Make no mistake: Sigel has a style and manner all his own. If Jay's rhetoric comes out of the charismatic preacher-pimp tradition -- glittering witticisms with jewels and cars to match -- then Beanie's is more akin to the fire and brimstone of storefront churches. His earthbound growlings are aimed at injecting you with a fear of God -- not to mention a fear of Beanie -- and putting you in touch with the consequences of getting outta line.

The title cut makes it plain: "The Truth" is a street-sermon spat over roiling church organs that is one part mission statement, one part threat. "I had a doc open you up from chest to navel/See my face on cable/And have flashbacks of that cold-ass table/And them holes I gave you." The song serves as concise introduction to the various sides of Sigel: the industrious Philly crack slanger; the killer with keen insight; the common-sense hustler turned poet dealing with humanity's darker angels.

Struggle, sacrifice and the looming specter of death are at Beanie's thematic core. Throughout The Truth, his primary rhyme concern is the hustle; Beanie -- who takes his name from Sigel Street in his old Philly neighborhood -- assures you that despite his good fortune in being signed, the game still calls him, still runs through him, still is him. "I roll with crack," he rhymes on "The Truth." "Y'all cats told Mac to rap / Y'all don't realize / Y'all released the beast untamed." Rap, in Sigel's mind, is simply another hustle, and most full-time rappers are looked upon with disdain.

Though he may bristle at the thought of being simply a rhyme sayer, Sigel layers his work with meaning and subtext (in this he probably owes Jay a debt) and delivers them with real conviction. He'll muscle through a cut like "What Ya Life Like" -- a tale of prison life recited through gritted teeth -- as if he were rolling boulders uphill. His self-described "arsenic flow" is more like a grind, counterbalanced with punch lines that stick. At his most liquid, he is capable of tracks like "What a Thug About," a driving reminder of the true definition of the word. "Thugs don't wanna talk shit out / They wanna spark shit out / Until the cops come and chalk shit out." But he's always razor sharp, as on "Mac Man," a clever recasting of Eighties video-game characters as drug dealers and killers.

The production is very similar to Jay-Z's Vol. 3 . . . Life and Times of S. Carter: haunted, up-tempo goth shit that gets orchestral at times but is always followed by a club-friendly synthesized bounce. But where Jay's last disc seemed somewhat slapdash and distracted, the same sound provides a proper atmosphere for Beanie's grave concerns and unhurried delivery.

Beanie shows a surprising versatility by pairing off with some of hip-hop's best. On the Memphis Bleek duet, "Who Want What" -- a to-whom-it-may-concern challenge to anybody who wants some -- the horns of Gabriel announce the arrival of Roc-a-Fella's next generation. Elsewhere, Beanie plays off Jay-Z's sarcasms and trades blood tales with Scarface without compromising the integrity of his lyrics. Not that the album is without its pop concessions: The obligatory we-out-of-the-ghetto joint with Eve ("Remember Them Days") is a safe choice, video-ready and accessible.

But what makes him a darker extension of Jay-Z's ghettollectualism is the father-teacher figure residing just behind his murderer's mask. The cautionary "Stop, Chill" and the blood baptism "Ride 4 My" -- a straight-out seance in which Beanie pledges the ultimate fidelity to his squad -- are really lessons in thug-family values: "You can trust me with your wife / Trust me with your kids / Trust me with your life / Trust me where you live." It is here that his criminal-minded teachings and Jay's lessons in ice-hearted survival cross paths. It is on crack-corner sermons like these that Beanie finds his voice and takes his place in the now generation of MCs. (RS 837)

ROB MARRIOTT

Share

• Email
• Stumble
• AIM
• Del.icio.us
• DiggThis
• Fark It!

(Posted: Mar 30, 2000)