For a long time there, Godfather Don was an elusive creature of legend. Robbie Ettelman’s work at Unkut trying to piece the mystery together and finally interview him was blog journalism at the highest level. It was also a testament to how little online access, clout and commentary matter: it’s not like dude was ever actually missing. He was right there in the city making music.
Godfather Don’s creative path took him from beats & rhymes to improv jazz. That’s a wild headline for sure, but not a super-surprising turn for anyone familiar with his catalog. The musicality of both his production & his delivery set him apart since he first crashed the party. His latest album, Writer’s Delight, is part of a larger comeback run. Those of you with as much taste as me should start with Thesis, his self-produced return LP from 2024.
(Also take a moment to enjoy Kool Keith’s meandering recollections of Godfather Don’s lost years.)
I have always been impressed with Jazz Spastiks, especially since I resented their critical acclaim from the start. I was an insecure cunt back then, your classic Irish lad at an all-time low in life. At first I thought their old school aesthetic was a cheap gimmick but having attempted to replicate it over the past decade, that shit is nowhere near so simple as it sounds.
As their catalog has grown, I’ve been most impressed by the integrity of their vision. They’re always selective about who they work with and they always make them sound like a couple million purple currency notes in a briefcase. From their graphic design to their throwback perfectionism, it’s been a consistent machine, cutting choice final prints.
After the first spin, my inclination was to rate this lower. That was mostly a matter of size: this is basically an EP padded out with some (very choice!) instrumental interludes. But after keeping it in rotation for a week and change now, I’ve grown to love it. There are some exceptional beats here, and everything adheres to Godfather Don’s own future primitive battle rap sound.
That ain’t for everyone. Your tolerance for “ill with the quill” lyricism will determine your experience here. To my ear, while his pen game is undeniably dated, I was impressed that he’s still cutting new patterns and schemes. That squares nicely with the production here, which is deceptively retro boom bap funk full of subtle touches & spacious, cutting-edge mixing work.
Bear in mind this only armchair speculation from the foremost expert in his field, but I believe they were trying to capture the energy of the legendary Cenobites era sessions, the dawn of the Fondle ‘Em days when the whole extended crew was just banging out singles for 12″ deals, trading verses like extended sax solos.
Taken on those terms, I can only proclaim this jonker a flawless victory. As a straightforward dose of raw NYC rap shit from a very specific vintage, this is the more or less the best it could be. Five Dickies.
