Guilty Simpson.
We praise James ‘J Dilla’ Yancey today as a musical genius. And rightly so,
based on the body of his work. But one part of that genius that I think gets
overlooked from time to time is the fact that another Detroit native and MC,
Guilty Simpson, is in effect Dilla’s vision of an MC that the city - and hip-hop
as well - needs for these days and times.
Putting this idea forth shouldn’t be perceived as a backhanded compliment.
Not when you look at the fact that Guilty has been a key part of Detroit’s
hip-hop scene for years along with other notables like Eminem, Obie Trice,
Royce Da 5’9. Not when you find out that Guilty’s been down with Dilla since
2001, the fact being that House Shoes, another Detroit icon made Dilla and
Guilty’s bond possible back then. Before Dilla passed in 2006 he recommended
that Peanut Butter Wolf and Stones Throw Records sign Simpson. Dilla saw
that Guilty Simspson could be a voice from the ‘hood that would resonate.
Think about 2006 on your hip-hop landscape for a second. It was a turbulent
year to say the least. You had artists drop hot albums that year, crap rappers
get huge success and established MC’s put out disappointing efforts. Flux
that represented the outside world very well, with the U.S. being in the midst
of a second George W.Bush presidency and economic crisis looming. Dilla, in
his last days before succumbing to lupus, may have seen just how funky the
s—t was going to get. Guilty Simpson sees it too and details all the hardships
and hopes in every rhyme he writes. Listen to a Guilty Simpson track and you
find yourself immersed in a fine blend of ‘hood talk, impassioned reflection and
at the heart of it, the feeling that this struggle is a shared one. Listen to ‘Cali
Hills’ and you don’t hear a rap song, but a eulogy.
A eulogy of how things used to be. Look at Detroit, an American heartland city.
I’ve written about it before, the way it’s been ravaged and belittled. Especially
when it comes to the communities of color. Dilla, for as much as his lyrics and
musical output could deal with the bottle-popping and loose-women chasing
side of hip-hop, also had a soulful and political side to him. Best example being
‘F—k The Police’. Guilty’s lyrics are more refined, and carry more heft than a
.22 in a pair of Northlakes. But, Guilty also defines a rising legacy of Dilla and
that is what elevates them both. True artists let their craft select those that
will carry on for them. When people try to play down Dilla’s influence in the
perspective of jazz, look at his relationship with Guilty Simpson. It is a passing
of the torch and a collaboration much like John Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders.
It’s one of those pairings that people throw out in ‘what if’ discussions, much
like some do with NBA icons. But one that we may hear soon enough, given
that we really haven’t heard the entirety of Dilla’s beat discography even with
all that’s leaked. Cats like Guilty, and even Black Milk and Karriem Riggins, are
that last sermon of Dilla. Say amen for those blessings to music.
based on the body of his work. But one part of that genius that I think gets
overlooked from time to time is the fact that another Detroit native and MC,
Guilty Simpson, is in effect Dilla’s vision of an MC that the city - and hip-hop
as well - needs for these days and times.
Putting this idea forth shouldn’t be perceived as a backhanded compliment.
Not when you look at the fact that Guilty has been a key part of Detroit’s
hip-hop scene for years along with other notables like Eminem, Obie Trice,
Royce Da 5’9. Not when you find out that Guilty’s been down with Dilla since
2001, the fact being that House Shoes, another Detroit icon made Dilla and
Guilty’s bond possible back then. Before Dilla passed in 2006 he recommended
that Peanut Butter Wolf and Stones Throw Records sign Simpson. Dilla saw
that Guilty Simspson could be a voice from the ‘hood that would resonate.
Think about 2006 on your hip-hop landscape for a second. It was a turbulent
year to say the least. You had artists drop hot albums that year, crap rappers
get huge success and established MC’s put out disappointing efforts. Flux
that represented the outside world very well, with the U.S. being in the midst
of a second George W.Bush presidency and economic crisis looming. Dilla, in
his last days before succumbing to lupus, may have seen just how funky the
s—t was going to get. Guilty Simpson sees it too and details all the hardships
and hopes in every rhyme he writes. Listen to a Guilty Simpson track and you
find yourself immersed in a fine blend of ‘hood talk, impassioned reflection and
at the heart of it, the feeling that this struggle is a shared one. Listen to ‘Cali
Hills’ and you don’t hear a rap song, but a eulogy.
A eulogy of how things used to be. Look at Detroit, an American heartland city.
I’ve written about it before, the way it’s been ravaged and belittled. Especially
when it comes to the communities of color. Dilla, for as much as his lyrics and
musical output could deal with the bottle-popping and loose-women chasing
side of hip-hop, also had a soulful and political side to him. Best example being
‘F—k The Police’. Guilty’s lyrics are more refined, and carry more heft than a
.22 in a pair of Northlakes. But, Guilty also defines a rising legacy of Dilla and
that is what elevates them both. True artists let their craft select those that
will carry on for them. When people try to play down Dilla’s influence in the
perspective of jazz, look at his relationship with Guilty Simpson. It is a passing
of the torch and a collaboration much like John Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders.
It’s one of those pairings that people throw out in ‘what if’ discussions, much
like some do with NBA icons. But one that we may hear soon enough, given
that we really haven’t heard the entirety of Dilla’s beat discography even with
all that’s leaked. Cats like Guilty, and even Black Milk and Karriem Riggins, are
that last sermon of Dilla. Say amen for those blessings to music.