Run-DMC
Crown Royal
»
Run-DMC
Crown Royal
Arista, 2001
RiYL: Kid Rock, Linkin Park, rap/rock in the post-Bizkit era |
Sure, he's stationed front and center on the album cover, and every MC who gets within spitting distance of a mic pays him some form of homage, but except for a handful of samples, a smattering of supposedly reverent clips from the trio's golden age, and -- unless I'm counting wrong -- one whole live verse, Darryl Mac's voice is nowhere to be found. Anywhere.
That's the first -- but by no means the only -- lame thing about the seventh album from arguably the most important hip-hop group ever. It's no secret that DMC has been publicly critical of the highly anticipated Crown Royal throughout the ups and downs of its oft-delayed release, distancing himself as much as he could from the direction the record and the group was taking.
But until now, it hasn't been quite so obvious why the rest of us must follow his lead.
DMC's thinking probably went a little something like this: In 1986, the Queens trio paved -- no, blasted -- the way for the rise of hip-hop with the release of Raising Hell For the uninitiated, that was the album that brought you the classics "It's Tricky," "Peter Piper," "You Be Illin'," and "Walk This Way," the first hit to fuse rap and rock and, in the process, breathe new life into a dying band called Aerosmith. Back in 1986, Run-DMC were the saviors.
Now, in 2001, it's Run and Jam Master Jay who need the breath of life.
To achieve that end, Crown Royal attempts to pull off a Supernatural-sized feat by pairing Run and Jay with the new, varied and infinitely more profitable school of rappers -- not a bad idea in itself. And, technically, it's not their fault that said new school includes such laughable pretenders to the throne as Fred Durst, Kid Rock, Stephan Jenkins of Third Eye Blind (!) and Sugar Ray, none of whom could hold DMC's jock on their best days. But the result, nevertheless, is like watching Jordan try to get back into NBA shape by taking floor practice with the Wizards.
And furthermore, whereas Santana's Supernatural guest stars played around the style of the guitar god, Crown Royal finds Rev. Run the one playing catch-up, trying to adapt himself to industry trends. And give him credit -- Run does try valiantly to cover all genres of The Billboard 200 -- TRL-friendly rock/rap, TRL-friendly Latin-influenced rhythms, the rapid-fire TRL-friendly raps of Eminem. Sadly, it all adds up to a maddeningly incoherent effort that comes off desperate and forced, a potentially sad coda to a groundbreaking career.
But the fatal absence of DMC doesn't stop Run from frequently name-checking his MIA colleague, making one wonder if he's genuinely disappointed in his absence, or if he's just keeping up airs that this is really a Run-DMC album. But without his dark-voiced foil, Run sounds adrift in a sea of newcomers, with not much left to do but repeatedly -- oh so repeatedly -- proclaim his own importance in the history of hip-hop. Sure, said importance can't be overstated, but after three tracks of Run reclaiming his place on the throne, one really starts thirsting for a track about girls or something.
Happily, it's immediately provided by Run and Fred Durst, perhaps the most disastrous stepchild of the rap-rock genre thus far. "Them Girls" is a -- and get ready for this -- song about how they like all the girls, which sounds predictably (and profitably) lame from Durst, but creepily off-base coming from a newly christened reverend, especially one who's espousing the virtues of his wife and home life like two songs later.
Most of the poorly chosen guest stars fare about that well. With the exception of the always-reliable Method Man and Nas, and Everlast, who has little to do but sing a chorus over and over, the guest stars illustrate just how far rap hasn't come. Kid Rock does his little Kid Rock thing once again on "The School Of Old," which is amazing when you consider the number of people who must have thought that was a good title. Sugar Ray plays Sugar Ray music as Run conspicuously handles DMC's verse on "Here We Go 2001." And Jenkins' appearance on "Rock Show," which is being serviced to alt radio in an attempt to out-Linkin Park the Linkin Parks of the world, is negligible in a big loud mess that doesn't bump in the least.
Things aren't all lost. The Jermaine Dupri-produced opening track "It's Over," all rubber groove and Carmina Burana samples, gets the head bobbing, but it sounds so similar to the Side B track "Let's Stay Together" that I thought I downloaded the same song twice. Elsewhere, Run and Everlast do a respectable update of "Take The Money And Run," which bounces along on a sample from the Steve Miller original. The tracks I haven't mentioned are thoroughly forgettable, not something you can often say about songs on a Run-DMC album.
If I sound too harsh on the old boys, please understand that it's born of pure disappointment. I have the utmost respect and admiration for Run-DMC, and, like millions of others across the land, I'm sure, Raising Hell stands as one of my favorite records of all time. As such I sought out Crown Royal with great anticipation, unable really to wait for the interminable delays. To hear the result be little more than infuriatingly lame collaborations, when all I wanted needed was a solid new Run-DMC record, is crushing. With Crown Royal, party people, your dreams will not be fulfilled.
JEFF VRABEL | Jeff Vrabel may look like your average, strapping Midwestern-type, but lurking inside him is a passion for all things Springsteen, "Weird" Al, and regrettably, the Chicago Cubs. He's touched Britney Spears. He knows Slash's phone number. Obey him at all costs.