"Pity The Downtrodden Landlord (Slick Rick Remix)"
Last year, the American Museum Of Natural History in Manhattan hosted a months-long installation called Ice Cold: An Exhibition of Hip-Hop Jewelry. For those who'd never seen such remarkable cultural gems up close, the (sadly, now-closed) gallery show offered patrons a rare opportunity to gawk at the bejeweled pendants, gleaming grills, and immense necklaces worn some of hip-hop's biggest names. Relegated to a veritable black box within the wider Allison and Roberto Mignone Halls of Gems and Minerals, the displayed pieces included items worn and/or owned by Biz Markie, Nicki Minaj, and A$AP Rocky, among others. Watch fanatics got to marvel at timepieces famously donned by Jay-Z and The Notorious B.I.G., while "chaining day" buffs could view record label medallions from Roc-A-Fella, Terror Squad, and, oddly enough, Rawkus.
Back in October, mere hours before hopping into a pretty pricey Uber to catch Three 6 Mafia live in Brooklyn, I attended a related panel discussion at the Museum called Drip: The Cultural Currency of Jewelry in Hip-Hop. Among those speaking on the subject were Roxanne Shanté, Prime Minister Pete Nice, and Angela Yee, all exceedingly credible voices on the topic. After the anecdote-heavy talk wrapped, guests were invited to check out the goods, which I obviously did. Some truly iconic items outshined the rest of the impressively curated selection–Ghostface Killah's ostentatious and infamous eagle armband, for instance.
But the centerpiece, quite literally, belonged to none other than Slick Rick. Like a ghost from bling bling's past, The Ruler's 42 carat diamond-encrusted eyepatch and a corresponding crown hovered in its display case, in effect standing in for the man himself. As someone for whom 1988's The Great Adventures of Slick Rick was a near-transformative album, its fly merger of humor and hood resonating with a kid growing up in Queens, I felt a palpable sense of awe gazing upon this iconic piece what he called his "superhero suit."
The artist born Ricky Walters' troubles with immigration and incarceration naturally fostered a substantial amount of goodwill from me over the years, seeing his shabby treatment by the American government as emblematic of systemic racism and xenophobia. (When a similar situation befell another London-born, NYC-bred emcee–MF DOOM–the parallels between their respective re-entry denials felt downright eerie.) So when Mass Appeal announced Victory, the first Slick Rick album in some two-and-a-half decades, I eagerly, if cautiously, awaited its arrival. Sure, having Idris Elba as its executive producer didn't fill me with a ton of confidence, especially after LL Cool J dropped the surprisingly strong The FORCE last fall with Q-Tip at the helm. But keeping expectations low for such endeavors is par for the course when you've been alive for almost as long as hip-hop itself.
For the most part, Victory presents a version of Slick Rick that, while not optimized for the contemporary rap era in which it arrives, projects enough of his essence to keep from being too stodgy. Dumb, thumping club fare like "Come On Let's Go" and "Cuz I'm Here" come off like the byproduct of Miami-type brain rot, more distraction than satisfaction. Yet those are minor departures on a curiously short album that mostly adheres to hip-hop forms. Instantly gratifying, "Angelic" and the jazzmatic "So You're Having My Baby" prove that his relative absence from the mic didn't dull his pen or his delivery. When Mass Appeal co-owner Nas signs on for standout "Documents," Walters has already executed a dazzling first verse.
And then, there's "Landlord." Speaking to the rapper's real estate experience, something that helps to explain how he's kept himself afloat all these years, the track employs the storytelling wit and eye for detail that previously brought us classics like "Children's Story" and more profane pieces like "Indian Girl (An Adult Story)." Except the subject matter here isn't a tragicomedy of urban life or a bawdy (if, in today's terms, objective offensive) narrative of sexual mischief. Instead, he spends more than three-and-a-half minutes chronicling what he purports to know best: extracting rent from his tenants.
As one might both expect and dread, Walters is anything but sympathetic to their circumstances or excuses. He opens the song with a dedication to "all the landlords in New York City" and "all across the world" before laying into the very same people who provide him with his livelihood. (Un)like other hip-hop songs about occupational hazards such as "It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp," he comes across as fundamentally cruel, resorting to name calling and eviction threats while campaigning on his own hardscrabble roots. As much as fans might love hearing him go in, with anecdotes arguably falling somewhere between fact and fiction, his sentiment is dark, embittered, ice cold. He scolds his tenants for promiscuity and drug use, plays up stereotypes of Latinos and displays exasperation at welfare recipients coming up short on the first of the month.
There's nothing all that new about legacy artists being out of touch or out of step with the people, obviously. Will Smith's cringeworthy recent single "Pretty Girls," for instance, seems designed to sell overpriced hard seltzers to blissed-out EDM festival-goers in various states of undress than to rekindle the love his older Fresh Prince fans had for He's The DJ, I'm The Rapper–another impactful 1988 LP for yours truly. Yet we're talking about someone whose fame was forged in the five boroughs, with the material support of working class and poor people, many if not most of whom are Black, Latino, or otherwise designated minorities. Hearing Slick Rick lay into those who conceivably could be the children or even grandchildren of his proverbial Day Ones conveys a terrible taste from one of rap's greatest tongues.
It's the kind of out-of-touch rap lyricism that'd make NYC Mayor Eric Adams rise from his plush seat at downtown private club Zero Bond and shake his once-a-cop, always-a-cop posterior alongside the real estate millionaires who bought him his seat. Just yesterday, one week after noted rent-freeze candidate Zohran Mamdani came out on top of the city's Democratic primary, the NYC Rent Guidelines Board–technically independent, but populated by Adams administration picks–voted 5-4 in favor of a steep hike of up to 4.5% increase for rent-stabilized apartments.
Though the scandal-plagued mayor publicly distanced himself from that outcome, no doubt feeling mindful of voter optics as he mounts an independent reelection campaign, his donor base of wealthy landlords assuredly considers it a win, and a return on their investment in him. For the rest of us, it's yet another reminder that those with more money consider us the problem. Unlike those that hide behind super PAC checks and velvet ropes, Slick Rick had the gall to say the quiet part loud.
YL & Subjxct 5, RRR & 2oo4 Presents...Only Ones Taxin'
When you've been raised on a steady diet of tri-state hip-hop, it's bound to leave an impression. For both NYC rapper YL and Elizabeth, New Jersey producer Subjxct 5, their seemingly inevitable collaboration emphasizes and accelerates this aspect long embedded in their art apart. On ...Only Ones Taxin', a mixtape that hews noticeably close to a classic sense of the format, the bespoke duo comes across as downright reinvigorated by their fortuitous pairing via inspired tracks like "Millennium Music" and "Next Episode." No shade to underground greats Zoomo, Noface, Roper Williams, or any of the other beatmakers in the RRR extended fam, but these instrumentals offer a whole new lane for Young Why. Put more simply, he's rapping differently here–not on a code switch tip or copycat flip, but rather naturally adapting to the grooves of "Different Timing" and "Poster Worldwide." There are overt nods to a millennial past on "Ice Cream Man" and "Who RRR Be," though both artists approach such familiarity with the benefit of modernity. Usual suspects Papo2oo4 and Starker make brief yet memorable appearances, the former in his bag for "Never Hungry" and the latter staying fly on "Sole Survivor."
Chubs, BRUISER BRODY 2
New York rapper Chubs made his pro wrestling fandom a focal point on last year's BRUISER BRODY LP. Some 16 months and two additional mixtapes (with Rob Viktum and Wino Willy, respectively) later, the Long Island native returns with its sequel, once again paying homage to the late legend while thematically embodying his brutal ring persona. A growing number of independent hip-hop artists these days are parlaying their love for AEW, WCW, WWE, and the like into such projects, including Estee Nack and Feed The Family's Top Hooter, and with producer Fumes The Threat behind the boards BRUISER BRODY 2 ranks highly in this particular category. Opening with the bombastic "BB2 INTRO," Chubs sets a forceful tone that never lets up across the near 45 minute run time. Griselda heads should vibe to the cavernous kicks and eerie soundscapes behind cuts like "FLANNEL COVERED CASKETS" and "GUN OF SAM" as much as the violently in-your-face lyricism. The guests only add to the gruesome kayfabe, with city dwellers Bub Styles and FastLife bringing ruthlessness and showmanship to "BURLY BRODY" and "HOCKEY MASK."
Three new tracks to snack on...
Haviah Mighty, "OK"
ThaFirst, "Ran Outta Luck"
Leaf, "Trust Funds (feat. Deto Black)"