The idea was that rappers like Public Enemy, and later Tupac Shakur, told the story of disenfranchised urban kids-from the grim realities of ghetto life to the bass-heavy boom of house parties. They exposed a world that was often misrepresented by Hollywood and ignored by top 40 radio. In other words, they were bringing you the news no one else could deliver.
Today the urban genre has more in common with the Home Shopping Network than CNN. Its stars, like Ashanti, offer nonstop displays of diamonds and designer clothes and rap incessantly about getting more of them. The brilliant lyricism of the day? The refrain of Nelly’s recent hit says it all: “It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes.” Welcome to hip-hop, 2002. Like so many revolutionary genres before it, rap had to forsake its credibility to finally dominate the charts.
But just below the surface of all that billion-dollar ice, there is hope. “What we do is try and give you something you ain’t used to,” raps Jurassic 5. And that is exactly what this Los Angeles group does on its second album, “Power in Numbers,” out this week. The six-piece outfit won’t likely be knocking Eminem’s next single off the charts, but they are proving to be one of the most irreverent, smart and funny entities in the hip-hop underground.
Jurassic 5 rose out of a small scene honed in the now legendary L.A. venue, Good Life Cafe, which also gave starts to other eccentric, yet respected groups such as The Pharcyde and the infamous Freestyle Fellowship. In the late ’90s, J5 played around L.A. nonstop, then hit the road and toured with everyone from Outkast to Fiona Apple to Lauryn Hill. Their major-label debut, 2000’s “Quality Control,” sold a surprising 300,000 copies on word of mouth alone. (There was little radio promotion.) By now, the band’s amassed a loyal following of hip-hop, rock and R&B fans with their organically honed music and style.
You hear old-school rap throughout “Power in Numbers.” Instead of computer generated beats a la the Neptunes or Dr. Dre, they return to the now practically ancient art of sampling. DJs Cut Chemist and Nu-Mark have fun messing with public-service announcements, busting out break-dance beats and spinning jazzy soul rhythms. They even scratch once in a while. But the turntablists, who honed their skills playing live, also leave plenty of room for J5’s MC crew. Bandmembers Chali 2na, Marc 7, Akil and Zaakir are as unpredictable as they are versatile. They take turns at the mike, rapping solo, busting out party rhymes in unison and even occasionally harmonizing.
But the most impressive part of the J5 quotient is the razor-sharp rapping skills and natural, uninhibited flow. Both are rare qualities that seem lost on the current bevy of Courvoisier-passers. The MC’s words are tucked into four wildly distinctive styles and bounce off the beats in an amazing feat of verbal choreography. You can hear it on full display in “If You Only Knew,” a track in which the group defends their nonconformist approach and dis the materialism of mainstream rap: “How many times I got to hear some fanatic in my ear telling me to keep it real/ when they aren’t payin’ my bills, feeding my kids, judging me on how I live/ If my crib in the hood or up in hills.” Then the mike switches to another MC: “Have you forgotten who you are, or you think you a star?/ You went from nothin’ to somethin’/ but somethin’ means nothin’ if your people still wanting.”
J5 are not all about social commentary. After all, the worst thing smart artists can do is abandon their sense of fun for a heavy-handed message. J5 raps about the value of personal freedom (“My forefathers hung in trees to be free”), but the group switches gears in another song, where they simply kick about town in a Toyota Corolla hatchback (a car Ja Rule would rather die than get in) and name-check various L.A. neighborhoods. The crew also revives rap’s original style of dissing opponents: They joke about getting under the skin of adversaries like an “STD.” The lyrics can be serious (“Free Mumia Abu-Jamal!”), but they can also be simple, silly and self-deprecating. Above all, they are almost always entertaining. Thank God for oddballs like Jurassic 5. They infuse hip-hop with much needed doses of reality and turn its VIP rooms into full-fledged house parties.
