Ol' Dirty Bastard: nigga please

Big Baby soils himself

When, on his masterful debut single, Ol' Dirty Bastard (ODB) told the world that he liked it raw, I thought he was destined for hip-hop greatness. Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version, ODB's first album, proved me grossly mistaken. His previous efforts in mind, I approached Nigga Please, the new ODB project, with the utmost hesitance.

But when I heard the mesmerizing single, "Got Your Money," history immediately became obsolete. ODB waxed ineloquent over a chorus of R&B divas, and never before had perfect hip-hop synergy been so apparent. It was brashly and inexplicably charismatic—charming in a way that only a man who earnestly refers to himself as "Big Baby Jesus" can be charming. I instantly readmitted the Dirt Dog into my hall of hip-hop deities, only to have the album's remaining tracks drag him back down to Earth. Nigga Please establishes Dirty as a Y2K incarnation of Public Enemy's Flava Flav: a heroic hip-hop court jester whose kryptonite is the full-length album. On Wu-Tang collaborations, ODB's antics create a collage of exquisite one-liners. Without a supporting cast, however, they are merely one more component of a general incoherence. On most tracks, the beats are loose, the hooks are uninspired, and ODB's frenetic rhyming style does nothing to elevate or distinguish the chaos that ensues. "I Can't Wait," for example, consists of a poorly manufactured drumbeat and indecipherable lyrics save ODB's determined but meaningless repetition of "Big Baby Jesus/I can't wait/Fuck that I can't wait." As a producer, RZA seems to coax ODB's style towards some semblance of cohesiveness, and those few tracks show potential brilliance. But while these cuts are as soulful and creative as ever, they are few and far between and cannot save the album as a whole.

Though Nigga Please tends towards travesty, it is perhaps more appropriate to dub it a "great hip-hop swindle." As ODB chortles, grunts, and burps his way through each song, he provides a comic foil to hip-hop's overly serious self-image. He suspends, for one blissful moment, the knowledge that the entire genre forever teeters on the brink of self-destruction. On "I Can't Wait," ODB sends shout-outs to "the Eskimos, the submarines, the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and the schoolteachers." This glorious hip-hop novelty act cuts everyone some slack, so why can't we just do the same for him? (Elektra)

—Thomas Kane

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