Review Summary: A classic album nearly ten years past its targeted generation.
Having grown up as a child heavily educated in Rap and Hip-Hop, I always thought it was a little odd that the early-to-mid '90s were typically viewed as the "Golden Age" for the genres. Listening to my brothers talk to their friends about the new albums they just bought, there was indeed a sense of wonder still carried in their conversations, along with a lot of recommendations that were passed along, and a ton of burned CDs being traded. What I didn't realize was that, outside of my childhood bubble, there was an on-going debate between fanatics over which generation and era triumphed over another, a battle between old heads feverishly clinging to an age of Boom Bap and "Gangster Rap," muttering sentiments such as, "2pac didn't die for this ***," while new school kids (myself included) sunk their teeth into the Bling Era at the turn of the century. This realization took me aback, not because of how adamant and uncompromising these arguments were on the DatPiff forums, but because there were folks out there who truly believed that this "Golden Age" had somewhere and somehow ended.
While my prerogative here isn't to flex some self-proclaimed credentials, it isn't some great mystery that rappers of the late 90s were still producing hits: groups like Gang Starr and The Roots were still putting out forward-thinking Boom Bap; OutKast were still further departing from their sound on Southerplayalisticadillacmuzik (as well as giving a platform for other southern rappers of the time); the east coast still claimed the proverbial crown of lyricism with albums like Capital Punishment, Supreme Clientele, Revolutionary Volume I & II, and Violent by Design; Three 6 Mafia and affiliates were still keeping Memphis on the map, and rappers like Aesop Rock, Cannibal Ox, cLOUDDEAD, and Madlib were additionally pushing the boundary of Hip-Hop further into experimentation. If anything, then, this era of Hip-Hop, this post-"Golden Age" generation, solidified the fact that rap producers and emcees were still heralding the genre... it was just branched out, giving a new wave of Kanye's, G-Unit's, Eminem's, and Lil Wayne's more scope to reach broader audiences.
So, where does that leave Pete Rock? No doubt an instrumental figure of the "Golden Age," producing two hit albums with CL Smooth, which included the cult classic track "They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.);" Nas' "The World is Yours," songs for both the Poetic Justice and Menace II Society soundtracks, as well as tracks for heavy hitters such as Run-D.M.C., Brand Nubian, AZ, Common, Heavy D & the Boyz, and Slick Rick. Following his split with CL Smooth after their sophomore album "The Main Ingredient," Pete took on two separate productions for InI's "Center of Attention," and "The Original Baby Pa" by Deda. Before their debuts in 1995, however, the label Elektra Records shelved the projects: "We finished the album, turned it into Elektra and they never put it out, they only put out a single. Sylvia Rhone really didn't cooperate, she didn't break bread with me when it came down to resolving that. It was all about her changing everything around. She wanted to change my whole sound. When she said, 'You gotta make a beat like Puffy,' I just knew it wasn't going to work out." Due to legal complications surrounding the ownership of the masters, both albums weren't officially released until 2003
It's not difficult to surmise just how impactful these releases would have been for the 90s scene considering they're cited amongst the "most bootlegged albums in Hip-Hop's history." And it's no wonder, as track after track, Pete encapsulated the sound and feeling of soulful Hip-Hop: the snares are crisp, the beats are jazzy, and the samples tap into the subconscious of the listener, an almost "where have I heard this before" feeling (and you're not wrong for feeling this way, as any aficionado would be familiar with the samples on Step Up, The Life I Live, Square One, What You Say, Mind Over Matter, Microphonist Wanderlust; Markd4Death, and Nasty Scene). Likewise, on both albums, the emcees elevate the beats with thoughtful lyricism (though sometimes bland and overplayed), infectious hooks, and sly styles a la Gang Starr, A Tribe Called Quest, and Digable Planets. Yet there is still a problem that arises, one that harkens back to the initial reason as to why the albums were shelved in the first place: the notion that this type of Hip-Hop wasn't nearly as marketable anymore as the industry's limelight shifted towards "Gangster Rap" with the East v. West beef at an all-time high.
While Lost & Found is critically acclaimed within the underground Hip-Hop scene and contains some of Pete Rock's (maybe even Hip-Hop's) greatest beats, it still remains a big "what if?" Like many Rap albums before and after, Lost & Found was shelved at an incredibly pivotal point in the genre's history, one that was experiencing both an increasing new audience, but also incompetent record executives consistently underestimating its profitability and value. As GZA spoke to on Protect Ya Neck:
"First of all, who's your A&R?
A mountain climber who plays an electric guitar?
But he don't know the meaning of dope
When he's lookin' for a suit-and-tie rap that's cleaner than a bar of soap."
Likewise, regardless if the money was in "Gangster Rap," the fact of the matter is, conscious, jazzy, and soulful Hip-Hop still had a market, one that carried into the new millennium and onwards. Maybe the "what if?" only exists in my head, but the idea of an album released nearly a decade after its targeted generation being hailed as a "lost rap classic" begs the question and possible reinterpretation of what is deemed the "Golden Age" of Hip-Hop and Rap.
