Music
Don't support me, get mad
by Jim Pinckney
In the pick’n’mix world of hip-hop production, it’s increasingly rare for a project to rely on a lone beatmaker and single MC without a raft of guest names to augment marketability. LA rapper Murs fell squarely into that trap with his hotly anticipated debut for Definitive Jux, The End of the Beginning. After nearly a decade of hustling tapes and building up a reputation, his shot at the indie bigtime was predominantly an also-ran, with producer overload and guests galore. For the clumsily titled follow-up, 3:16 The 9th Edition, there is no return to that creative cul-de-sac. Little Brother’s esteemed producer 9th Wonder handles all of the music, with the only additional verses coming from the North Carolina group Phonte on the album’s closer.
Having acquitted himself well with his step-up to the major league – Jay-Z’s Black Album – 9th Wonder’s stock is riding high at the moment, and he fully lives up to that here with 10 sturdy, atmospheric instrumentals. Falling somewhere between the soul sampling styles of Kanye West and the classic early 90s era of Pete Rock productions, this record is further undeniable proof that 9th Wonder has talents far exceeding those of his Little Brother homeboys.
Also, like West, Murs has no issue with presenting contradictory viewpoints and sharp angles in his rhymes. On the lovelorn “The Pain”, he declares, “I am more Coldplay than Ice-T” over a slinky late-night jam that details his lack of luck with the ladies: hardly typical MC fare. Within a couple of tunes on “Freak These Tales”, he is indulging in virtual homage to Jay-Z’s “Girls Girls Girls”. Matters get decidedly steamy and a tad too confessional, though the lyrical twists reveal depth and vulnerability alongside the braggadocio. The dichotomy between Lothario and sensitive, mature MC is further explored on “Bad Man!”, the potent lead single that 9th Wonder laces with a contagious reggae beat and a classic call-and-response chorus.
There will be genuine debate over “And This Is For …”, with some pundits already dismissing it as ungrateful, controversial and confused. Starting with a searing assault on bling-wearing rappers (“enslaving black children with the Third World gems”), it moves on to the issue of race in rap, the recent prevalence of white MCs and the lack of people of Murs’s complexion in his audience. Coming from a black rapper who is on what is perceived (rightly or wrongly) as a “white” hip-hop label, it isn’t hard to see why some sensitive souls have taken exception to these outspoken, but understandable, comments.
Disarmingly honest, Murs admits he can only say this now that he’s finally earning decent money. But, addressing his white audience, he says, “Now I don’t care, don’t support me, get mad/why wouldn’t you abort me? My own people have.” Ultimately, he concludes that the music can transcend all other concerns, though he leaves with an irrefutable barb – “Yes it is jazz, and yes it is the blues, and yes it is the exact same way they did rock/but I refuse to watch the same thing happen to hip-hop.”
It’s his storytelling talent that is highlighted on “Walk Like a Man”, a three-part odyssey with the music switching from funk swagger to hypnotic choral harmonies and finally funereal gospel tones. The gun story that he relates may be broadly similar to a multitude of West Coast rappers’ tales, but his detail and the lyrical development of the narrative are remarkable. The eventual vengeful resolution leaves him “haunted with remorse”; the subject may be thug, but the writer isn’t.
Though only an optimum 35 minutes long, there’s just enough here to satisfy and make the case for hoping that this inspired pair will work together again.
3:16 THE 9TH EDITION, Murs (Definitive Jux)
