For a while, Eric Wright was just about the most despicable man in rap. He never produced a beat. He rarely wrote his own lyrics, daringly saying as much well before Diddy flossed his checkbook. He had a distinctive voice but a patchwork flow. He was the most vital architect of gangster shit, bane of the backpack. He stole from his own posse. He dealt far more misogyny to the masses than crack, but reveled in both. And he preached gunclapping as the apex of problem-solving. Like I said, a pretty vile guy. But holy shit is he eminently listenable.
On this reissued and expanded compilation, we get a taste of a man with no vulnerability, no conscience, and a truckload of everlasting iconography. A former dope dealer, Eazy-E, dressed all in black L.A. Kings gear and dark shades and carrying an automatic rifle he'd never shot in his life, brought more to the future of virulent hip-hop than almost any other figure. In 1987, he teamed with nefariously depicted white dude Jerry Heller. They soon formed Ruthless Records and assembled N.W.A. Two years later, the group unleashed Straight Outta Compton, razing and raising the West Coast. His solo career is a less-traveled, oft-forgotten road, something many of the South's biggest, youngest burners swear by.
I suppose it's difficult to ignore the rampant ho-cizing and gat-gripping that runs through every single song the diminutive Eazy ever recorded. At the root of the "Whisper Song"'s bachanalia, I point you in the direction of Eazy, a man who regularly said things like "Took her to the backroom, about to jack/ Cold trailed the bitch, with a gun in the back." This a guy who lauded sex at gun point. Cute, right?
If there's something truly enthusiastic to be said for Eternal E it's the quaking, slithery power on the 11 Dr. Dre-produced joints here. A few years before he morphed into that shadowy monster he is now, Dre was just the smiley guy in black jeans spitting Cube's writtens and slashing Parliament and Charles Wright samples. Dre's early N.W.A. production, the skittish first third of his remarkable career, was rivaled only by the Bomb Squad, the Dust Brothers, and DJ Premier in cohesion and pure gliding funk. It was a natural fit for the energetic Eazy. His notoriously squeaky chirp was best utilized on story songs like MC Ren's "Nobody Move", "Boyz-N-Tha-Hood", and "No More ?'s"-- all included here. The latter two were written by Ice Cube and it shows. Cube rarely got this lewd, but the vitriol is instantly recognizable. Eazy, a scoundrel, wore it well.
Eight of the 17 tracks here, the eight best tracks, are culled from his seminal solo debut Eazy-Duz-It. Offerings from N.W.A.'s Efil4zaggin, like the crooned "I'd Rather Fuck You" and jovially revolting "Automobile" break up the hardened glares, but replace them with dickish goofing off. "Real Motherfuckin G's" is one of the most overlooked diss records ever recorded wherein Eazy asks Dr. Dre of his new protégé Snoop Dogg "Tell me where the fuck ya found a anorexic rapper?" The biggest flaw here is a tack-on with Eazy's son, Lil Eazy, natch, falling far from the tree on "A Lil Eazier Said".
Eazy may be best remembered for revolutionizing the viability of the rap villain, facing off against the KKK, the FBI, his own bandmates, and White America. Whether Al Capone-ing his way through videos with a Tommy Gun (nine arrestingly shot and cinematic clips are included on a special DVD), staring down the po-po, or pointing out the booty shake, Eazy propagated a mentality that has survived, even thrived, today. Before dying of complications from AIDS in 1995, Ruthless Records had spawned hits from Above the Law, MC Ren, and most alarmingly Cleveland's Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, which is the true legacy of Eazy's uncanny entrepreneurial skills. His music still grooves, but it's tough getting behind cats who pistol-whip for head. Even the ones with good business sense.
