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Biggie's 'Ready To Die' Is Hip-Hop's Most Flawed Classic Album
Keith Murphy


It happens. The moment you realize that a game-changing, landmark album is a bold, yet uneven affair; that one of the statement-making, genre-defying musical works held closely to an entire generation's heart also happens to be a project that triumphs mainly due to the sheer breathless lyrical dexterity and roughish yet lovable charm of its Brooklyn, New York born author.

So it can finally be said: The Notorious B.I.G.'s iconic 1994 debut Ready To Die is hip-hop's most flawed classic work.

The late, transformative Christopher Wallace's debut edges out such universally lauded, highly impactful yet inconsistent albums as N.W.A.'s Straight Outta Compton (1988); Method Man's Tical (1994); the Fugees' The Score (1996); Jay-Z's Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life (1998); and Kanye West's The College Dropout (2004).

The Sean "Puff Daddy" Combs orchestrated set changed the commercial fortunes for his newly christened Bad Boy label and more importantly an entire coast. But the success of Biggie's Ready To Die would also have unforeseen dubious consequences, opening the door for a stampede of copycats that figured if one artist could more or less brazenly jack an early '80s R&B hit's groove, chorus and name (Mtume's "Juicy Fruit") and ride off to crossover glory then why not them? (We'll get back to that later.)

Ready To Die's stumble to greatness can be attributed to the album's opportunistic production, which at times does not even try to hide it's ambition to be the East Coast equivalent to LA's cinematic, gangsta rap world of Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, who up to that point were selling more units than their NYC counterparts. The sweeping opening track, "Things Done Changed," could have been taken straight from a scene out of Superfly, the influential '70s Blaxploitation film that spawned Curtis Mayfield's legendary soundtrack, a go-to sample haven for many a Cali-rap producer. Hell, Dre's vocals from The Chronic's "Lil' Ghetto Boy" are front-and-center on the track's ominous chorus. And Ready To Die's most omnipresent hit "Big Poppa" flaunts the West Coast's signature Moog keyboard sound.

Biggie and Puff were not messing around, and for good reason. For rap purists, 1994 is only edged out slightly by the mythical 1988 as the greatest year in hip-hop. Indeed, the competition was as eclectic as it was breathtaking. Nas was redefining the parameters for lyricism with his deified debut Illmatic. Scarface dropped rap's most compelling testimony on death ever recorded with The Diary while Redman brilliantly turned up the levels of weirdness with Dare Iz A Darkside. Death Row Records was continuing it's dominant reign with the hit-spawning soundtrack for Above The Rim. Stress: The Extinction Agenda popped with genius complexity giving a well deserved spotlight to Organized Konfusion. Common began his string of classic works with his barebones Resurrection. And hip-hop band the Roots and Atlanta representatives OutKast released albums (Do You Want More?!!!??! and Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, respectively) that would respectively set the stage for two of the artform's most indelible and adventurous runs.

Compared to the seemingly more organic offerings from the Notorious B.I.G.'s peers, Ready To Die came off as an all-too-telegraphed professional hit job; an album that might as well have been titled "Triple Platinum Or Die Tryin.'" But it's not just the collection's at times ballsy appropriation of the West Coast aesthetic that makes for a glaring chink in the shiny suit. There are a few lyrical miscues as well, most notably the alter ego gimmickry of "Gimmie the Loot." Bad Biggie will rob a pregnant woman of her baby rings and number one mom pendant. Psychotic Biggie gets gleeful at the mere thought of shooting up the place ("Have his mother singing 'It's so hard...!'"). Amid Big's more nuanced, savvy (and layered!) wordplay on tracks like "The What," and "Unbelievable," and the effortless storytelling of "Warning," "Me & My Bitch," and "Suicidal Thoughts," "Gimmie the Loot" cuts an amateurish, ham-fisted profile.

There are even a few throwaways amongst the bunch. The plodding dancehall reggae-taxed "Respect" must've been an inside joke between Biggie and Puff and the original "One More Chance," while more than decent, is a static afterthought when placed next to it's more polished, realized radio-aimed remix single.

But even as you attempt to roll out such grievances and cut down the aforementioned rags-to-riches cookout favorite "Juicy" for green-lighting the lazy trend of blatant song jacking—Foxy Brown's "Big Bad Mama" (Carl Thomas' "She's a Bad Mama Jama"), The Firm's "Firm Biz" (Teena Marie's "Square Biz"), Puffy's "Been Around The World" (David Bowie's "Let's Dance"), just to name a few—you are silenced by the big man's irrefutable gift.

Biggie holds the entire thing together often times raising above average material to rewind-worthy workouts. Let's be serious. Could any other respected MC in 1994 get away with with the blatant chick-song pandering of "One More Chance?" The quick answer is no. Big's ability to deliver on all levels makes him perhaps technically the most complete MC of his era. Loverman Biggie ("Big Poppa") was just as believable as menacing, scary-as-fuck Biggie ("Warning"), super-lyrical Biggie ("Unbelievable") and funny-ass Biggie ("Machine Gun Funk"). This rare skill-set was thoroughly realized on his posthumous 1997 follow-up Life After Death.

The good news is MCs ranging from rivals Drake and Kendrick Lamar to Kanye West and Nicki Minaj have picked up on Biggie's boundless approach to lyricism, at times embracing his shameless commercial ambitions with no hint of irony or artistic conflict. The bad news? Sometimes it produces stuff like this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17O3lL1aUrg). —Keith Murphy (@murphdogg29)

link: http://www.vibe.com/article/unpopular-opinion-biggies-ready-die-hip-hops-most-flawed-classic-album