Vintage Review: Rhythm-al-ism

Score: 4.5/5 | Released: November 24th, 1998

Written By: Anthony Seaman

            West Coast hip-hop in this era was viewed as a monolith; it was a bunch of South Central born, jerry curl dawning, 40oz sipping gangsters with itchy trigger fingers living by an antiquated code of territory and respect. The early 90’s snapshot of what Boyz N The Hood portrayed and Snoop Dogg smirked about was the first and last impression much of the world absorbed. In actuality of course, it was much more diverse. The Bay had hustlers and pimps with little Blood and Crip talk, while Dre, Snoop and 2Pac were expanding the West Coast song book into something more musically, stylistically and spiritually complex. King Tee and Paris provided underground alternatives that dug into their respective niches. The Dogg Pound were more traditional lyricists. Nate Dogg was dissolving the borders between rap and R&B, and the fabric of every beat owed tithes to George Clinton and Roger Troutman. Whatever any rapper did, they were graced with a sonic playground more pristine and sophisticated as any music the world had already been exposed to. While Dre was the genesis of this high bar being created, producers and session players like DJ Pooh, Daz Dillinger, Warren G, Johnny J and QDIII were crucial (and uncredited at times) in the creation of Dre’s records and the overall California ecosystem. Nestled in the fervorous biome of this time period was DJ Quik. He was a street legend off his homemade mixtape The Red Tape, elevated to rising star off his debut Quik Is The Name, and solidified into California lore off a sea of production credits along with his follow up albums Way 2 Fonky and Safe + Sound. By the end of 1996 Quik had trounced MC Eiht in a beef that had bled into the real world, making Quik rethink his entire aesthetic. He was viewed as another Blood rapper in the West Coast monolith with his own slick comedic sheen, an oversimplified title he despised. All the work he had done arranging, playing, producing, mixing and mastering his own records as well as songs for 2Pac, Tony! Toni! Tone!, and Adina Howard was being minimized due to the perception of his homeland. After the death of friends and collaborators 2Pac and Eazy-E, the beef with MC Eiht, and the murder of his personal assistant by his nephew, everything needed to be reset.

            Being a local DJ and record collector trained his ears to what makes people move, and his quest to perfect his own type of funk has been nonstop since. In any interview Quik is swift to name his biggest musical inspirations; Curtis Mayfield, Zapp, The Ohio Players, Prince. Dense and jazzy funk music was his north star. To entertain was always his mission. Quik himself has stated that Safe + Sound was when he hit his stride as a sound bender. Live session players were orchestrated by him as he crawled under every mixing board he could find to tweak the wires until everything was to his liking. Rhythm-al-ism was a dive in the deep end of everything he truly loved without the weight of a hardcore hip-hop persona restraining him. Carrying the responsibilities of an MC-producer hybrid means in which you can show your emotional range in more shades than anyone around you. All the sadness can be compressed into melancholy chord progressions, the anxiety of scheming your way home every night in a tightly-wound rhythm section. Unexpected strikes of genius are tucked in different sections of every track. The liquidy warble of guitars (word to the God, Robert Bacon) and synths on the opening of “No Doubt”, the talkbox on “I Useta Know Her”, the dropouts on “Speed”. “Whateva U Know” is a jazz club dressed from floor to ceiling with velvet and fresh flowers hiding a king sized waterbed center stage for Quik to make his female companions dreams come to life. There’s a nonlinear freedom weaved into every decibel from intro to outro. There’s enough of a variation to keep your head swiveling, guided by a steady diet of low end bass lines that nudge you forward. 

            With his lyrics he transports himself to environments where looking over his shoulder is unnecessary; grown folk house parties, backyard reunions, late nights with a rotating cast of lovers. The subtle quirks that made him stick out were flamboyantly pushed to the limit; breathless flows (“Rhythm-al-ism (Intro)”), tipsy two-step classics (“We Still Party”), clear eyed retellings of his own life (“I Useta Know Her”), and adventurous takes on other genres (“Bombudd II”). Quik’s delivery is bouncy and confident, but never as much as AMG or Suga Free, who act as dynamic sparks in the frayless tapestry of guitars and drum breaks. Whenever the spotlight hits his greased ponytail, Suga warps from man into maniac yelping from one disrespectful anecdote to another. Snoop and Nate Dogg act as foils to his unhinged blasts easing so deep into the fabric of the “Medley For The V” beat they nearly disappear. There’s even a moment where yearning for childlike innocence (as much as Quik’s horny ass could muster) is given a place to exist on the sultry “Thinkin’ Bout U”. Never plainly stated but peace of mind was Quik personal white whale. In interviews he’d spoken about the stream of tragedies surrounding every major moment of his life. On “You’z A Gangsta” you hear the annoyance with the extracurricular situations that have saddled alongside his fame. Murder, nefarious plots from family, equipment theft, label issues; he could never catch a break. With that at the forefront you see how becoming one with a studio to create a dream world where the liquor never stops and speakers always knock made him feel the most alive. 

            What hamstrings this album from being the top of Quik’s catalog is the very thing that makes it special; it’s too comfortable. On the production end a true explosion of creativity is investigated, but the lyrics return to the same rotation of sex and partying. An all-world level word bank makes it seem like things are more complicated, but at it’s core a warm refuge is sought. Do I want Quik to break down geopolitical theory like Paris? Nah, but his personal life and storytelling are at a level above anyone working in this time and for decades to come that leaning into his inner Slick Rick instead of giving space to every homeboy he can fit in a recording booth would pay dividends. None of the associate features are show stopping clunkers (a bonus point in his favor compared to 2Pac or Ice Cube) but Quik would rather play down the double edged star power he holds and spread it to his people. Playing the man behind the curtain brings a palpable joy to his rapping, letting him float through his personal dreamland unbothered by too many eyes nitpicking his every move. It may not be the globally adored classic that Quik Is The Name has become, but it’s the most representative of everything Quik stands for; the soul rattling beauty of hip-hop music.

Best Song: “You’z A Gangsta”
Best Beat: “Whateva U Do”
Best Moments: The countdown intro and the talkbox hook on “So Many Wayz” / Verse 1 and the twinkling chimes on “Hand In Hand” / Verse 1 on “I Useta Know Her” / That crunchy guitar lick on the hook for “We Still Party” / Pondering what a salmon croquette smells like for all of “We Still Party” / The reverse section drums under AMG’s astounding verse on “Speed” (a job, a man AND a retirement plan?) / Every Suga Free verse / El DeBarge on “Get Togetha”