There’s a moment on Hasan Salaam and Rugged N Raw’s “Mo Danger” where the mic partners trade bars back and forth “Brooklyn’s Finest”-style, kicking a mix of cypher rhymes volleying between scathe and hilarity. “Street sweeper leave your fam in the cold like FEMA / Ump-out-ya-block when I mollywop the speaker,” raps Hasan blisteringly, followed immediately by RNR’s raucous levity: “I’m sick of know-it-alls and elitists bitching / They got balls on the chin like Peter Griffin.” It’s a moment balanced perfectly by two highly capable emcees smacking the rollicking backdrop with their unique, individual bombast rushing full throttle. It’s a moment that embodies the chemistry these two solo artists captured and emblazoned all across collaborative album, Mohammad Dangerfield.
MD runs like something of an extended reunion. Hasan Salaam and Rugged N Raw have featured on each’s previous solo endeavors (most recently albums, Children Of God and Truth Serum, respectively) and this full-length team-up largely maintains the same harmony the duo harnassed on “Broke & Proud.” On the Budda Blaou-produced “The Gospel” for example, Hasan kicks weighty religion-laced raps ready for the pulpit, while RNR describes the lives of the people filling the pews. RNR breaks down how he’s “getting well known but still struggles for money” on the I.mpaq-produced “Deep Shadows,” while Hasan parallels his life to his father’s numbing the pain with women and alcohol. Both artists are equally adept at reaching inward, tapping into themselves and conveying those defining emotions earnestly and compellingly. It’s what makes them artists. Throughout Mohammad Dangerfield, both maintain interest by spitting from perspectives seldom touched in Hip Hop broadly, never more gut-wrenchingly visceral than on the C4 Sinistah-produced, “Unredeemed,” one of the album’s strongest offerings. Rugged and Hasan Salaam dig deep into abortions had in previous relationships, RNR vividly kicking it from the perspective of the aborted child:
“I hope your Rap career is worth a life / Silencing your pride and joy so you can earn some stripes. / How can anyone call it Pro-Choice / When it doesn’t apply to those with no voice? / The unborn ain’t less harder to kill / So now I’ll live forever in the heart of your guilt. / The unborn ain’t less harder to kill / So now I’ll live forever in the heart of your guilt”
But there’s more to MD than just weighty tomes and possibly wrist-slitting subject-matter. “The BBQ Joint” (featuring Kendal) is absolutely sublime. “On The Creep” featuring Swace Sevah is absolutely about breaking and entering, car-jacking and peeping-Tomming — and all three Emcees get caught at the end of their individual tales. Cypher tracks, “Express Intro” and “Rhyme Like No One” are absolute testaments to the solid lyrical foundation at the root of both skill sets. “Laam’s back so adapt and listen / I’m a man on a mission with a plan and a vision / 21 grams of conviction,” raps Hasan on the former. “Marvel at the awesome my pedigree do. / You can’t beat me / I’m the Dolphins in ’72”, raps RNR on the latter. The paradigm shifting styles and approaches, at times, feels like revolutionary rhetoric meets rollicking revelry. That’s a good thing. Both artists are extremely balanced lyrically, while the stale soundscape is absolutely snooze inducing.
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Chum Zilla’s “Generation Kill”, with it’s faint flutes and uninspired marching snare drum and knock-less bass line only grows irritating after repeated listens. As does DJ Insite’s lifeless melancholy on “Truly Yours.” “Valley Of The Kings”, produced by DJ Static snatches Just Blaze’s 2001 anthemic high-hats and subtle soul samples and rides it all the way to forgettable territory. And somehow, despite a seventeen track album with fourteen different producers, Mohammad Dangerfield still drowns in long droughts of audial redundancy. The LP is easily four tracks too long, overrun with too many shots of sonic mediocrity, bringing it entirely too close to stock comparisons, Brand Nubian or General Steele’s Amerikkka’s Nightmare Part 2 for example.
But moments like on “Mo Dangers”‘s second-verse are emblazoned all across Mohammad Dangerfield. Hasan Salaam & Rugged N Raw unleash a two-pronged, lyrical attack on the serious and the cynical, forcing in-depth contemplation and out-loud laughter all along the way. And that’s always appreciated, even if it’s short on replay value.
