Nasir Jones is the greatest mystery in music.
His “birth”, on 1994’s seminal Illmatic, spun the spotlight from the left coast to the right and brought the industry back to its lyrical roots. A few years later, Nas was declared “dead” by a culture that had lost its direction in the mid-to-late ’90s. His resurrection wouldn’t occur until the 21st century, when he decisively slayed Jay-Z on wax and successfully exhumed the essence that first brought him to greatness.
So, how come you don’t care?
It’s just that Nas has tried everything to get you to notice him, but he’s never really rode with you like Tupac, Biggie…or Jay-Z. How can someone who, at various times in his career, been powered by Dr. Dre, gotten down with the aforementioned Pac and B.I.G. and courted controversy with an on-camera crucifixion not be noticed?
Tell you what…let’s save that for later.
Late last year, Nas released the double-disc, Street’s Disciple. It would be his most exhaustive undertaking to date, as the double album approach is easy to author, but almost impossible to perfect. But, Nas and “perfection” aren’t unfamiliar friends. They’ve met once before and in the last few years, one has managed to stay just out of the reach of the other.
Disc One starts out with A Message to the Feds, which uses a George Clinton sample to spin the sorrowful strains representing how Nas views the voice of the disenfranchised. His self-declaration as the “Hitchcock of Hip Hop” sounds eerily evident. On Nazareth Savage, Nas goes more egocentric, but it mostly works…primarily due to the proud-sounding production of Salaam Remi, featuring horns and wind instruments.
The soul of Funkadelic’s favorite son returns on the Atomic Dog-assisted track called American Way. It’s pretty pedestrian as political cuts go, though. Despite starting out with a bold (yet, ultimately unnamed) shot at P. Diddy and his self-serving Vote or Die campaign, Nas search for social relevance is actually a microcosm of bipartisan politics: plenty of empty solutions, with no real way to get there.
Nas can do daring, however, as evident by his efforts on Sekou Story and Live Now. The former is a storytelling tale of serendipity, while the latter is forlorn and fatalistic and the common thread is “Scarlett”, the female alter ego that Nas created for a “give-and-take” effect on each song. Through the magic of voice technology, one voice becomes two and, ultimately, back to one.
While your mileage may vary, the end results aren’t as good as you’ve probably been told. Fortunately, the separate stories are strong enough on their own to overcome the sideshow gimmickry feel that an artist like Nas shouldn’t have to stoop to.
A lot has already been written about These Are Our Heroes, the caustic calling-em-out cut where Kobe Bryant, Taye Diggs, Tiger Woods and others have their “Blackness” called into question. On this one, Nas compromises his own message throughout, with his use of nearly every example and analogy that he spits in defense of his position.
The vibe on Disc 2 is set off with the opener, Suicide Bounce. Busta Rhymes hangs around for the hook, while Nas, himself, produces the gloriously basic beat. The drums and sparse synth are superb and help to build the belligerent backdrop. Later on, everyone gets rid of the guns on the outstanding old school opus, Virgo. Ludacris and Doug E. Fresh create chemistry with Nas that’ll take you back 20 years.
Sadly, it’s past imperfect on U.B.R. A lot of people weren’t feeling the Nas-based beat on this one, but it’s actually pretty damn nice if you like your bass to be equal parts booming and bare. However, this “unauthorized biography of Rakim” plays more like an obituary than a tribute. It’s a three and half minute shout out. A shout out of a legend, but still…
Future ex-wife Kelis (who’s got October ’05 in the pool?) and the influence of her one-hit fingerprints pop up time and again on the second disc. On Remember the Times, Nas is given a chance to get with any girl from his past, one last time, and runs with it. It works, mostly because Nas doesn’t take himself too seriously on this one. On the other hand, The Makings of a Perfect B*tch seemingly attempts to answer the age-old question…what would Nas sound like if 1996 Tupac wrote his lyrics.
Now, back to the good hand…Getting Married is, first and foremost, a love letter, but it’s even better as a final farewell to the bachelor life and an idealistic image of the perfect wedding. It’s even got a nice twist at the end that seems to tweak the tired cliché comparing music to a woman.
Umm…did someone say “cliché”? Sorry, but the father-and-son sound on Bridging the Gap had to look better on paper than it does at the end result. It might be the familiar harmonica loop or it might be Nas’ pops, Olu Dara. If you close your eyes, you’ll swear that Nas is collaborating with the voice of the “I’m Just a Bill” character from Schoolhouse Rock.
