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Rating:
Without taking anything away from the existing review, I believe that an album of this caliber deserves more than the few lines already dedicated to it.
Fans of Rap will undoubtedly know the personality in question: Big L, a rapper equipped with a phenomenal flow, member of the legendary crew D.I.T.C., which includes other heavyweights of the New York scene like Lord Finesse, Showbiz & A.G., the never too-praised producer Buckwild, and O.C., another talented lyricist who never achieved the fame he deserved. I won't elaborate on the circumstances of the tragic demise of the MC behind this album, suffice it to know that upon its release in 1995, it was greeted very coldly, selling so poorly that Columbia dropped L from their label. And anyone who has listened to it even once naturally ends up searching for the reasons: not one of the fourteen tracks here shows the slightest stylistic weakness, the productions by Finesse, Buckwild, Showbiz, and one Craig Boogie (honestly, I don't know who he is but he rocks) never fall below a level of excellence, and Lamont Coleman (L's real name) makes excellent use of them, rapping with a beautiful, unmistakable, and recognizable flow after just one listen, acrobatic metrics and lyrics filled with sharp irony.
The practice of reviewing track-by-track can be annoying, but frankly, I find it difficult to avoid it in the face of such virtuosity. It starts strong with the singles "Put It On" and "M.V.P." (acronym for "most valuable player" used in sports, which here transforms into "most valuable poet"), self-celebratory parentheses that can undoubtedly make the guy seem a bit too confident, but listening to him, he deserves a lot of credit. The first is enriched by a hyped-up Kid Capri who shouts encouragement to L in the chorus and a sudden reggae incursion at about 2:04 (which fits perfectly), the second uses the same sample from "Stay With Me" used for the remix of "One More Chance" by Notorious B.I.G. Then we move on to "No End No Skinz," where over a beautiful Jazz/Funk production, the MC explains how girls are more attracted to those with ample financial resources.
The trilogy "All Black," "Danger Zone," and "Street Struck" forms the most hardcore part of the album, characterized by dark sounds and raw lyrics in which Big L emphasizes his reputation of being "poor and dangerous," driven by the urgency to leave behind a life of illegality and violence, spicing it all up with a considerable dose of defiance, perhaps generated by the awareness of high stakes dependent on the album's outcome. One cannot fail to mention the two posse cuts present here: "8 Iz Enuff" and "Da Graveyard," which host a good number of friends and acquaintances (the most notable certainly being Killa Cam – now Cam’ron – and Jay-Z) gathered to verbally demolish any other group of rhymers. Thus, we reach the title track, which over a dark and hypnotic soundscape transports the listener directly to the streets of Harlem. Personally, this piece gives me chills, the disenchanted voice of someone who has lived so long in a reality dehumanized by poverty, unable to see alternatives to a life of hustles, always leaves me with a certain underlying melancholy, and the rapper’s images used to describe it are incredibly evocative. The "What kind of life is this for a child?" sampled at the end simply leaves a pang in the heart, regardless of how sincere it might be.
I recommend everyone to get the vinyl version to also enjoy "Time Iz Hard" and "Devil’s Son," tracks that were recorded a few years before the album's release but already highlighted Lamont's enormous narrative and entertainment capabilities. The second one in particular has a distinctly horrorcore taste and features some of the most grotesque rhymes I remember ever hearing on a Rap record. The closure of this hardcore Rap classic is entrusted to "I Don’t Understand It," which further demolishes (as if, after forty minutes of anthology punchlines, there was any need...) the competition with less capable MCs, "Fed Up With The Bullshit," a decisive stance against the forces of order (accusing them of racism), and "Let 'Em Have It L," similar to "Put It On." In case it wasn't clear, I absolutely love this album, and I can't help but recommend it to everyone. Assuming that Rap enthusiasts have already acquired it long ago, the advice is particularly aimed at those who may have recently approached the genre or intend to but don’t know where to start.
The only regret left to me by the listening is the thought that unfortunately Big L didn't have the chance to produce a worthy successor to this work, first being left without a contract and then disappearing a few years later. The harsh reality of crime and quick triggers evident in his lyrics ended up fatally involving him. Rest in peace, Lamont...
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