Album Review: D.Black and B.Brown – The Blackest Brown EP

via 206proof.com, photo by T. Creighton

In a genre where authenticity is everything, D.Black may be too real for hip-hop. Many a rapper mentions their devotion to God in passing, at least during their acceptance speech at the BET Awards, but few demonstrate this commitment in their rhymes; just as rap is fraught with studio gangsters, it is overpopulated with disingenuous devotees. Unfortunately, that’s not a bad look for the rhymesayer trying to make it, as hip-hop notoriously ignores and even scorns those that profess their faith on wax. It’s a catch-22: spit about what you know, but if what you know is your faith, then come up with something else or you’re corny, even though the corniest act of all in rap is to be something you’re not. D.Black and producer B.Brown tackle this predicament head on in The Blackest Brown EP (which you can get for free here), and the album’s most interesting moments occur as D.Black acknowledges his struggle as an MC trying to be humble, holy, and true in a genre rampant with braggadocio, street fantasies and indulgence.

It’s impossible to look at the MC’s latest work without viewing it in the context of his artistic catalogue. The Seattle native’s first album, The Cause and the Effect, was meant to be a grander regional event than it was. It featured production by the Emerald City’s big three of Jake One, Bean One, and Vitamin D, with two excellent hooks by the town’s premiere songstress, Choklate. But somehow, it never had a significant impact, the comet making all kinds of flashes but disintegrating in the atmosphere rather than shaking things the fuck up. A lot of that fell on Black’s shoulders. His rhymes were rather simplistic, a slow flow with good beats almost like a 206 version of contemporaries Young Jeezy or Rick Ross, but a lack of charisma. Above all, in retrospect, he sounded weary, tired of endless tales of street life and gunplay, club nights and foreplay. In between albums, D.Black became a changed man, and not just one who claims to have become a smarter, better man due to legal troubles or other transgressions, but one who had a revelation and gained some conviction to better himself and his being. 2009’s Ali’Yah showcased a completely different MC, one who not only improved immensely at his craft but who had found something to rhyme about, something important, something to be passionate about, and who had devoted himself wholeheartedly to spreading a message through music. The album worked because it was good hip-hop – Black avoided any gimmickry involved with his conversion to Messianic Orthodox Judaism by making solid rap songs about his faith.

The Blackest Brown EP finds D.Black pairing with like-minded producer and Ali’Yah contributor B.Brown for 8 songs and a skit about Judaism and Black’s conversion as a religious rapper, bringing along some notable guests to rhyme about their own personal struggles in the rap game and the game of life. The mini-album’s best moments come when the duo make honest, banging hip-hop. In “On the Go,” over a chopped-up vocal sample, a booming kick, and popping synth-strings Black marinates on his decision to change up his life and his flow, at first expressing doubt (“Will I ever fit in? Will they catch wind? Will I have rich friends?”) and feeling the pressure to make radio hits before deciding that the alternative is unconscionable: “They said I was a voice from the hood but what’s the good if the voice brings forth blood.” The chorus, “Please believe me, I just gotta go,” harkens back to Black’s threatened retirement from rap after his sophomore album to focus on his faith, but also his newfound purpose in life. To spread his gospel, to tell his truth, he must go out into the world and tell it in a medium that has the potential to reach many ears: music, specifically hip-hop. “The Light” is the highlight of the album, featuring a sinister (no satan) bass line, fluttering keys and a perfectly chopped sample (is that MJ?). This here, kids, is that real shit, and guests SK and Grynch spit that realness, with the Northwest’s favorite Volvo enthusiast describing to the listener what runs in his veins (“I just bleed on these beats, see, it’s what I got a passion for”) and the reason he is compelled to write: “You’ve been beside me all my life … I ain’t worthless, I felt purpose through the bars I write.” If Black needs another reason to stay out of retirement and pursue his career in music, Grynch spells it out for him in his own song.

The album only truly falters when Black and Brown stray too far sonically from the blueprint. The production does have its dull moments, as “Special” sounds like a paint-by-numbers Sabzi beat circa “Connect For” and the hooks, mostly sung, can be uninspired and simple, but those tracks have replay value; “My Mitzvot” and “Shabbat Table Cloth” do not. The former, sung over only an acoustic guitar, comes off as a kindly Jewish campfire song. Singing is an integral part of the Jewish faith and tradition, but the singing on this particular song just does not carry much depth or creativity. The latter is just pretty ridiculous, complete with auto-tune, a made-for-the-club backdrop that sounds a lot like a low-budget “Signs” and a hook repeating “there’s a stain on the shabbat cloth,” whose significance I don’t really get.

That said, the freEP’s missteps are earnest efforts at making music that will appeal to a broader base about Messianic Orthodox Judaism and D.Black’s religious awakening and experiences; nowhere on the work may one find a lack of authenticity with the events and emotions being described. The album’s good, for sure, it’s just not perfect, but nor could it ever be. On “Loyalty,” another Blackest Brown highlight featuring a dexterous and entertaining verse by Sportn’ Life label mate Spac3man and a lush Brown backdrop (gotta love the soulful twang on that guitar), Black breathes on the hook, “can’t do you, can’t do you, can’t be you, gotta stay true.” It is a declaration of inferiority before God but also a mantra. D.Black is only human, his work cannot be divine nor perfect, a refreshing admission considering other rappers’ claims of celestial status. But also, he can’t be anyone else, he can’t rap about what his heart is not in, and Black knows from past experience. He can only be himself. And that is really real.