I heard motherfuckers saying they made Hov
Made Hov say, “OK so, make another Hov”
– Jay-Z “Lost One”
It’s taken Damon Dash a hot second, but it appears he’s rediscovered the formula to do just that.
Premium grade kush as an influence, classic soul samples and top flight emcee skills from unheralded, underground and cult hero rappers. Is it 1996? No, it’s 2010, and it’s just another day in the life at music impresario Damon Dash’s creative space in Manhattan, DD 172, aka, the 24 Hour Karate School. Ski Beatz is the most important producer that Damon Dash ever discovered. The producer of note on Jay-Z’s 1996 classic Reasonable Doubt, he’s the man responsible for the sonic landscape upon which Shawn Carter got his Bob Ross on, and painted the most incredible of pictures of life, love, struggle and the hustle, and began his meteoric rise. Ski Beatz is back on the scene again, and has placed his solid and inspiring productions in the hands of the next generation on his latest attempt at a production masterpiece and best handle on what exactly is going on in the most hallowed of spaces informing hip hop’s next mainstream money generating generation, 24 Hour Karate School.
As important as it is for Young Money to “fuck all the girls in the world” with their panty dropping, pop trending hip hop Lothario concepts, and Waka Flocka to “Go Hard in the Paint” to keep hood folks ready to start a fight at the drop of a hat, somebody had to bite the bullet and keep shit real. This is a real hip hop album for hip hop people. No, not the hip hop stans who live and breathe for word and phrase and are just as happy freestyling at a bodega as sitting front row at a Nas concert, but me. A 32 year old with a real life, real job, and real aspirations that could very realistically happen at any moment because of grind and dedication. These are the guys and girls who started in front of the bodegas, but ultimately are going to use hip hop to own them one day. In taking the average to the realm of the commercial yet again, this album fills a hole in hip hop that was lacking, and ultimately key to the redevelopment of a top tier economic structure for the genre.
The gang’s all here. There’s underrated freestyler going off like an atomic bomb Rugz D Bewler with the album’s most radio friendly production on “Super Bad.” Wiz Khalifa and Currensy’s “Scaling The Building” may end up confronting large portions of Wale’s More About Nothing mixtape for the best marijuana rap verses of the year. The “Black and Gold” repping Khalifa needed to be here on this album to add to his growing credibility as an emcee past the gimmick of getting high, staying high, and writing high. Currensy shows and proves here too, as clearly the allure of the DD 172 project brought top style from the duo. “Prowler 2” with Jean Grae and Jay Electronica delivers as two of the most discussed sixteen bar assassins in the game put in typical work, Electronica’s verses not up to “Ghost of Christopher Wallace” status, but still solid and representative of his tremendous skill, as this may be a mainstream audience’s first time getting acquainted with him. Camp Lo and Jim Jones here? Expected, but underwhelming, Jones is a marijuana rap godfather, but solid and ineffectual here, lyrics that likely sounded amazing in a haze in the studio not working for a reviewer who is embracing sobriety at the time of review. Camp Lo fail in an epic manner on a synthed out update of the classic kick and snare they dominated in the late 90s, sounding like misinformed old men than emcees who still have something significant to contribute. The album ending instrumentals “Cream of the Planet” and “Taxi” are both solid for exactly what they are, but could’ve been the standouts needed to push this album to even higher stabdards had Mos Def’s verses on them been cleared. “Cream of the Planet” is a Curtis Mayfield on Superfly mimicking bit of excellence, while “Taxi”‘s understated synths lost in a valley of breaks is perfect music for the blunted on reality set.
The true star of the album is Tabi Bonney. Yes, I am a journalist from Washington, DC. But Bonney on this record finally stands out to a national audience doing what he does best, combining the understated witty lyricism associated with the marijuana rap crowd with the humble and accessible confidence that “real hip hop” types crave. On an album filled with voices from literally all over the broad map of hip hop culture, his voice stands out and makes his message of measured excellence on a bed of expertly delivered style mean so much more. On standout “I Got Mines,” which sounds similar to something out of the Pacewon or Outsidaz school of hyped up grime, gets treated to the tight flows of Bonney alongside veteran left coast rhymer Ras Kass, newcomer Stalley and hook singer of the crew, Nikki (formerly Nicole, from her Missy Elliot related, of “Make it Hot” fame days) Wray.
Damon Dash lost one in a most famous way, then lost himself. The path back to who you are must involve remembering what you’ve done. 24 Hour Karate School does that. Damon Dash makes stars. Out of this crew, the next one is likely on his way.
3.5 OUT OF FIVE STARS
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