In a perfect world, DJ Babu would have been kneeling next to Mick Jagger's old, withered body when the Queen recently dispensed knighthoods. Whether as a member of uber-DJ crew the Beat Junkies or with his more recent stint as resident DJ of the nearly crossed-over Dilated Peoples, his Zen-like demeanor has been a fixture in the underground hip-hop scene for nearly a decade. His landmark DJ mixtape, Beat Junkies Vol. 1, and break record, Super Duck Breaks, were blueprints for turntablists from the Bay Area to Tokyo. In fact, the man not only perfected turntablism, he coined the term.
For better or worse, hip-hop never sleeps, and many of the tricks and techniques that seemed superhuman and revolutionary three years ago sound passé and redundant today. But you have to hand it to Babu; he realized that he could no longer dazzle the underground masses with a 60-minute marathon of lightning crab scratches and juggling gymnastics. Instead, he uses Duck Season as a song showcase and adopts the party mixtape vibe that his peers (e.g., Peanut Butter Wolf, the Triple Threat DJs, and fellow Beat Junkie J-Rocc) have recently championed. Unfortunately, while the aforementioned DJs have redefined themselves as vinyl archeologists by sprinkling their playlists with obscure hip-hop and R&B; tracks, Babu relies upon a roster of artists for Duck Season that are generally too dated to be considered relevant, yet too young to be considered classic. But don't get it twisted-- while this album shows signs that Babu's days as a turntablist/hip-hop innovator may be behind him, he can still put together a collection of scorching jams.
For one thing, the beats on this album bump harder than an East Flatbush block party, and while the lyrics do generally rely upon the one-line braggadocio theatrics that have threatened to strangle hip-hop lyricism, they complement the album's late-night, club-bangin' vibe nicely. The album kicks off with De La Soul's "Watch Out," recycled from last year's AOI: Bionix. While I've heard that this is one of the album's better tracks, I haven't been able to listen to De La since they blew up and went pop on their shameful collaboration with boy band LFO. Next up is L.A.'s finest, Phil Da Agony, on "Kronkite." For this track, Babu unleashes the full force of his awesome turntablist skills, juggling Phil's vocal intro before dropping the track's thunderous and ominously pimping beat.
The mix loses some momentum with Major's "Concrete N*igga" and Bumpy Knuckle's "Patch Up the Pieces," but fortunately picks back up with the M.O.P. track "Follow Instructions," an ammo-drilled anthem that boasts typically sick production by the legendary (if a bit overextended) DJ Premier. Soul Brother #1 Pete Rock keeps things moving with "Cake." Although this track falls short of his classic early-90s material with C.L. Smooth, how could anyone be expected to duplicate the simple street soul of "T.R.O.Y."?
After the Pete Rock song, the album shifts gears and moves from the east coast to the west with mixed results. While Defari's "Behold My Life" is perhaps the finest Babu-produced track on the album, the Kankick and the Visionaries sound stale on "Sight for Sour Eyes." The Quasimoto remix adds nothing to the original (although it certainly never hurts to have Lord Quas on a mixtape), but the Souls of Mischief/Dilated Peoples collaboration is nice.
Duck Season's last two tracks almost make it a classic. Legendary old-school MC Big Daddy Kane may have exchanged his trademark flattop for an afro, but his '89-style flow remains as raucous and authoritative as ever on the Alchemist-produced "The Man/The Icon." The gem of the whole collection, though, has gotta be Jurassic 5's politically charged "Ducky Boy." What makes the song so refreshing is that Jurassic 5, who with their endless harmonizing and soft beats have long sounded like Freestyle Fellowship lite, seem to be making a conscientious attempt to challenge both their sound and their audience's expectations. The beat is heavier and less backpacker bouncy than usual, and the first line-- "I've never been hesitant to say fuck the president"-- immediately sets the song's confrontational tone.
Unfortunately, the energy and willingness to expand that distinguishes the Jurassic 5 track is missing from the rest of the disc. Duck Season lacks the vitality of the earlier Beat Junkies releases because it not only refuses to deviate from an admittedly successful formula, but it also doesn't even attempt to stay fresh by bringing some new blood into the fold-- which is both depressing and boring. The album also suffers from the same identity crisis as the Automator's Wanna Buy a Monkey: it seems stuck somewhere between a mixtape and a production showcase. The mixes between songs are generally weak, and Babu rarely attempts to even match his beats up. While there are definitely some hot songs on here, Duck Season just doesn't compare to other Beat Junkies mixtapes-- which had both fresh songs and hot mixes. So that leaves Duck Season in merely adequate territory. If you want the real Beat Junkie flavor, my suggestion would be to pick up J-Rocc's Sex Machine or Beat Junkies' Vol. 1-3.
