I’ve been reviewing rap albums on 411 for a couple of months now. Your feedback to my columns has been mostly positive and intelligent (even when y’all disagree with me). With the exception of the hate mail I actually received from one rapper’s record label, my favorite (and most frequent) feedback has been on Nas. For those who are late to class, you can check out my reviews of God’s Son and Stillmatic by clicking on the drop down menu at the bottom of the page.
The Lost Tapes continued the 2002 resurrection of Nas in a most unusual fashion. This is an effort composed entirely of previously bootlegged material. Hell, even the album liner notes refer to this album as “already a pre-release classic”.
“Classic” might be a little strong, but there is more than enough quality material here to satisfy your, ahem, Nasir Jones. Nas starts off with Doo Rags, a dynamic track that opens with a piano clinking in the background and flows into a nicely understated beat. Nas is on point lyrically (“Ray Charles could see the ghetto”) as he mixes a “back-in-the-day” vibe with an anti-establishment tone.
An even stronger example of exceptional lyrical imagery can be found on My Way. While the hook is a little weak (a surprisingly common theme on this album), Nas puts his own spin on the rags-to-riches tale scarred by a haunting view of death on the streets (“Never knew murder till I seen my man get popped/No blood soaking, laying there, eyes still open”).
Nas gets a chance to flex his storytelling muscles on Blaze a 50. He rides a ridiculously hot beat, while telling a tale of adultery, money, sex, drugs and murder. It’s not the usual gangsta posturing, either, as Nas paints a vivid picture inside the listener’s head from first verse to last.
Nas saves the absolute best for last on the album’s final three joints. Black Zombie is infinitely more inspirational than the condescending I Can from the God’s Son album. It eloquently addresses the day-to-day challenges of life, while demanding that we ask more from ourselves. It’s made even more personal as Nas relates his unhappy relationship with his record label as something for young cats in the game to beware of.
Poppa Was a Playa could have been a predictable knock-off of the “Poppa Was a Rolling Stone” story. However, Nas manages to give it an urban twist and a heartfelt angst that will surely make it relevant to many of his fans.
The album’s zenith is reached on the final “hidden” track, Fetus. It’s entirely told from the viewpoint of the womb. This unique cut covers the relatively simple dangers of physical and emotional stress during a pregnancy yet it manages to go even deeper. Nas introduces the threat of drugs, abortion and even natural death from inside his mother. It’s simply one of the best Nas cuts ever as he shows why so few are even in his ballpark as a lyricist.
All y’all hardcore Nas fans might wanna get off the bus at this point, because I have to speak on the weaker (and straight up wack) cuts now. Nas is much better than the humdrum subject matter on U Gotta Love It, which is shackled with monotonous production and boring shoot-em-up subject matter. Everybody’s Crazy is better from a beats standpoint, but, again, the lyrics are beneath the man spittin’ them.
