Blaxploitation films of the 1970s have always been a wellspring of ideas for hip-hop. Superfly, The Mack, and Dolomite served helped cement concepts of black masculinity and gave rise to the pimp/pusher caricature still glorified by many modern day rappers. You get mad at Snoop for claiming that he's "never met a bitch that a pimp can't slap"? Spread a little of that moral hysteria to the O.G.s like Rudy Ray Moore (of course, you might also want to save a little spite for the government goons who oversaw the assassination, imprisonment, and marginalization of black leaders following the riotous 60s).
And while it's no surprise that another rap group is adopting the flared-out, pimpadelic funk template of these films, it does come as a bit of a shock that this time Portland's Lifesavas are the culprits. After all, Lifesavas are the oh-so-conscious, Blackalicious-cosigned group of rap bohos who spent their 2003 debut, Spirit in Stone, ruminating on political apocalypse, spiritual desolation, and postmodern identity politics. But here the Portland trio jumps into the conceit feet first. They've adopted the personas of Bumpy Johnson (Vursatyl), Sleepy Floyd (Jumbo) and Jimmy Slimwater (DJ Rev Shines), and they traverse the mean streets of Razorblade City, ostensibly a stand-in for Portland but really more of an allegorical dump for all modern day social ills.
If you can get past the geeky premise-- and, admittedly, it's a big hurdle-- the album is wonderful. From the outset, producer Jumbo absolutely nails the sound of blaxploitation films. His work lurches off the disk, strutting out the shuffling noir of "A Serpents Love" and the bouncy funk of "Shine Language" before dipping into the bleary, cerebral valleys of "Take Me Away" and "No Surprise + Scene 1 + Fly Paper" (produced by Seattle beatsmith Vitamin D). Certainly Bobbie Womack's seminal Across 110th Street soundtrack is a touchstone for the sound, but you can also hear echoes of Edwin Starr's Hell Up in Harlem and Willie Hutch's Foxy Brown score in the mix. And, as with everything that comes out Quannum camp, the sound is both satisfying dense and impeccably polished.
The album also manages to seamlessly employ live instrumentation-- it never feels as though the musicians are being incorporated for the sake of a gimmick. Of course, it also doesn't hurt that the album serves as a virtual reunion platform for the old Black Rock Coalition, with Vernon Reid, members of Fishbone, and George Clinton all dropping in.
On the mic, lead Lifesavas MC Vursatyl delivers a virtuosic performance. He overcomes a somewhat generic voice by stringing together rapid-fire metaphors and finely detailed ghetto surveys. For most the album, he veers away from anti-rap moralizing, instead opting for a broader social criticism. "Shine Language", in particular, is strong. The MCs assemble a visual pastiche of housing projects, murderers, maximum-security prisons, unemployment offices, and homeless shelters. But though imagery is bleak, the message is transcendent, and the song ultimately offers a testament to the power of self-determination. Vurs ends by asking the audience to feel the tension of the disenfranchised people when it's our time. This is not an easily digestible album-- it takes a few close listens-- but it's ultimately rewarding.
