It's all about the beat. Like a locomotive straining to hit full speed, the Neptunes' drum track on Clipse's "Grindin'" bears down with full hammer blows. It's the two shuffling strokes at the tail that's the icing though -- a surprise, drama packed ending that sets you up for the next ride on the fun train all over again. It's not that Pusha T and Malice's verses are an afterthought -- slangin' cocaine never sounded so funky fresh since the days of Biggie's "Ten Crack Commandments" or Eazy E's "Dopeman" -- but subtract the Neptunes' beguilingly simple track and Clipse are just another B-list rap group searching for a hit.
But the fact is that Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo -- the king-makers behind the Neptunes have chosen to bless their fellow Virginians with their musical arsenal and unexpectedly, the Clipse's album, Lord Willin' is hot. Hot like fire. Hot like stove tops. Hot like Nelly wearing a fur coat standing under the sun in Palm Beach while drinking a cinnamon espresso. You get the idea.
What I find hilarious about Lord Willin' is that almost every song is about drug dealing. Provided, rapping about narcotics is about as original as rapping about sex -- if it wasn't for the crack game, rappers might still be talking about their sneakers and hats. But to have a song like "Grindin'", whose very title is a metaphor for dealing, in constant rotation on MTV, in the clubs and on radio either represents a paradigm shift in American cultural values towards drugs or else mass ignorance of what the hell Clipse are talking about (bet on the latter). I mean, when Malice raps, "patty cake, patty cake/I'm the baker's man/I baked them cakes as fast as I can", he's not rhyming about Betty Crocker.
Give Pusha T and Malice credit for finding new ways to dress up old material. Here's some lyrical winners:
"Scouts honor/started with my grandmamma/who distributed yay she flew in from the Bahamas"
— Malice on the "Intro"
"I'm the neighborhood pusher/call me sub-woofer/'cause I pump base"
— Pusha T on "Grindin'"
"I hate to think that the dope game is my calling/cause it got us singing lullabies to our fallen."
— Malice on "Comedy Central"
In the words of the "Grindin'" remix: it doesn't get more ghetto than this.
For the most part though, Clipse are hardly any more sophisticated than any number of other MCs slanging the same yay-yo about yay-yo. Both rappers have flows that are simple and unadorned, able to come with a clever line every once in a while but hardly anything impressively complex or brilliant. Their content is predictable: drugs, women, and money with a slight nod to Virginia (though Clipse originally hail from New York). In fact, just to make sure you caught it the first time, they include not one, but two remixes of "Grindin'", milking the drug anthem for every ounce it can deliver with one mix featuring Noreaga, Baby and Lil' Wayne, the other getting the ragga treatment courtesy Sean Paul, Kardinal Offishall and Bless.
It all, of course, comes back to the Neptunes to make or break the album. It's scary how complete the Williams and Hugo takeover has been of the sound of hip-hop and soul in the last two years. Fellow Virginian Timbaland is arguably more gifted in his aural concoctions but the Neptunes are more dominant, remixing for what seems like every major pop group in America (Britney? Speared it. No Doubt? No question. Jay Z? Holla back Hova!). What's particularly remarkable about the 'Tunes is that they seem to recycle their own formulas at will but even with the flimsy repackaging, everyone lines up anyways.
For example, the bright, loud rock n' soulphonics of "Gangsta Lean" could have easily fit on the Neptunes recent N.E.R.D. album while the brassy, funky "Young Boy" sounds exactly like a Mystikal song. But for some reason, the product never feels stale, a testament to how beautifully the Neptunes produce pop hits that never seem to lose their lustrous shine no matter how many times you've seen it before.
Either way, the Clipse album -- the first released on the Neptunes new Star Trak imprint -- has some unconditional winners on here. The humorous "Ma, I Don't Love Her", Clipse's attempt to mollify wifey about their fidelity -- skips along with a minimalist, mid-tempo drum shuffle, dropping video game bomb effects on the chorus. Shrill electronic whistles accent the high drama of "When the Last Time" while slurping, burping bass blips keep the impellent drive of the "FamLay Freestyle" charging forward. My personal favorite is also the album's most conventional -- "Comedy Central", stalking listeners with a sinister funk guitar loop as Pusha, Malice and guest Fabulous insert verses within the beat's folds. Need a ready made club hit? Cue up the shimmering bells and computerized flutes of "Let's Talk About It". Favor something darker? Check those minor key piano chords and thick horn section on "Cot Damn".
After a while, you have to ask if it even matters how ignorant the Clipse's rhymes are when everything sounds good. This, of course, is hardly a new question, just the umpteenth recycling of one of hip-hop's grand contradictions of finding pleasure in poison. Lord Willin' isn't a brilliant album by any stretch of the imagination, but it feels surprisingly anthematic -- a calling to a new street order that the Clipse run from the shadows. Maybe one of these days, the Neptunes will decide to produce, say, a Blackalicious album. But until that day, you got the Clipse to keep delivering the dope and damned if you're not tempted to taste it.
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