EPMD - We Mean Business (December 9, 2008)

The nine years it took for EPMD to properly follow-up their never-really-referred-to-as-a-retirement album, Out Of Business, were eventful. For starters, the duo left their longtime label home, Def Jam Records, with their protégées Reggie “Redman” Noble and Keith “Keith Murray” Murray soon following, as the House That LL Built chose to chase current trends instead of building up the artists they still had. Erick Sermon managed to achieve the solo success he had been seeking ever since the seminal duo broke up way back in 1992, likely before a lot of you two were even born, thanks to a record deal with Clive Davis and the industry clout that name commanded , which helped clear a sample through the estate of Marvin Gaye. I’m telling you, it was downright weird to hear the Green-Eyed Bandit on pop radio in the daytime. Meanwhile, his rhyme and production partner Parish “PMD” Smith retreated even further into hip hop’s underground, collaborating with relative unknowns and even reforming his Hit Squad collective, releasing an album, 2004’s Zero Tolerance, that aimed the spotlight at his newer charges, but managed to secure cameos from the likes of Redman and Erick Sermon, who had famously spun off into the Def Squad after the divorce. The underground is where PMD remains to this day, as he chooses to work alongside, among others, foreign-based producers that have the essence of hip hop built into their DNA. Or something. Look, you figure out a way to describe the Snowgoons in shorthand and maybe I’ll use it.

Oh, and their third member, DJ Scratch, bailed on the entire operation.

The circumstances surrounding the departure of Scratch, who had been with Erick and Parish since the very beginning, were shady. In early 2008, he had received word that the duo were recording their seventh album, We Mean Business, without him. They were also performing live shows and coming up with bullshit excuses whenever the fans would ask of his whereabouts, at least according to Scratch. As the lone guy who didn’t choose a side when EPMD first disbanded, Scratch felt that these actions from his now-former bandmates were unwarranted: later, when he claimed that the real reason he bailed was because Sermon doesn’t like paying the artists he works with properly, everything kind of clicked. It’s always about money. EPMD broke up because of money, or rather, because PMD accused E-Double of orchestrating a a robbery of his home. But Sermon’s Def Squad collective was far more successful than PMD’s attempts to replicate Das EFX and such, so why would he suddenly feel the need to be stingy with his earnings? And if he’s this flush with cash, why did Sermon create a Kickstarter last year to help fund the distribution of his next project, which still doesn’t seem to have a release date?

We’ll likely never know the truth. What I do know is that We Mean Business was released in the summer of 2008 on the newly-created EP Records, which, if you haven’t guessed, stands for “Erick and Parish”. Going the independent route was never a move I saw EPMD doing back in the 1990’s, but in this new era, you do what you have to do to not just maintain your artistic integrity, but also just to survive. (This is likely why Sermon now has a rather large Bandcamp presence and has been uploading projects left and right.) The duo outsourced any actual scratching to DJ 4our 5ive and DJ K-La Boss, who, yeah me neither, which in theory would have left them time to focus on the production, but alas, We Mean Business features the most outside producers ever invited onto an EPMD project to date. Sermon and PMD share space with the likes of 9th Wonder, Ty Fyffe, and others, although both halves of the team get an opportunity behind the boards (E-Double more so than Parish, for obvious reasons). Rhyme-wise, the guest list is limited primarily to some of their big-name friends, although a few unknowns and a B-lister sneak in through the back.

We Mean Business has the distinction of likely being the only EPMD album that you didn’t realize was a thing that existed. Marketing for the project was nonexistent: there’s just no way EP Records could have the deep pockets of Def Jam Records. And while you’ll recognize a lot of the players on here, that doesn’t always equate to free publicity for your project: besides, having Keith Murray appear on your project didn’t mean shit back in 2008. Sadly, DJ Scratch’s absence isn’t exactly felt on here, and EPMD fans probably won’t petition Sermon to bring him back into the fold, but as We Mean Business failed to sell any copies, unofficially putting the group on hiatus as they regrouped with their solo efforts, could one imply that Scratch’s non-involvement triggered some bad karma Sermon’s way? Who knows?

But we’ll just say “yes” for now.

1. PUTTIN’ WORK IN (FEAT. RAEKWON)

After kicking off with a gunshot for some goddamn reason, the Ty Fyffe instrumental for the album begins, and it’s annoying as fuck, with its violin stabs and faux-moodiness joining forces to create migraines for the discerning listener who would still be checking for an EPMD project when We Mean Business dropped in 2008, which is to say, fourteen people, tops. Erick and Parish share the opening verse, PMD’s gruff no-bullshit attitude clashing beautifully with E-Double’s all-bullshit grizzled rap veteran, but neither man manages to steal the spotlight from guest star Raekwon the Chef, who turns in a non-narcoleptic performance that betrays a tiny bit the excitement he must have felt spitting a verse for a fucking EPMD album. The beat is awful, though, so Wu stans should just walk on by.

2. WHAT YOU TALKIN’ (FEAT. HAVOC)

The first E-Double beat of the evening skews far more closely to Mobb Deep’s aesthetic (circa the G-Unit era of their run, anyway) then anything E or PMD had ever sounded comfortable over as a duo. Parish is clearly thrilled to fill out his Mobb Deep bingo card, having already worked alongside the late Prodigy in the past: Havoc’s participation is advertised at the very beginning of “What You Talkin’” even though he doesn’t step onto the stage until the second verse. The beat is another aggressive loop that doesn’t belong in the EPMD catalog, but it isn’t entirely bad, and while PMD sounds okay and Hav seems generally as honored as Raekwon was to just be nominated, Erick motherfucking Sermon steals the track with an entertaining-as-shit verse that makes full use of his flow to deliver genial boasts and threats. Huh.

3. ROC-DA-SPOT

Interestingly enough, Erick and Parish revert back to their old habits on “Roc-Da-Spot”, a Zapp-sampling throwback that will remind older heads of their earlier “You Gots To Chill”, aside from that sound bite from The Notorious B.I.G. used during the hook. (The Biggie song “Going Back To Cali” also cribs from the same source, which is either a strange coincidence or a highly meta statement from our hosts. I choose the latter.) Against all odds, EPMD successfully update their sound for the new (read: current) millennium, unleashing boastful shit-talking over a Sermon backdrop that could have easily been included as an album track twenty years prior. It also helps that E and PMD sound pretty polished both together and separately on this, the first track on We Mean Business that doesn’t feature a guest cameo. This was enjoyable as hell, but I’d understand why the younger two of you may not care for it.

4. BLOW

Sermon spits the line, “Don’t let me get mad and Barack O-bomb-ya”, and yet I’d still recommend that you listen to “Blow”, which is the polar opposite of “Roc-Da-Spot” sound-wise. PMD and the Green-Eyed Bandit go off on the Sermon and JFK production, a boom bap loop that, perhaps unsurprisingly, both men sound right at home over, Parish’s steely-eyed shit-talking dancing around Sermon’s amiably goofy boasts and threats. Both men sound more invigorated on “Blow” than either has in fucking years: even with the weaker chorus, the verses more than hold their own within a musical genre in which talking smack is not only encouraged, it’s pretty much the primary rule. This shit was nice.

5. RUN IT (FEAT. KRS-ONE)

“Run It” features the most modern-day reflection of Sermon’s brand of production thus far included on We Mean Business, but even though it isn’t as elastic as some of his better solo work, it still kind of bangs. KRS-One’s ad-libs throughout Erick and Parish’s verses eventually blossom into a performance of his own, which merely sounds alright, but consider the fact that EPMD and KRS come from the same era of hip hop, and you’re left wondering how this collaboration had never taken place before. Our hosts do just fine on “Run It”, but the hook will make one wish our hosts had reached forward in time to ask Killer Mike and El-P to participate instead, given the “run your jewels” command given within. Because Run The Jewels didn’t even exist in 2008, you see. Obviously.

6. YO (FEAT. REDMAN)

Has a project ever been released where a Reggie Noble cameo wasn’t welcomed? I thought not. Even though his chorus is pretty blah, it’s still fully chant-able, and even though his verse is largely forgettable, he throws in a reference to The Matrix just because the Funk Doc tends to like popular culture. So it’s too bad “Yo” isn’t that good of a song overall. The instrumental, credited to both E-Double and Marc Berto, wouldn’t even make it to the second round of an Erick Sermon soundalike contest, which it has obviously been training for its entire life, and neither E nor PMD can salvage it with their bored performances. So that sucked. Still, always a pleasure to hear Redman alongside his friends.

7. LISTEN UP (FEAT. TEDDY RILEY)

The Sermon instrumental is pleasant, but if you’re anything like me, and if you’re still reading this post there’s a good chance that you are, there is but one aspect of this track you’ve likely already zeroed-in on: Teddy Riley? Really? Where did Erick and Parish even find the New Jack Swing godfather, and why is he on We Mean Business? Well, I have no answer for the first query, but his talkbox performance seems to exist on “Listen Up” because (a) Sermon’s worked alongside Riley in the past; (b) EPMD horribly miscalculated how many radio station program directors would give a shit about a new song from the duo in 2008; and (c) Roger Troutman is, sadly, no longer with us, and hiring T-Pain to perform the hook could potentially alienate the base that stuck around after Out Of Business. Riley doesn’t even do all that much on “Listen Up”, which then begs a different sort of question: no, really, why is he on We Mean Business? And you would be right to ask.

8. BAC STABBERS

The beat, credited to the duo but who knows how much input Erick and Parish gave here, is far too boring and radio-ready for either of our hosts to convincingly threaten the backstabbers that believe are always lurking around them. The instrumental has a drum loop that may remind you of a piss-poor Muzak cover of Slick Rick’s “Mona Lisa”, except even lamer than that description reads. And of course “Bac Stabbers” contains a vocal sample from “Back Stabbers” by  The O’Jays’s, because why the hell wouldn’t Sermon and the Mic Doctor resort to clichés when rapping about such a tired subject? Groan.

9. NEVER DEFEAT ‘EM (FEAT. METHOD MAN)

DJ Honda has a production credit on We Mean Business almost definitely because of his working relationship with Parish Smith: they’ve even released an album together, 2002’s Underground Connection, which I’ll eventually get to during this project that won’t end until I die, it seems. It’s also very possible that our hosts felt compelled to include “Never Defeat ‘Em” because the track also appears on Honda’s own project, IV, albeit without the Method Man cameo and the asinine chorus, I believe. The music is pretty good: it features a more bombastic, majestic sound that the rest of the album surely could have benefited from, but then again it was crafted for an altogether different project, so of course it wouldn’t really ever blend in here. Meth has worked with EPMD before, so he clearly isn’t as excited to be here, as he’s practically a member of the do-they-even-still-exist-as-an-official-crew?-Def Squad at this point, so his performance was weak (and oddly censored on my copy of We Mean Business). Sermon and Smith both work the angles well over Honda’s production, though: maybe they could convince him to help out with a full-length collaboration?

10. JANE

The seventh entry in the “Jane” series, although this one is just called “Jane”, not unlike one of those numerous reboots and sequels Hollywood keeps churning out with a slightly-tweaked title cleverly designed to trick consumers. This time around, E and PMD use Parish’s simple instrumental (which sticks with the general tone used in the previous chapters) to… not really further the story along at all: they meet a woman, discover that it’s the infamous Jane, and then warn the listener to stay away from her. And that’s about it. Why this even warranted a continuation is beyond me: Reggie Noble didn’t include a “Soopaman Luva” follow-up on Mudface, and I don’t think listeners would mind of Erick and Parish let this story just die already.

11. LEFT 4 DEAD (FEAT. SKYZOO)

This weird homage to those within our chosen genre who have passed, which morphs into a eulogy for hip hop in general somehow, is produced by 9th Wonder, most likely because he’s the only “current” producer whose name either Erick Sermon or Parish Smith recognize, and possibly because his music was custom-built for scoring funeral services. (That isn’t praise, mind you.) His instrumental is alright, I guess, but grows more generic as the verses play out: it suits an artist such as the Brooklyn-based Skyzoo more than either of our hosts, so I suppose it’s a good thing that Skyzoo makes an appearance on “Left 4 Dead”. He easily outshining both of his hosts, who come across as cranky old men who refuse to adapt to the conditions of music today. Or something: I honestly cannot remember anything these guys said on here. Anyway.

12. THEY TELL ME (FEAT. KEITH MURRAY)

Interestingly, given the Parish Smith beat, this plays more like an Erick Sermon song featuring his rhyme partner and an old friend than it does an EMPD track. Both sound okay with their boasts-n-bullshit, but are quickly overshadowed by, to be frank, a shitty cameo from Keith Murray that comes out of nowhere (if you’re not one to read song credits, anyway). Keith “Keith Murray” Murray sounds as far from his Def Squad prime on “They Tell Me” as logistically possible given the passage of time, spitting bars that feature none of the lyrical wordplay the man was once known for, but are homophobia and filled with violent threats because this is still Keith Murray we’re talking about, and of course he would still be trying to pull that shit in 2008. I was left wishing E and PMD had given his slot to Redman or, hell, even Mally G instead. Oh well.

13. ACTIN’ UP (FEAT. TRE & VIC D.)

EPMD choose to end We Mean Business with “Actin’ Up”, ostensibly a showcase for two of their newer artists, although Erick and Parish contribute the second verse (while Sermon also delivers a corny-as-shit hook). Between the two, Vic D. fares the best by far: I’d be perfectly content with him popping up on a future Sermon or Def Squad project, as his flow is decent but has room for growth, and he seems to have this boasts-n-bullshit thing down. I was less sold on Tre, who can’t ever seem to catch Sermon’s beat and stumbles across the finish line in spite of himself. “Actin’ Up” isn’t a good song in any sense, but… nah, I’m just going to end on that last statement. Fuck it.

FINAL THOUGHTS: If We Mean Business was supposed to upgrade EPMD’s sound for the new generation, then whoever sold them that line of bullshit was a genius, as this album just isn’t it. Both Erick Sermon and Parish Smith spend far too much time recycling older boasts, relying on their past history within our chosen genre to carry them over the threshold when, in reality, hip hop hadn’t felt the need to text either artist for several years at this point. I’m all for PMD and (especially) Sermon maintaining their careers, releasing new material, working with up-and-comers in addition to the likes of the Def/Hit Squad and the rest, but when the duo release a project that sounds as thirsty as We Mean Business plays out, it’s very difficult for me to justify that belief. Perhaps DJ Scratch had the right idea, bailing on his friends before they attempted to drag their shared legacy through the mud. It’s not like there aren’t sparkles of promise on We Mean Business: at various times, both Sermon and PMD sound hungry as hell, and some of the instrumentals (either from the duo or outsourced) have interesting components that you will enjoy. And I’d love to hear more EPMD projects: they’re one of only a handful of acts from hip hop’s golden age that continued listening to the genre and are aware of the new trends and talent out there. But they aren’t able to maintain that energy consistently throughout the project, resulting in a rollercoaster ride where the lows are into the depths of a very boring Hell, while the highs top out at just above surface level. If that analogy is confusing, I could draw a picture, but I’d really like to stop talking about We Mean Business, please.

BUY OR BURN? I understand why EPMD purists and hip hop historians may feel compelled to seek this one out. I implore you, don’t. It isn’t worth it. Just check out the tracks below and go about living your best life.

BEST TRACKS: “Blow”; “Roc-Da-Spot”

-Max

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