably, making music. That’s a good thing.

Ambrosia For Heads: I remember speaking to Tanya Morgan, when they were still a trio, seven or so years ago. After the Questlove cosign and the OkayPlayer love, everybody was approaching the guys asking for stuff “on the strength” or with “it’d be a good look.” The infrastructure of paying artists for art seemed dead around the time 2010 hit. Speaking recently to Diamond D, he bigged up Mello for cutting a check without fuss and muss. How important is it, as a culture, that we get back to funding artists, even from the label to artist perspective?

Michael Tolle: [Laughing] That is the most beautiful thing in the world. That’s exactly what we think is important. Facts are facts. If an artist is worth $1, try to give ‘em $10, and he’s gonna be grateful. If he’s not, you’re not in the wrong. You’ve got to learn people’s value, and always give more than you can. It really does come back. It’s not just the musicians, but it’s the photographers, the illustrators, the graphic designers—we are building the industry, literally, with the people we choose to work with. When we started, it might be $200 for a beat. But guys were happy to get that ‘cause they were [used to getting nothing]. Then you give them $500, then $1,000, then $2,000, and they appreciate that—and they keep coming back. That’s how me and Oddisee started. “Send me a beat tape,” and I might buy one beat for a few hundred dollars. Then I buy three. Then I’m paying $500. Suddenly, I’m offering him a deal for his [101 album]. We’ve always made an effort to pay as much as we can, and re-invest. Some people have always made more money and [still] wanted more, and others are surprised we paid them that much. I know what the records make and how much I can do, and I offer as much as I can that makes sense. We just built our own industry, that’s all it is.

Ambrosia For Heads: Tucson is becoming an interesting epicenter of independent Hip-Hop. You’re there, Murs is there, Isaiah The Toothtaker, and so forth. As a frequent visitor of Tucson, I know the city has great record stores and book stores, but did you ever see it becoming a source for art of its own?

Michael Tolle: I love the city. I can literally go on my rooftop and see Murs’ [house] down the street. That’s part of the reason I’m here today, because of Murs. We used to stand outside, downtown, and cypher in front of this little Hip-Hop shop that Murs used to run for a while, and then passed off to somebody else. That little store was a major influence for us, and I don’t know how many other people. Everybody asks me, “Why aren’t you in L.A.? Why aren’t you in New York?” ‘Cause this is where I’m from. This is my home, and I like it. If you seek it out, it’s here as a good cultural city.

Ambrosia For Heads: Hearing In Case I Don’t Make It, and later, Conversation B blew my mind. I’d never really heard Has-Lo before, but somehow felt like I did. Similarly, I recall seeing Red Pill perform a small Detroit Rap showcase in South By Southwest in 2011, and absolutely bringing the house down in front of 40 people. To many, these are new artists with a lot of dues paid. Mello takes chances on them, and gives them that album platform. While you work with vets, how important are the new or locally known guys to your mission?

Michael Tolle: Red Pill is the perfect example ‘cause we’re in the middle of doing this right now. It’s an intimate relationship between me and him, where I have to constantly tell him what we’re doing, ‘cause he’s new too. “Every item is sold one at a time, every song is sold one at a time.” The first step, when he’s finished [Look What This World Did To Us] is to convince me that it’s great. It’s me for me to listen to it that much. Once we have me and him on board, I gotta grill him. “Do you love this record, seriously? Can you be performing this six months from now?” We go back and forth until we’re both convinced it’s something that we both love. Then our job is to convince our team, our publicist, the people we interact with before we even think of fans. We think of certain [music journalists] as much as we think of the sites. We think of people. We have to do that one at a time. It really doesn’t take that many people, maybe 100 people who will spread this for you. Once you have that…

That’s why we release more product than a lot of people. I could care less if you go tour for a year. I hope you do, and make your money, ‘cause I love you as a person. But I want you to keep making music, ‘cause that’s what interests me. I hate this lottery that the industry plays. “You’ve been making great music for years. Congratulations! Now I’m going to take you out of your world, put you in amazing hotels every night, have you get drunk and laid every night, have you travel the world but not really see anything or know anybody. Do that for a year and a half, and then when the record is done, and we milk it, go back into the studio and make another one about those experiences.” There’s nothing left. Then, you just become a guy rapping about rapping. I’d rather a musician have a life and keep that life, and just keep making music and developing skills. That’s gonna be interesting to listen.

As an owner and head of a label, I fail if musicians don’t leave this label better than they started as musicians. So that’s what I’m trying to go and do with everybody.

Ambrosia For Heads: As a former DJ, how critical is it to have your releases on physical, CD and vinyl?

Michael Tolle: It’s huge. I think CD is just as important as vinyl. Vinyl is the gateway to people of my generation. You were able to get instrumentals, acapellas; you were able to participate. There’s an engagement that comes from vinyl that does not come from MP3s. CDs were the intellectual component for me. You can carry it with you, you can read the credits. You can read the lyrics. That was important, that experience. One thing I hate in the digital world, is that it’s decided when something is no longer available. It’s something that vinyl Heads understand, because things go out of print. I love having the material manifestation of this stuff out in the world, because if you have it, nobody can take it away. That’s such an important part.

Ambrosia For Heads: I asked you about taking chances on new artists. Mello has also found great success in working with veterans. I am a big fan of both O.C. and Ras Kass, and somehow Trophies or Blasphemy feels bigger, and more complete than some of each’s recent work. Some of the artists Mello works with are perceived in a certain light that appears disproved—Kool Keith and L’Orange’s “Sometimes I Feel” illustrates this on Persona…

Michael Tolle: If I’ve got an artist like Apollo, he’s going to get better by working not just with new artists—which he needs to do—but also with old artists, who can teach him. So, “who are you, 20 years ago?” If I listen to L’Orange, “If you were who you are, in 1990, who would you have been working with?” Probably Del [The Funky Homosapien]. “Are you Dan The Automator of today? Who are you?” Well, he’s just L’Orange. But let’s reach out to some of those people and see how you interact with them, and see how the songs come about. Likewise, “Who’s the young kid who’s going to be you in 10 years?” Let’s try to find them too. So [you have] the passing of the torches, the fan-bases, and the lineage. You create it and reinforce that, and it’s something that’s important to me.

Kool Keith is an example, as one of the greats for me. He’s such an oddball genius, and I just love what he’s done. I always feel like these guys need a producer to hold them in line. When you become a legend, nobody wants to tell you no. They just take whatever they get. All of our producers are strong, in the sense that they’re willing to [be authoritative]. Apollo will cut a Sean Price verse from an album because there’s another Sean Price verse that he likes better. “This one fits too?” He’ll say, “Yeah, but this one’s better. I’ve got two good ones, I’ll use the best,” whereas other people would just use both. He’s willing to make the cuts and to walk away from things. I think that makes some of these legends better too, because in their prime, they had producers more willing to do that for them. That’s something we like to do continue to do.

L’Orange, Apollo, Oddisee are all real hands-on, to the point they’ll get into arguments with some of these MCs. MCs want their vocals up loud, and they want this one ad-lib in there ‘cause they were having fun. [Laughing] The producer has to say, “No. I’m producing. This isn’t what the record is about as a whole, and we need to sacrifice this,” even if [the MC] is somebody bigger than them.

Ambrosia For Heads: My fan-boy question: last year, a Chance The Rapper song emerged, “The Writer,” produced by Apollo Brown. It was among the best Chance songs I’d heard to do date. Very quickly, it was pulled offline. Will fans ever get that properly?

Michael Tolle: Yeah, I would hope those get to the market in a proper way or format. At this point, I can’t say for sure if they will.

Ambrosia For Heads: Your philosophies on running Mello have been really enlightening. More than 10 years ago, I remember working on this Beatnuts interview. It was around Milk Me, and Juju and Psycho Les ultimately said that people’s interest in that album would dictate if there would be another LP. Mello has released so much material, and artists are constantly evolving. As a fan, if I want another Left album, can I dictate that in the marketplace enough to make the label push the button?

Michael Tolle: That’s hard. To me, it’s sort of like summer movies. Every studio releases a sequel, ‘cause they know it will make them money. We almost never make sequels, even though it would probably make us money. We are always running to explore new territory. The only time we’ll generally follow up on some of these projects is if it feels like there’s new music and terrain to be covered. I don’t want to make another Left album—I don’t think Apollo does either—that just rehashes [Gas Mask]. I want if we do it, it to be because [Apollo Brown, Journalist 103 and DJ Soko] are working together and reaching new terrain together. That’s so rare. Often, to find that, you have to go to new places. I feel like a lot of these follow-up albums people want to make, actually will come—but they’ll come a little later than they expected. So instead of a year later or two years later, it might be four years down the road, like Diamond District [following up 2009’s In The Ruff with 2014’s March On Washington]. That’s when I think those occur, with time. Artists, individually, need to develop. That works when they can go off and continue exploring.

Follow Michael Tolle @MelloMusicGroup.

Visit the label’s store for vinyl, CDs, and merchandise and more information.

Persona is in stores now.

Related: 15 Years After Big Pun’s Life, Producer Domingo Shares Vivid Memories Off The Books (Interview)

20 years ago today (March 14, 1995), Tupac Shakur’s Me Against The World was released, and with it came the rapper’s most introspective work of his career. Released during a time of exceptional turmoil for 2Pac, the album signaled a musical changing of the guards, post-Thug Life and pre-Death Row, that manifested itself as an exploration of the anxiety germane to the legal and personal issues enveloping him at the time. After being accused of sexual assault in late 1993, ‘Pac was the victim of an attempted murder the following year (both incidents transpiring in New York City), experiences which shaped the feeling and sound of Me Against The World, the first solo album he released in over two years.

Earning conspicuous accolades like being the first artist to debut an album at the top of the Billboard 200 while in prison, Tupac managed to be omnipresent during the album’s release despite (or perhaps bolstered by) being locked away. In an interview included within the 2003 book Tupac: Resurrection 1971–1996, ‘Pac was proud of the fact that the album had surpassed Bruce Springsteen’s Greatest Hits in sales, a tremendous achievement for a Black artist making music deliberately for the hood and particularly poignant considering Springsteen’s international super-stardom and 22-year foothold in music. About Me Against The World, ‘Pac goes on to say, “it was like a Blues record. It was down-home. It was all my fears, all the things I just couldn’t sleep about.” That paranoia, whether brought on by internal or external stimuli, is a dominating force in nearly every track, but also present are moments of nostalgia, sensitivity, and optimism that elevate the album to more than just a one-dimensional piece of work.

The album’s intro, a nearly two-minute compilation of soundbites from various news segments, serves as a backdrop for the forthcoming content. Reporters discuss the incidents around his 1994 legal issues, as if to remind listeners of the extenuating circumstances under which he recorded the album. In a stellar example of the re-purposing of others’ work, a concept upon which Hip-Hop is based, the album’s first song begins with an altered William Shakespeare quote. Adapted from Julius Caesar, a story exploring the familiar trope of a man being brought down by his own comrades (“I no longer trust my homies,
them phonies tried to do me”), the quote bellows “a coward dies a thousand deaths, a soldier dies but once.” Tupac often included warnings about trusting others, especially the ones who claim to be your supporters, so it’s fitting that of all Shakespeare’s plays, it is Julius Caesar that is alluded to at the top of a song titled “If I Die 2Nite.”

Tracks like “So Many Tears,” “Lord Knows,” “Death Around the Corner,” and the title track deal directly with suicidal thoughts and symptoms of depression in ways that make Tupac extremely vulnerable and emotionally exposed. Lines like “now I’m lost and I’m weary, so many tears / I’m suicidal, so don’t stand near me,” “if I wasn’t high, I’d probably try to blow my brains out,” “Am I paranoid? Tell me the truth / I’m out the window with my AK, ready to shoot,” and “the question is will I live? No one in the world loves me” are exemplary of Tupac’s conscious effort to externalize the internal in ways he hadn’t before. No doubt a result of the hardships he was navigating throughout the recording process, what ostensibly would make him appear weak or “soft” in fact fortified him into not just another “thug” rapper, but a man capable of reflection on par with the greatest Blues musicians.

In February 1995, Heads all over the world could be found listening to “Dear Mama,” an ode to motherhood and the lead single from the album. Released on February 21, just one week after ‘Pac began his nine-month prison sentence, the song has become Hip-Hop’s most enduring homage to mothers and, by extension, women. In a tinge of unfortunate irony, Shakur was locked up for the alleged sexual assault of a woman, an irony compounded by “Can U Get Away,” a track depicting ‘Pac as a man attempting to convince a woman to leave an abusive relationship. The importance of those two tracks when discussing the vitriolic misogyny far too common in Rap music from that era cannot be overstated. In the former, Tupac made it acceptable for a “thug” to openly love his mother and in the latter, he publicly disapproved of domestic abuse. It isn’t until “Fuck the World” that he seems to directly address the allegations against him, albeit fleetingly in only one lyric (“Haha, what you say? Who you callin’ rapist? Ain’t that a bitch”). Whether or not this was intentional, there is a level of maturity inherent in choosing not to pen a track devoted to the woman who, according to him, wrongly accused him of a crime that seemed antithetical to his views on women, at least those on Me Against The World.

Although not known at the time, Me Against The World would prove to be a harbinger of Tupac’s eventual demise. The final album released before his signing to Death Row Records, it remains a crystallized specimen of unadulterated Tupac, before the influence of Suge Knight and his next home’s sound and reputation. In a calculated move by the Death Row CEO, Knight offered to pay ‘Pac’s $1.4 million bail in exchange for signing a three-album contract with his label. For many, that move is the definitive junction in time when the rapper signed his death warrant, for it was his relationship with Death Row which set the stage for the forthcoming (and some say overtly orchestrated) East Coast vs. West Coast rivalry in Rap music.

Two decades later, as we prepare ourselves for next year’s twentieth anniversary of his death, Me Against The World holds up, for many, as the greatest album of his career. Although still replete with the violence that litters his entire discography, the album can, in many ways, be seen as his last album, for never again would Tupac explore the genesis of his pain as cohesively and completely. Nevertheless, the year and half of life he had remaining after March 14, 1995 left an indelible impression on the Culture and despite the tremendous sense of loss since his passing, we have albums like this one that remind us “a real motherfucker will pick the time he goes.”

Amanda Mester is a writer and editor living in Brooklyn, New York. Follow her on Twitter @CanEye_KickIt

Related: DJ Quik’s Safe + Sound Still Has Groundbreaking Funk 20 Years Later (Food For Thought)

One of the more anticipated pieces of Hip-Hop coverage over the last week was Latino USA‘s (an NPR-backed podcast show) “A Latino History Of Hip-Hop.” As promised by video trailer, part 1 premiered yesterday (March 20), with part 2 reportedly coming online by late April. Producers Daisy Rosario and Marlon Bishop went directly to the primary sources, compiled some illustrative sound clips, and put together an hour-plus show that puts things in perspective, and shines a deep, deserving light on how from the very beginning, Latinos and Latin music would join Blacks in laying the groundwork for Hip-Hop culture, and maintaining it through its developmental years.

As the producers make clear from jump, this is “not a definitive history, this is real people telling their stories.” Daisy and Marlon  reached out to legendary figures such as Devastating Tito, Lee Quiñones, and Charlie Chase for those stories, covering all elements. The first hour-plus (part 1) explores the multi-cultural role in Hip-Hop (DJ’ing, Rap, Breakin’, Graffiti), especially in 1970s New York City boroughs like the Bronx. The report also looks at the Latino community helping solidify “the sacred crates” of Hip-Hop, dictating and strongly reacting to the very break-beats (which listeners will hear) that would ultimately be benchmarks of sound for dance, style, and later, Rap production.

Lee, who many Heads know from Wild Style, offers some incredible anecdotes surrounding the Hip-Hop experience, and the impetus for many lasting trends, dating back to the late 1970s. Cold Crush Brothers co-founder Charlie discusses his DJ’ing. “I’ma be honest with you, I was sick wit’ this!,” recalls the B-X pioneer. Chase talks about how the previous generation’s record collection (the parents) affected the party jams of the early-mid ’70s, and beyond, along with deep cuts found in stores at the time. There is a great discussion about how groups like Cymande, Jimmy Castor Bunch, and others, were built around Latin percussion.

Cold Crush, one of the most dominating groups, especially within Rap’s beginnings, is a great representation of culturally diverse crews. Devastating Tito from The Fearless Four weighs in on his own multi-cultural Rap crew, and the difficult experience they had with the 1980s label system (in this case, Elektra Records)—the credited first time a Rap group signed to a major. This part of the discussion, nearing the end of part 1, adds how the intervention of record labels (and possibly mainstream media) began to downplay the Latino heritage and influence associated with these groups (the Fat Boys are also mentioned) due to perceived racial ambiguity.

Lastly, graffiti is explored in great detail, with deep consideration to breakthrough film, Wild Style.

The music sound-beds drive the discussion, as this story’s production value is amazing. Fans of researched, engaging, and entertaining documentaries will likely love this.

Indicative of this work, there are a lot of great podcasts and audio productions at Latino USA. Check it out for more programming like this.

Related: The Rich History of Latino Contributions to Hip-Hop Are Detailed in a New Audio Documentary (Video)

Eazy-E, who was only 31 when he died 20 years ago today (March 26, 1995), was considered one (if not the) progenitor of West Coast Gangsta Rap. As a record label executive, he established a blueprint for future young, Black entrepreneurs. As a member of N.W.A., he helped lend a voice to the disparagement felt by countless Black (and Brown) youths in Los Angeles, California (and across the country). And as a victim of H.I.V., he brought the reality of the disease and its disproportionate presence in communities of color to the forefront of Black American consciousness.

Born and raised in Compton, California, Eric Wright showed a predisposition towards self-reliance at an early age. Dropping out of high school his sophomore year, Eazy began pursuing the lucrative benefits of selling drugs, eventually parlaying his auspicious earnings into a Rap career. Ruthless Records was born in 1986, five years before Death Row appeared on the Los Angeles Rap scene. Eazy was only 22 years old when he added record label executive to his resume, a fact made even more astounding by his refusal to split half of the company with friend, business partner and music industry vet, Jerry Heller. When the ink dried, Eazy commanded an overwhelming 80% of profits, cementing forever his legacy as a savvy businessman who could hang with his white counterparts at other Rap labels.

1987 proved to be a landmark year for West Cost Rap, quite literally. The release of “Boyz-N-The-Hood” placed Compton on the proverbial map, quickly making it the headquarters for what was proving to be the next hotbed of popular Rap music. Written by Ice Cube, the song was originally intended for H.B.O., a local crew signed to Ruthless. However, in what is arguably one of the greatest blunders in Rap history, the group rejected it and the song became the vehicle not only for Eazy’s solo career, but also an informal introduction to N.W.A. The group would follow in the footsteps of acts like Uncle Jamm’s Army, Captain Rapp, and Mixmaster Spade who embraced the omnipresent funk influence in Los Angeles and reformatted it into something entirely different.

Entirely. By the end of 1988, N.W.A. was the most important Rap group in the world, creating the soundtrack for the disenfranchised through seminal tracks like “Fuck Tha Police” and “Straight Outta Compton.” Never before had a Rap group made White America as uncomfortable, earning the conspicuous attention of senators and the near total blacklisting from radio stations. As the group’s curator, Eazy handpicked members Arabian Prince, DJ Yella, Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, and (later on) MC Ren and in so doing, orchestrated a confluence of raw social commentary on a level not heard since. While other members are rightfully given credit for the production and songwriting, Eazy-E’s contribution to the legacy of the West Coast sound cannot be denied.

In a remarkable one, two punch, Eazy’s solo debut was released less than a month after N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton. A sign of his impressive business acumen, the decision to release Eazy-Duz-It so soon made it impossible to ignore his presence, both behind and on the mic. The album was, in essence, an N.W.A. project; Ice Cube, MC Ren, and The D.O.C. played huge roles in the production and writing of the album. Nevertheless, Eazy-Duz-It created a decidedly distinct persona. Eazy-E the rapper was more braggadocious, humorous, and misogynistic than his band mates and while many critics opined that the album was merely an example of a caricatured rapper playing a role constructed by others, it went double platinum. His decidedly anti-gangsta sounding voice coupled with his diminutive stature made him an anti-hero, but the lyrical content made it clear he didn’t give a fuck.

After the departure of Ice Cube in 1989, Eazy-E was now embroiled in a contentious atmosphere in Compton’s Rap scene. He navigated his group through its very public beef with Cube, which included “100 Miles And Runnin,’” a track lambasting Cube lyrically and visually, in its accompanying video. Shortly thereafter, he set the stage for Dr. Dre’s true arrival as the godfather of G-Funk. It was N.W.A.’s second full-length project, Niggaz4life, which Rap historians consider to be the earliest example of what would prove to be the future of L.A.’s aural contributions to the genre. The fruition of Dr. Dre as a producer while on the Ruthless Records roster was a fact not short on irony; by 1991 Dre and Eazy were bitter rivals, and the rise of Death Row was imminent.

Bad blood and mud-slinging continued throughout the early ’90s, effectively tarnishing Eazy’s image and diminishing his role in cultivation of Los Angeles as a bastion for progressive, authentic Rap music. Death Row’s rise to prominence, thanks to albums like The Chronic and artists like Snoop Doggy Dogg, seem to have had a direct effect on his legacy, and he is often left out of discussions about the most prominent play-makers in Rap.

His legacy was further harmed when it was announced he was suffering from AIDS, a disease which was most often associated with homosexuals and treated as a totally taboo topic in most communities of color. As evidenced in many of his lyrics, Eazy’s sexual promiscuity was not a secret, leading to his fathering seven children by six different women. Twenty years after his death, it is safe to say he is the most prominent African-American musician to have died of the disease, and his bravery in making the disease public should be celebrated more openly. The disease, which continues to disproportionately affect Black and Brown people, took the life of a man who, despite his faults, spoke on behalf of millions of Americans. It is heart-wrenching to imagine the power Eazy-E could have lent to the AIDS awareness and prevention movement had he been diagnosed earlier. Only one month after announcing his diagnosis, he passed away.

With the impending release of the N.W.A. biopic Straight Outta Compton, there is no doubt Eazy-E’s presence will remain prevalent in American popular culture. And, as Eazy’s star post-N.W.A. protégés Bone Thugs-n-Harmony reminded us, he’s waiting at the crossroads, where he’s most likely crusin’ down the street in his ’64.

Amanda Mester is a writer and editor living in Brooklyn, New York. Follow her on Twitter @CanEye_KickIt

Related: Do Remember: DJ Yella & Kokane – 4 Tha E (Eazy-E Tribute) (Video)

Released twenty years ago today (April 11, 1995), the soundtrack to Friday is exemplary of the musical consciousness emanating from many inner cities in America at the time. Equal parts R&B, funk, and Hip-Hop, the soundtrack went double-platinum, besting soundtracks to other popular films featuring Black lead actors, like Bad Boys and Dead Presidents. As a film, Friday served as a comedic antidote to sobering movies like 1991’s Boyz N the Hood and 1993’s Menace II Society, but similar to those soundtracks, Friday’s painted an all-inclusive picture of life in the hood, addressing the good and the bad.

The film’s opening track serves as a thematic signpost, suggesting that despite the film’s levity and comedic subject matter, life in the hood still comes with its very real set of dangers. The Isley Brothers’ “Trying To See Another Day” provides the sonic backdrop for the film’s first sequences, which include a robbery, police sirens, weed smoking, and plenty of 40 ounces – things symbolic of many days in South Central Los Angeles. Tracks like “Mary Jane” by Rick James and “Roll It Up, Light It Up, Smoke It Up” by Cypress Hill contribute to the film’s legacy as a stoner classic. The lyrics to both present cannabis as a mood elevator and form of escape from the stressful surroundings of the film’s characters (“and when I’m feeling low, she comes as no surprise”/ “Gimme that fat bag of weed and the brew so I can get faded, elevated”).

“You Got Me Wide Open” by Bootsy Collins and Bernie Worrell and Rose Royce’s “I Wanna Get Next To You” are emblematic of the film’s love story between Ice Cube and Nia Long, whereas 2 Live Crew’s “Hoochie Mama” and Funkdoobiest’s “Superhoes” signify the negative feelings towards characters like Joi and Rita. This combination of songs helps to delineate between two female archetypes – the ones who are desired but hard to get and the ones who aren’t, stereotypes described in lyrics like “Girl my, my money is low and I know that I can’t take you to the fancy places you might wanna go” and “sex is what I need you for, I got a good girl but I need a whore.”

The soundtrack’s self-titled opening cut, in addition to being one of Ice Cube’s biggest hits, was the source of tension between him and B-Real of Cypress Hill. The inclusion of the lyric “throw ya neighborhood in the air” in the song’s chorus became a point of contention, due to its sounding very similar to Cypress Hill’s “Throw Your Set,” a track unreleased at the time of the soundtrack’s recording. According to B-Real, Cube had heard the song while working with Cypress Hill on “Roll It Up, Light It Up, Smoke It Up,” and following the soundtrack’s release, beef ensued. Since squashed, the ensuing drama became very public, contributing not only to the success of diss tracks like Cypress Hill’s 1995 track “No Rest for the Wicked” and Westside Connection’s 1996 response,“King of the Hill,” but also to the popularity of the soundtrack, which was the only place fans could hear “Friday,” the song that started it all.

Similarly, the soundtrack was the only place fans could listen to Dr. Dre’s “Keep Their Heads Ringin’” (until a year later when it was included on the Death Row Greatest Hits compilation album). The single went gold and reached the top ten on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, scoring another hit for Death Row Records, the clear-cut king of Los Angeles Rap music at the time. Featuring singer Nanci Fletcher, the song was accompanied by a music video starring some of the film’s cast. At the end of the song, Dre name-checks his label, shouting out “Death Row, let me know you in the house.” Ironically, they would be the last words he uttered on a record as a Death Row solo artist. Though he would go on to record a guest verse on Tupac’s “California Love,” released later in the year, Dre was about to embark on a bitter and high profile feud with co-owner Suge Knight–a split that continues to yield toxicity to this day.

April 26 will mark the twentieth anniversary of the film’s 1995 release, and in celebration, the film will be screened in theaters nationwide on, fittingly, 4/20. The soundtrack is also being honored, most significantly by Respect the Classics, the highly respected music outlet best known for reissuing classics on cassette and vinyl. Friday will receive their signature treatment, pressed on vinyl and adorned with a special lenticular cover.

In some ways, the soundtrack lives on through the music of others, for its undeniably Los Angeles-influenced curation of tracks provided listening material for some of today’s biggest contemporary rap stars. Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly (which was originally titled Tu Pimp a Caterpillar as an ode to Tupac) contains a handful of musical earmarks easily traced to elements of the Friday soundtrack. Raised in the South Central-neighboring streets of Compton, Lamar imbued his latest album with a mix of Hip-Hop, Soul, and Funk reminiscent of Friday’s formula, pointing to the timelessness of the music. Indeed, Lamar’s being signed to Dr. Dre’s Aftermath label and the presence of Ron Isley (“How Much a Dollar Cost” and “i”) as well as the undeniable influence of George Clinton (a former bandmate of Bootsy Collins) on Butterfly link the two albums inextricably on the spectrum of Los Angeles’ long lineage of Hip-Hop music.

As the soundtrack transcended time barriers upon its release, with the inclusion of music from multiple eras, it continues to do so today. The themes covered on the album, along with the concept of friendship that anchors the film, preserve the legacy of both two decades later.

Click here to purchase the original motion picture soundtrack to Friday.

Amanda Mester is a writer and editor living in Brooklyn, New York. Follow her on Twitter @CanEye_KickIt

Related: Here’s the Trailer for the Upcoming N.W.A. Biopic Straight Outta Compton (Video)

Scarface has been incredibly vocal about his battles with depression. In fact, the Houston, Texas MC’s biggest hit, Geto Boys’ “Mind Playin’ Tricks On Me” alludes to Brad Jordan’s paranoia, and mental struggles.

Next week, Scarface is releasing his memoir, Diary Of A Madman: The Geto Boys, Life, Death, and the Roots of Southern Rap (April 21, Dey Street Books), written with former MySpace Music Editor Benjamin Meadows Ingram. In promotion of the publishing of the autobiography, the Rap (and Rap-A-Lot) legend shared a particularly potent excerpt from the memoir with Billboard.

While Billboard has the extensive, full excerpt. However, one jarring three-paragraph passage will resonate strongly. Within, the 44-year-old MC/producer recalls some of his adolescent battles with depression, family, and in turn, suicide.

“I would spend a lot of time alone. I’d go in my room at my mom’s house and not come out for weeks, just trying to find me. And I didn’t always like what I found. I was raised with the idea that I was born dying. That with every breath you take, you get closer to your last. It’s something I’ve always known. So my mentality, even back then, was always, “What’s the worst that could happen? That I could die or be killed? But I’m born dying, so death is inevitable. Why should I be scared of that?” Being alone just gave me something to really think about. And with shit going so wrong for me then, and with me constantly feeling like everything was fucked and I couldn’t do anything right, the conclusion I came to was that I might as well just get it over with. Fuck it.

I don’t remember too much about that particular day, but I know I was ready for it to be done. I was ready to get up out this bitch. So I went in my mother’s medicine cabinet and took all of her blood-pressure medication. I woke up on the bathroom floor with the ambulance parked outside and the paramedics trying to get me up and out the door. They took me to the hospital and gave me this stuff, ipecac, to clean out my stomach. I spent the whole next day puking my guts out. It was disgusting. I thought that shit was going to kill me! I was like, “Damn, you brought me all the way here to do me in like this?” You could have just left me on the floor and saved everyone a hell of a lot of trouble.

But of course the ipecac didn’t kill me. It probably saved my life. Once they knew my stomach was clear of all of the pills and I wasn’t going to die, they let me go. But then, the next day, my mama brought me back. I thought we were going for a follow-up, or a checkup or some shit, but then she just left me there, dropped me off on the mental-health floor of Houston International Hospital, and that became my life.”

As Chance The Rapper and others tackle this issue, is Scarface even more influential than Heads have realized this far?

From 2Pac to Ice Cube, Devin The Dude to Jay Z, and from Geto Boys to Stalley, Scarface’s honesty, courage, and ability to be critical of himself have made him not only a collaborator, but a mass influence. Based on this gripping passage alone, could The Diary-maker have a seminal Rap memoir at a time when that’s been a scarcity?

Read the full Scarface memoir excerpt at Billboard.

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Often times, for as colorful and diverse as Hip-Hop music may appear, there is a constant cry for more originality. There are storytellers, social activists, party-starters, and technically-savvy lyricists, but the genre arguably misses the eclecticism and diversity among the new class, at least at a certain skill level.

A Brown University student named Dolapo Akinkugbe is trying to combat the notions that uniqueness is lacking amidst the new class. Known as “DAP (Dolapo Akinkugbe Productions) The Contract,” the artist may be a “producer first, and a rapper second,” but he emulates the hunger and drive of someone in this state of Hip-Hop that is distinctive and creative in his own right.

Born in Lagos, Nigeria, DAP learned how to play piano at age 4. With his mother as a keyboard instructor, Dolapo comes from two musically-gifted parents. At boarding school, Dolapo took to the art of rapping as a teen, finding his said calling. A standout amongst his friends, he was the one in the group to really explore all of the elements of music. “I listened to everything from The Beatles to Eminem. From 50 Cent’s ‘Candy Shop,’ to UK House and Jazz,” he reflects.

Rap afforded DAP a passion for the word. “I learned how to rhyme my words in English class, and from then on, it’s been my passion.” His music likes span from listening to John Lennon in the morning, to bumping Gucci Mane by night. After school in London, Dolapo crossed the Atlantic to Berklee Music College in Boston, Massachusetts. “While I was in Berklee, I got that Jazz influence that you hear in some of my songs,” the MC states, of the prestigious institution. After he attended Berklee for two semesters as part of a gap year, DAP enrolled at Brown University in nearby Providence, Rhode Island, where he will be an upcoming senior after the Spring 2015 semester.

Akinkugbe’s creativity appears limitless, and his range as an artist spans from Jazz to Drill music. When it comes to “boxes and categories,” Dolapo waves off labels. He feels as though the type of artist he is, and the “breath and range he has makes him feel like he can make any kind of music.” For example, on his latest single titled “HEAV7N,” there are two parts to the song. The first part, DAP considers a “mini opera,” with some heavy bravado and soaring sopranos thanks to the vocal contributions of his featured artists Peter Traver, Jordan Schulz, and Tasj MelRose. The second part he showcases it as “ATL Trap music,” with some Travis $cott-like elements at play in the mix.

He explains the reason why he produces his tracks so variably is a way to get people to listen and appreciate genres other than Hip-Hop. “My mission is to polarize people, where I want them to listen to anything. My friends don’t really like the first part of my new single, but they love the second part. Whereas my mother loves the first part of the track, and she dislikes the other half.” In theory and in substance, most of his work aims for depth, with stories about love, money, power, and corruption.

In a discussion about peers and influences, DAP placed three prominent figures into their own interesting categories. “I think Drake is the best songwriter. Kendrick Lamar is the best rapper, and J. Cole is the best storyteller.” Notably though, Dolapo says his favorite rapper of the moment is actually Ab-Soul. When it comes to other outside projects, Dolapo never stops working. He is part of a duo called The Contract with his cousin from London named Shane Chubbz. They have a project out called Jam On Scones, which channels retro-UK House music that demonstrates their abilities to flex their lyrics over sounds unlike their respective solo work.

Now an accredited pianist, DAP’s talents are featured on some of the biggest Classical works around the Ivy League university under his government name. “I want people to expect nothing when it comes to my music. You never know what is going to come next on my projects and that is the sound I work to produce.”

Currently working on a sequel project to HEAV7N called 7th HEAV7N, Dolapo just recently released a visual for the 9th track off of his GoodBye For Never mixtape, titled “Before I Let You Go.” The video (included above) is a symbol of the worldly corruption and exploitation people experience on a daily basis. From drug abuse to the tragic schoolgirls kidnappings of Nigeria, Dolapo showcases his mind, production, and his flow.

Visit DAP The Contract’s website. Also, follow on Facebook and Twitter.

Related: Check Out Other Ambrosia For Heads Spotlight Features

April 19, 2010 was one of the most difficult days for Hip-Hop Heads. That day, after six weeks in a coma (announced February 28), Keith “Guru” Elam was confirmed dead in a Manhattan hospital. The Gang Starr founder went into cardiac arrest, following the coma in the midst of a private, reportedly year-long battle with myeloma, a form of cancer. A father, a son, and a brother, Guru left so many mourning, including millions of fans and admirers.

In the midst of some difficult and complicated controversies, the final six weeks of Guru’s life brought great consideration to the often-overlooked MC, producer and songwriter. With Gang Starr on hiatus since their 2003 album, The Ownerz, Guru had been working on various independent projects, collaborating with the likes of Common, Jean Grae, and Slum Village, among others. The Boston, Massachusetts-born artist also maintained his Jazzmatazz series (which began in the early 1990s), working with David Sanborn, Bob James, and Ronnie Laws in the final volumes. However, with the passing of one of Hip-Hop’s most consistent and steadfast figures, more than 20 years of music was examined in greater light. While Guru never released a #1 album, or won a major, mainstream award, the MC was enshrined as one of the true masters of his craft.

Although Guru’s name was not mentioned in the 2011 remembrances during that year’s Grammy Awards, the Hip-Hop community mourned loudly. With hospital visits from estranged friends and family, the Gang Starr and Gang Starr Foundation has been a revived focal point, in Guru’s honor. DJ Premier released (and later re-released a mix in his friend, creative partner, and longtime roommate’s honor. Onetime proteges and Ill Kid Records duo Group Home released Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal, their first studio album in a decade, which featured another great pupil in Jeru The Damaja. Bumpy Knuckles (a/k/a Freddie Foxxx) joined Premier to make “The Gang Starr Bus.” Pre-New York City Gang Starr member Big Shug released a series of songs about his own partner, including a part in “Propaganda,” premiered earlier this week. Other friends and affiliates including Fat Joe, Doo Wop, Bun B, and Jay Electronica made mention of Guru in verses, songs, and public appearances.

Five years after the fact, Guru continues to receive the love, respect, and attention that he commanded in a career that began in the mid 1980s. The MC who proclaimed “it’s mostly the voice” is remembered for his authoritative style, wisdom-influenced lyrics, and commanding effect on keeping Hip-Hop “hard to earn.”

Rest In Peace, Guru.

What is your favorite Guru musical moment?

Related: Gang Starr’s Guru Lives In Spirit. Watch His New Music Video (Premiere)

Released twenty years ago today (April 25, 1995), Method Man’s “I’ll Be There for You/You’re All I Need to Get By” featuring Mary J. Blige was not the first duet in Hip-Hop, nor the first Hip-Hop love song, but it seemed to hit a particularly powerful nerve; one that reverberates with the song’s effects, two decades later. A remix to Meth’s “All I Need” infused with the timeless 1968 Motown classic “You’re All I Need to Get By” by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, the Grammy-winning song produced by Puffy was, for many, a much-needed representation of Black love. With its universal themes of loyalty, friendship and undying support for one another, its message transcended race and demographics, and it now stands toe-to-toe with love songs by any artist, from any genre. Starring an MC who embodied the gritty realities of life in the hood alongside a singer who vocalized the pain and triumph of an entire generation of women, the song not only serves as a testament to creative genius but, perhaps more importantly, a reminder of the possibility of finding love, even in the harshest of circumstances.

Thematically similar to songs like Biggie’s 1994 “Me and My Bitch” (from which the line “lie together, cry together/I swear to God I hope we fuckin’ die together” is sampled) and the Lost Boyz’ 1996 single “Renee,” Meth & Mary’s love song describes the trying and tumultuous obstacles facing many young couples living in the hood. Meth mentions a time when he was “nothin’,” the “skies were gray,” and being “locked up North,” all of which are examples of imagery alluding to the loneliness, disillusionment, and incarceration facing swaths of men living in a system that works against them. His salvation? The “queen wit a crown that be down for whatever” who “made a brother feel like he was somethin’” and who says “’Baby, it’ll be okay.’” That acknowledgment, of the female partner’s ability to resurrect a downtrodden man, was especially powerful coming from an artist who, up until that point, was known as a representation of male machismo. In fact, he himself seemed to be acutely aware of the danger of losing his “cred,” and he can be heard yelling “this ain’t a love song!” in the background. Nevertheless, he has since made it known the song was written for a woman he loved as she lay right next to him.

A distinguishing characteristic of Meth & Mary’s duet was just that – it was a duet. Songs like “Me and My Bitch” and “Renee,” while both poignant depictions of a man’s love for his woman, did not include a female role. Mary J.’s inclusion helped to depict her, and the women she represented, as an equal partner in song and in life. Similar to the 1968 song on which it is based, Meth & Mary’s version is a tête-à-tête, arguably the formula behind the song’s success. The song could have simply used Tammi Terrell’s original singing on the chorus, but the decision to use Mary J., a contemporary archetype of the young Black female, added a relatability factor that may have otherwise been lost. Mary, at the time of the song’s release, was still being lauded for her 1994 album My Life, a soulful and sometimes heart-wrenching magnum opus detailing the pain related to overcoming substance-abuse dependency and an abusive relationship. Those experiences and her ability to prevail made her voice the perfect choice for this duet, as she was already a representation of what tenacity and love can do.

In a genre commonly berated for inundating the culture with negative images of women, this song was a relief from the misogyny. Along with other 1995 hits like Tupac’s “Dear Mama,” it was a not-too-common example of a Rap artist known more for his grit exposing a softer, more vulnerable side. For Method Man specifically, the song made him the undeniable sex symbol of the Wu-Tang Clan to millions of girls, including those who weren’t already fans. His referring to a woman as a “queen” was invaluable, not only because of its positive reinforcement, but also because it simply wasn’t the word “bitch” or “hoe.” Surely, there were similar songs from the era which didn’t degrade women, but none were as successful. Meth himself once said “We don’t treat every chick like that. Nobody wants to be treated like that, but the ones that act the part—hey, if it’s a fucking spade I’m gonna call it a spade. And if nobody holds our black women high, I do.”

Unlike most songs which reach a similar level of success, this song doesn’t have a truly definitive version. There’s the original, of course, but also two remixes. There are those who prefer the RZA-produced joint, juxtaposing his dark production style against the uplifting lyrical content. For others, it was the rendition with Puff Daddy’s touch. Luckily for us, both versions were released.

Twenty years later, the male rapper/female singer blueprint has become commonplace, from the Roots’ breakout single “You Got Me” featuring Erykah Badu (and Eve), to the early-aughts domination by Ja Rule and Ashanti, to more recent variations by Jay-Z and Beyonce. However, there seems to be something more perennial about the Method Man & Mary J. Blige interpretation that others are lacking. Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell both passed away in the primes of their lives, and to many it might appear that Meth & Mary took the proverbial torch and kept it lighted.

Amanda Mester is a writer and editor living in Brooklyn, New York. Follow her on Twitter @CanEye_KickIt

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In the late 1980s, artists like Just-Ice, ScHoolly D, the Geto Boys, N.W.A., Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, and Public Enemy started testing the power of their words, profane and dense alike. The human condition was explored, and Hip-Hop planted a flag in the ground that stated—to quote Ice Cube—”if you don’t like how I’m livin’, well fuck you!”

By the mid-1990s, this Rap music foundation had been greatly developed real estate. Artists like 2Pac, The Notorious B.I.G., the aforementioned Ice Cube, Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre, and Outkast had found a way to present this lifestyle, maintain that hardcore aesthetic, and still churn out hits—embraced, purchased, and immortalized by some of the very people they could have been arguably inspired to offend. Ice-T’s 1993 Home Invasion artwork (by Dave Halili) kind of says it all.

Interestingly, the stage was brilliantly set for Ice’s proclaimed favorite musical group, Mobb Deep. The Queens, New York duo of Prodigy and Havoc were introduced to many Heads by April, 1995. Two years to the month prior, the pair released Juvenile Hell on 4th & B’way (X-Clan, Freestyle Fellowship, Eric B. & Rakim). With DJ Premier and Large Professor helping out, the liner notes-led culture paid attention to the two shorties previously known as Poetical Prophets, when first featured in The Source. The album was a scattered presentation of themes ranging from enjoying rough, fast sex, to fight music, to anthems of their Queensbridge street sets. Despite some masters in their corner, the album remains Mobb’s least-selling, and like so many other Hip-Hop giants (Common, Naughty By Nature, M.O.P.), a forgotten first effort.

In 1995, P and Hav’ were now signed to Loud Records. Steve Rifkind’s label is famous for its street team, and perhaps it’s those concrete, in-the-cut tactics that complemented the music so well. Whether Wu-Tang Clan or Tha Alkholiks, Loud felt like the kind of label that A&R’d projects to be better, not commercial. At a time when “skills sold,” this made mainstream-embraced singles by grittier artists and records—the perfect pastiche for two MCs who clearly wanted to present explicit subject matter and get their name up at the same time.

As with the first LP, Mobb Deep sought out a master—in this case, A Tribe Called Quest’s Q-Tip. Credited as “The Abstract,” Tip worked on three records of the album’s 16. However, according to interviews from all the parties involved, the pride of Linden Boulevard was much more instrumental in the LP’s sound, than the credits suggest. Tip reportedly pushed Havoc and Prodigy to make revisions to the body of work starting in its 1994 recording. The proven master of cohesive, light-handedly thematic bodies of work showed the twenty-somethings how to do it, through true mentorship. Notably, history does not remember Q-Tip as Mobb Deep’s big brother. The parties did not maintain much collaboration afterwards. But for two glorious years, the learning curve-ball was honed.

The Infamous, released on April 25, 1995, is brilliantly executed. Mobb Deep presented themselves as antiheroes. While the potent Gangsta Rap of L.A. had its MTV-video charms in low-riders, scantily dressed women, and colorful clothes, The Infamous is post-apocalyptic. “Q.U. – Hectic” presents the borough of Queens as a Full Metal Jacket war zone. Innocence is out the window, the guns are forever off safety, and nothing is off limits. Like his would-be foe Tupac Shakur, Prodigy gasps for breath to deliver lyrics with a sense of urgency throughout the album. Rather than just celebrate the glory without consequence, The Infamous looks at the underbelly. Throughout the LP, Mobb honors their slain friends, showing that in the shadows of the Manhattan skyline, people cannot cram to understand the realness of the numbered streets of Queens. “Up North Trip” examines time served, “Cradle To The Grave” unabashedly offers a short life-span, and “Eye For An Eye” may as well be the code of the streets, unfinished business and all.

There is no hidden agenda though. Mobb Deep seemingly evaded radio and commercial appeal in their album-making. Juvenile Hell missed the charts, and The Infamous seemed to spit at the feet of mainstream Rap. “Party Over” closes the album with just that, bum-rushing the care-free posturing of the time. With realer issues at hand, Mobb did strike hits with “Shook Ones Pt. II” and “Survival Of The Fittest.” Both of the songs, which show how cohesive the album truly was, are menacing, ruthless, and cautionary to stay the hell away. As Rap music benefited from showing the rest of the world what happened in the streets, Mobb Deep chose a totally different aesthetic than their peers. This even showed in the videos, which refused to step into the light, but rather documented the world Heads either knew, or were simply urged to keep away from.

Whereas so many artists and groups focus so closely on the the lyrics, Mobb Deep’s The Infamous marries message to music. The group, who did produce makeshift works on the debut, almost struck gold by accident. Early in his career, Havoc—who is often under-sung as an MC, found skills on the boards and with the sampler. Perhaps thanks to Q-Tip’s tutelage, Hav’ created a sound that interpreted the themes of the album—gunfire, paranoia, pride, and death, and applied it to the rhythms of city life. In turn, Havoc would find a way to present crisp drums—almost as if a drummer played along with the rest of the album–and blend them with murky, ambient samples from an array of sources. Much-like the group’s attitudes on the mic, Havoc’s production was haphazardly authentic, and in turn, brilliant. For much of the 2000s, the producer/MC was unaware of many of the samples he used to make hits—a testament to his approach at the time. Mobb Deep made theme music, and the minor chords, the somber notes, and the eerie accents only complete the world of high-stakes in the forest of low-income project houses.

Now a gold album, Mobb Deep’s commitment to their art paid off. A #15 charting LP, the duo and Loud Records found a stride that worked. Mobb’s piss-and-E&J attitudes would make them stars. Like so many great works of the mid-1990s, Mobb Deep also aspired for other sides of life. Presumably, the 1995 fame of The Infamous pulled the pair out of the world that made them.

In the years since, Mobb Deep keeps taking the F Train back to the QB, and The Infamous. 2001’s The Infamy followed the group’s greatest commercial outing with a proposed return to form. Following an internal feud and temporary split, 2014 saw The Infamous Mobb Deep, complete with a deluxe edition packaging of unheard ’90s studio relics. Not unlike foes-turned-friends Snoop Dogg and Nas (the latter, a guest on The Infamous), Mobb Deep is forever held up against their benchmark classic. And why not? It is New York City presented as no country for old men, a place where the weak are preyed upon, and the strong seemingly lose too. For its tone, and its angst, and its representation of a world that people understand or rather never knew existed, Mobb Deep’s The Infamous is classic Hip-Hop, where style, substance, and synchronized rhymes and beats are a time capsule.

Jake Paine is Ambrosia For Heads’ Editorial Director. In addition to previous posts as HipHopDX’s Editor-in-Chief and AllHipHop’s Features Editor, he has written for Forbes, The Source, and XXL.

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A quarter of a century ago today (May 16, 1990), Ice Cube released his solo debut. AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted signaled his post-N.W.A. career, and the acrimonious split left fans eager to hear Cube’s perspective. However, what those supporters received was more dynamic than one man’s tale of anger and revenge, and the album remains one of the most complete, well-rounded debuts in Hip-Hop history. Produced almost entirely by Public Enemy’s beat-making team the Bomb Squad (with supervision from his longtime affiliate Sir Jinx), the album allowed Cube to step outside of the West Coast sound in which he had been so deeply entrenched and its release just one month after Fear Of A Black Planet made its themes of racism and disenfranchisement particularly apropos.

25 years later, it maintains the eerie prescient quality it did in 1990, two years before the Rodney King riots plagued Los Angeles. Today, on the heels of nationwide protests sparked by events in Ferguson, Staten Island, Cleveland, and Baltimore (just to name a few), AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted could very well be a contemporary release, with its criticism of police, allusion to the Ku Klux Klan, and tales of hardships faced by the institutionalized subjugation that leads to and exacerbates life in the hood. With the names Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and Freddie Gray (by no means an exhaustive list) still sitting on the tip of our collective tongue, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted is simultaneously a musical time capsule reminding us of dark days past and a sobering reminder that, for many, not much has changed.

Almost immediately, our ears are assaulted with the in-your-face delivery of Ice Cube’s signature bravado. On “The Nigga You Love To Hate,” he leaves no stone unturned, railing against all those who have or think about getting in his way (“When I’m shooting let’s see who drop / The police, the media, and suckers that went pop”). He offers up the basis for all that aggression, referencing disproportionate incarceration rates between minorities and whites, one of racism’s most insidious side effects, which remains prevalent today (“They say keep em on gangs and drugs / You wanna sweep a nigga like me up under the rug / Kicking shit called street knowledge / Why more niggas in the pen than in college?”). Even before that, the intro track encapsulates what is perhaps the album’s strongest message: Based on how they’re treated, Black Americans are apparently best kept out of sight, whether in a cell or (as the title suggests) “Better Off Dead.” Playing a death-row inmate whose last words are “Fuck all y’all,” Cube takes on the role of an archetypal symbol of the Black criminal, America’s most wanted and feared villain of all.

Arguably the most searing piece of cultural criticism on the album comes in the form of “Endangered Species (Tales from the Darkside),” a Chuck D-assisted condemnation of American society. Word-for-word, the track could have been released yesterday, with phrases like “They kill 10 of me to get the job correct / To serve, protect, and break a nigga’s neck” uncannily applicable to the deaths of Eric Garner and Freddie Gray, both of whom suffered fatal neck-related injuries at the hands of police. Images of hoodie-clad Trayvon Martin are conjured up with “Nobody knows, but I suppose the color of my clothes matches the color of the one on my face, as they wonder what’s under my waist,” a young man of color killed in an altercation, blamed for looking menacing in his attire. The track’s title, reinforced in the song’s opening when the news anchor states “Young black teenagers are reported to be the oldest, and the newest, creatures added to the Endangered Species List. As of now, no efforts have been made to preserve the blacks,” carries with it much of the same message as does today’s Black Lives Matter movement and hashtag. In another example of the White Media interpreting the issues affecting Black America, Tom Brokaw can be heard saying “Outside the South Central area, few cared about the violence because it didn’t affect them” at the end of the “Drive-By” interlude, underscoring the “out of sight, out of mind” mentality that makes it difficult for any lasting change to be implemented.

Also predominant on the album is the omnipresent dichotomy prevalent on countless rap albums, that of the MC criticizing the sociopolitical system while also glorifying a life of crime. While Cube has made it clear that White America places obstacles and distractions in the lives of minorities in an effort to keep them subordinate, he also champions the life of the hustler on tracks like “What They Hittin Foe?” and “Rollin’ Wit’ The Lench Mob.” On the former, Cube regales us with a dice game, a familiar site in neighborhoods where any opportunity to make a quick buck is too difficult to pass up. On the latter, he boasts about his posse’s dominance, including an affinity for guns, willingness to get locked up, and a readiness to “peel your cap.” While neither track deliberately references the institutionalization of racism in economic strata, it would be short-sighted to take the songs at face value; they, like so many songs being released today, speak to the lack of opportunity and motivation suffocating cities across the country.

Ice Cube was 19 years old when AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted was released, around the same age as Wendell Allen, Michael Brown, Ramarley Graham, Ervin Jefferson, Trayvon Martin, Kendrec McDade, and countless other young, Black Americans were when killed by police or other authority figures.

In the 25 years since the album’s release, Ice Cube’s career trajectory has taken him from an inner-city rapper who condoned the murder of police to a Hollywood heavyweight, making family-friendly films—even playing a cop on screens. Now a multi-millionaire whose cultural cache stands to grow upon the release of Straight Outta Compton, Cube represents that elusive urban hero, the one who got out of the hood and made something for himself. While surely a positive message to those who remain shackled by poverty and violence, recent events remind us that for far too many of us, the trajectories in life apply only to bullets.

Amanda Mester is a writer and editor living in Brooklyn, New York. Follow her on Twitter @CanEye_KickIt

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The problem with an incredible work is often following it up. In Hip-Hop, for every Doggystyle, there’s a Doggfather, for every Black Album, there’s a Kingdom Come, and for every Stankonia, there’s well,…wonder.

Although he had been plugging away in Hip-Hop starting in the mid-1990s, Eminem skyrocketed to fame in 1999. After stacking some standout appearances and mind-melting freestyles on compilations, the Detroit, Michigan MC caught the attention of Dr. Dre. For Dre, that aforementioned challenge of following-up greatness was ever at play. The esteemed D-R-E had a decade of dominance, from N.W.A. to The Chronic to Snoop Dogg, and so on. But after some Aftermath Entertainment pump-fakes, and a misfire with the star-studded Firm, Dre’s iron-clad hit-making reputation was giving way, especially in the face of a new crop of Electro-influenced producers (Timbaland, The Neptunes, Rockwilder). Eminem turned out to be music’s godsend.

On 1999’s The Slim Shady LP (and in their subsequent work on 2001) Eminem reinvigorated Dre. The mid-thirties producer sounded and acted young (if not immature) again—a decade removed from his antics alongside Eazy-E. Moreover, after grinding his gears in Gangsta Rap, G-Funk, and R&B, Eminem represented a challenge for Dre. He was not a West Coast artist. He was not a gangster. And he wasn’t even Black. Rap’s latest ‘Great White Hope’ was unlike his predecessors (Marky Mark, Everlast, MC Serch), and out to prove so immediately. Race was off the table, as Eminem would fight to make his calling card skills, not identity. The challenge proved inspiring. Aftermath Entertainment scored its first album to carry the “classic” moniker. The Grammy Awards christened the work with “Best Rap Album,” and Eminem suddenly contended at the top of the genre, creatively and commercially—with Dre once again being Rap’s Walt Disney of character-development.

Fifteen months later, Eminem was back. At a time when Nas, Snoop Dogg, and Jay Z (three of Em’s new-found peers) were struggling to stay consistent in releasing great works, Eminem showed no trepidation in stepping to the plate again. By present standards, this comes as a curiosity—given both Em and Dre’s penchant for hiatuses. At a time before serialized albums were the norm, or concept works were in vogue, Eminem cleverly followed up The Slim Shady LP with The Marshall Mathers LP. Self-aware, Eminem recognized the characterization (perhaps caricaturization) of his major label debut. The first album afforded Eminem the ability to be violent, demonic, a stylized homage to guys like Brotha Lynch Hung, Masta Ace, and N.W.A. M.M.L.P., in its name alone, stated that this was the man behind the artistry. Suddenly a superstar, this was Em’ void of makeup, but refusing to tone any of it down either. He was still pill-poppin’, still womanizin’, still angry, and still self-proclaimed “meanest MC” in the world.

Released 15 years ago today (May 23, 2000), The Marshall Mathers LP is arguably the most consistent follow-up album of the 2000s. In that conscious effort to share more of himself, Eminem injected the issues.

“Kill You” cleaned out the closet of Em’s home-life, just as the album got underway. However, unlike Tupac, Ghostface Killah, or other artists known to be heartfelt, Eminem used rape, drugs, suicide to illustrate his opinion on new-found fame. Angry and anxious, Eminem was finding the balance with what he’d been to those 12″/self-released fans, and what he would be to the Shady Records faithful.

“Remember Me?” is another standout. Notably, Eminem and Dre used a five year-old scathing diss against Dre (as well as Death Row, Snoop Dogg, and Tha Dogg Pound) called “A.W.O.L.” by RBX. Re-recorded, The Narrator (on his second tenure with Dre, and first with Aftermath) would use the same bridge, same anger, same angst, allow this time, he allowed Eminem to re-purpose that moxy to his baby-mother, critics, and maternal figure.

“Who Knew,” one of the six Dre productions, addressed the growing accusations that Rap music caused violence in schools. Eminem attacked the politicians and social critics who accused his music of influencing mass-murder, suicide, and profanity. In his moment, the 27 year-old stood his ground on a fight, in solidarity with Ice-T, Tupac, Marilyn Manson, and others. In the moment, while standing up for artistry, Eminem also made a Lenny Bruce-like case for freedom of speech. Exonerating himself for some of the senseless crimes dominating headlines, Marshall was not above having a laugh at the expense of the dead (Sonny Bono, Giovanni Versace) or the paralyzed (Christopher Reeve). Love him or hate him, Eminem was using his microphone as more than an amplifier on M.M.L.P.

Eminem knew how to party still. Songs like “Drug Ballad” and “Bitch Please II” had club-aimed beats. However, these songs were anything but radio-friendly. Instead, sex, drugs, and Rock & Roll was still part of Em’s persona. He made music to make it, and programmers at video and radio simply had to compromise or miss out. Following Rap’s mainstream union in the “Shiny Suit Era,” Eminem was something out of the early ’90s. This was music that had to be hidden from parents, even if parents had no choice but to know all about the foul-mouthed funnyman rapper from Motown.

While peripheral Rap listeners may not have appreciated “Kill You” or “Criminal,” “Stan” was the record the world heard. Produced by 45 King (an iconic 15-year DJ/producer not unlike Dr. Dre), the song incorporated melody, story, and suspense in a way that made it cinematic. Like other album moments, the song was deeply aware of Eminem’s fame, sales, and isolation. From the perspective of a crazed fan (played by Tiger Beat cover-kid/actor Devon Sawa), Eminem hits the chinks in his own exterior. Slim Shady LP Symbolism, such as the ’70s Chevy Monte Carlo, was at play—perhaps alluding that Em’ used to be Stan at a time not long ago. The song (an impetus in the career of Dido and her hit “Thank You”) was seemingly beloved by all. The record challenged Hip-Hop as merely party music, putting a story-driven single back on radio. The record’s structure crossed into Pop, complemented with Dido’s own parallel hit. When Elton John joined Eminem on stage at the 2001 Grammy Awards to perform the record, the song took on another significance, closing the wedge in Rap’s long-perceived homophobia. Did it stop Em from using gay-slurs though? Nope. It’s just part of who he was.

“The Way I Am” chronicled this. Eminem explained his life, his attitude, and his wishes. Before Kanye West would make anthems addressing fame and paparazzi, Eminem directed his anger at the flash-bulbs, the critics, censorship, and the total mainstream. Angry, the self-produced song is a jewel in Eminem’s catalog. In 15 years, a lot of the record has seemingly not aged a day. The antithesis of a traditional single, Eminem distributed his thoughts right into the mainstream—something that Jay, ‘Ye, T.I., Lil Wayne, and seeming ever rapper since has aimed to do.

The Marshall Mathers LP remains the pinnacle of Eminem’s career. This album is the very essence he aimed to channel when he sat with cross-legged musical yogi Rick Rubin in 2013. This is the album that helped define genre, spit in the face of convention, and get a diamond-certified response in tow. This is the album that every artist over the last 15 years hopes to end up with, in creative control, in impact, and in accolades.

The Grammy Award-winning (“Best Rap Album”) M.M.L.P. is the product of Tupac’s All Eyez On Me self-awareness and studio fury. This album has the auteur cohesion of a Dre-helmed work. Eminem brought his earliest homies with him (Bass Brothers, D12). He had far-reaching collaborations (Sticky Fingaz, RBX, 45 King) and it excited the world in theory, on paper, and especially once they pressed play.

On its 15th birthday, is there a better, more enduring or original album in the 2000s than The Marshall Mathers LP? What is your favorite moment on this works?

Related: Eminem Explains Why He Didn’t do a Sequel to Stan on MMLP2 and More to Zane Lowe (Video)

One decade ago today (May 24, 2005), Common released his sixth album, Be. Although Common was then already a Grammy Award-winning, gold-certified MC, he was in an odd place. Comm’ Sense was 11 years removed from his brilliant grassroots Hip-Hop commentary sophomore, Resurrection. The Chicago, Illinois MC was also five years removed from his post as an elder statesman (alongside Pharoahe Monch and Posdnous) in the Underground Hip-Hop takeover. The big brother to Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Slum Village, and Kanye West had arguably started to appear as though he was being lapped by some of his proteges—for truly no good reason.

Following the critical and commercial success of 2000’s Like Water For Chocolate, Common ambitiously began Electric Circus. With a fuller, live-band sound, the album (suggested by the cover) was designed to be an audio representation of all that was on the MC’s mind. Erkyah Badu was a muse to the MCA Records star, who divided the album sessions between The Neptunes and The Soulquarians. Psychedelic accents on the music side were met with universal themes (sex, fellowship, spirituality) in the lyrics. But for a follow-up to a Grammy-winning, gold-selling album that was made for Rap purists, Common seemingly slipped. Once a 40 ounce-drinkin’, Ice Cube-battling B-Boy from the Windy City, the kinder, gentler Common suddenly seemed soft in the eyes of many.

By 2005, expectations appeared mired for Comm’. The fickle fans of Rap were ramping up for the ringtone-era. MCA Records had dissolved, leaving artists like Mos, Kweli, The Roots, Killah Priest, and Blacaklicious out to pasture. A dance-friendly revival in Gangsta Rap (50 Cent, Game, T.I., Lil’ Kim, Fat Joe) had pancaked the Underground as it was known at the turn of the millennium, and artists like Dilated Peoples, Jurassic 5, De La Soul, and even Little Brother seemed mainstream-marginalized, no matter who great their music was. Naturally, Common would make more music, but anticipation felt waned.

Comm’ was newly signed to Kanye West’s G.O.O.D. Music (through his allocated Geffen Records). To a skeptic, the master was turning to the student for a job. Like 50 Cent’s G-Unit signing Mobb Deep and M.O.P., the label relationship appeared to be a status symbol, a feather in the cap of the young Roc-A-Fella Records sensation. With just one album out, ‘Ye was signing upwards.

Additionally, between 2002 and 2005, Common had slowed his roll. The MC notably appeared on ‘Ye’s The College Dropout, but stepped out of the workhorse reputation he held. In that time, Comm’ had broken up with Badu, and stepped away from the limelight—not unlike his mid-1990s transition.

“The Chappelle Show” would be Common’s stage to show change. On March 3, 2004, Comm’ performed “The Food” on his friend’s comedic-variety program, the first element of Be that anyone would hear. More than a year before the album, the scratch-heavy, sample-driven backdrop allowed Common to not only show that he was beyond the costumes, the live band, and the Jimi Hendrick bend, but he had a new sound. It was the Common Heads knew and depended on, but not going backwards in the least. This moment was the shot heard ’round the Hip-Hop world, with everybody talking about Common. This opened the excitement that was missing over much of the last two years.

By March 1, 2005, it was cemented. “The Corner” was the real marketing introduction to Be. With Kanye’s chirped-up Soul music, Common stood alongside Rap pioneers The Last Poets in describing the streets. The opposite of that “soft” accusation from three years prior, Common was not “rockin’ Rockports” anymore, but standing among the people who “talk shit, play lotto, and drink German beers.” Arguably, this song was a callback to the attitude of Rashid from his days kickin’ it with The Beatnuts on Can I Borrow A Dollar? However, all the individual progress Common made sense was at play. The song was insightful, non-judgmental, even if it was in a world, but not of the world. If the Rap fans wanted something guttural, Common and Kanye hit them in the chest.

Be was not designed to be a hard album at all. Third single, “Go!” brought in John Mayer’s smoky voice. Upbeat, the song was an exercise in rapping, sensuality, and more. This was arguably what Comm’ tried to do on Electric Circus, that was lost in translation—true of “Faithful” too. The follow-up, “Testify” was sheer storytelling. Kanye’s aggressive sample programming colored the way for Common to again, deal with so-called street themes. The song employed suspense, a reversal, and a radio-storyline, something that was not commonplace in mid-2000s Rap.

In just 11 songs, Common’s Be was a showstopper in 2005. A would-be gold effort, the album won back Common’s core audience, it signaled the excitement in Getting Out Our Dreams Music Group, and it brought some “food” to the mainstream. The Grammy committee even looked at “The Grammy Family,” nominating Be for “Best Rap Album.” Common found a porthole to make music that stood alongside the 50 Cents, the Terror Squads, and Lil Waynes. More than that, 13 years into a career, Common proved that he would never stagnate, or apologize for what did not work. Instead, this MC was a true creative, who could move as he wished within no confines of his canvas. Like he was to the Rawkus guys in the late ’90s, Common was the veteran coming in to show everybody how its done. When Rap started to feel like a disposable art, Common made a living, breathing album—void of marketing hype, controversy, or street-certified exposition.

Interestingly, Be was not Common’s first comeback album—and it would not be his last either, something fans have witnessed in the 2010s. However, for an artist who had established pockets with several producers, themes, and sounds, Common surprised everybody in an age when nobody appeared shocked about anything. Be may be the most important album in Common’s discography, and a crown jewel for G.O.O.D.’s mantra.

Ten years ago, who could have predicted that Common would win an Academy Award, battle another reigning MC, and be involved with a group called Cocaine 80s in the next 10 years?

Is Common’s Be the ultimate Rap comeback album? If not, what’s better?

Related: Happy Birthday Common. Celebrate with This Amazing Mixtape of Remixes (Audio)

After nearly nine months of questioning, comparing, and lots of debating, the winner of Ambrosia For Heads’ “Finding The GOAT” series, the quest to name Hip-Hop’s Greatest Of All-Time MC (GOAT), has been determined. Yesterday (May 29), Eminem’s win against Tupac was confirmed at deadline, thus making the Detroit, Michigan MC the GOAT in a greater discussion that’s engaged millions of fans.

In five previous wins during the bracket-style tournament, Eminem (who, like Tupac, was a Round 1 Bye) defeated opponents by margins of 70-80%. Em’ defeated contemporaries such as Xzibit and Talib Kweli. The D12 front man bested MCs who had an earlier start in the industry, such as DMX and Busta Rhymes. Where things got especially interesting is when Marshall Mathers had a landslide sixth round win against one of his own inspirations, Big Daddy Kane. Facing Tupac Shakur, whose recent wins were by much slimmer margins, Heads knew it would be a proverbial “nail-biter.”

Contrary to what some social users may be convinced of, this is not AFH’s opinion. This is a democratic outcome in a structured competition-style debate by Ambrosia For Heads. It is our role (and our responsibility) to analyze the data, and interpret. So in the wake of the grand finale, why stop now?

In many cases, Eminem represents the total package. Since the mid-1990s, the Battle Rap alum brought the cutting wit, self-deprecation, and ability to keep the listener hanging on every word in his raps.

In 1997’s “Just Don’t Give A Fuck,” Eminem introduced himself to many, with the kind of bravado, humor, and rawness that worked for Lord Finesse, Ras Kass, Looks Like A Job For-era Big Daddy Kane…Eminem was one-part stand-up comedian, one-part MC:

“Slim Shady, brain dead like Jim Brady
I’m a M80, you lil’ like that Kim lady
I’m buzzin’, Dirty Dozen, naughty rotten-rhymer
Cursin’ at you players worse than Marty Schottenheimer
You wacker than the motherfucker you bit your style from
You ain’t gonna sell two copies if you press a double album
Admit it, fuck it, while we comin’ out in the open
I’m doin’ acid, crack, smack, coke and smokin’ dope then
My name is Marshall Mathers, I’m an alcoholic (Hi Marshall)
I have a disease and they don’t know what to call it.”

Eminem hit the ’90s with a lot of this style. Like Eddie Murphy’s benchmark acts 15 years prior, Em’ took aim at pop culture, news headlines, and struggling skeptics. The MC had a tone, which in his mid-twenties featured substance abuse, fearlessness, and imagery of lower-class Middle America (fast food jobs, 1975 Monte Carlo, mobile homes). While it was clear that Eminem was a B-boy, his experience stood apart from the common Rap narratives. Content aside, Marshall’s ability to bend words together through his one-of-a-kind cadence was staggering. Rapping fast in the late ’90s was not typically praised or marketable. Eminem was reviving the lung-collapsing lyrical style of guys like Percee P, Pharoahe Monch, Lakim Shabazz, and Kool Keith. With melodic beats courtesy of Dr. Dre, Bass Brothers, and others, Eminem was bringing oddball raps to an operatic-like stage. Infinite and The Slim Shady LP studied the great albums of the underground and the mainstream, and blended the architecture of the two.

By the 2000s, entering his thirties, Eminem raised the stakes. The Marshall Mathers LP swapped some of the stand-up-like elements for more personal writing. The D12 MC refused to mince drug-use, threatening the Right, or anger issues against his mom or daughter’s mother. Instead, the caricature became more of a character. Intermixed, Eminem made records like “Lose Yourself” and “The Way I Am.” These songs took Marshall Mathers’ experience and found ways to make them into universal messages, winning over the Academy Awards and Top 40 at once. Eminem no longer had to rely upon making fun of Pop tart felatio and Sonny Bono to get into American living-rooms. Like Tupac, Nas, or The Notorious B.I.G., the Aftermath Entertainment superstar could take his struggles and filter out messages of hope and ambition.

“No more games, I’m a change what you call rage
Tear this motherfuckin’ roof off like two dogs caged
I was playin’ in the beginnin’, the mood all changed
I been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage
But I kept rhymin’ and stepwritin’ the next cipher
Best believe somebody’s payin’ the pied piper
All the pain inside amplified by the
Fact that I can’t get by with my 9-to
-5 and I can’t provide the right type of
Life for my family ’cause man, these God damn food stamps don’t buy diapers
And its no movie, there’s no Mekhi Phifer
This is my life and these times are so hard
And it’s getting even harder tryin’ to feed and water my seed, plus
See dishonor caught up between bein’ a father and a prima-donna
Baby mama drama screamin’ on and too much
For me to want to say in one spot, another jam or not
Has gotten me to the point, I’m like a snail I’ve got
To formulate a plot fore I end up in jail or shot
Success is my only motherfuckin’ option, failure’s not”

After defining himself as a punchline MC and a Pop-savvy lyricist, Eminem—by happenstance—became a Gangsta Rapper. Entrenched in feuds with Benzino, Ja Rule, and others, Eminem started making war-crying records. Not commercial successes, “Like Toy Soldiers” and mid-2000s mixtape work showed a more militant Eminem. Fans hung on every word, as Eminem chronicled his paranoia, his anger, and a multi-millionaire on the edge of sanity. This mentality would hold through Encore, into Eminem’s late 2000s Relapse return. Angst, depression, addiction, and an agitation with Hip-Hop and the world beyond would drive the conversation.

“So I take a Vicodin splash it hits my stomach and ‘ahh’
A couple weeks go by it ain’t even like I’m getting high
Now I need it just not to feel sick, ya, I’m getting by
Wouldn’t even be taking this shit if Deshaun didn’t die
Oh ya there’s an excuse you lose Proof, so you use
There’s new rules it’s cool if it’s helpin’ you to get through
It’s twelve noon ain’t no harm in self inducing a snooze
What else is new fuck it, what would Elvis do in your shoes
Now here I am three months later full blown relapse”

Eminem brought the here-and-now to his lyrics, not unlike All Eyez On Me-era Tupac, Kanye West, or Jay. With brutal honesty, lots of drama, and intimacy with the listener, Marshall Mathers took the next step. He was not only being honest, but vulnerable to a new light. Eminem wasn’t justifying his craziness as a character, he simply was confessing his perspective to the world. The cadence, flow, and skills had not changed, even if the voice, tone, and mood most certainly had.

In 20 years (and 15 in the spotlight), Eminem is one of the few Rap stars who has balanced his style with substance. Along the journey, Marshall Mathers has tapped into so many niche skills that make MCs great, especially in the eyes of specialized pockets of fans. Through both innovative song-making as well as top industry resources, Eminem was a reminder to some fans that Rap could still be unpredictably fun. To others, Eminem was the epitome of a music video star. Concepts like “Stan” or “My Name Is” were executed brilliantly in living color. This was Walkman-era Rap with all the trimmings. Presumably, Eminem was many fans’ first great MC. He rapped (and raps) amazingly, on platforms where skills are not often celebrated. More than that, through his tangible hits, his high-profile circumstances and feuds, and his first person narrative, Eminem is an artist so many people feel like they know. And he’s still recording, arguably as well as he has in the last decade.

Whether you agree or disagree with the results, is Eminem voted the GOAT because he is all things Heads seek in an MC?

Related: Check Out The Finding The GOAT Ballots & Results

2015 is not even at its halfway mark, and already has proven to arguably be even more exciting than last year. Seemingly, we are living in the era of surprise. Drake dropped If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late on a whim, Kendrick Lamar advanced the release of To Pimp A Butterfly to a Sunday night, and Kanye West has already warned the masses that whatever his seventh album is to be called, only he will call the shots of when it is available to be heard.

Major label artists are seizing the reigns from their backers, while independent labels are jockeying for a level playing field through cohesive, topical releases. To say it has been a stretch to find Hip-Hop worthy of support (whether as a free download or $15 CD) in 2015 feels inaccurate for nearly any fan. “Like we always do ’bout this time,” Ambrosia For Heads is shining a light on some releases (all of which happen to be retail album in 2015’s case) worth celebrating. Presented in the order of their release, here are 15 Amazing Albums From 2015, as of June:

Joey Bada$$ – B4.Da.$$

Joey Bada$$’s studio debut album fulfilled a personal trajectory since the early 2010s. The Brooklyn, New York MC presented B4.Da.$$ on his twentieth birthday, the perfect album that held the freshness and energy of youth, balanced with the wisdom of a man who’s experienced plenty, and aims to prove he is here to stay. A Top 5 debut, the album served as an homage to mid-1990s album cuts from borough big brothers such as Bootcamp Clik, Blahzay Blahzay, and Group Home. With Jo-Vaughn Virgie Scott’s illuminating perspectives, and crowd-commanding routines, the album was a coming out party for Statik Selektah’s production distinctions, and Pro Era’s range. Bada$$ helped get the year started, cleverly releasing his careful debut into the dog days of winter, allowing his mixtape champions and newcomers alike to take a little “Piece Of Mind” and stay fed on “Curry Chicken.”

See: “Like Me” featuring BJ The Chicago Kid

Lupe Fiasco – Tetsuo & Youth

Without an album since 2012’s sequel to Food & Liquor, Lupe Fiasco forged ahead greatly with Tetsuo & Youth. With a largely new production ensemble, Lu’ returned to complex lyrical form. Dense in its subject matter T&Y employed some of those stylings that made Wasalu Jaco so unique a decade ago. Moreover, this work—pulling from anime, the violence epidemic of Chicago, and simple Everyman issues liberated Lu’ from the confines of concept albums. In many ways, T&Y invited all the skeptics that were cool on the MC after The Cool, back to the party. The album brought its own sound, perspective, and mood. A blend of nostalgic and forward-leaning, this album celebrated Lupe Fiasco’s distinct qualities, vision, and voice beyond his early benchmarks.

See: “Madonna [And Other Mothers In The Hood]” featuring Nikki Jean

Big Sean – Dark Sky Paradise

For his third studio album, Big Sean found his pocket. Sean Anderson’s first #1 LP may not have the buzz of his 2011 debut, but it is arguably a much richer listen. The G.O.O.D. Music sensation secured another cohesive sound, despite a rotating team of producers. Moreover, the Detroit, Michigan MC threaded the needle with thematic subject matter, tons of bravado, and an ear for making hits. This may not be Big Sean’s magnum opus, but as Kendrick Lamar, A$AP Rocky, and J. Cole made giant leaps in the last six months, the Finally Famous juggernaut proves he also belongs in the most elite class of 2010s MCs.

See: “Dark Sky (Skyscrapers)”:

Ghostface Killah & BADBADNOTGOOD – Sour Soul

Less than four months after releasing 36 Seasons, Ghostface Killah returned with another album. The Staten Island, New York MC is as prolific as at any point in his career, churning out material for indie labels that feels anything but a la carte. Tony Starks teamed with Toronto, Ontario Jazz/Hip-Hop band BADBADNOTGOOD for Sour Soul. Brooding, melodic, edgy, this album carries the charms of G.F.K.’s 2000s solo catalog, almost effortlessly. Food, cornball rappers, and jux drive the conversation, as Ghostface Killah makes a strong case for 45 year-old rappers that will eat your lunch lyrically and literally, with an attitude to boot.

See: “Ray Gun” featuring DOOM

Fashawn – The Ecology

After nearly six years, Fashawn followed up his massively acclaimed (yet massively slept-on) debut Boy Meets World. The Fresno, California MC returned well dressed for success, with Nas’ backing and DJ Khalil behind the boards. While the response was still a bit tepid, this is a stone in the sand. In the moments without the profile, the 26 year-old still seems well beyond his years in perspective, introspect, and gravity. As anticipated, the album addresses poverty, fatherhood, and ambition, along with all of the updates expected from between the age of 21 and 26. With DJ Exile still close by on the album, this one did not disappoint lovers of the debut, yet still stretched for more.

See: “Higher”

Mello Music Group – Persona

At a time when the Rap compilation seems antiquated, Mello Music Group fights the good fight. Persona showcases the label’s extensive roster and affiliates, but welcomes in guests to the cipher. yU & Nottz made a chilly head-nodder from the DMV in the dramatic “Homicide,” while Blackalicious’ Gift Of Gab re-opens his lyrical clinic alongside France’s L’Orange on “Circles Around Circles.” The show-stopper, however, remains Phonte and Oddisee’s “Requiem.” The collaboration yields catharsis after 2014-2015’s heartbreaking trends surrounding police brutality, racial profiling, and a difficult period of time for the history books and teaching our children about the world they’re growing up in. This collaboration transcends marketing and collaboration, and truly feels like an album.

See: Phonte and Oddisee’s “Requiem” featuring Tamisha Waden:

DJ EFN – Another Time

From the same city that DJ Khaled calls home, DJ EFN is another veteran, gifted in assembling meaningful collaborations. After decades of national and global mixtapes, the Crazy Hood co-founder released Another Time, which is exactly what the LP felt like it was from. With contemporary stars such as Stalley, Troy Ave, Blu, Gunplay, and ¡Mayday! appearing, EFN also called upon artists not as currently prolific, such as Kam, O.C., King T, and McGruff. Tailor-made, this album executes creative concepts track-by-track, with the feeling that all of these artists worked together, just as they would on their own albums. EFN’s own sounds, as well as beats by DJ Premier, Buckwild, and others afforded this independent release with a ton of mass appeal. Lovers of beats, rhymes, swagger, and substance can all find common ground in this extensive work. Heads all dream of architecting a dream album with their heroes, and in the case of Miami’s EFN, he did it to death.

See: “Paradise” featuring Redman, Talib Kweli and Wrekonize:

Kendrick Lamar – To Pimp A Butterfly

With arguably the biggest follow-up album pressure of a Rap artist in the 2010s, Kendrick Lamar delivered with a dunk. To Pimp A Butterfly is as dense of a high-profile album as Heads can find. Compton, California’s latest superstar seemingly ignored hits in his sophomore major label LP. Instead, K-Dot forced listeners into his world. A powerful commentary on race, self-love, and creativity, TPAB steers its own wheel. The Grammy Award-winning TDE star even released the album early. The shy, humble kid embraces his place as Jay Z, Eminem, and Lil Wayne’s heir as a supremely lyrical rapper, who can make the mainstream yield to him. The only guiding force in Kendrick Duckworth’s latest work appears to be Tupac Shakur. Although they had different relationships with fame, fortune, and foes, Kendrick looked closely to another twenty-something taking on the world, and seemed to still come up with his own poignant takeaways, 20 years later.

See: “King Kunta”:

J-Live – His Own Self

In the 2010s, J-Live’s “triple-threat” status has come at a cost. The Brooklyn, New York native raps, he produces, and he DJs—really, really well. However, in an age where associations sell albums, Justus Allah is a lot lower profile than he was 15 years ago, kickin’ it with DJ Premier, Prince Paul, and 88-Keys. J’s seventh full-length, His Own Self, celebrates that self-sufficiency. Moreover, the former English teacher proves that he can make incredibly dope music about the Everyman experience. When rapping about rapping and loving Rap seems stale, J-Live finds new ground. This work pops, much like Vampire Hunter J’s first four LPs. At 39 years old, J-Live has been one of the most reliable voices for music that relates to the human experience, presented at a deeply-polished level.

See: “Pay It Forward”:

Action Bronson – Mr. Wonderful

Since 2011’s Dr. Lecter self-release, Action Bronson appeared hard-pressed to baptize the world with his style. Humorous, arrogant, self-deprecating, and highly descriptive, the 31-year old Queens, New York native had been giving the world various doses of his style, through acclaimed freebie mixtapes, a joint project with Statik Selektah, and a major label EP. Mr. Wonderful emerged, and pancaked the notion of re-treads. Instead, Bam Bam Bronson broke his own cycle, and celebrated his lyrical gifts, while looking forward, rather than back to the ’90s NYC underground. Bronson’s first Top 10 charter, this LP was psychedelic, whimsical, and substantial. Mark Ronson, Oh No, and Noah “40” Shebib brought Bronson out of his corner, while Party Supplies and Alchemist anchored this work as a creative step away from the past, but still in the right direction.

See: “Baby Blue” featuring Chance The Rapper:

Rapper Big Pooh & Apollo Brown – Words Paint Pictures

Arguably, Rapper Big Pooh was the most affected Little Brother member since the break-up. While Phonte and 9th Wonder found new niches, Thomas Jones has seemed stuck in a creative mud at times. Always prolific, Pooh’s musings seemingly missed mass appeal, aside from 2005’s Sleepers. That changed after a decade. Teaming with Detroit, Michigan’s Apollo Brown, and his Mello Music Group, Pooh appeared to be in a rapper think-tank. His Words Paint Pictures nine-song EP pulls Pooh away from production pariahs, and allows that same keen insight, pendulum-like delivery, and charm heard in his role on The Minstrel Show to grow, evolve, and be not a slot receiver, but a clutch-performer.

See: “Augmentation”:

Wale – The Album About Nothing

Rarely does an artist return to his mixtape roots as overtly (and successfully) as Wale. Almost seven years removed from The Mixtape About Nothing, Wale embraces the “Seinfeld” theme at a much higher point in his career. No longer Mark Ronson’s protege (or even Rick Ross’, for that matter), Wale has proven to be a #1 artist capable of finding the mainstream without stripping his music of message or mental fiber. The “Nike Boots” formula of 2007 still works, especially when looking at “The White Shoes.” Wale’s gift for extended metaphor, multiple-entendre, and bridging something he cares about with something his fans care about is marvelous. The second consecutive #1 is a fast reminder of Wale’s range and versatility, and fulfills a promise he made to fans when he was perceived as humble and hungry. With this low-profile thematic work, those attractive qualities return in action, not words.

See: “The White Shoes”

Oddisee – The Good Fight

For 15 years, Oddisee has been plugging away at incredible music. He’s been a producer for others. He’s released compelling instrumental projects. He introduced an exciting crew in Diamond District, and assisted a legion of label-mates at Mello Music Group. However, The Good Fight plays like a sum to all of those parts. The DMV native made an album that captures his essence, his greatness, and relates to all creatives (take “That’s Love” and “Belong To The World” for instance). Almost entirely self-sufficient, T.G.F. projects Amir Mohammed el Khalifa’s impact, beyond genre. As Hip-Hop artists step beyond simply Rap, Oddisee proved that he’s on the front-lines. Like Skyzoo, Blu, and others, Oddy’ proves to be an early 2000s hopeful making good on the promise after years of dues-paying. With J. Cole already in the District’s corner, expect this to be another staple on the playlist of Rap’s well-heeled movers and shakers.

See: “Counter Clockwise”:

A$AP Rocky – At. Long. Last. ASAP

After two-and-a-half years away, A$AP Rocky returns refined for his sophomore major label effort. At. Long. Last. ASAP stripped away the emulation that some criticized the Harlem, New York twenty-something for during the first go-round. This time, Rakim Mayers seemed to find his own lane, a druggy, neon corridor somewhere between Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, and the trap. With Danger Mouse in the production ensemble, A$AP still provided a bass-driven sounscape that rattled the trunk, the mind, and the peer group of Rap. This time, when he worked with Juicy J, Bun B, Mos Def and Kanye West, it’s no longer the kid calling upon his influences as much as one visionary seeking out others. Like Kid Cudi’s entrance in the late 2000s, A$AP Rocky seems to have revitalized his section of Rap with a coolness combined with a synthetic sound.

See: “L$D (Love x $ex x Dreams)”:

Dizzy Wright – The Growing Process

Before we reap the rewards of growth, it often brings its own sets of trials, tribulation and pain. The process also allows for some fun as we experience new things, new people and learn about ourselves. Dizzy Wright’s The Growing Process tackles all of these themes and more on an album that is both metaphor and demonstration of the process about which he speaks. From the outset, Dizzy makes it clear he’s been going through some things, venting about fairweather fans and lack of “love” for his more substantive music, on “Higher Learning.” Without pausing for a break he delves right into some of that message music, along with Big K.R.I.T. and Tech N9ne, on “God Bless America.” Wright also showcases the side of him that is a loving father, rapping a tender song of love and support to his baby girl on “Daddy Daughter Relationship.” While growing up is hard to do, it’s not always serious and Dizzy serves up plenty of reminders of the lighter times in life, through songs like “Good Vibes” and “Floyd Money Mayweather.” As with life, The Growing Process is all about balance.

See: “False Reality”

Related: Ambrosia For Heads’ 14 Best Hip-Hop Albums Of 2014 (Food For Thought)

After 20 years of his life devoted to Hip-Hop music and culture, Miami, Florida-based DJ EFN stepped to the front with Another Time. Self-released, the studio album included more than 30 years of MC greats, spanning all regions, styles, and skill-sets. Scarface, Blu, Royce Da 5’9″, Killer Mike, MC Eiht, and Gunplay are just one possible cross-section of those included.

Nearly three months after its release, Another Time still beckons greater attention. Ambrosia For Heads spoke with DJ EFN about his long time coming creation. Additionally, AFH chatted with David Banner, a longtime friend of EFN’s, who appeared on “Warrior.” Banner, who admitted he is selective about feature work in 2015, dropped a fiery verse that spoke on multiple hot-button headline issues. With both men’s deep-seeded love for Hip-Hop culture and uplifting the voiceless, each artist had plenty to say in a conversation as comprehensive as the album that inspired it:

Ambrosia For Heads: Another Time may be the perfect title. You are a product of the days when compilations were artfully created, such as Soundbombing, Sway & Tech’s This Or That, and Funkmaster Flex’s 60 Minutes of Funk series. How did you apply that energy, excitement and replay value to a 2015 release?

DJ EFN: I think it was my passion of always wanting to do a project like this. That gave me the drive to create Another Time. For as long as I can remember, I wanted the chance to create an original album from top-to-bottom, and infuse it with my musical morals and passions. For various reasons I never was able to or got around to doing it, and finally the stars aligned for me to do it.

Ambrosia For Heads: “Who’s Crazy?” features a reunion between Scarface and DJ Premier, along with Stalley and Troy Ave. This record touches many corners of Hip-Hop, and works brilliantly. How challenging was it to execute? Did you sense Troy and Stalley understood the magnitude of this moment in their discographies?

DJ EFN: Going into the making of this album I had already decided most if not all the productions was going go be in-house—meaning Crazy Hood producers or local producers we work closely with—but I knew I wanted at least one feature type production. And at the top of my list was DJ Premier. My original idea was to have Rick Ross on a DJ Premier beat but that ended up not panning out, mainly due to scheduling reasons. So the opportunity to work with Scarface presented itself. And ‘Face was on my short list of artists I wanted on the project. I knew I wanted to pair up legends and newer artists; I thought not only would bring attention to the tracks but that I knew could equally rise to the lyrical occasion. And both Troy Ave and Stalley both did that.

But in the end, what really made this track special for me was the hook. And I always knew if I was going to work with Premier I was going to present vocals I had from working with Guru on my mixtapes in the past. Finally, what better way to brand myself in this culture but than to have one of the most iconic DJs/producers cut up vocals of the late and great Guru saying “DJ EFN,” and “Crazy Hood” and “Who’s Crazy?,” our companies slogan.

Ambrosia For Heads: That’s a good segway. Crazy Hood is a major part of your brand. It’s merchandise, a website, and certainly an echoed theme on this album. Tell me the back-story to the inspiration and purpose?

DJ EFN: My company was formed in 1993 and was originally comprised entirely of my high school crew. I was inspired by crews and collectives like Hit Squad, Boogie Down Productions, the Juice Crew, Native Tongues, Rhyme Syndicate, Wu-Tang Clan and the Likwit Crew. I was heavily involved as fan of Hip-Hop music and culture. As my high school graduation was approaching I decided I wanted to be more involved in developing my local Hip-Hop scene and maybe getting involved on the industry-side on some level with the hopes of making it a career. The name “Crazy” comes from my sanity or lack of at times, and “Hood” comes from both the hoodies we would wear and the idea that we were hoods or hoodlums due to the stigma given to Hip-Hop kids. The word “Productions” was my young way of making the name sound professional hence the full name Crazy Hood Productions.

Early on, I didn’t know exactly what or how I could break into the scene and I didn’t even have enough money to buy my first set of turntables. So we started by throwing local Hip-Hop parties and events eventually to go on to putting-out mixtapes, albums, managing artists, a marketing company, a clothing store, a most recently, dabbling in film.

Ambrosia For Heads: You’ve  been both an integral part of the Miami scene and the underground scene. Did you ever feel pigeon-holed by either of those facts, when you were working with Shadowman and at the same time N.O.R.E., or putting Jedi Mind Tricks on a tape, but also playing some Miami Bass?

DJ EFN: Yes, I have [felt pigeonholed] both by being from Miami and being Cuban-American, but I always used that to fuel my wanting to break stereotypes. Early on, I was very passionate about representing and promoting Miami’s Hip-Hop scene. In the end, I feel I have a healthy respect for Miami-Bass, and southern culture as a whole without compromising my idea of Hip-Hop music and culture I want to create and promote.

Ambrosia For Heads: K-Def has notably remixed several of the songs from Another Time. Tell me about that connection, and the value of the remix—as a top DJ sees it—in 2015?

DJ EFN: K-Def came via our partnership with Redefinition Records, whom we partnered up with for all the physical [copies of] Another Time. What is crazy is that I was a fan of K-Def’s work especially the stuff he did as part of the group Real Live. So when the idea was brought up to do remixes with K-Def, I did not hesitate. As far as the importance of remixes goes, I think the art of remixes has been lost in Hip-Hop. I really loved remixes because it allowed you to hear a song you already loved in a new light, therefore extending the enjoyment a particular track could bring to you.

Ambrosia For Heads: With that, “Selfish” is a great song. King T, Fashawn and Kurupt sound so great together. All three of those MCs have multiple facets and styles. How did you orchestrate of  the cohesiveness between the three, especially if from afar?

DJ EFN: As soon as I heard “Selfish” I knew I wanted the subject matter to be about drinking. I have to admit that we at Crazy Hood do like the drink ,and if I am going to talk about alcohol in a song there is no one better to rhyme about the subject other than the pioneer and legend King T, whom founded the Likwit Crew! And in the theme of which we wanted to maintain throughout the album where we would want to pair such a legend with a newer artists and it just so happens that this track embodied three consecutive generations of Hip-Hop, starting with King T, then Kurupt, and then Fashawn.

David Banner: I think [DJ] EFN did a great job with bringing Hip-Hop together. I think that’s the most important aspect of his album, personally.

Ambrosia For Heads: There are several MCs, whether Umar Bin Hassan or Kam, who don’t do a lot of appearances these days. McGruff and Defari fit into this build too. This was your album, tell me about  not only the desire to call these skills into action, but hearing it on the songs that resulted ahead of that?

DJ EFN: Like you mentioned, this is my album and this album was not made with the pressure of trying to sell all kinds of records or make it to the pop charts. This album is something I always wanted to create, it is a passion project that, at the end of the day I just want to make something that I can be completely proud of and that I know my immediate circle can enjoy. Anything after that is a plus. So with that said, there are artists that I enjoyed throughout the years that I wanted to hear on this project. I knew these artist weren’t household names, but I knew what their legacy was and still is to Hip-Hop. I am putting on my DJ-hat and my taste-making-hat and trying to promote what I think people need to pay attention to. Artists like [Herb] McGruff who use to roll with Big L [in Children Of The Corn]. Defari, I feel, is one of the West’s most consistent MCs. If you think about masterpieces [like 2001, Dr. Dre] put together various MCs, from the unknown, to the pioneers, to the complete underground guy, and pieced it together in a way that collectively it all makes sense. I am sure each and every artist—and Defari and King T were on the Chronic 2001 album—Dre worked with, he did so because he either had respect for them or could hear the talent that [the masses] may be overlooking.

Ambrosia For Heads: Along those lines, “Revolutionary Ride Music” is just nuts. To reunite Buckwild with O.C. alone is historic, but to share the moment with Droog and Royce just makes this like a 12″ that you never knew existed. I’m not saying it sounds old, but it revives that excitement where you could believe it sat for ages. What does this joint mean to you?

DJ EFN: This record is extremely special due to the fact that it almost never happened. We had completed the project, but I had felt like I was missing something. I found a old folder of beats I had from Buckwild, which he had sent for a Wrekonize [The War Within] album. I heard that beat and I hit him up hoping the beat was still available. Once he told me it was, we went to work on who would be [great] on it. It was the very last record to be added to the album, which ended up setting me back a bit. But in the end, I am so glad I decided to go through the trouble of getting it done and on the album. And that classic sound you’re talking about is exactly what I wanted. I wanted a record that I know for a fact if this record was something that was released in 1993 it would been the biggest record of that time. Like I mentioned before, I hadn’t intended on getting outside producers other than than maybe Premier. But I am so glad I went the extra mile and got with Buck on, ’cause I think it is a classic! Not to mention that Buckwild is a D.I.T.C. legend.

Ambrosia For Heads: “Warrior” is such an uplifting moment. While N.O.R.E. and Banner were Penalty label-mates in the ’90s, working together—on paper, this one might look jarring to folks. Tell me how you presented it to these four powerful voices, that span genre, region, and style.

DJ EFN: Going into the project I knew I wanted to add that Caribbean influence that I got from being raised in Miami. When I heard the beat from Miami Beat Wave, immediately Sizzla was on the short list of Reggae artists I wanted on it. My good friend and executive producer on the project, Kether [Gallu-Badat], was able to track down Sizzla for us, and the rest just organically came together. Jon Connor delivered a monster verse and both N.O.R.E and [David] Banner both voiced that this was not their usual style of beat to flow to, but I truly thank them for trusting in my vision. Hence [we have a] very powerful song that is not only multi-generational, but multi-genre as well.

David Banner: For me, [“Warrior”] was really important, because where I am spiritually has really changed a lot. Sometimes people are caught in this void of [associating you with] whatever song you have that affected them the most. A friend of mine called me yesterday and he was like, “Brother, you haven’t made a strip club record in almost 10 years and that’s still what people know you from.” So this gave me an opportunity, with such a smorgasbord of amazing artists [to work with].

I wouldn’t even call what EFN does a “compilation,” because he’s so engrained in the culture that it’s almost like he uses artists as instruments, and it was just important to me. This was like a sounding-board for me. My cameo in the [2014] Hip-Hop Cypher in the BET [Hip-Hop] Awards was sort of like the springboard, so [with] everything that I’ve done since then, my whole aim was just to totally smash. I guess like “The Hulk.” Because my name is David Banner, I always thought it was corny to use The Hulk…I think this is my first time using it in an interview, but it was sort of like “Hulk Smash.” Like, my whole place in The Avengers is to smash, but to do it with the wrath of righteousness.

There’s one thing I want to say about [Another Time] that I have never heard before—I really think that [DJ EFN] needs to get credit. My father always taught me [that] a man doesn’t brag on what he does. You tell people what you gon’ do, then you prove it, then you don’t say anything. You let other people say it. But I think it’s important for people to notice that he puts people on tracks who would have probably [never] even known each other. Maybe a backpack artist with a mainstream artist with an up-and-coming battle rapper. He gives people opportunities who maybe never would have even known each other. And in the case of [“Warrior”], who would have thought me and [N.O.R.E.] would have been able [to collaborate again]? We were label-mates from Penalty [Records], so it was almost like a family reunion and a rekindling of our friendship and our relationship, and I don’t think people are noticing that on this album. I don’t think [that] if you would have paid somebody a million dollars to say ‘Pick anybody’ that was on his record, you would never pick any of the people who were on the songs together, [people] who have never been on a song together. And I think that’s very, very important for Hip-Hop in general.

Ambrosia For Heads: David, your verse on “Warrior” dealt with a lot of heavy issues, such as Donald Sterling and The Los Angeles Clippers. Even though the song released a year later, if it’s not discussed, it seems forgotten. How important was it for you to go there?

David Banner: What the [Los Angeles] Clippers had the opportunity to do…if they would have walked off that court…do you know they would have been immortal? One fucking game. It’s crazy, they got our Black men playing for [championship] rings. Dude, [NBA players] make enough money to buy a million rings! They got us caught up in this concept of championships. That shit don’t matter to them billion dollar owners, dude. They don’t give a fuck about no shiny ring. It’s not my job to say what another man should do with his career, because those are million dollar mistakes, or million dollar games. But still, I think that it’s important to at least put it out there, so when it’s somebody else’s opportunity to step to the foreground, maybe they’ll do it. Because you don’t know what Chris Paul was going through. You don’t know what Blake [Griffin] was going through. But of the same token, man…if I could give an outside opinion about it, that would maybe, just maybe let people reflect and be like, “Damn, that was [an opportunity].”

If the Clippers would have walked off that court, dude, let me tell you what would have been big, and I’m just being very honest with you:White supremacy doesn’t respect but two things: That’s the loss of life, and that’s the loss of finances. Them turning their shirts around, us marching, none of that stuff really matters unless you affect finances. If they really wanted to hurt Donald Sterling…if them boys would have walked off that court and not played, do you know what that would have done to the Clipper brand? That would have brought everything to a halt, brother. That’s real power. If you still play the game, it don’t matter. It’s just like us marching. If you don’t shut down the stores [and] stop anybody from spending, it does not matter. For me, [“Warrior”] was also a release. Because that hurt me so bad. Just to see us have that opportunity on a global scale and fail. I believe we failed and like I said, for EFN to [accept and release my verse], that’s heavy.

Ambrosia For Heads: I have only one more question about “Warrior.” In the verse, David, you said something regarding George Zimmerman, and why you’re surprised he has not been shot. That was prophecy of sorts, as just this [month], he was shot for an isolated incident to the murder of Trayvon Martin. To what extent—and maybe not just in the case of “Warrior”—but are you ever amazed at whenever you say something on a record, only to watch it come true after?

David Banner: We’re warriors. We’re supposed to defend our family. What’s crazy even about [George] Zimmerman [is] I’m surprised nobody has come back and apologized to Trayvon’s family, because now we see the dude is unstable. [The judicial system] made a mistake. And nobody has even said anything about that, brother. And it bothers me as an African-American. We talk all of this stuff and we act so gangster and we poke our chest out and we’ll kill somebody if they don’t bring back our dope, but [when there are] people who infringe on our community? You know this and I know this, If somebody did something to somebody in a Russian community, or any other community besides Black people, that community is going to take care of it. You don’t have to worry about the cops, and I don’t care what religion they are. And that just bothers me. It really, really, really bothers me. And just as a Hip-Hop community, we’re going to have to be more aggressive about our culture, if you really love this thing called Hip-Hop.That’s the reason why I said what I said during the [BET] Hip-Hop cypher. And if you notice after the Hip-Hop cypher, what I said changed. And I honestly believe it’s because I said what I said at the end of the Hip-Hop cypher. We have to start using our voice for something else […] We have to start nurturing our culture, using our voice for something that matters. That doesn’t mean all music has to be positive. I don’t believe that. I believe that if all music were positive, we would need another N.W.A., but not 17 of ’em.

Ambrosia For Heads: EFN, I wanted to close discussing your film projects. Going with “no expectations” as you told REVOLT to these faraway places, how do you balance the organic approach to filmmaking and storytelling with the confines of a production schedule, or knowing that things can progress slowly or quickly?

DJ EFN: As of right now we do some research before going to a country. And also, [we] try to connect with someone credible on the ground that can point us in the right direction. We tell this point person or persons, the main things we are looking for and then they help connect us with folks and places. Other than that, anything goes once we are in country. We are not a big budget production, so we just go with the flow and rely on the various people we meet connecting us with the next person. So far this approach has worked for what we are doing. Keep in mind, these films are just as much about our experience traveling that it is about the Hip-Hop scene in these countries. There is no way we can cover or do justice to a countries entire Hip-Hop scene, so all we want to do is offer up a snapshot at which point we hope the viewer is intrigued enough to research some more.

Ambrosia For Heads: We all talk about Hip-Hop’s global impact. As a veteran, how has seeing/feeling it changed your perceptions?

DJ EFN: Seeing and knowing the global impact of Hip-Hop, I feel we as Americans have more of a responsibility of what we put out. I understand Hip-Hop is a form of entertainment, but I think Hip-Hop was set up to be more then just entertainment; it was meant to be more of a social movement that can empower the voiceless. So with that being said, it bothers me when I see the negative influence Hip-Hop can have not only in our country, but outside where they take things these rappers say even more literal. In no way am I someone saying we need Hip-Hop to be a preachy do-no-wrong music and completely lose our edge, but I feel we need to offer more of balance as a movement and a culture. It’s refreshing as well as sad to hear the people we meet in these countries tell us [Americans] have lost our way in Hip-Hop or that we have sold out.

Ambrosia For Heads: Whether Cuba, Peru, or Haiti, tell me about the global lens and its role in Crazy Hood Film Academy’s mission?

DJ EFN: Honestly, I take it one film at a time but truth be told I just wanted to marry two things that I love which is travel and Hip-Hop. I truly feel we can learn more about ourselves traveling abroad.

Ambrosia For Heads: What is next for these films?

DJ EFN: We plan on going to more countries and so far REVOLT is on board, which we are very grateful for, but whether it is REVOLT or someone else, our goal is to produce an entire season to present back-to-back as a weekly aired show.

Purchase Another Time by DJ EFN

Follow @DJEFN and @TheRealBanner on Twitter.

Related: 15 Amazing Hip-Hop Albums From 2015, So Far (Videos)

Listen to Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). Like, really listen hard. Then, listen to Wu-Tang Forever. All of it, both discs. Revisiting those 1990s Rap gems should not come as a menial task to many. However, the contents of those two Loud Records releases are rich soil for debate. Often times, among Hip-Hop Heads anyway, the knee-jerk discourse is: who’s the best MC in Wu-Tang Clan?

For the 1993 debut, seven of the nine members were being heard on wax for the first time. In a crew so large, so anti-commercially marketed, and so downright didactic, the lines of demarcation are almost exclusively based on skills. Sure, Ghostface Killah was the one with the mask on. Method Man was the raspy-voiced stoner. RZA was the de-facto mouth-piece. Ol’ Dirty Bastard was the one who made you delightfully uneasy—an authentic menace.

Much can be said of all of the Wu swordsmen. Raekwon is possessed with the slang. GZA has the bookish intellect, vocabulary and the unwavering delivery. U-God has a mahogany voice, and in the pinch, his timing can simply amaze. Even Masta Killa, in many ways, seems to be something of a secret weapon—the last bank-robber out of the van. He gets in, gets out, always gets the money, never has to run.

So where does that leave Inspectah Deck? That’s precisely why those two first crew albums need to be listened to. Did anybody deliver more consistently, more effectively, and with more versatility than The Rebel INS? Take a long listen.

The Wu’s lone Bronx delegate (at least by birth), Inspectah Deck is perhaps the most shrouded from his props. Unheard prior to “Protect Ya Neck,” it was rapidly clear that Jason Hunter’s Rap styles vary, and carry like Mariah.

Like the catcher guiding an ace on the mound to a Cy Young Award, or the Point Guard orchestrating the unreadable offense, Inspectah Deck was a crucial set-up to the Wu-Tang Clan’s first five years. On six of Enter The Wu‘s 13 tracks, the Rebel delivered some of the most pointed, informed, and savvy lyrics. More conventional than Rae’ or Ghost’, arguably more accessible and digestible than GZA—Inspectah Deck put in work. On “Triumph,” the most widely-touted post-1993 Wu-Tang Clan group song, whose verse is the trademark?

That same year of 1997, Inspectah Deck had been patiently waiting. Following 1993’s swarm, Meth’, O.D.B., GZA, Chef, and Ghost’ had all dropped solo albums. From Def Jam to Geffen, Loud to Epic, the ‘dolo deals of the crew were producing fruit—on the charts, and in the annals of Rap. All the way, the Rebel gave the crew (by virtue of the official albums, as well as his Clansmen) his very best. From “Cold World” to “It’s Yourz,” Deck (by now a producer as well) penetrated the RZA tracks with sharp displays.

So he waited for his own—and The Abbott, now a sought-out marquee producer for The Notorious B.I.G., AZ, and Cypress Hill, had set aside a reported 130 beats for the taking. A busy man, juggling tours, merchandising, and becoming an impresario, RZA was out to help Deck, in an album cleverly called Uncontrolled Substance. It would be the perfect purist second wind to Wu-Tang Forever. “He wouldn’t really leave the house at the time,” Raekwon said of RZA in the mid-1990s. Bobby Digital (as later known) stayed in his analog basement studio in Staten Island, New York, working on the ASR 10. However, after spending much of the middle of the decade plugging at Deck’s debut, a flood would wash the work away.

As the legend has it, RZA suffered two floods in the mid-1990s. The second, prior to the recording of Iron Man, prompted The Abbott to vacate his dusty dungeon for good. “Once he lost that shit, it was a shot to us,” Raekwon said recently, personally estimating that 500 beats were lost, including ’90s works by Wu producers 4th Disciple and Tru Master. “That might be [fate] telling us to just go back in the studio and make more shit. Sometimes shit like that happens. I tell people all the time, ‘Back your shit up.'”

Ghostface was able to parlay the new environments into his own roughneck 1996 debut. But Deck, signed to Loud Records, suffered a huge setback. Playing off of the narcotic symbolism he was aiming for in his aim, INS’ once potent product was quite literally, watered down.

One can only wonder what that soaked material sounded like. As beat-Heads often stress RZA’s finest period to be 1992-1996, one can only imagine the weed-scented kicks and snares, dusty Stax Records excavations, and filthy drum arrangements. Moreover, would the personal essays of Deck have “kicked the truth” as Heads believed it? The same year Busta Rhymes eclipsed his group role in Leaders Of The New School, could Deck have not stood apart from his selfless group contributions?

That question has no answer. As the tale tells, the Inspectah allegedly started from scratch, re-recording the verses he had penned throughout the ’90s, out to recapture the magic. RZA, as the credits of the 1999 version of Uncontrolled Substance show, must not have been as enthused. Bobby Digital would produce only a couple joints, as esteemed peers like Pete Rock, V.I.C., True Master, 4th Disciple, and Allah Mathematics stepped in. Deck worked the boards considerably too.

But time waits for no man. And these things take lots of time…

By October, 1999, the Wu-Tang Clan brand was expanded. Cappadonna—with heavy involvement from RZA, had swarmed in for a major commercial sting (and critical misfire) in 1998. Along with GZA, Method Man had already released his sophomore solo set, and moreover—returned with Redman a week before Uncontrolled Substance, doing “Da Rockwilder” right up the charts. Priority Records, U-God’s label, opted to release Golden Arms Redemption the very same Tuesday as INS. Suddenly, the rebel appeared treated as a bastard swordsman. He was being lapped, upstaged, and Mr. Me Too’d.

Less than one month before Lil Wayne would release Tha Block Is Hot, six weeks after Puff Daddy’s Forever, Inspectah Deck was deeply out of his element—no fault of his own. Uncontrolled Substance was (as is) not “a party drug.” Single “Show N’ Prove” chronicled Deck’s acceptance of the Five Percent Nation Of Gods and Earths, as a dual metaphor for his path to rapping. Video single “Word On The Street” honored Deck’s late father. “R.E.C Room,” an extension of the MC’s frenzied flow six years prior, sounded just that, stale.

The MC who had waved the “W” for those six years did not get it in return—if he even asked. The guest-list on Uncontrolled Substance suggests a Clan focused on the individual interests of its members. U-God and Masta Killa milled about on an LP with two RZA cuts, as La The Darkman, Streetlife, and Killa Sin could not replicate a fraction of the excitement bar set on those mid-’90s albums. The crew had gone to the well quite a few times, and Inspectah Deck’s debut appeared parched.

In April 2003, Once Upon A Time In Shaolin producer Cilvaringz (via the Wu-Tang Clan message board) would document, “RZA lost 130 beats in the flood. They were beats for Deck’s LP, Meth’s and Raekwon’s LP… Recently Deck pulled out some disks from the flood and they worked again and he used one for his upcoming album on Koch.” Great for message board fodder, June 2003’s The Movement did not feature anything credited back to RZA, from ’90s or 2000s. In truth, Inspectah Deck’s solo career appeared to still be drying from that flood all these years later.

He’s there in the clutch, especially on Clan albums—whether acclaimed or panned. The Rebel was the first and only Clansmen sought out by Gang Starr and DJ Premier, leading to a cult hit in “Above The Clouds.” Pete Rock, another top tier producer, tapped his label-mate for single “Tru Master” to follow. Those in the know, seem to know.

Next week (June 16), Inspectah Deck will release his sophomore album with CZARFACE. The collective of Deck, DJ 7L and Esoteric has been a blessing for all parties. The same underground Hip-Hop duo Deck blessed in the early 2000s with “Speaking Real Words” became a collective he could count on. 2013’s self-titled debut afforded Deck a reunion with Preemo, a proper power-house G.F.K collabo, a much improved chart position, and an album received so well it reportedly beckoned a second CD pressing in its first year on shelves.

“It’s been twenty-two long hard years of still strugglin’,” possibly makes more sense in the 22 years since Enter The Wu-Tang than it did for Jason Hunter penning “C.R.E.A.M.” Every Hero Needs A Villain may be Inspectah Deck’s proudest showing of the 2000s, maybe more. GZA, Method Man, MF DOOM, and Large Professor are on board. Released on Boston, Massachusetts-based Brick Records, there appear to be no pressures to try to find radio, or crutch a past that arguably never was. Just as Raekwon found a resurgence in the sequel, Method Man found the mainstream in collaboration, and Ghostface Killah found a career simply in not caring what others thought, Inspectah Deck is doing it his way, on his terms, and seemingly never questioning “what if.” But we can…

Related: Does Inspectah Deck Know His Wu-Tang History Better Than RZA? (Video)

Ten years ago today (June 10), Shadrach Kabango, more widely known as Shad, had a box delivered to his parent’s house in London, Ontario, Canada. As he recalled today via Facebook, the box contained the first CD pressings of his debut album, When This Is Over, which he would take with him in his backpack to sell at a show later that night, marking the official album release. He wasn’t even the headliner at that show in 2005, where he opened for Josh Martinez, but with years of hard work perfecting his craft, he would go on to become the internationally-known, Juno Award-winning MC he is today.

Shad was a part-time MC when he recorded his debut, as he was working on getting his business degree from Wilfrid Laurier University, and was able to finance the album’s recording by winning a talent competition hosted by a local, Kitchener, Ontario-based radio station. He proved to be a unique MC, playing guitar while he rapped on “Rock To It.” He rapped about serious issues such as the Rwandan genocide on “I’ll Never Understand,” while also showing a more tongue-in-cheek approach to racism in basketball on “Real Game.”

The success of When This Is Over led to Shad signing with Black Box Recordings in 2007, where he would release his subsequent three albums over the next seven years. His sophomore album, 2007’s The Old Prince would bring even more success, as he started filming music videos, making television appearances, and would receive several award nominations including the Junos and Much Music Video Awards. He even made his first appearance on CBC’s “Q”, which he would eventually begin hosting full-time in 2015.

The Old Prince showed Shad’s growth as an MC, as he got more personal with the content, more aggressive with the rhymes, and more humorous with his personality. To this day, the rhymes from “I Don’t Like To” can still sum up Shad’s personality on the mic, as he spits: “Cats say ‘You the illest,’ I’m like nah, B, nah, B… Well okay, probably, but that’s just only cause I rap like it’s my hobby.”  He let his witty wordplay and clever personality speak for itself, without using any profanity in his lyrics. His “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” parody in the video for “The Old Prince Still Lives At Home” still cracks Heads up even today.

Shad has always been an artist to put quality over quantity, and so fans had to wait until 2010 to see the release of his next album (backed by Decon, before Nas and company re-branded as Mass Appeal), TSOL. It was well worth the wait, as the album ended up winning a Juno award for “Rap Recording of the Year,” notably beating out Drake’s platinum Thank Me Later. Shad’s growth continued on this album, as he moved seamlessly from rapping about social issues, such as the lack of women’s voices in Rap on “Keep Shining,” to aggressive battle raps on “Yaa I Get It,” to the thought-provoking concept on “We, Myself And I.” He was making bold statements like “the coldest spitting, Rakim: North Pole Edition,” and could probably back it up with his track record at this point.

By the time Shad was ready to release his next album, 2013’s Flying Colours, his rep had grown. He was able to tour across Canada with Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, who were dominating the airwaves that year, and released the new album to critical acclaim. Although Drake ended up beating him at the Juno’s this time with Nothing Was The Same, Shad kept building his rep by releasing several EPs to go along with Flying Colours and touring across Canada and the U.S.

Flying Colours saw Shad expand his collaborations, working with Canadian MCs k-os, Saukrates and Eternia, and even pop singer Lights. The lyrical onslaught continued on songs like “Stylin,” while thought-provoking ideas were delivered on songs like “Progress.” Shad also made an immigrants’ party anthem with “Fam Jam (Fe Sum Immigrins),” which featured Jay Z (only by way of a sample) on the hook.

Every new release saw Shad deliver the perfect balance of raw, wordplay-filled lyricism and meaningful, socially-conscious Hip-Hop music, and every tour he went on saw him hit bigger venues. In 2015 however, CBC had to let go of Jian Ghomeshi, creator and host of “Q,” due to a controversial sex scandal. Shad stepped up to audition, and ended up replacing Ghomeshi as the permanent new host of the rebranded “q.”

This wouldn’t be the first time a talented Hip-Hop artist took a full-time TV/radio gig. One of Shad’s major influences, The Roots, have been the house band on Jimmy Fallon’s “Tonight Show” and his “Late Night…” show before that, and have held that role for six years straight. They’ve still been able to release new music and go on tour even while consistently appearing on the show, and so it’s safe to say Shad will continue to grow as an MC even with this new full-time gig. The show might even expand his fan base, which would potentially make his next album his biggest yet.

Today, Shad posted a picture on Facebook of the box full of When This Is Over CDs from 10 years ago, writing “I remember thinking back then that if I never made another album again, I would still be totally thrilled that I got to make just this one.” He’s gone from being Canadian Hip-Hop’s best kept secret to one of its most acclaimed MCs, and his best is arguably still ahead of him. Today we’re celebrating 10 years since When This Is Over came out, but in regards to Shad’s career as an MC, “it ain’t over.”

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