Slum Village: Detroit Deli

Can anything kill Slum Village Rampant bootlegging, industry politics, shoddy distribution, defections, signing to a major label, and the loss of its most important member all failed to derail the group, so it's difficult to imagine what would. Slum Village emerged in the late '90s as the lucky repository for some of Jay Dee's most outstanding production. His fantastic beatwork on the group's classic debut Fantastic, Vol. 2 rendered the rhymes of Dee, T3, and Baatin fairly irrelevant, but by the time 2002's Trinity: Past, Present And Future rolled around, Dee was largely missing, having passed on mic duties to newcomer Elzhi, who emerged as the group's best lyricist. Trinity did surprisingly well, even scoring a minor hit with "Tainted," but the group's woes were far from over, as Baatin was kicked out of the group and Jay Dee re-joined, then departed just as suddenly. Now down to one original member (T3) and Elzhi, Slum Village returns with Detroit Deli, a surprisingly solid disc characterized by the top-notch production that has always been the group's saving grace.

"Selfish," Detroit Deli's smooth first single and video, has already scored considerable airplay, thanks to a video steeped in commercial calculation. Nabbing the ubiquitous Kanye West for production and a guest turn should have guaranteed ample exposure, but Slum Village hedged its bets by throwing in a bevy of gyrating women and a cameo from the similarly ubiquitous, strangely hypnotic Bentley Farnsworth, who rose to fame as P. Diddy's dandified manservant.

Women figure prominently in many of the album's best songs, as Slum Village proves equally adept at paying tribute to noble single mothers ("Old Girl/Shining Star") and disparaging scandalous hood-rats on "Hood Hoes," a candy-coated kiss-off to a woman deemed worthy of neither "a Happy Meal nor a plastic rose."

Apart from West and Dirt McGirt, who yowls the chorus for "Dirty," Detroit Deli's guest list leans heavily on local acts. Veteran MC Breed lends P-Funky vocals to "Do You," whose swaggering groove serves as a reminder that George Clinton was birthing the funk decades before Dr. Dre blazed up The Chronic. Jay Dee returns for the bittersweet closing track, "Reunion," and though Dee's reconciliation with Slum Village didn't last long, Elzhi and T3 prove on this overachieving effort that they're consummate survivors. Slum Village isn't hip-hop's best group, but it may well be its most resilient.