Nobody has to nag me on social media or drop me a line by email to get a Buckshot album reviewed. I’ve gone on the record before saying he’s one of my favorite emcees dating all the way back to “Enta Da Stage” from Black Moon — so much so that it hurts my heart to give him a bad review. I lack the magical ability to turn chicken shit into chicken salad, so I’m going to call it like I see it, but one bad effort doesn’t make one man a bad artist. Everybody can have a bad day or a period where they are stagnant creatively. As Buckshot says on “What I Bring to the Table” though, “Times change. Rhymes change. Minds change, nigga, design change.”
“I‘m only here to do what I’m supposed to.” It’s good to hear him doing it on “The Package.” There are some emcees who just say words, there are some who show off their incredible vocabulary but don’t actually sound good rhyming, and then there are some emcees who are just naturally fluid and flow like water. Rakim. Buckshot. Lyrics Born. The late Gift of Gab. I could go on with a list but you get the gist. Listening to Buckshot rap on these tracks is listening to a man with inner confidence in his craft. If you’re a long-time listener that’s no surprise. What might surprise you the most here is that the entire album is self-produced by Buckshot. No Beatminerz. No DJ Premier. It’s just Kenyatta Blake.
The fact it looks like a four piece band is playing behind him on the cover perfectly suits songs like “Just Stop.” It’s cliché as fuck at this point to call Black Moon’s debut album “highly influential,” but it was around that time that rappers on the East coast and their producers began to explore a new jazz influence in their music. You can debate who started it, and if you said Gang Starr I wouldn’t argue it (I’d probably argue for it), but Buckshot’s melodic delivery soars over notes like Donald Byrd’s “Wind Parade.” He knows it too so acting as his own producer he plays to his strengths on songs like “All Fans.” I feel like I just walked into a night spot on Bourbon Street and found one jazz cat playing a keyboard and another lightly tapping a snare with a wire brush.
So Buckshot is an emcee’s emcee, one who cares deeply about his craft, and one who also understands what kind of music he sounds good on. His assets are valuable in the abstract, but what about in the concrete world of bars? Well this is another area Buckshot excels at on this album. It’s easy to brag and boast, highpost and toast, and talk about how fly your material possessions are and how much everybody hates your success. Buckshot would sound good doing it too, and he does indulge an occasional bar of boasting now and then, but he’s far more interested in talking about topics and telling you stories. “Home is no home in the city I roam” is how “Night Stress” starts, and from that moment forward you know he and General Steele (Smif-N-Wessun) are going to take you on a journey.
“From the young to the grown, back to the young, back to the grown folks who relyin’ on them. You never realize what you’re doin’, ’til it’s all in ruins and you’re still out brewin’.” It might not go down as the most intricately conceived rhyme structure put to pen, but there’s more to be said for using smaller words effectively than larger words absurdly. It’s the almost effortlessly way Buckshot delivers his bars here that lets you know it’s anything BUT easy. He thought about how it would sound, kept his body in great physical shape so his breath control wouldn’t fail him, then artfully delivered those vocals to the beat. He makes it sound like one take, but since this is a self-produced album, let’s say at least three. He was perfecting each track from the beginning to the closer.
“As soon as you step in the room, you see a star/legend on the set, I’m blessing them with a bar.” I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you the hair on my arms stood up hearing him say it. There aren’t too many rappers dead or living who make me feel that way, and even though he’s earned the right to be cocky, Buckshot is still humble on “The Package” far beyond what he needs to be. “I don’t got time for those who play hard/but I got second for those who pay homage – like y’all.” It’s a simple formula. You give Buckshot respect, he’s giving it right back. I respect the man and this album, and even though I was skeptical about it being self-produced, I can’t find one track to say “man that one didn’t work.” They’re all good and some are outstanding so you need to check this shit out.