By Odeisel
Conscious Hip-Hop involves a level of community awareness. With the release of The Greatest Story Never Told, Saigon has brought conscious rap into the 21st century with a keen eye toward those living the real life under the yoke of urban depression, crime and poverty.
At 17 tracks, this album is too long. With a message this precise, addendums that take the album off course detract from it. “Give It To Me” is a lame attempt at crossover. The Devin the Dude-crooned “What Lovers Do” does the same, although it’s a much better song, but it’s to the detriment of continuity. The autotuned elements and construction of “Believe It” feel dated and lack the effectiveness of the rest of the album.
Aside from those missteps, the production on this album fits Saigon like a glove. Just Blaze’s intimacy with Saigon as an artist is readily apparent. While none of the beats sound exactly alike, there is a clear unity of purpose and vision. Songs bleed into each other well and the transition in pacing and speed is never jarring.
The intro of the album is the perfect setup for the album. “Station Identification” frames prison as a big party where it’s so exclusive, the hosts come get you. That allegory speaks to how rappers take prison as some big joke or a badge of honor.
That hard drum, screaming organ aesthetic of “The Invitation” is classic Just Blaze. Q-Tip interpolates his “The Jazz,” swapping NYC neighborhoods for the different prisons. “Come On Baby” features Swizz Beatz on the hook and Jay-Z on the mic. Saigon references Tribe himself with a nod to Phife on the intro and a cute nod to HBO’s Entourage (“I’m like me on Entourage, god I’m playing myself”). Jay-Z drops a verse concerned with why cats no longer count him among the hood even thought he came from the slums. He still gets busy, sneaking in a reference to the Cuban missile crisis.
The cinematic drama of “War” is driven by synth strings, sirens and news clips drawn together over piano work and serves as a lengthy lead-in to “Bring Me Down Pt. 2.” Over emo guitars and a knick-knocking drum, Saigon emits the struggle and never-say-die attitude of the hood. It’s the kind of Eminem “I’m Not Afraid” vibe that ends up on commercials and ESPN segments. The pace slows on “Enemies” with its somnambulant bassline as Saigon chronicles standard urban betrayal. That theme is furthered on “Friends” with better all-around execution.
Saigon delivers his resume on the title track, declaring his goal to speak out against demagogues that prey on the hood and against the evils that our children face in society. Faith Evans stars on “Clap” as Sai tasks the hood with doing away with violence and drugs. “Preacher” goes hard at those who live fat from tithes while the neighborhood starves.
Luther Vandross is slickly sampled on “It’s Alright.” The well-produced track is uplifting, true to the theme of the album, features the incomparable Marsha Ambrosius on the break, and contains some of the strongest lyrics on the album.
“Better Way,” featuring Layzie Bone, with its piano and high-hat rhythm is fitting of the overall narrative. “Oh Yeah (Our Babies), with moody strings and chilling, riveting samples finds Saigon conjuring the ghost of Kool G Rap with his delivery and rhyme scheme. Precision, well-done conscious rap.
Saigon is musically compelling and Just Blaze laid down the yellow brick road on an album that in no way glorifies or overdramatizes the problems of urban America. There is material for a superior album that is unfortunately saddled by lengthy filler and the decision not to close with “It’s Alright.” Hopefully this isn’t the last story that Saigon tells. Fine tuning would have made The Greatest Story Never Told superior. As is, it’s very good.
3.75 out of 5
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