When mainstream rappers do stuff like this, they call it mixtapes: Low-circulation albums, just for the heads, just relaxing, talking shit and perfecting their craft, no pressure to be great or important. For some reason, indie guys don't usually make mixtapes even though they should. When Slug from Atmosphere and Murs from Def Jux/Living Legends feel like ditching emo-rap for soft-focus dude-talk, they have to go and put out a whole album under a different name. And really, that's fine; I'm just glad they're doing this stuff at all.
Both of these guys are famous for making grand, ambitious statements about their love lives or casual racism, Heavy Issues. They aren't so much famous for being able to rap really well, but that doesn't mean they can't. Most of Lisa Bonet is just on some ignorant rap shit, sex jams and effortless common-sense (not Common Sense) battle-rap on top of squelchy, greasy fake G-funk from Atmosphere producer Ant. Here's Slug: "Thug white girl, suburban black hippie chick/ Punk rock straight-edge, hip-hop pothead/ Invite em all over for a mosh pit in my bed." And here's Murs: "She don't have to grow up with the same type of hard-heads/ Think she a Blood cuz her boyfriend's car red." Or more to the point, here's Murs again, delivering the closest thing the album has to a mission statement: "It's front-yard politics/ We talk a lot of shit/ Who we wanna fight, which broads we wanna hit."
And so it goes on; the two rip mics over rippling 70s cop-show-theme bongos on "Early Mornin' Tony" and beat the Young Gunz at their own game on the clicky, sidelong pimp jam "Breaker Down Like a Shotgun". And when they do get heavy, like on the thick, stormy confession "Marvin Gaye" (Slug: "Open apology for anyone who follows me/ Didn't realize I was a self-made power-freak"), it doesn't last. A track later, they're talking fun Swingers bullshit over cheesed-out 80s synths on "Life Vegas".
Other than a couple of throwaway skits where they talk condescendingly to girls on the phone, Felt 2 is pretty great. There's a sense of relief, like they've been doing this chest-beating thing for too long and they're relieved to figure out that they still have some knucklehead in them. And so when they inevitable Anticon moment does come on the last two songs, when Slug and Murs finally plunge back into the confessional, it feels well-earned, like they can go back to this stuff secure in the knowledge that they're still great rappers. And, you know, they're really good at this emo-rap stuff, too.
