To be perfectly blunt, I was disappointed in Guilty Simpson's debut, Ode to the Ghetto. I mean, roughneck rhyming over J Dilla, Black Milk, and Oh No beats-- how could this fail? But for the most part, I felt like I stumbled upon an indie version of Memphis Bleek's M.A.D.E., where an embarrassment of production riches were squandered on someone who had no problem portraying himself as a token street soldier. A lot of people told me I'd underrated it, and listening to OJ Simpson, I'm inclined to go back and find out if they're right. Guilty Simpson's second record is so cohesive, so focused, and so flat-out fun, I'm amazed it's the work of the same guy.
What's at first striking is that two tracks of erratically paced skits and assorted chatter totaling about four minutes pass by before we actually hear Simpson rap. OJ Simpson is entirely produced by Madlib, so if that structure puts you in the mindset of either Madvillainy or Lord Quas, it's for good reason. Though it lacks the bottled-lightning brilliance and brevity of the former and the bugged-out demeanor of the latter, Madlib still tailors it to Simpson's individual talents. Through a haze of stand-up routines, half-remembered conversations, and fake news broadcasts, OJ feels like the work of someone equal parts class clown and playground bully, daydreaming about his next lay, next high, or, most often, next chance to knock some sucker out.
But while Madlib clearly plays a large role in determining the album's vision, it would be a mistake to overlook how Guilty Simpson rises to the occasion. While Simpson maintains his bullish, no-frills cadences, he's exponentially more playful and humane than he was on Ode to the Ghetto's gangsta to-do checklist. It's a pleasure to hear him spitball multi-layered rhymes that never call attention to their own ingenuity; you get something of a Simpson synopsis in a line like, "I go at your street with aggression/ The same way I go at a beat and wreck sessions/ Then shoot a load on your freak at Best Western."
But while OJ mostly stays within a zone of gunplay and battle rap, when Simpson delves into something other than his ability to hold his own on a mic or a barstool, he provides crucial insight to his surroundings. The rise-and-fall narrative of "Karma of a Kingpin" is a statement of the universality of the selectively scrupulous drug dealer that would justify his destructive trade by occasionally paying his customer's electric bill. Meanwhile, his J Dilla tribute "Cali Hills" reminds me of what Raekwon's "Ason Jones" did for Ol' Dirty Bastard, brave in its willingness to explore an occasional mundane humanity rather than legend or caricature. The only spot where OJ really falls flat is "Back on the Road Again", where Madlib's pitched-up sampling plays it a little too straight, and Simpson's wearied tour lament does the same.
But as highlights crop up throughout the sprawl-- Madlib's zombie funk on "Coroner's Music", the cyclical, effortless hooks of "Hood Sentence" and "New Heights"-- the temptation arises to strip OJ Simpson for parts. Yet, beyond providing important pivots for mood ("Something Bad" and "Something Good" in particular), a three-track run toward the end of the album that lacks any sort of interlude is strong, but a bit ordinary. If OJ Simpson really were just a quantum leap for Guilty Simpson as a rapper, it would already be one of the year's best surprises, but strange digressions and all, it's something that honors his legacy by sounding like it could hold its own within Stones Throw's impeccable mid-00s run.
