Ice-T: O.G. Original Gangster : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

These two albums are shocking not simply for their brutal language and violent imagery but because of the real-life circumstances they describe. Slapping a parental-guidance warning on O.G. Original Gangster or the New Jack City soundtrack compilation is like sticking a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound. "In my brain, I got a capitalist migraine," Ice-T raps on "New Jack Hustler." Articulating the thought processes of a teenage drug dealer – one of the tough, young, high-style new jacks now dominating ghetto life – this jazzy, bracing track appears on both albums and sets their agendas. Ice-T, who made his film debut playing a police officer in New Jack City, draws startling connections and poses troubling questions: "Is this a nightmare or the American Dream?" The answer, for a man "jammed in a paradox": both of the above.

O.G. Original Gangster and New Jack City meet at the crossroads traversed by hip-hop, traditional R&B and rock & roll – a juncture that represents perhaps the most exciting development in popular music since rap itself. New Jack City offers a compelling survey course in this hybrid mix of styles, while Ice-T's fourth album collects vivid personal testimony and blistering case histories, extraordinarily raw data from "L.A. – home of the body bag."

For all his immediacy, Ice-T also plugs into a legend that's as old as African-American culture. Stagger Lee – the flamboyant murderer turned folk hero whose various incarnations have cropped up in dozens of songs since the turn of the century – would appear to be the original new jack. Just like "The Iceberg" – "the dopest, flyest, O.G. pimp hustler gangster player hard-core motherfucker living today" – Stagger Lee always looms larger than life. In his 1975 book Mystery Train, Greil Marcus tracks the Stagger Lee archetype from its New Orleans roots through to the mercurial career of Sly Stone and the then-raging Superfly phenomenon. On its own terms, O.G. Original Gangster serves as the 1991 equivalent of There's a Riot Going On: It's a bleak, prophetic and savagely funny dispatch from the front lines of the war at home.

Combining his own narrative approach to rapping with the freestyle boasting of New York's "old school," Ice-T has forged a flexible, hyperliterate style that sacrifices none of hip-hop's rhythmic momentum. In the frank manner of black pulp-paperback writers like Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines, his slice-of-street-life stories and badass parables offer a fascinating glimpse into a half-hidden world. And even when he's cracking his raunchiest jokes, Ice-T retains the same relentless self-awareness that Richard Pryor displayed on groundbreaking "comedy" albums like That Nigger's Crazy and Bicentennial Nigger.

Just like Pryor in his manic Seventies heyday, Ice-T explodes black stereotypes with cuts like "Straight Up Nigga." He's become newly aware of his own tendency toward sexist abuse, too, though addressing the problem with a fantastically catchy song called "Bitches" will probably just fan the flames of debate. Good.

With its orchestrated flow of beats, samples, sound bites, spoken intros and special effects (gunfire being a favorite), O.G. can be heard as a careening, open-ended discussion. Of course, Ice does tend to follow his sharpest points with defiant kiss-offs: "Anybody who doesn't like this can suck my dick" is a common motif. But get past his bluster and this guy is full of forthright, inspiring perceptions. Introducing "Body Count," a punk-rock number he performs with a "black hardcore band," Ice-T declares that he feels "sorry for anybody who only listens to one kind of music" and goes on to prove his point in the best way possible – by proving he can rock as hard as he raps.

New Jack City presents an even stronger case for pop crossbreeding, however. While the garbage-compactor approach favored by arty bands like Faith No More and Fishbone almost never gels into a unified whole, the melodic yet tough sound of New Jack Swing feels completely unselfconscious. The performers on this soundtrack aren't "experimenting"; following the first rule of soul, they're going for what they know and reaping the results. Established acts like Guy, Keith Sweat and Johnny Gill deliver convincing examples of their romantic art, and the notorious 2 Live Crew actually renders its first composition of substance with "In the Dust." But finally, it's a bunch of unknowns and also-rans that turns what might have been a routine compilation album into a resonant statement of purpose.

The sweet pain of teenage love plays out amid the sound of gunfire on New Jack City. As in life, music provides solace but never an escape. "These are the facts of life," sings Danny Madden – who? – on "Facts of Life," while producer Carl McIntosh reaches the beautifully synthesized peak he's approached but never quite attained with his own group Loose Ends. When Essence throws down her irresistible "Lyrics 2 the Rhythm" over Grandmaster Flash's girl-group groove, she declares at one point: "I feel like a sexist, think I'll grab the mike and seduce ya." Essence's choice of words might not be politically correct, but she sure sounds strong. Color Me Badd's "I Wanna Sex You Up" is equally unfashionable, and gorgeous, with its soaring street-corner harmonies and invocations of love and sex in the same breath. "I Wanna Sex You Up" doesn't come across as some awkward fusion of doo-wop and hip-hop: This is a brand-new funky thing, fresh and familiar at the same time.

After a spell of largely indifferent rap albums and overpolished R&B, New Jack Swing came along to reinvigorate both styles. New Jack City defines the breadth and consistency of this new sound, while on O.G. Original Gangster, Ice-T sharpens its hip-hop edge to dissect black inner-city life with the precision of a surgeon. Daring, dangerous and absolutely true to life, these albums blaze in the heat of a critical moment.