James Dewitt Yancey probably toasted the arrival of 2003 with a champagne bottle in one hand and a middle finger aimed over his shoulder on the other. 2002 was the year he abandoned his previous recording moniker-- Jay Dee-- so Jermaine "J.D." Dupri wouldn't get his phone calls by mistake, as well as the year the newly-rechristened J Dilla left his longtime group Slum Village and set his sights on getting some of that major label exposure. Unfortunately, MCA Records wound up permanently shelving his two major projects (a still-unreleased solo album and a record he produced for fellow Detroiters Frank-N-Dank, the oft-bootlegged 48 Hours), while the most prominent album he had a hand in-- Common's Electric Circus, which featured his co-production on several tracks-- was widely ridiculed by critics and fans as a pretentious mess.
Maybe he took it all in stride, but the first album of new material that Dilla released in 03 didn't entirely show it. There was a noticeable sense of sub-surface tension in his Ruff Draft EP: Dilla's spoken intro crackles with a certain reactionary intensity when he states that the record is "real live shit...sounds like it's straight from the motherfuckin' cassette," and the increasingly raw, psychedelic-soul tone that his beats set feels like a subtle but deliberate shift in perspective. Even the name hints at a plan to redraw his schematics and push away from what might have been the onset of an industry-bullshit-driven creative rut. The fact that Ruff Draft was pressed only on vinyl and distributed in limited numbers meant that this shift wouldn't manifest itself to a wider extent until his Madlib collaboration Champion Sound. By the time that album was released later in 03, the rawness had fully set in to his warm, soul-clap funk, so Ruff Draft eventually wound up one of independent hip-hop's great lost transitional-phase documents. It's been over a year since Dilla's passing, and since his legend continues to spur a demand for underheard, rare, or repurposed material, Stones Throw's reissue of Ruff Draft comes at an ideal time.
Considering where Dilla was at during this record's creation, honing and refining a more underground-hardcore edge to his craft, it's not a huge stylistic leap back from his most recent output. But if this EP stands up as more than just a filled-in blank, it's probably because what few songs there are at the core-- only eight full-length tracks, with all but two under 2:45-- tend to pack a lot of heat into a little space. Anyone who picked up last year's Stones Throw comp Chrome Children has already heard the highlight of this set, a dope-haze banger called "Nothing Like This". The track rides on a backwards acid-rock guitar loop, Dilla's haltingly sung-shouted, methodically rhythmic lovestruck testifying ("you-showed-me, the, light, uh-huh/got-to-have, you, right, a-way") and a massive beat that trades his tendency for billowy-soft percussive dampening for a bassbin-destroying Goliath stride. For something that only lasts two and a half minutes and feels about a minute shorter, it's instantly captivating.
And there's a handful of other tracks that could easily justify a purchase for any Dilla fiend: "Reckless Driving" features the producer/MC quoting Biggie's "Hypnotize" and spitting windows-down whip-appeal verses; the production relies heavily on a droning space-goth synth, which gives the track a retro feel-- but retro when, exactly, feels elusive. East Coast hardcore tribute "Make'em NV"-- which samples verses from M.O.P.'s "Ante Up (Robbing-Hoodz Theory)"-- captures the early 90s NYC production grime that turned soul-jazz and fusion into some of the most sinister, cinematic hip-hop ever made, but does it with a vibe/xylophone sound that strongly resembles the incidental music from "The Flinstones". And "Wild" is a ridiculous gimmick turned moment of brilliance: a raspy little kid belts Slade's "Cum on Feel the Noize" over a stitched-together drum break that sounds sick in both senses of the word, but once the borderline-subliminal murmur of the electric piano and snap-clap rhythm come in, everything falls into place-- it's as though the toddler-sung "Guns of Brixton" interlude from the Clash's Sandinista! suddenly transformed into a lo-fi circa-99 Neptunes demo.
But even with a few other quality club/sitting-around-in-your-basement-getting-high tracks (especially "Crushin' (Yeeeeaah!)", which turns his Ummah-era smoothness into slick let's-fuck rowdiness), Ruff Draft still feels like a limited-edition collectors-only curiosity. Even with some previously unreleased bonus tracks and an extra disc featuring instrumental versions of all the songs, it's a bit slight on content. (Not to mention that using two CDs for under an hour's worth of music seems like the definition of pointless-- but at least it costs the same as a single disc.) And even though Dilla's ability on the mic fits comfortably enough into the tone of his productions-- iced-out club rap buried under a layer of static and noise that makes it feel like a bootleg 4th-generation version ("straight from the motherfuckin' cassette" is right)-- it sometimes comes across as a bit half-formed, especially in light of his subsequent, somewhat more polished performances on Champion Sound.
Still, there's something about eBay-bait and elusive micropressings that practically demand to be listened to once they reach the mass market. And whether or not Dilla would've eventually reissued this if he hadn't passed away, having another, scarcely-heard handful of his tracks readily available to a wider audience isn't something that can be easily dismissed, no matter how sparse the offerings are. Now all we need to do is get someone to call up MCA's people and get them to crack open their vaults.
