Delicate, Polite Bootprints

There’s something wrong with whatever system I use to analyze the music I’m listening to. My notes for the first run-through of Z-Ro’s Z-Ro vs. The World – invariably my most honest criticism- wrote the work off as thug-rap so one-dimensional it hadn’t yet recognized misogyny and drug-dealing as topics of merit. Upon subsequent listenings, my harsh sentiment had softened to the point where I used the CD as a pick-me-up on my way home from a poor job- interview.

Which leads me to suspect that I don’t give a lot of these rappers anywhere near the shit they deserve for putting out horrible albums. ‘Cuz… some of these albums are songs only a mother could love. A mother that raised a thug like Z-Ro.

Z-Ro’s work is uncompromising and bleak. Its favorite (almost exclusive) topics are crime, poverty, and being a gangster; camaraderie, violence, and competition. He does it with a humorless anger, taking breaks only to commiserate on the empty wonders of well-deserved success. At the time of the publishing of the album, he was the same age I am now.

Z-Ro’s work is different from others in the Houston area, specifically those in the SUC (Screwed Up Click, the remnants of a rag-tag band of fans of DJ Screw). Paul-Wall almost never mentions violence, preferring to spend his time discussing the merits of working hard in order to make a lot of money. Chamillionaire’s favorite topic is how much better of an MC he is than everyone else and how successful he’s been selling his records. Scarface is probably most similar in vein to Z-Ro, but due to his age and veteran status has a wider range, including ideas of psychosis and family, and takes breaks from shouting out harsh threats to hang out with 2Low and let him say things no 13 year old should say. Z-Ro is straight gangster-shit. And while the lazer-like focus leads to a more authentic sound, it also leads to burnout with a quickness. Well, that and the fact that it's hard to listen to.

Apparently, somewhere along the way whoever was mixing the CD decided it was a good idea to down the volume on the instrumentals to a point where you can’t hear them if there’s significant background noise. I think they did this because they realized they were actually using canned sound-effects and non-ironic-synthed-attempts-at-instruments instead of the real thing, and so decided to cleverly disguise their mockery of the ancient art of DJing by convincing an unwitting public that rappers can sing too. Thus, the repeated use of sung hooks and shitty instrumentals.

‘Dirty 3rd’ has Houston’s nigh-patented drum-track beat, with a simple scale synth and a couple suspensenoises I recognized from GoldenEye 64 thrown on the track for variety. ‘Hustling Is All I Can Do’ has what has to be an 8-bit game-system bassoon with a couple of legitimate piano chords thrown in for good measure. ‘Gonna Get Easier’ takes a slower approach to the beat, but still ends up with an early-90’s Dre-like keyboard effect overlaid with a major chord progression. It’s not so much that they sound the same, so much as the tracks sound… simple. This is truly tragic, as Z-Ro’s style, while not being A-quality work, still makes the B-range by sheer virtue of its grit, tenacity, and willingness to vary rate and rhythm.

Z’Ro Sounds gangster. This is really important, because there actually are a lot of rappers out there who can’t quite make the gangster-sound believable (Soulja boy, Akon, Cypress Hill… Snoop Dogg), and it’s usually because their voices lack the appropriate bass quality and aggressive timber. Z-Ro has those, along with the ability to vary his speed, and it makes for a solid performance. He can also sing, and by that I mean he can hit notes on the note, and not slide around or screw up the scale. His singing voice sucks though (see paragraph above as to why this matters). Humorously, the same inflexibility that makes him a good rapper makes him a poor singer. Poor guy.

On my scale from Fresh to SuperCockSucker, I give this album a rating of ‘the fat bitch at the club’. It’s not my first choice, due to its one-dimensionality and the fact that I can’t get really into it, but if it’s the only CD left in the world, yeah, there ain’t nothing wrong with it. Besides, it’s good to curl up to, and if I wake up the next morning it better be making me some damn eggs and bacon or I’m kicking it out of my iPod so fast I’ll leave bootprints on its ass.

Make sure to join me next week as I re-enter the slog of the early 90's with Scarface's 'Mr. Scarface Is Back', if for no other reason than to finally hear the third song in the saga of Mr. Scarface's self-titled tracks.