For Promotional Use Only: Fat Joe - The Crack Era (June 16, 2008)

My ridiculous series on the albums of Joseph “Fat Joe” Cartagena continues today with a side quest of sorts. Longtime readers will remember that, for absolutely no reason and in a manner that is increasingly frustrating for me, I chose to attack Joey Crack’s discography in reverse chronological order, which, by the very nature of his work, means that I’ll have to sit through the man’s more mainstream efforts before finally reaching his underground street shit. But while Large Joseph found himself more familiar with radio playlists and the requirements he needed to meet to appease his label overlords, he still kept an eye, if not an ear, to the streets, resulting in an official mixtape, The Crack Era, released at some point in time between his seventh and eighth solo albums (Me, Myself & I and The Elephant In The Room, respectively).

I say “some point in time” because, while the date listed in the post’s title seems specific enough, I’ve since found multiple conflicts online. I found that exact date on Google, so I’m just going to run with it unless one of you two can produce a photograph where you’re holding both your computer monitor showing the new mixtape download, alongside the front page of that day’s newspaper. Or, you know, if you’re Fat Joe, although I have a weird feeling that even he would have no idea when this shit dropped.

The Crack Era is available in two separate incarnations, both of which are still considered to be “mixtapes” even though one of them can be purchased on Amazon. One of them is forty tracks long, featuring a mix of originals and other songs that were taken from other sources. The version I’m writing about today only has sixteen tracks, all of which appear on the lengthier take, eliminating a lot of the bulk and the previously-released material (save for one song, which we’ll get to). Ain’t nobody got time for a fucking forty-song Fat Joe project, folks, so we’re going shorter. You'll thank me later.

This point in Large Joseph’s career was marked with commercial success, with each successive album continuing to chase that dragon. As could be expected, this era was also full of collaborations with other mainstream artists, most of whom had secured their own permanent spots on mainstream radio playlists. Considering his earlier output, it was downright strange to hear Fat Joe da Gangsta on the radio or on MTV on a regular basis at this time: all of the protests aimed at him for selling out were likely drowned out by the bags of money he earned from record sales and royalties from the late Big Pun. Like any smart businessman, though, he seemed keenly aware that this phase of his career was likely a temporary one, and in an effort to not abandon his street fans entirely, he still resorted to that violent gangsta shit whenever provoked.

The Crack Era, as mentioned, is a mixtape that, in theory, wouldn’t have to cater to any mainstream audience expectations. This was Fat Joe’s opportunity to bring back the sound that won him fans back in the day. Sadly, The Crack Era still features multiple songs clearly designed for radio airplay, likely held back due to sample clearance issues or whatnot. There aren’t any production credits available for The Crack Era, so good luck assigning blame to anyone else for the majority of the project’s run time. Large Joseph himself is joined by multiple guests, most of whom you’ll likely recognize, none of whom are huge surprises in the grand scheme of things. It’s not like Joey Crack used the mixtape format to suddenly spit a verse alongside Danny Brown or something. Just know what you’re about to get yourself into, is all.

The Crack Era, in an accelerated format.

1. INTRO

Oh I’m sorry, you were expecting a mixtape without an intro? You silly, stupid fool.

2. LETS GO (FEAT. RICK ROSS)

Never really thought about it before, but Officer Ricky Rozay is essentially the second coming of Fat Joe: after rapping about street shit with varying degrees of success, both men settled into a groove bragging about material possessions and dangling their lavish, expensive lifestyles right out of your reach. Except Rick Ross likes Maybachs and yachts. So it makes all of the sense that these two would connect for a collaboration: it’s just weird that it’s been shuffled off onto The Crack Era instead of a proper album. How Large Joseph Da Gangsta would feel comfortable hanging out with a former corrections officer I’ll never understand, but whatever. The beat is okay, I suppose, and the hook is instant vapor, but neither Jose nor Rozay fumble the ball. In a way, “Let’s Go” is exactly what you’d expect it to be: it isn’t great or even good, but it certainly isn’t bad, either. You wouldn’t skip over it, is what I’m saying.

3. IN THE GHETTO

An incomplete thought masquerading as a mixtape exclusive, one rendered even more confusing when you factor in the amount of time the instrumental occupies all by its lonesome during the extremely truncated run time. Large Joseph spits a single verse about street shit or something, I don’t care, but this is no one-verse wonder: it’s pretty clear toward the end of his contribution that there’s more boasts-n-bullshit to boast and bullshit about. Le sigh.

4. THEY WANT NONE OF ME

Another half-thought, this time delivered over an instrumental that Jose Grande is not quite the best fit for. My guess is that he just liked the music and wanted to mark his territory before anyone else could. Anywho, “They Want None Of Me” somehow manages to grow exhausting with its gangsta pedagogue lecture, as Joey somehow runs out of ways to describe the various ways he will fuck you up in the thirty-to-forty seconds he bothers to rap on here. I get that quality control goes out the window for mixtapes, but come the fuck on. He could have at least sounded convincing.

5. KEEP ROCKIN (FEAT. CASSIDY)

These Scarface film dialogue samples strewn throughout The Crack Era are hardly the most original concept for a rap album. However, Large Joseph has always sounded to me like a guy who hangs a Scarface poster in every single room he occupies, so I guess it makes sense. Whatever. “Keep Rockin’” was likely produced or at least overseen by Swizz Beatz, as I’m positive Jose shouts him out right before his verse, and also, Cassidy was one of his artists at the time. I didn’t hate “Keep Rockin’”: with a bit of fine tuning, it could have been an underrated gem, but for what we’ve ended up with here, it’s okay. Joey Crack isn’t the best fit for this instrumental, either, but he at least makes the effort, while Cassidy uses the opportunity to run laps around his host. There is no substance here, but you don’t need that in every song, folks. Not bad, guys.

6. LOAD IT UP

Ah, the type of song mixtapes are made for: bars over uncleared samples. Given the drops involved, “Load It Up”, which heavily samples Jr. Walker and the All-Stars’s “Shotgun” in not the most creative manner (and yet it’s still surprising that nobody else has ever thought of this before), seems to be a DJ Green Lantern production. On here, Lantern gives Giuseppe Corpulento the Alchemist and Big Noyd “Shoot ‘Em Up” treatment, working the lyrics from the sample source into the verse in a violent fashion. Although the song is called “Shotgun”, so it isn’t that much of a reach. Anyway, while it was interesting enough to hear the original song reworked into background music, our host is outmatched by the tempo, his gangsta thoughts faring much worse than the Styles P vocal sample that dominates the hook. You’ll probably want to hear this the one time, but that’s all.

7. VICTIM

For whatever reason, “Victim” is actually a complete song, although, to be fair, it is terrible. The instrumental was obviously inspired by the type of beats Jay-Z used for rap album intros back when he still did those, and could have benefited from some more mixing, retooling, and also by being scrapped in favor of an altogether different result. Joseph uses the musical backing to threaten any and every person around him with their potential for victimization, turning in violent boasts, homophobic jags, and other general bullshit intended to frighten the listener, but in the time it takes our host to come up with the rhymes for his bars, one could easily escape the conflict. Just because this song is loud doesn’t mean it needs to be heard.

8. CHECKIN’ FOR ME (FEAT. BOBBY VALENTINO)

Not sure of the rationale behind including an obvious attempt at radio/club airplay (an incomplete one, at that) on a goddamn fucking mixtape back in 2008, but hey, Large Joseph knows what he’s doing, right? “Checkin’ For Me” embraces the duality in our host’s personality by aiming squarely for those hip hop heads who are only interested in Joey Crack’s tales of hitting on hot women and somehow not getting rejected even though his popularity had been waning at an incredible rate. Would this Fat Joe even exist had Big Pun not passed? Yeah, probably: he’s no dummy, he saw where the game was heading, and he likely would have brought Pun with him for his collaborations with the likes of Lil Wayne and Ashanti. But, again, for a mixtape? Way to not pay guest crooner Bobby Valentino his full asking price, my guy.

9. WE RIDIN

The sound of gunfire leads into… a riff on 2Pac’s “When We Ride On Our Enemies”, but with a bit of Spanish flair and a female singer harmonizing during the hook for some reason. Large Joseph can’t help to ape Pac’s voice wherever he says “our enemies”, which is just weird, especially as it isn’t like the instrumental is the same or anything. (This was produced by Cool & Dre, per Jose Grande’s shout-out toward the end, although DJ Khaled also gets his name dropped, although that could be due to his Terror Squad affiliation at the time.) Such a poppy, happy-go-lucky beat to go with such violent subject matter. The juxtaposition doesn’t work, which is likely why “We Ridin” has never appeared on any album, but at least it was a complete song.

10. MORE MONEY (FEAT. JUNIOR REED)

Couldn’t bring myself to care much about “More Money”, a store-brand rap song that exists just because Joseph had some spare bars about cash and shit lying around. I will say that bringing in Junior Reed to cameo is a bit inspired, if ultimately forgettable. Let’s move on.

11. GET YOUR GRIND ON (FEAT. FREEWAY)

Don’t get too excited there, buddy: “Get Your Grind On” is another incomplete track, one where either guest star Freeway only contributed a hook in the first place, or his verse is cut off in favor of more Scarface film dialogue samples. (If he had cribbed from the 1932 Howard Hawks original, I would have been impressed.) Beardy sounds far more comfortable than our host over the instrumental, though: Jose Grande trips over his words and never catches the beat, coming across as a lazy artist who couldn’t be bothered to run another take before he grew bored with this shit. Pass.

12. WE KEEP GETTIN MONEY

“We Keep Gettin Money”, not as much a spinoff of “More Money” as it is a song that takes place in the shared Money Cinematic Universe, consists of two full verses and yet still feels unfinished. Large Joseph turns in yet another rushed, tossed-off performance, as there are only so many ways one can explain to listeners that they are here getting money before one has to actually leave the studio to go get some money. Our host is still trying to hit the overlap in the Venn diagram dead center, but this piffle won’t satisfy mainstream audiences or street heads. It’s kind of funny how off the mark this one was, really.

13. LEAN ON EM (FEAT. CARDAN)

The Crack Era sounds at times like a throwback to the 1990s, at least when it comes to the sheer volume of homophobic comments on here. It’s off-putting, as it makes everyone involved automatically sound lazier than usual with their insults, especially as literally nothing about any song on The Crack Era screams that particular decade otherwise. “Lean On ‘Em” runs with a slower-paced instrumental seemingly built more for guest Cardan, who performs two verses to Giuseppe’s one, so most likely this was crafted with him in mind, or at least it was sold to him first. Cardy sounds okay, but not like a rapper who is “so ill with the pen, [he gets] flown in for dinners.” Joey, on the other hand, is a poor fit for the surroundings, so the fact that he burns through his contribution was kind of a blessing. That does not mean anyone should ever partake of this track, though.

14. N----S GET KILLED FOR LESS

The best track of the evening is buried toward the end of the proceedings, and it’s yet another incomplete thought just here to pass the time. Over a pretty funky guitar loop, Joey Crack finally emerges to talk shit and threaten his so-called enemies as though he were still hustling on a regular basis, and get this, it works. The hook is pushing it, really, but “N----s Get Killed For Less” finds our host not giving a shit about radio airplay (which would have been a lost cause anyway, given the song title) and coming out the other side resembling an artist hip hop heads might actually recognize as someone they once enjoyed listening to. Huh.

15. LET A GRAND HANG OUT (FEAT. REMY MA & NELLY)

It took fourteen tracks to (finally) receive a decent song, but does Jose Grande have it in him to deliver two heat rocks in a row? Fuck no he doesn’t, and the Nelly feature on this song credits should have been your first clue, as he’s the designated hook delivery system, his sing-songy flow apparently not useful for anything else in our host’s purview. Instead, Joey shares the microphone with the only other remaining Terror Squad member, Remy Ma, post-“Lean Back” but prior to her prison sentence, and they both aren’t quite sure what to do with the ultra-radio-ready instrumental they find themselves strapped to. Proof that not every Joe/Remy collaboration is, how do you say, “listenable”.

16. MAKE IT RAIN (REMIX) (FEAT. LIL WAYNE, R. KELLY, BIRDMAN, T.I., ACE MACK, RICK ROSS, & DJ KHALED)

Our national nightmare finally ends with a remix to the biggest hit off of Me, Myself & I, one that works in numerous guests to perform alongside Large Joseph and Lil Wayne, who both starred on the original. (The back cover art of the mixtape inexplicably only lists two guests: what I wrote above is much more accurate.) Verses are handed out like candy on Halloween, with R. Kelly taking the incredibly misguided lead (why in the mother fuck would his manager allow him to appear on the remix to a song called “Make It Rain” given his predilection for pissing on underage girls?), Weezy finally getting his chance to turn in a boring performance after having been stuck with hook duties prior, and Birdman, T.I., something called Ace Mack, and Officer Ricky popping in, all before Joey finally steps in to close things out. All of this happens to revolve around DJ Khaled’s ad-libs over the original Scott Storch instrumental, which makes sense, as “Make It Rain (Remix)” also appears on a limited edition of Khaled’s We The Best. Star-studded remixes such as this can sometimes feel pretty fun, and aside from Robert’s participation there’s nothing overly offensive about this, but the verses fly through so quickly that nothing ever registers, and even the beat is instantly forgettable. Ah well, at least I can put this write-up to bed.

SHOULD YOU TRACK IT DOWN? I’d say no, but your enjoyment of The Crack Era will vary depending on how much you liked the Large Joseph of this particular era. For a mixtape, there is far too much attention paid to what Joey thought would be popular, which leads me to believe that the majority of these songs were originally album tracks that were cut for whatever reason, possibly because they weren’t “good”. And most of this mixtape isn’t good. Some of these songs are incomplete, which makes it more difficult to grade, but what I listened to today, for the most part, would never make it onto any playlist in existence ever. I realize it isn’t fair to count a mixtape as a part of Fat Joe’s official discography, but don’t forget that the second and third volumes in The Darkside series were also unleashed to the Interweb for free in this format, so as far as I’m concerned, Large Joseph is fair game. The Crack Era is not worth your time, even in this shortened form: I can only imagine how much of a waste the forty-track version is. Just forget I wrote this shit and wait for tomorrow’s post, you two.

-Max

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(EDITOR'S NOTE: AT the request of Joey's booking agency, if you read through this write-up and are interested in more information about Fat Joe regarding his work or booking appearances, click here to find out more.)