Busta Rhymes: Don't Call It A Comeback

 

Extinction Level Event 2: The Wrath of God finds Busta Rhymes in top form, delivering rap's best album of 2020. Over a decade in the making, the Long Island/Brooklyn emcee's patience is rewarded with a modern classic----thirty years after his entry in the rap game as a member of 90s group Leaders of the New School and nearly 25 years after his durable solo career jump-off. 

No stranger to the hip hop stratosphere, Busta Rhymes racked up consecutive gold and platinum albums for a decade---The Coming, When Disaster Strikes, Extinction Level Event (Final World Front), Anarchy, It Ain't Safe No More and Big Bang. Besides massive record sales, these albums had a couple things in common---cryptic titles and a chock full of hits.

Busta and ELE2's producers deliver a powerful rap album that echo masterworks from music's past---Thriller, Songs in the Key of Life, The Chronic, Mama Said Knock You Out and It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back. Lest you think I'm being blasphemous---Here's why: Like Thriller and Mama Said, ELE 2's strong album tracks hold their own alongside the actual singles.

Like Songs, Nation and The Chronic's sprawling variety and sonic mastery, ELE2 provides Busta with the perfect canvas to explore his gregarious gifts. As he moves from boom-bap king and party-rocker, hip hop everyman and rap soothsayer at the speed of light, blink and you'll miss.

In 2020, ELE2 shouldn't succeed. It defies convention by today's musical standards. Clocking in at just over 77 minutes, the album's length should have fallen flat with listeners whose short attention spans are shaped by the streaming singles-oriented platform. Not as easily digestible as today's one-note/hook-laden hip-hop, ELE 2's multiple guest spots should distract rather than deliver.

Instead of striking out at the plate, ELE2 is an artistic home run. Living up to its title, the record opens with an apocalyptic tone. Littered with top notch beat selections, film soundtrack excerpts (Flash Gordon, Superfly, The Warriors), well-placed samples and galaxy of guest stars---Busta has curated the album with the keen eye of antique dealer. 

Old collaborators (Mary J. Blige, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Q-Tip, Mariah Carey) lends an air of familiarity to ELE2. New ones (Vibez Kartel, Kendrick Lamar, Anderson Paak, Rapsody, Emeniem) inject it with contemporary energy. Over Calm Down's chopped-up House of Pain horn blasts. Busta matches lyrical wits with Eminem. He shares brotherly salutations with Q-Tip on Don't Go. Czar is elevated to epic proportions as MOP plays Bobby Byrd to Busta's James Brown sliding in lyrical references to their underground anthem Ante Up ("take chains off/everything off!"). 

As album hype man, Chris Rock's comedic asides celebrate Busta's greatness---"he's a human iPod/he can go on for days!"Album opener ELE2 Intro featuring Rakim and Pete Rock is a golden age rap fiends dream. It lasts seven minutes, but you'll wish it would go on forever. 

 ELE2's usage of the female voice is nothing short of grand. Nikki Grier's indictment is sharp as a blade on Freedom?---"you declare war/cause you don't want peace/you just want sheep/but we are not sleep/blood on your hands/blood on our streets." Mary J. Blige's soulful mourns anchor You'll Never Find Another Me while the yin-and-yang of Best I Can and Where I Belong is powered by Rapsody's raw transparency and Mariah Carey's airy sexiness.

 In 2006, Busta resurrected the late Rick  James' vocals for In The Ghetto. This time, he erects a vocal hologram of an 11 year-old Michael Jackson on Look Over Your Shoulder---courtesy of Motown's master reels of the Jackson Five's 1970 hit I'll Be There. A 1977 sample of the Teddy-less Blue Notes' plush Here I Am is transformed into the cinematic backdrop for the lofty-titled Master Fard Muhammad featuring Rick Ross. 

 In the past, Busta's string of popular radio singles overshadowed his album themes. Leaving nothing to chance, he enlists Minister Louis Farrakhan to deliver his signature calm before the storm. Breaking from Busta's bluster, the Minister lures the listener back on course with vocals hovering over the album like incense in the air.

 Deep Thought unearths 24-Carat Black's 1973 Ghetto Misfortune Wealth, previously sampled on Eric B. and Rakim's 1990 In The Ghetto.  When Busta momentarily pulls back the rap star mask to reveal the tracks of his mental tears, the introspection is powerful. Unable to emotionally connect with his woman, his concealed depression and stress is partly attributed to career occupational hazards---"My voice goin' up/soundin' like a frog/doin' shows back to back/partially why niggas are reluctant to long."

 Lamenting the death of manager/friend Chris Lighty and his father, Busta languishes in illmatic self-medication--"that's why probably why I smoke and keep on drinkin'/ cause I need closure for my mind, soul and my body." When it's all said and done, solitude is his sanctuary. Carving out a career legacy is his solace ("That's why I work so hard/ to try to expand the business a little farther/ to get my son a Range/and my daughter a Charger.").  

Best I Can is inspired by Busta's paternity struggles. Rapsody masterfully plays the part of a jilted baby-mother offering a reluctant apology for her jealous and callous ways. As she repents for her sins---"I took your joy/and had some sorry-ass nigga/play father to your boy"---Busta is finally vindicated by her apologies---"sorry I call you/that I wished I didn't mean it/I never thought I 'd live to see the day/that you'd see it" but scars remain deep.

 One moment Busta croons like Mos Def on Boomp! The next he flips the hook from Shirley Ellis' 1964 hit The Name Game throughout Who Are You. Witty couplets come hard and fast---"so much smoke/they nick namin' the flow chimney/ bag full of francs/they be federal note crispy". As he destroys the BBD-laced Outta My Mind, Busta leapfrogs over drum snares with such vocal agility, its hard to believe that the man's almost fifty years old.  

ELE2 delivers 360 degrees of Busta and it's his lyrics of fury that makes his artistic cipher complete. Drawing a line in the sand, he calls out superficial Black solidarity---"in a bathroom you wash your faces with us/you ain't ready for trading places with us." He takes aim at armchair activism---"and while you're frontin'/ you just walk about/if we ain't fightin' for what's right/ then what we talkin' 'bout?/ and while I fight with all my might, now let me sort shit out/ inspire folks/become the activist they talk about." 

As Busta warns transgressors of impending doom---"you playin' with a match/ that can grow into an inferno/indescribable the burn/when the fire feel eternal"--- he ponders the absence and limitations of spirituality ---"Playin' with symbols and signs/devil worshippin'/people talk/ like they prayin' to Lucifer/what happened to Jesus Walks?" and "Prayin' to Jesus hangin' on ya wall and/Black man hopin' they make it him tomorrow." 

  ELE 2 concludes with Rock's taunts and the haunting melody of (see: 16:48) Chopin's Sonata No.2 in B-flat minor, Op.35. Both double as metaphors predicting other emcees' Last Days and Rhyme.

 Some rap veterans remained tethered to the greatness of early works. Some became casualties to changing times and tastes, Others continue soldier on in relative anonymity. Others rest on the annals of mediocrity, tearing apart their legacy one project at a time. Busta Rhymes could have easily succumbed to these pitfalls. Instead he's setting a new bar for all hip hop legacy artists to aspire to. To paraphrase Chris Rock---take notes. Write it down, get a pad. Learn, motherfuckers, learn from a god emcee. Ain't too many left. But don't call it a comeback. He's been here for years.