Die Rugged Man Die has the grit of a classic horror film. From the marshes of Long Island, a man-- better yet, a Rugged Man-- arises to deliver an album so drenched in self-deprecation that listeners bypass any notes of sympathy and gas themselves, if only in solidarity with R.A.'s overwhelming antipathy. R.A. the Rugged Man hates you, but he hates himself more.
To be fair, the former Biggie collaborator has a lot to be angry about. Die Rugged Man Die is the autopsy of disaster as R.A. reflects on his heartbreaks and hostilities with a familial bluntness. By the early 90s, R.A.'s future beamed with opportunity. Russell Simmons and the Neptunes courted the raucous underground star before Jive scooped him up in '93. On the brink of celebrity, everything fell apart with Rube Goldberg precision, culminating in R.A.'s release from Jive after a sexual harassment suit and a carnivalesque CMJ showcase that prominently featured saloon-style brawling, tied-up prostitutes, and a gleefully urinating Rugged Man.
Since then, R.A. has played the albatross, trekking the underground and garnering reputation as the Chupucabra of the underground. Aside from an appearance on Soundbombing, Vol. 1, R.A. has been an apparition, adding a celebratory import to his Nature Sounds debut. Now, the ghost finally speaks.
No one can walk away from Die Rugged Man Die without a clear sense of who R.A. is: The man has a gift for autobiography and he draws the listener with the familiarity of a fireside, storytelling uncle. Granted he's the uncle who takes shits on your face while you sleep. Against Nilez' dawdling guitars on "A Star is Born", R.A. regurgitates his griminess as a Jive Records leper: "'They say he's a beast, he's a creature/ Keep him in the other room, don't let him see Aaliyah."
All vulgar showmanship aside, Rugged Man addresses subjects with clarity and humor. On the album's single "Lessons", he deftly caricatures the myopic label execs who stifled his career as a white rapper. Rising producer Koran pushes a pre-school child's vocals over Fischer-Price keyboards as R.A. jests: "They say maybe if you had Dr. Dre or Timbaland/They say a white boy need a black boy to win/ Bubba Sparxxx did and so did Slim/ Just Blaze is hot. Why don't you get with him?" Concerned with the trends of hip-hop consumers, R.A. fires a simple critique on the memory-lane ballad "On the Block": "Now that rich kids love [hip-hop], so fuck the poor kids now."
As a composite, however, Die Rugged Man fails to rework the well-worn, preachy "mainstream=cancer" equation. Aside from establishing his bad luck with majors, R.A.'s complaints often pose as a subconscious bid for sympathy, which is difficult considering his implosion from self-induced calamities. Why care about R.A's tales if he unflinchingly claims on "Dumb" that he doesn't give a fuck about his career?
Nonetheless, the completion of Die Rugged Man is a triumph in itself. Hip-hop's Forrest Gump has seen almost everything and tells his story well. Let's hope things at Nature Sounds stay civil so we don't have to wait another decade for his next album.
