Cypress Hill: Stoned Raiders

Nothing kills a vibrant, subversive musical genre quite like canonization, and while hip-hop doesn't yet possess its own Experience Music Project or Hall Of Fame, it is showing signs of descent down the nightmarish road toward respectability. The genre recently entered its 30s, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that it already has its own pantheon of legends, many as irascible and unlikely as the wildcats who invented and perfected rock 'n' roll. Hip-hop boasts more than its share of unlikely institutions, but few are as enduring as Cypress Hill and Too $hort, acts that have found a profitable niche and stuck with it. The former reigns as hip-hop's foremost advocate of marijuana usage, medical or otherwise—a formidable title, considering the sheer glut of contenders. The latter, meanwhile, has spent more than a decade as hip-hop's poet laureate of pimping, and has collaborated with everyone from 2Pac to Notorious B.I.G. to Jay-Z to P-Diddy. But while their chosen subjects may not be as substantial as those of, say, Dead Prez or Mystic, both acts have contributed immeasurably to hip-hop. Too $hort pioneered the use of live instruments, and essentially invented West Coast independent hip-hop from the trunk of his car, influencing everyone from The Coup to Trick Daddy. In Cypress Hill's corner, DJ Muggs' stoner-gothic production has left an indelible mark on the sonic psyches of countless bong-toting beatsmiths. Stoned Raiders is the California cannabis enthusiasts' sixth album, not including a gratuitous live album and a Spanish-language greatest-hits disc. At this point, Cypress Hill fans have a good idea what to expect from the group. Stoned Raiders doesn't break much with the vibe and lyrical content of its predecessors, but on the production side, DJ Muggs throws in a handful of generally effective stylistic curveballs. Cypress Hill's attempts at rap-rock fusion still sound clumsy and forced, but the disc's detours into swaggering G-funk and futuristic electro-funk (the vaguely Afrika Bambaataa-inspired "Red, Meth And B") are surprisingly successful. Lyrically, the group remains obsessed with marijuana and paranoia, but the overwhelming theme of Stoned Raiders is nostalgia, as B-Real engages in the sort of Proustian reveries that can only come from hours of consuming Woody Harrelson's herb of choice. This is most glaring on "Kronologik," a song that runs down the group's history for the benefit of the Limp Bizkit-loving dullards recently snookered by Cypress Hill's mercenary stabs at rap-rock. Thankfully, Stoned Raiders keeps B-Real's tortured rap-rock bleatings to a minimum, and the result is a solid return to the hip-hop basics for an unlikely but likable hip-hop institution. B-Real, Sen Dog, and DJ Muggs may be road-tested veterans of every package tour short of Lilith Fair, but they're youngsters compared to Too $hort, who seldom lets listeners forget that Cat marks his lucky 13th album. Like Cypress Hill, he's traveling in a more commercial, G-funk-oriented direction, courtesy of George Clinton-inspired hip-hop crooners like Jazze Pha, Kokane, Butch Cassidy, and Clinton himself, who, in the disc's most horrifying moment, brags gingerly about smoking crack. Not to be outdone in the hedonism department, Too $hort cops to smoking crack back in the day, but in spite of the disc's open embrace of hard drugs, Chase The Cat is a lively and inspired delight. The rapper's Iceberg Slim-inspired pimp narratives are as sharp as ever, while the disc's roster is overflowing with not particularly fashionable veterans (E-40, MC Breed, Erick Sermon, Clinton) who've developed terrific chemistry with Too $hort. At this point in his career, he's essentially making albums solely for his diehard fans, but he's also making some of the best music of his long and legendary career.