#47: 8Ball & MJG — Comin’ Out Hard (1993)
Memphis, TN / Houston, TX — Suave House Records
What we got this week, folks, is the first proper Memphis rap album of many to come — not just due to 901 being Eightball and MJG’s home turf, but also to its stylistic shift: this is one of the first records to have those unmistakeable speedy TR-808 hihat rolls, thumping basses, machinegun flows and still not hands-down horrorcore but already spooky enough samples and synth lines. Now, as a long-time southern rap aficionado myself, I had already listened to most of 8Ball & MJG’s songs, but never this particular project, so I must say I was pretty stoked coming in to this.
Before you’re even able to really get the lyrics and rapping, the production already hooks you in right from the get-go — quite literally, too: the intro has this slow, eerie beat and menacing, otherworldly pitched up-and-down vox that would not feel out of place in a late-90s chopped-’n’-screwed tape, which I gotta say was quite mindblowing to hear in such an early record. It has an almost old-school, mid-80s minimalistic approach to it, with clean drumlines, precise basses and meticulously-programmed sample stabs in most if not all tracks, not to speak of the aforementioned Memphian quasi-proto-trap characteristics which are just the sweetest of ear candies to me. Mind you, those weren’t conjured out of thin air by our heros, and halfway rudimentary versions of those characteristics can be found in slightly earlier records, such as Texas power duo UGK’s debut, but this is the first record I’m aware of that displays such techniques full-on. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?
Regardless of past, present and future genre implications contained in Comin’ Out Hard, the fact of the matter here is that the production in here generally destroys. As mentioned, it is very clean in sound, but with a hefty dose of positively stanky grooviness shining through, which is all more impressive when you consider that this whole thing was literally produced in a spare bedroom at Tony Draper’s, the young owner of Suave House Records, then-girlfriend, with only a drum machine and their own personal record collections as source material. It has a sort of free feel to it, metalinguistically speaking; sonically, it really sounds like they were just shooting the shit in a room in the Houston suburbs, passing blunts and LPs around and just seeing what came out of it — the sudden and jarring inclusion of the Mission: Impossible theme song’s main riff on Armed Robbery is something you would simply not expect on a more professionally-produced record. I really, really cannot overstate how good the production is: beats are as diverse as they come yet aesthetically cohesive, not too stripped-down nor excessively busy, with more than enough space for the MCs to flex their lyrical skillz. And flex they do.
Theme-wise this consists mostly of your southern bread ’n’ butter topics, such as slanging dope, gangbanging, pimping and being an overall playa (not to mention the hardly-ignorable, sometimes flat-out disgusting mysoginy, of course), but their penchant for rich, colorful, crime-themed narratives kept me hooked no matter the subject at hand for most if not all tracks. Storytelling is at the forefront here, and even if the narratives themselves are nothing too creative and intricate, the way they’re rapped really stands out: the bars and verses are greatly enriched by vivid descriptions and clever wordplay. The aforementioned Armed Robbery, an incredible double narrative about, guess what, armed robbery, told in alternating verses in a back-and-forth between 8Ball and MJG, is definitely a stand-out:
Now I was clicking out my barrel just to see if it was loaded
Checking out it’s bullets to make sure it won’t explode this
Hand around of the handle of my snub-nosed steel
I must be for real in the procedure for a kill
Stood around the corner while I cased out the bank
Busted in the door and stuck the guard wit’ a shank
Ran up to the counter pulled the gun out wit’ the quickness
Shot the bank teller so it wouldn’t be a witness
[…]
Flying through the air on my way to Jamaica
Thinking about why I took the money for the sake of
Me living poor and wishing to be richer
And just like Picasso I had to paint a picture
Of people dying rapidly, trying to imprison me
Just because I took a little money in a robbery
Landed in Jamaica chilling with the dreads
Smoking on the ganja, messing with my head
The feds came behind me, hit me with a billy club
I fell to the ground, turned around pumping slugs
Jumped up quick, ditched the gun as I ran away
Ran to the hills where I hid for a few days
No, I’m not the one that they will catch soon
Bought me a palace in the hills wit’ a hundred rooms
I got the money, got the women, got the B-U-D
I plead guilty to armed robbery!
The two rappers’ styles are fairly similar and comparable, but distinct enough, if not immediately apparently, after some further examination. MJG is somewhat more technical and complex in his rhyming, while Eightball appeals more to raw hardness and even more outrageousness in his bars. Their flows, though, are where it’s at.
See, this sort of beat lends itself to flow patterns and variations that are simply harder to achieve in the more traditional drumbreak-patterned beat found in most hip-hop. The Memphis beat is slower, with more time between the kick and the snare, but that time is filled with faster hihat lines, which make the beat sound effectively faster, even though it is actually slower from a kick-snare point of view. Anyways, the deal here is that these guys introduce us to new and exciting fast-to-slow-to-fast-again flows and cadences, greatly enhancing and expanding the possibilities of the rap-beat interface. Another Memphis characteristic they also ostensively possess, albeit somewhat toned down when compared to their later compatriots, is the penchant for dirty, grizzly, obscene, scandalous images within their writing. They’re kinda like Slick Rick in that way: some of their flows sound so ahead of their time, you can hear the foundations of entire genres in both their beats and rhymes, not to speak of some tracks that were outright remade by posterior artists, but then every third line is the most vile shit you’ve ever heard.
Geographically and historically speaking, this is quite a significant stepping stone in the history of rap. Along with, say, the Geto Boys, UGK, Three Six Mafia, OutKast and Goodie Mob, all of which were already or will of course be futurely checked out in this project, 8Ball & MJG compose the holy pantheon of southern rap, the founding fathers, so to speak, and, to the best of my knowledge, this is the earliest project that can, without a doubt, be classified as proper Memphis Rap. The heavier, disturbing horrorcore themes aren’t here yet, and neither are the outrageous, quasi-pornographic sexual themes, but both stylistically and discursively this is it: the particular Tenessean flavor we all know and love has already laid out, and from here on out it’s mostly a matter of reinventing and developing upon the framework set by these very gentlemen. All in all I’ll say this is indeed an excellent album from start to finish, with few to no throwaway tracks (quite the feat, considering the stuff we’ve been seeing so far), extremely high SCD and cohesion, compelling narratives and some of the most innovative rapping we’ve seen so far. Definitely enjoyed it a lot, both as a historical artifact and as an art piece of its own.
Favorite songs
The First Episode: maybe the single most incredible beat on this whole deal, which is a feat all on its own, this song also counts with some incredible short, fast verses intertwined between each other and among small spoken sections, which give the song a dialogue-like quality. All in all a true tour de force for our heros, both beat and rhyme-wise. “25 birds on the counter in the den/ Nigga gettin bailed cause they go for 5–10/ Pot good and hot now I’m lookin for the shaker/ Water start to bubble sprinkle in the money maker/ The shit is gettin thick I think my pager just exploded/ 11 birds left, 13 I just sold it/ I gotta close shop before it get too fuckin late/ Ho sell time sellin birds 12–8”.
Comin’ Out Hard: some more incredible producing and flowing give this song’s suddenly more complex, imagetic, almost introspective lyrics a perfect support to lay themselves on, tying this all up into a coherent but still dynamic and surprising package. “I gotta come out hard as hell just like the life I lead/ Cool, feed on the next brotha’s greed/ J-Smooth cuttin’ up, lil’ Hank gettin’ buck/ Killers be shootin’ up suckas with no gut […] Suckas gettin’ stuck up in a phase/ Tryin’ to amaze, somebody else, but they find that it don’t pay/ I’m gonna keep, droppin’ tracks, smokin fat-mack hay/ In the ash tray, 3 quarts, put away/ Gat on the table cause I’mma able, I’mma keep it/ Right up on the shelf, where I know that I can reach it/ My mind is a weapon, cause I’m smart from the start”.
Mr. Big: I might be starting to sound like a broker record now, but here’s yet another incredible beat with some extra-compelling storytelling about making it big on da screetz, all rapped by 8Ball. It has this sort of proto-underground-horrorcore-sounding feel to it, which makes it even better for me, while still being grounded in the good old tradition of street-ambiented, hustle-centered storytelling we all know and love. “I quit my fuckin job, I had no job nigga/ Put on the mask, get the gloc, it’s time to rob nigga/ I hit the streets, but no victim had been chosen/ Damn I was nervous, but my fear wouldn’t stop my strollin […] I had niggas workin under me to take the heat/ I never touched the dope, makin a 100 Gs a week/ I gained respect, I’m the biggest playa of all time/ Don’t ever fuck with me, cause I’m…/ Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call him Mr. Big/ Mr. Big, Mr. Big, but not because of my size!”.
Pimps In The House: this closer of sorts sounds hands down spooky with the skittish drums and quasi-ambient samples and basslines, with more than just a hint of horrorcore overall. The fact that it consists of one straight verse by MJG with no choruses or hooks at all makes for an intense lyrical and flow-istical experience, complete with somewhat more complex and compelling writing. Maybe the single highlight of this album from a purely virtuosistical perspective. “See pimpin’ ain’t dead yet, the pimpin’ can pay the rent/ And pimpin’ is demonstrated by those in the government/ The money they send you ain’t shit but nickels and dimes/ And you been stuck in the ghetto since 1979 […] Now I’m runnin’ thangs, my workers walk wit’ a limp/ My whole staff is bitches and all the judges is pimps/ If ya weak in the game, thangs are bound to show/ ‘cuz a pimp gotta stroke, and a wimp can’t flow”.
