Pharcyde - Labcabincalifornia

The Pharcyde appeared out of thin air. When Bizarry ride to The Pharcyde broke in 1993, the G-funk era was in full throttle, homeboys rapping about getting paid and getting laid over ominous synth sirens and Parliament samples. Meanwhile, Fat Albert's South Central crew juxtaposed classy jazz riffs with trash talk about a Pharcyde manor that stank like a gas station bathroom, gals that kept on passing them by, and ya mama, ya mama, ya mama.

Slimkid Tre, Fatlip, Bootie Brown, and Imani were the class clowns in the true school of hip-hop, that subgenre marked by jazzy beats and crafty, organic flows. Along with the Freestyle Fellowship then, and Aceyalone and the Nonce today, the Pharcyde broke through the gangsta grip and won the West Coast respectability. They also gave rap its sense of good humor back, recalling the days when beeyatches weren't the metaphorical butts of every joke. But now that the 'cyde have grown from boyz II men and moved to the comparatively swank wood-paneled Lab Cabin, they've taken a corresponding maturity check. Besides, Ol' Dirty Bastard wears the lampshade crown today, and who can compete with that?

On Labcabincalifornia, their long-awaited second release, the Pharcyde spill "the seed of the new breed," dropping the loony tunes and street-corner vibe in favor of a mellow head-nod more in synch with the Roots' subdued artiness than the Afros' selfsploitation shtick. It's a calculated progression, one designed to reposit themselves as serious artists, and get Labcabin as much play on the streets as their debut did on college radio.

It takes quite a few spins before the disappointment dissipates--it's like Martin Lawrence doing Chekhov, after all--but eventually, a few cuts distinguish themselves from the mid-tempo muddle. "The Hustle," one of a few party-ready numbers, rides a crushed-velvet Roy Ayers' Ubiquity groove and some serious scratching; the haunting "Hey You" is so static it veers toward ambient; the harmony-driven "She Said" tips toward the new R&B/rap hybrids flooding the charts. Most telling is the jarring segue from the giggling cut-ups of "Little D" into the cynical, Faustian imagery of "Devil Music" (note the Wu.tang Clan sample).

Good hip-hop is often overly serious of late, atoning for the stunts-and-blunts follies of hardcore rap. Labcabin is the sound of the Pharcyde trying to have it both ways: The group originally called the release Revelations, although dropping science never gets further than the repeated refrain, "I gotta kick somethin' that means somethin'." That's right, something.

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