#8: Eric B. & Rakim — Paid in Full (1987)
New York, NY — 4th & B’way Records
We now move into our second and last 1987 record, Paid in Full, by the illustrious producer-rapper duo Eric B. and Rakim. Now folks, so far I’ve been going on about how all these albums I’ve reviewed are oh so important and iconic and etcetera; not too strange, considering I’ve picked only a select few from the very first years, so of course they’re gonna be exceedingly important. This one, however, I believe is one cut above what we’ve seen so far, both in terms of quality — the only material we’ve seen so far that might rival Eric B.’s production is in Stetsasonic’s On Fire, and Rakim’s rapping… well, you’re gonna see — and of importance; I am not exaggerating in the least when I say this is one of the, if not the, most influential rap records of all time, to an extent where it is possible to regard it as the single pivotal landmark in hip-hop history — before Paid in Full, and after Paid in Full — but more on that later. So, then, without further ado, let’s get to it.
First track, I Ain’t No Joke, immediately hits us with a rich, lush instrumental the likes of which we have seldom seen so far: the James Brown sample here does not play the role of just an occasional stab or flair somewhere between straight drum patterns, but is rather an integral part of the song structure, weaving in and out of a somewhat groovier, funkier drum beat. What shines the most here, though, might be Rakim’s performance. Lyrics are immediately recognizable as a step above what we’ve seen so far: more complex, recursive even, with stylistic devices such as metaphor and metonymy appearing in a much more frequent manner, but without losing any organicness on the process — quite the opposite, actually. Technically speaking, Rakim’s rhymes are also a thing of marvel — look no further than the very first four bars of I Ain’t No Joke for a clear cut example: “I ain’t no joke, I used to let the mic smoke/ Now I slam it when I’m done and make sure it’s broke/ When I’m gone no one gets on ’cause I won’t let/ Nobody press up and mess up the scene I set”.
See, in poetry there are these two little things called internal rhymes and multisyllabic rhymes, both of which are usually appreciated in rap writing. An internal rhyme is when you have two or more rhyming syllables within a given line instead of just at the end of each bar; an example can be found within the third line from the part I posted: “When I’m gone no one gets on ’cause I won’t let”. A multisyllabic rhyme is when you have a pair of syllables that rhyme with another pair, and not only one syllable with the other: “Nobody press up and mess up the scene I set”. Now, in such an isolated and mechanical explanation they might not sound that incredibly impressive, but when it’s within the musical context they’re made for, complete with the appropriate vocal delivery and rhythmicity, especially by such a masterful producer-rapper duo, they are potentialized and boosted to a different level. Rakim’s flow, then, is of the utmost importance here, the dealbreaker that makes this music what it is…
According to Kool Moe Dee, a fellow Golden Era rapper, Rakim was quite literally the one to invent the flow. Not the one to invent the concept, obviously, neither the one to first use the term, but the first to transform the hyped-up, high-energy, beat-compliant shouting of the likes of Run-DMC and LL Cool J into the toned-down, multifaceted, ever-changing flux of rhymes and rhythms that would later become the norm in rap. Instead of following the drum beat with exactitude, Rakim allows his syllables to dance around the drum hits, his bars to seamlessly bleed into each other and then back again, to be deliberately delayed and then play catch with each other, to syncopate, stress and accent themselves where you might not expect them to; ultimately, to flow instead of run. Seriously, I can’t stress enough how this style of unpredictable rhyming, this carefully offbeat cadence, was a total game changer at the time; pretty much all we’ll be checking out from now on until we reach the, say, mid-90’s, was built upon this very framework.
Anyways, my intent here is not to give a completely comprehensive introduction to these concepts, only to stress how much they were pioneered by our boys here. So, back to I Ain’t No Joke: theme-wise it’s pretty much just Rakim bragging about how much he owns and how great his emceeing is; it’s the one thing he kept from his predecessors I guess. There are a couple of notable parts where he references some earlier songs of his that nevertheless will come later in this album. Track two, Eric B. Is on the Cut, is obviously where our producer and DJ gets his chance to shine: it is entirely instrumental, composed of a fast-paced beat and relentless scratching. While not incredibly outstanding, it’s nevertheless intriguing to pay a little more attention and notice just how much rhythmic variation Eric manages with just a couple samples and a turntable. If anything, it’s nice to see the mandatory DJ track not relegated to the back half like it usually is.
Next up we have My Melody, where Rakim comes back with his rapping. As a long time fan of The Score, by all-time GOATs Fugees, I immediately recognize the “check out my melody” line from the first bar, which nine years later would be interpolated into that album’s title track. Again, he’s mostly bragging about how he’s one notch above the competition, this time with a few interesting nods to the Nation of Islam, which was very important to his formation as a youth — Islam being a theme that I’m sure will pop up many more times still, as a surprising number of MCs are actually converted muslims, mostly by virtue of black nationalist organisations such as Nation of Islam and the Five Percent Nation. Beat here is somewhat more minimal, with but a few laid-back melodic samples, but as the song goes on it gets progressively more layered, with more effects and stabs. And boy, does it go on for quite some time — six minutes and forty-six seconds, to be precise; but it doesn’t ever really get old or overstay its welcome, surely due to Rakim’s smooth but relentless delivery, which is what carries this one the most.
I Know You Got Soul, as the title would suggest, takes a turn towards a funkier direction, made obvious by the blatant James Brown sampling present all throughout. This beat is a style of production I think was sort of founded around that time, partly due to this record, which consists of simply using the main sample all throughout the beat, instead of just a stab or accent here and there over an otherwise drum-only basis. His flow on this one sounds even more smooth than before, with daring syncopations and rhythm breaks seamlessly weaving in and out. This song as a whole is a big obvious tribute to the soul/funk era, from the aforementioned sample to most of its images and references, such as the Soul Train, complete with yet more references to muslim mysticism here and there and some frankly impressive metaphor work in a couple of lines. Overall a remarkably smooth and easy-going track, delicious to the ears from the instrumental to the rhymes.
Move the Crowd, our fifth song, keeps up with the funky theme by hitting us straight in the face with a nasty bassline and a variety of disco-ey stabs and licks, and his flow is also somewhat steadier, reminiscent of the old-school style from the late 70’s, early 80’s. Theme is more party-centric too, as the name would imply, and here Rakim goes on a veritable journey of introspection and self-examination with the noble purpose of answering the pressing question of how to keep a crowd moving. Not incredibly noteworthy by any means, but still a fun groovy track with some more quality scratching by Eric B. towards the end.
Now, though, we are moving to the magnum opus, the pièce de resistance, the cherry on top of the many preexisting cherries of this album: Paid In Full, the title track. Jesus fucking Christ this tune rules so much, it’s so incredibly amazing that it made me instantly lose my solemn reviewer composure, as you can see. After a quick spoken intro where Eric and Rakim discuss their plans for chasing the proverbial bag, it goes into this funky ass bassline and then into the first verse, complete with a snarky little whistling sample and R’s now already familiar smooth jazzy flowing, with which he goes into a surprisingly self-conscious diatribe about being poor but motivated to go after his hip-hopping dreams. He considers many different themes in his ponderations, reflecting upon his life as a low-class urbanite and the possibilities of success that await him in the future; it’s also in this verse that his famous memey line “fish, which is my favorite dish” is found. It doesn’t take too long for the one and only verse to end, though, and we’re not even halfway through this track. What does, then, await us past the edge?
The answer is, a full section of some nasty scratching by the man Eric B. once again. His mastery of the technique is comparable even to Rakim’s mastery of the flow, no joke, such is the agility with which he does it is incomparable. All in all just an incredible track, though I must commit the blasphemy of confessing that I like the Coldcut remix even more — it’s basically this very song with many a spoken word samples and foley effects worked in, plus some messing with the vocals on top of the back half’s scratching session.
As the Rhyme Goes On hits us with some even more creative production by Eric, who goes to such lengths as to use a combination of field recordings, reversed drum hits and low-cut basses not very different to what you could expect from a dub record. Rakim’s delivery is somewhat more bold and frantic here, which definitely goes with the song’s main lyrical motif: that of affirming his excellence through aggressive metaphors addressed directly to us, the listeners. Some of this album’s most elaborate rhyming can be heard here, with both imagery and technical devices deployed liberally all throughout, and that’s not saying anything about his flow and cadence, as smooth and evocative as ever. Even then, though, the production is still the highlight here: Eric’s ominous, hermetic choice of samples, processing and general structuring on this beat is frankly jarring, and it is with confidence that I say that some of my favorite experimental acts from the late 90’s to early 2000’s, such as Deep Puddle Dynamics and dälek would feel perfectly at home here.
On Chinese Arithmetic, then, we have yet another instrumental-only joint, where Eric B. gets yet another chance to showcase his dexterous steering of the wheels of steel. Some fascinating sample work, including an AC/DC sample and yet more foley sounds masterfully worked into percussive and melodic elements, as well as one of the greatest timbres ever invented in the history of music: the TR-808 cowbell hit. I can’t help but be reminded of some various synthpop acts from that time which I also admire, such as The Art of Noise, and I wonder if Eric had access to such material. I must admit that the generic oriental riffs that play all throughout have not aged that well, but it’s understandable I guess. Next up we have Eric B. Is President, the first track ever recorded by the duo, yet another braggy joint about being the greatest at rocking a party, with some memey lines that would be referenced and interpolated many times afterwards, such as the illustrious “I came in the door/ I said it before”. This is one of the few beats in here that wasn’t produced by Eric B. but rather by Marley Marl, who is nevertheless credited only as a mixing engineer on the record sleeve. It is notoriously almost completely made out of somewhat funny, almost goofy samples instead of a mix of samples and drum machine/synth tones, which wasn’t really a common thing at the time as far as I know, along with yet some more masterful live scratching and DJing. One thing that I’m starting to notice regarding the production is that now the DJ-centric sections with scratching and whatnot are more of a central thing than they were in, say, LL Cool J’s Radio or Run-DMC’s Raising Hell; whereas in those it’s little more than a complement to the verses and hooks, here the rapping and the DJing stand in somewhat equal footing, almost like they’re dueting/dueling sometimes.
Finally, then, we have Extended Beat, the closer for this album, and, as the name might suggest, another instrumental track. Beat is extremely smooth on this one; funky, jazzy, soulful, all that at the same time. Very illustrious main horn section ostinato, along with some recognizable stabs and sound effects, most of all the funny Super Mario 64-ass (?) synth bass descending lick (I don’t know, it just sounds to me like something that you’d hear in SM64 ok?). Anyways, not a whole lot to be said about this one other than it’s deliciously funky, albeit somewhat more minimal and laid-back than the other instrumental tracks present here.
Once again, I cannot overstate how incredibly important and influential this record was, as well as just how good it is. Recorded on a tight budget within a one-week span, what began as little more than two ambitious bros shooting the shit and having fun at a studio booth quickly became a nation-wide sensation, received with universal acclaim and truly kickstarting a whole new era in hip-hop.
