hip hop isn't dead.

The last time I ran an entry in this particular series was three and a half years ago. I know why it happened – hell, when was the last time you saw Max’s Book Club, am I right? – but that’s still not a good enough excuse for me, and I’m the guy running the site. I’m the one doing most of the listening and the writing in the first place. So I hope you both accept and engage with today’s post in the spirit in which it was intended: as an excuse to continue talking about artists whose discographies have previously been worked through to completion.

A brief rundown for any newbies that may have somehow discovered the blog while looking for downloads of rap albums from the late 1990's: Soundtrack Soundcheck isn’t focused around any specific project accompanying the release of a feature film – rather, it’s a chance to focus on tracks one lone artist or group has exclusively contributed to what typically winds up being a wide array of movies from across the spectrum. What I’m most interested in here is exploring the thought process, trying to decipher why certain songs were offered to certain music supervisors: if a track is recorded specifically for a film, that’s one thing, but more often than not songs seem to be thrown at various projects like birdseed, a get-rich-quick scheme where the artist continues to take advantage of how profitable our chosen culture has become for the music industry as a whole. (Side note – if you are interested in looking at film soundtracks as a whole, the Patreon has at least one such write-up as of this, er, writing, and more are planned based on interest, so let your voice be heard!)

Today’s entry is about some billionaire named Shawn Carter. How it’s taken me this long to bring Jay-Z back into the conversation is a mystery, but what isn’t as cloaked in secrecy is the man’s work ethic. Back when he was a full-time rapper, the guy put in some fucking work, protecting his brand while keeping his name alive through both guest cameos and placements on soundtracks both major and minor. Hell, some of these throwaway efforts became hits in their own right, which goes to show just how revered Shawn was when he was striking out in his first post-drug dealing career. These days, he’s far more likely to remain behind the scenes, raking in the money while only speaking up behind the microphone every once in a while, when the occasion calls for it and he believes he has something worth saying. (I said when he believes, mind you.) But the music remains, each individual track offering a glimpse into the past, both his own and of hip hop in general, and what are these posts if not twisted glances into a long-buried time capsule?

WHAT THE GAME MADE ME (FEAT. SAUCE MONEY & MEMPHIS BLEEK)
FROM: I Got The Hook-Up!

Jay-Z and Sauce Money on the same track? We must be talking about the mid-to-late 1990’s. Also accompanied by Memphis Bleek, the little kid from the Marcy Projects who absolutely has blackmail material for Shawn hidden in an envelope in between his mattress and box spring, or perhaps Jay saved Bleek’s life once and felt responsible for his career moving forward, Hova makes the case that his general demeanor and spending habits were formed by his experiences in the drug enterprise and not the rap game, which at least gives us a different perspective than all of those other songs that like to point out the institutional overlap between the two (including at least one song by Jay-Z himself), but “What The Game Made Me" is awfully fucking boring, so any braggadocio wasted on this Chris Lidjio production has since been voided. The beat is just plain fucking weak, the intriguing nostalgic effect of hearing a young, cocky, non-speed-rapping Jay-Z alongside both his friend and his young protégée negated by the piss-poor choice in musical backing – no wonder Roc-A-Fella passed this one over to Master P for his I Got The Hook-Up! soundtrack. Sauce Money sounds just as sarcastic as ever, his default setting, although his flow is a bit awkward as he tries to fit over the beat, while Bleek sucks pretty much the entire time, his higher pitch sounding like a precursor to whatever Meek Mill claims to do over at the Maybach Music Group. Only Shawn manages to sound decent, his slower, methodical conversational flow not saying much of anything, but at least he doesn’t seem to be breaking a sweat here, his effortless cool exuding from the track like every scent ever in a Bath & Body Works. You two can skip this one.

WHO YOU WIT
FROM: Sprung

One of the last times Jay would collaborate with Ski Beatz (who was still going by just “Ski”) was on “Who You Wit”, released as the lead single from the soundtrack to 1997’s Sprung, a movie I had forgotten even existed until Hov repeated, “Never sprung, huh?” during the song intro. The beat is relatively simple: stuttering synth notes punctuated with a standard drum beat that sounds too polished for the streets but still a bit too grimy for the radio, although “Who You Wit” did become a mild hit anyway. Hov was still in his conversational smart-ass rap mode here, professing his love for “bitches” in every color of the wind while also boasting about his wealth, and the end result remains catchy today in an “Ain’t No N---a”-kind of way, kind of hollow but entertaining nonetheless. “Who You Wit” is a fun song, but not necessarily a great one, a critique Jay seems to agree with me on, as he allegedly recorded this one in a hurry in order to make the soundtrack cutoff. He obviously liked his own concept, however, as he famously released “Who You Wit II” on his sophomore project, In My Lifetime, Vol. 1, recycling the instrumental, hook, and first two verses, then pairing them with an all-new third verse that, EPMD reference aside, pales in comparison to his original choices. Enjoyable enough, but you’ll just feel hungry again in an hour.

FROM MARCY TO HOLLYWOOD (FEAT. SAUCE MONEY & MEMPHIS BLEEK)
FROM: The Players Club

Another group effort from Hov, Bleek, and Sauce, “From Marcy to Hollywood” is built around the viewpoints of three separate individuals who grow up around the street scene, with each taking very different lessons away from the game even though all three of their paths bring them right back to it. Not exactly what I would have gone with for a song from Ice Cube’s directorial debut, the 1998 crime drama The Players Club, but while the Clue and Duro instrumental is repetitive as fuck, the performances themselves weren’t that bad. Jay-Z was still aiming to impress everyone at the time, his matter-of-fact smart-ass oozing charisma behind the mic, while Memphis Bleek’s low-level thug says nothing of consequence, although to his credit, the ignorance he shows to the outside world is on brand for the character he’s portraying here. The best verse comes from the reasoned Sauce Money, playing the role of a man who managed to escape the lifestyle and become a success in his field, only to crack under the pressure and regress to what he knows after a traumatic event. (“I got a ‘you die first’ fetish,” was both coldhearted and made me laugh longer than I had expected.) Not the best song, as the music truly is frustrating to hear on a loop, but the performances were solid, at least.

MORE MONEY, MORE CASH, MORE HOES (FEAT. MEMPHIS BLEEK, BEANIE SIGEL, & DMX)
FROM: The Corruptor

A remix that intentionally calls attention to the fact that it is, in fact, a remix, both with its silly-as-shit title and Jay’s very first line, “Turn the lights even lower!”, a reference to how he opened the original “Money, Cash, Hoes”. However, even though this may be virtually identical to its predecessor in spirit, it’s missing one crucial ingredient: DMX, whose feature credit remains attached as a technicality due to his unmistakable voice ad-libbing during the hook, a contribution which was merely carried over from the original take as a part of the Swizz Beatz instrumental, which is unchanged. (Whether or not that last bit sounds pleasing will wholly depend on your perceived tolerance for the Casio keyboard-esque glissando Swizzy presented.) “More Money, More Cash, More Hoes”, which is alternatively known as the far less cumbersome “Money, Cash, Hoes (Remix)”, plays exactly as the type of remix an artist would get his friends and/or employees to jump in on after a song becomes an unexpected hit, so it being cast aside to the soundtrack of the Chow Yun-fat vehicle The Corruptor, of all movies, is deserving of a head shake, as this should have been released as a B-side. (Although, to be fair, had that actually happened, Jive Records wouldn’t have commissioned a music video for this remix, so.) Jay-Z still tackles the first verse, while Bleek and Philly’s own Beanie Sigel occupy the second and third slots, respectively, and none of this is any good. None of it. Bleek sounds fucking awful, Beans never truly acclimates to the shiny-suited environment, and Hov knows he’s taking the lazy route, but cannot bring himself to care. I will say that Sigel’s closer, “Y’all never seen big face money / ‘Til them big face twenties,” is something my mind always mixes up with Hov’s own line, “I’ve been spending hundreds since they had small faces” (from “Money Ain’t A Thang”) even though they aren’t even close to saying the same thing. Other lines that concern me from this track include several from our host’s own outro: “You are about to witness a dynasty unlike no other” doesn’t make any fucking grammatical sense – so we’re going to witness a double negative, I take it? The “Neveruary 31st, 19-Never Hate” fake date is kind of amusing, but the wind is taken out of the gag’s sails once Jay begins to fixate on telling his enemies to kill themselves, and then won’t shut up about it, a comment that’s weirdly of its time (this song dates all the way back to 1999, mind you), but feels casually cruel in a way that Hov has generally avoided throughout his career. Basically, this remix is irrelevant trash that could have been drastically improved had DMX been invited to spit a new verse. I stand by my story.

THIS LIFE FOREVER
FROM: Black Gangster

This underrated gem was recorded around the same time as Reasonable Doubt, even with our host’s direct mention of the Black Hand Entertainment label that released the soundtrack. Over producer Ty Fyffe’s darker loop, Shawn Corey Carter’s conversational flow, the main reason I began to like his work in the first place (miss me with all of his earlier speed-rapping nonsense – he sounded okay at best and incredibly silly at worst, and it wasn’t for me), effortlessly details moments in the life of a drug dealer, and when people say they miss the old Hov, this is the guy they’re usually talking about. Confident, cocky, and a bit of a smart-ass, this Jay-Z unleashes two verses performed as though he still had something to prove, because at the time he really did. “This Life Forever” may appear on the soundtrack to a movie that was ultimately never released, but our host’s bars still reach for Donald Goines-level accuracy, succeeding more often than not. The production is airtight here, but the real draw is Shawn, who drops in bars such as, “I’m leaving n----s leaking more than just information,” and, “I floss on my off days, fuck what they all say,” in between highly specific descriptions of various situations Jay-Z the drug dealer may or may not have experienced himself. “This Life Forever” is a good time regardless, one that should be considered required listening for anyone who considers themselves coke-rap aficionados but audibly question why Pusha-T recently named Hov as his favorite emcee in the sub-genre.

PEOPLE’S COURT
FROM: Backstage

One of the goofier entries on this list I only refer to as such because of its instrumental, where producer Shim takes the very familiar theme from The People’s Court and adapts it for Shawn Carter’s whims. The loop is both ridiculous and distracting, is what I’m saying. For that matter, so are our host’s repeated references to Vol. 2… Hard Knock Life, the project “People’s Court” had originally been earmarked for, if only our host hadn’t missed his deadline to turn the album in to Def Jam. (Jay later gave it to DJ Clue for use on the soundtrack for the concert tour documentary Backstage.) Overlooking these obstacles, what the listener ends up with is an aggressive performance from Jay-Z, who traverses three verses talking mad shit while threatening you and yours. (“Look, my guns is all range, more pain / Indifferent to whether you’re big money or small change.”) “People’s Court”, in his mind, represents settling your issues in the streets, although that doesn’t stop Hov from dropping multiple, occasionally stanza-length references to how the real legal system actually works, the corniest bars being, “All rise, the Honorable Jay-Z presides / Instead of a mallet, I hold a tool, all objections overruled.” (Did nobody feel comfortable enough to tell him that it’s called a gavel?) This ultimately isn’t a song even the most dedicated Jay stan will want to hear more than once. His verses are lyrically dense, so at least he isn’t taking the easy way out of his own metaphor, but combined with this specific instrumental, this felt like an actual chore to listen to, and that isn’t how music should work.


HEY PAPI (FEAT. MEMPHIS BLEEK, AMIL, & TIMBALAND)
FROM: Nutty Professor II: The Klumps

There is an argument to be made for the combination of Jay-Z and producer Timbaland never missing. They certainly have several good-to-great collaborations underneath their shared belt. (I’m still partial to “Lobster & Scrimp” myself, and yes, I know that you don’t care.) You can make the argument, is what I’m saying, but you’d be objectively incorrect as long as songs such as “Hey Papi” continue to exist. A joint effort with Memphis Bleek and a lost-to-the-sands-of-time Amil (who appears on the hook, barely, but still doing more than DMX did on “More Money, More Cash, More Hoes”), “Hey Papi” may have been attached to a film that was wildly successful (although I’d bet neither of you two could share anything about its general plot without referring to Wikipedia), but that wasn’t enough for it to find any audience. I can’t ever discuss “Hey Papi” without mentioning its original leak: an unmastered version of the song that only featured Amil (still just repeating the title of the track during the hook), zero Bleek rhymes or Timbaland ad-libs to speak of, with Jay-Z running through three separate verses, all of which following his stream-of-consciousness as he attempts to become a better man who has more respect for the various women he happens to fuck. This thread is still followed in the official release, which features more Timbo flourishes within the bouncy beat and generally sounds more complete, yet still pales in comparison to the leaked demo-esque offering because:

(1) I heard that one first; and

(2) this version has Bleek, whose verse doesn’t follow Hov’s headspace, therefore making no goddamn fucking sense.

Again, “Hey Papi” isn’t a good song in the conventional sense, but the beat is catchy, and Jay’s two verses still sounded decent to me, although I say that fully believing that this song was never destined to become anything resembling a hit. I do wonder if our host has any plans for that “lost” third verse, however.


8 MILES AND RUNNIN’ (FEAT. FREEWAY)
FROM: 8 Mile

Shawn Carter and his then-newly signed artist Freeway let an Eminem instrumental get the best of them both on “8 Miles and Runnin’”, named after the movie whose soundtrack it appears on. Not that Marshall overshadows them with his production skills, of course: his work here is plodding boom bap whose darkness is derived solely from someone forgetting to pay the light bill, not because there’s any menace to be found. To his credit, Hov appears to have actually watched 8 Mile prior to writing this song, as his two bookending verses touch on how he personally felt when he was trying to get his foot in the door of this here rap shit, a fact that he keeps underlining with a smirk by repeatedly mentioning that his eighth album was scheduled to drop later that year (that would be The Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse, in case you two wanted to keep track). Beardy, whose modern-day classic track “What We Do” dropped a couple of months prior to this effort but obviously hadn’t reached its peak yet, fires off a quickie verse that likely recorded prior to that earlier song, but isn’t nearly as fun and gleefully violent as his better work, his religious focus not quite meshing with either Em’s beat or his boss’s boastful bars. You’ve forgotten about the existence of this song for a very good reason.

We’ll be back soon with the rest of my thoughts on Jay-Z’s soundtrack offerings. Tell a friend to tell a friend. And let me know below if this is a series you’d like to see revived – there’s certainly many more artists that can be explored through this lens.

-Max

RELATED POSTS:
Here’s a taste of the other entries in this series, and if you’d like to read more about Shawn Carter, well.