Review of Jake Palumbo’s “District Selectman”

It’s been a long time comin’, but it’s finally here.

Independent rap music provides a lot of hit-or-miss prospects. Sometimes you can strike oil at $4 a gallon, and sometimes you strike the septic tank. Truthfully, though, we’ve moved far away from the times when an emcee had to hustle his product on mixtapes sold out of his car trunk following a near-sold out show at the local college venue. Technology has forced us into an era when anyone with a hard drive, a Mr. Microphone, and a copy of Audacity can be the greatest rapper Myspace has ever seen. In this transitional phase, between hard copy cassettes and CDs with obtuse liner notes and hooks stolen from Stevie Wonder’s “Songs in the Key of Life” using a Numark and the high market sampler from two years ago, and lyrics about Dungeons & Dragons and stormtroopers laced on top of a cut-and-paste beat available for download at Sharebee.com, sits Tennessee’s son Jake Palumbo.

Don’t go thinking I’ll give Jake a nod just because Science Gone Mad got props in the liner notes of “District Selectman,” either. Hell, I loved “Future Dead Rapper” when it debuted, but that was 2003, and I was uncertain how the years leading up to 2007 had treated Mr. a/k/a Jesco White. After all, the innovations in music production since 2003 had evolved considerably, as well as the competition. Jake himself, in an online soliloquy, makes note of this when discussing Nas’ “Hip Hop is Dead” release; simply put, there can be such a thing as too many emcees.

Jake’s style is hard to describe. He wears his many influences on his sleeve, and he fills his rhymes with elements that are at the same time innovative in their presentation and comfortable in their familiarity. This statement by no means should be interpreted to imply that Jake’s music is cookie-cutter, by any means. If you gotta have a comparative analysis, look at Jake as a hybrid of RA The Rugged Man, filtered through the boom bap of the mid-to-late ‘80s, with a hearty reverence for the styles of the booming ‘90s.

One of the marks of an emcee is how they come across as individuals, i.e. the man behind the pseudonym. When they’re cutting their promos, are they bragging about their body counts or rides, or do they come across as genuine individuals? Having known Jake solely through internet interactions, the random interviews here and there, his journaling about thoughts on his industry, and his sporadic Youtube confessionals, Jake the man is someone dedicated to his art; at any point, I’m certain he could blow you away with his knowledge on all corners of hip-hop phenomena, from beats, hooks, lyrics, punchlines, the history of rap, the grandfathers, the godfathers, the fathers and the bastard sons, east coast vs. west coast, gangsta vs. Dirty South, the four elements, best tech equipment for the money, and how to develop a “perfect” live show. Where most “artists” would come across as haughty at best, Jake stuns you with an affable manner that belies the asylum inmate that he may project in his music. And Palumbo the rapper is just as approachable as the music he creates.

Ah, yeah … the music. Immediately, “Burt Reynolds” comes to mind as easily one of the best tracks of any and all rap singles, remixes, or edits I’ve ever heard. I’d wager that you can’t listen to that one track and not be at least curious as to what other work lies behind that piece. When you dig deeper, trust me when I say you won’t be hurt. And while there’s easily tons of great tracks on this album – “The Closer,” “Jungle Rot,” and “Shoot Interview” (which I played at work and inspired one of my clients to take the chorus home … yes, the mentally ill singing “I think I’m gonna di-iiiiiie … ‘cause I know how it should be-eeee …” … that was my work). Shit, even the skits – skits being notoriously the weakest part of rap albums - are on point (if you can’t find love for the landlord call-in, you have no soul). If you buy the “weakest link” theory – that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link – even the weakest link on “Selectman” makes the album a pretty strong chain indeed.

While discussing the content of “Selectman,” I can’t overlook the guest stars. Yes, we acknowledge the superior input of Royce the 5’9”, submitting a verse that he could have easily phoned in – as some contributors on other indy joints have done – but he kills his part on “Imperial Hubris,” ratcheting up that track to heretofore unheard of heights. The “superstar” guest aside, his contribution is practically eclipsed by the presence of the rest of the SpaceLAB Conglomerate. Ollie Ox, Jak D, et al smoke the lyrics that they collab on; hell, stick around after the inauguration speech on the last track and you’ll be treated by a posse track that is incredible. Just strictly incredible.

Star ratings, thumbs and pinfall counts just don’t apply in summing how solid this album is. Simply put, “District Selectman” is, to borrow a favorite line from Celph Titled, off the hook, the map, the meat rack, and the fucking radar.