Where do rappers go when they die? Or, where do critically heralded, next-big-things rappers go when their dreams don't pan out? They get jobs, get married, and, if we're lucky, join forces and cut an epic, heart-breakingly honest update on their lives every now and then. The Show is the debut album from eMC, which calls itself a "supergroup"; many critics would concur. The lineup features 41-year-old Juice Crew vet Masta Ace-- who has five solid solo albums, a few scattered hits, and Eminem on his tip-- and old Lyricist Lounge hands Wordsworth and Punchline, who, like Ace, are former New Yorkers who don't live in the city anymore.
But the show is stolen (no pun intended) by the least known member of the group, Milwaukee MC Stricklin, whose high-pitched, sometimes spastic rhymes are laced with self-deprecation, naivety, and humor. I found him annoying for about five minutes, but now can't get enough of his giddy verses, like this one on "Borrow You": "When I first saw you ma I was like/ 'Now, this a girl I can't mess with/ Out my league like them dudes I play chess with'/ Then I was like, 'What the hell, let me test it/ Hi, my name's Stricklin but you can call me interested/ You got a man, but he not like me'/ She said, 'Man? What, nigga? Yo, I got, like, three.'"
Sixteen meaty songs strong, the album is part slightly-fictionalized tour diary, part rumination on unrealized success and finding fun in the day-to-day. Its details are so mundane at times that those used to hip-hop melodrama may be taken aback. "Got to town at like a quarter to three/ 3:30, still in the lobby, waiting on my room key/ 4:00, I'm in my room watching TV," Strick raps with comic urgency on the title track. Next, Ace tells us that he has stretched, showered, and shaved. They drive to the venue, do a sound check, and Strick takes a shit "at 9:20." They eat some chicken and then perform. That's it. It's a Sopranos-like non-ending, and Ladybug Mecca's robotic, GPS-voice chorus just makes the whole thing crazier.
"Feel It" sketches the group members' lives without self-pity or glorification. "In this ice-cold world, better get ya'll coats/ I'm a husband, a father, and a football coach," raps Ace, and Strick adds: "You might be sick of me complaining and hearing me sob/ But it's kind of hard trying to juggle my career and my job/ Cause whether it's the m-i-c or an IV/ They be calling me, 'Notorious EMT.'" That's just sick, and Money Harm's chorus may well bring you to tears if your girl's not around.
The album's consistent, unpretentious beats have been culled from producers from all over the world (Croatia, the UK, Houston). Standouts include Quincey Tones' layered, r&b flavored jams, "Traffic" and "U Let Me Grow", The ARE's "Leak It Out", a disco and golden era-hybrid banger, and Nicolay on "E.M.C. (What It Stand For?)", a rattlesnake shake charmer. But with so many disarmingly candid confessions on the disc, it's sometimes hard to concentrate on the music. Only the rhymes from Punchline, who said in an interview that he brings "that 'nigga' element" to the group, contain elements of rap's typically incredible braggadocio ("I'm with these two chicks, about to cop me some kicks"). But even he is honest more often than not. "I wish I could spend my life in reverse," he says, suddenly, on "Feel It". Still, "I'm here, after the smoke clears, like a firefighter."
