Posted on 09/02/2008
File this under: dope albums that purists like me would likely ignore.

You can’t front, if you saw Black Mask, Black Gloves in the Best Buy aisle, you’d bypass it for that Heltah Skeltah album, thinking the former was some typical mainstream rap crap.

Oh, but how contrer? This album is some of that ruff-knuckled goodness. Dope beats, a compelling antagonist, and a surreal glimpse into the life of a modern Urban American outlaw.

In Hell Rell’s rhymes the worst parts of society are reflected. Shoot, if I saw a guy who looked like Hell Rell walking in my direction, I’mma think about crossing the street.

Don’t front. Be honest.

It’s something about that dude’s voice. It has gravitas, as James Lipton would say.

There’s something in his voice so real, you know his observations didn’t come from no project window.

That is part of the charm of Black Mask Black Gloves. You get a sense that its aviator knows his terrain a little too well.

“Get Ready” is all propulsive and ominous and stuff. Rell strong arms this, where jagged piano lines rail against the coos of a pretty voice – sampled of course.

Money is Rell’s religion. His burf certificate is a $100 bill. His social security card is an ATM card.

And women are his vice, apparently. “Think of a Problem” and “Come on Baby Girl” attest to those sentiments. The former has our villain professing his allegiance to his god. Rell is in mack mode on the latter, promising some young hottie a trip to Italy for pizza. In an economy like this, some of us can only promise her a trip to Sbarro and a bottle of their most expensive Ginger Ale. But that’s another matter.

JR Writer brings his lyrical dexterity to the proceedings, enlivening “What Up?” On “Rumors”, Rell addresses the rumors swirling around his Dipset cohorts. And just in case you didn’t know, Dipset is still in effect like the Grateful Dead. The last song, “Million Dollar Plan,” is some more of that good good. Credit Araab Muzik, Kajmir Royale and Hassidity – relative unknowns in Hip-hop producer circles – for supplying my man with some of that gritty, foreboding, the-end-of-your-life-is-near type music.

This is a pretty dope release, straight up and down. The rhymes are solid. The hooks are effective. There’s hunger all over this. And Hell Rell is relentless like LaDainian on the opposing team’s five yard line.

Get your score cards out. That’s another quality release for Hip-hop indie label, Babygrande Records. The cover and packaging may be just a bit different than what we’re used to.

- A. Tacuma Roeback