Mass Appeal

While listening to this disc, Al Capone’s ghost popped up on my left shoulder, saying, “Damn, this motherfucker’s gangsta!” Then, the spirit of Robin Harris appeared on my right, exclaiming, “What?! Are these fools Bebe’s kids?” “You’re right, Sir Robin,” I replied. “They don’t die; they multiply.”

And, sure enough, when you think a genre is definitely played, a new crop of fools appears who haven’t got the memo. And, like Palmetto roaches, these “Dirty South gangstas” keep popping out of the levees of New Orleans. The new bouncers are the Mass Appeal crew, who has come to take the throne vacated by Cash Money and No Limit (and you thought it was empty for a reason). Of course, that’s only wishful thinking. Anyone who’s hung out in Atlanta or one of that fair city’s black strip clubs knows the genre ain’t dead. I just wish it were.

And it’s my hostility that makes Massiv’s Global a mixed bag. I generally hate this stuff, but the man is pretty damned good. Massiv’s style is a lazy summer day with the added bonus of diction. Unlike Juvenile, Lil’ Wayne, etc., you can actually understand Massiv. The lyrics are your usual — with a splash of Afroman humor. It’s a nice flow wasted on drivel.

The production is actually commendable. Levels above the usual Casiotone production level of a lot of Southern (c)rap. Care and a bit of originality have been put into this, placing them leagues above most of their counterparts. While definitely not as earth-shattering as when Master P’s posse broke, it’s a hell of a lot better than the Cash Money crew. They crafted some good bounce with touches of brilliance in songs like “Stop Rankin” and “Need A Brick.” The midtempo tunes like “Yall Know,” “Fa Sho,” “Big Man,” and “From Ten Until,” where the tempo perfectly matches Massiv’s syrupy cadence are especially worth it. However, there were some real clunkers that really could’ve been excised from this 22-song disc (as well as those skits).

All in all, though, Massiv’s Global is a fairly impressive piece of Southern art. Nowhere near Outkast and Goodie Mob, within earshot of Mystikal, and miles ahead of most of those below the Mason-Dixon line.

Mass Appeal Records:

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