You Only Act Hard In Your Backyard [ALBUM REVIEW]

As a young'un I was drawn to good beats. For me, that's what made a rap song- if the beat went hard, I could care less what the MC was saying, long as the shit rhymed. The Black Album was my holy grail, stuffed with bombastic, hard-knocking production that perfectly overwhelmed an aging Jay-Z caught in the throes of a mid-career crisis. 

Since then, the role of producers has only become more prominent in the rap game. If you listen to mainstream radio, you're going to hear names like No I.D., J.U.S.T.I.C.E League, and of course Swizz Beats, and musicians with little or no rhyming talent. These big-name producers get mentioned in track titles with the same import as featured artists. It's no longer "Rick Ross feat. Jay-Z," it's "Rick Ross feat. Jay-Z, Prod. The Incredibles." (btw, if you don't know the song Free Mason yet, it's a masterpiece, and a sterling example of how production can really catapult a song). Artists like Ricky Ross and Big Boi are gaining critical acclaim for their ability to choose beats, as much as they are their flow, rhymes, originality, etc...

Parallel to the rising prominence of producers has been my own development as a listener. Since my Black Album days, I've grown to respect good rhymes as much as good beats, and no longer see myself as a young kid easily influenced by a thumping bass drum. But in all my years as a listener, I don't think I've ever known production to truly influence a rapper's own talent. That is, in "Free Mason," Rick Ross is matched perfectly to a beat, but he's still Rick Ross, and rapping like Rick Ross. Even some of the great rapper-producer combos, like Doom and Madlib, are nevertheless complimentary acts, musicians that support each other. What you don't hear that often though, is beats that actively change rappers, that influence them to become something entirely different. That is, until I head In Search of Stoney Jackson.

Strong Arm Steady's In Search of Stoney Jackson, produced entirely by Madlib, is evidence that some production is too crafty to be reckoned with on a rapper's own terms. These are beats that demand a new style from their prospective MCs. They are slippery and loose with deep thumping grooves buried in the nether-regions of audibility, or obscure wind-chime samples thrown over pure funk bass-lines. These beats are a treasure.

And on Stoney Jackson, Strong Arm Steady seems up to the task. Strong Arm is a a West Coast coalition organized by Xzibit, and composed of Krondon, Phil the Agony, and Mitchy Slick. Until I heard this album, I was unfamiliar with most of these guys, but after youtubing around and listening to their solo acts for long enough I found that as rappers, well, they're OK. That is, they're certainly not doing anything starkly original, and they really haven't made names for themselves. But somehow, on Stoney Jackson, they come off as prodigious, wisecracking poets, who seem to nobly disobey standards of meter and rhyme in a search for rap enlightenment. Despite rapping about girls and weed and often other tired subjects, they come off as remarkable young hooligans. 

And if you ask me, it can only be thanks to Madlib's inspired production, which I think is forcing these guys to be better than average. It's that good. It's like a rhythm section that won't let the trumpeter get away with another tired solo. They're saying, "you have to do better." In this case, the players have responded with glee, and it makes for great listening.

William Cosby sweaters, there's only one thing better than cheddar, if life is a puzzle, I put it together. I'm like DMC, my Run Tougher Than Leather, I come from an era of golf hats, ball caps, pimp hats with feathers, plaid slacks with the button-up jackets to match. I blast at any knucklehead fucking with rap, I gotta chuckle at that. Rap black belt motherfucker but the buckle is back. Pro-rap, what you wanna do? Nothing with that, you suck like a hoe on Figaroa, you wack. Niggas know it and they talk to your back, behind closed doors and get a good laugh. Your name ain't Seinfield if you black. My clientele sell more than the crack that Reagan let in. Fuck your Meagan Good friend at the Holiday Inn. She look like her twin.