Whether
a classic archetype like Superman or a self-fashioned alter ego like
Bobby Digital, embodying a comic-book figure holds a large appeal in
hip-hop, an art form driven by mythology and boasting of superhuman
capability. But Daniel Dumile might be the only rapper who
based his persona on a supervillain whose origin story sounds uncannily
like his own. To recap: While a promising student at Empire State University, Fantastic Four nemesis Victor
Von Doom conducted experiments attempting to communicate with the dead,
and a resulting explosion completely deformed his face. After
roaming the world and studying under monks in Tibet, he built a suit of
armor with a matching mask to protect him as he sought the destruction
of those at fault for his disfigurement.
Meanwhile, Dumile, then known as Zev Love X in early-90s rap group K.M.D., suffered the loss of his brother and musical partner DJ Subroc, who was hit by a car. That same week, K.M.D. were dropped from their label when the cover art of their Black Bastards LP proved controversial. Retreating from hip-hop completely, Dumile plotted his revenge on an industry that had broken him spiritually. This
meant performing in lyricist lounges with his face completely obscured;
all the while, his legend grew as bootleg copies of Black Bastards make the rounds. Then, in 1999, after the release of a couple of singles on Bobbito's Fondle 'Em Records, came Operation: Doomsday, an instant cult classic that now gets a well-curated and altogether fun reissue courtesy of MF Doom's own Metal Face label.
Doomsday
was birthed at a pivotal point in rap's trajectory-- at the height of
the record industry's boom years. Bad Boy's commercial reign was giving
purists plenty to carp over, but it still had crate-digging production
and New York rappers in its midst. But soon after, rawer
collectives like Ruff Ryders and Ca$h Money subsequently took hip-hop to
a more hedonistic, nihilistic, and violent place, with Swizz Beatz,
Mannie Fresh, the Neptunes, and Timbaland commandeering a clean break
from traditionalist, sample-based production. This opened a
lane for underground crews who often defined themselves in opposition
of these artists: Anticon and Def Jux sought to completely dismantle
hip-hop with abrasive sonics and intimidatingly dense lyrics, while
Rawkus and Okayplayer had the magnetic personalities and smooth
musicianship to be inside operatives potentially bringing mainstream rap
to a more positive place.
On the title track, Doom announces his intent instead to "destroy rap." Operation: Doomsday doesn't
sound like much of a manifesto, though: You may have come for the
street cred, but you didn't stay for any hang-ups about authenticity or
the state of the genre. That's mostly due to the
sonic template established here, chunky and proudly un-quantized drums
meeting samples you might hear at your dentist's office or on hold with
your cable company: saxes, flutes, and smooth, vintage synths. While
the autumnal, twinkling backdrops of "Doomsday" or the Coral
Sitar-laced "Red and Gold" wouldn't upset tables at your local coffee
shop, they provide a truly symbiotic relationship with the paradoxically
gruff and calm persona Doom manifests here, where the villainy is more
implied than anything.
In
fact, for an album that introduced the Metal Face alter ego, it's his
warmest and most benevolent work, almost entirely bled of the angrier
material that would mark future releases. If anything, Doom
is still in mourning here, and there's a palpable sense of loss that
rears itself sporadically: Doom imagines rejoining his brother in a tomb
"either unmarked or engraved" and holds a seance with Subroc on "?". For an MC not associated with emotional bloodletting, this record has some astounding moments.
If you're familiar only with Doom's post-Madvillainy work, it might be a jolt to hear just how lighthearted this sounds otherwise: Doom sounds surprisingly young, with a sprightly bounce to his muddy rush of words, and the song structures are among his most traditional. Whether
it's the entire-verse hook of "Rhymes Like Dimes", Doom and Tommy Gunn
flowing like blood brothers on "The Finest", or the Monsta Island Czars
posse cut "Who You Think I Am?", Doomsday is above all else an extremely accessible album. In most ways, Doomsday doesn't work on a heady plane: Topically, the majority of it centers around mic skills, women, stick-ups, and alcohol. Though
you're never too far removed from a dazzling run of internal rhymes or
an "oh shit!" pop-culture namedrop, there's no rhymin' for the sake of
riddlin'. Doom's technique, vocabulary, and knack for trivia never asks that you come away impressed. He
approaches lyrics the same way he does beats, unearthing gems hidden in
plain sight, completely legible without a quick check of Google or
Roget's.
Doomsday is often held up as Doom's masterpiece, in part because it's a beachhead upon which he'd begin an astonishing five-year run: as King Gheedorah, 2003's Take Me to Your Leader was a more prominent display of his production prowess, while in terms of sheer lyrical mastery, Vaudeville Villain has few peers. And of course, there's Madvillainy, his crowning achievement. Doomsday does have its imperfections and perhaps more than the LPs to follow. Some
of its minor flaws can be read as lo-fi charm, the droning wheezes of
Scooby-Doo flip "Hey" bleeding into the red, and the "slow it up, speed
it up" gimmick of "Tick, Tick..." outstaying its welcome. And
of course, there are the skits and the guest appearances from his
Monsta Island Czar crew, which are charming but have little replay
value.
The
album goes a long way toward demonstrating Doom's incalculable
influence on some of the leading lights of current underground hip-hop: Lil B has dedicated an entire album
to Doom, the lurching production style of Odd Future owes him a heavy
debt (most obviously shown in "Odd Toddlers" flipping the same sample as
2004's "One Beer"), and K.M.D.'s referential raps and playful yet
incisive deconstructions of racial politics are a clear influence on Das
Racist.
And while Doomsday is a must-hear in just about any format, I can't give enough credit to Metal Face for the actual packaging of the Deluxe Edition. If there's any feeling of sticker shock, you are definitely not simply rebuying a record. The
collection of bonus tracks and beats might get a one-time tryout by
non-obsessives, but the lunchbox and commemorative playing cards
included here are beautifully designed collectors items that justify the
purchase price. The coolest inclusion, though, is what
brought us here in the first place: the lyrics, fully transcribed and
collected with comic sketches and new artwork. Appropriately, the thing is so thick it barely fits into his stylehttp://yeahdef.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/02-doomsday.mp3
