We must pause to acknowledge that Ill Clinton is a great name, and has been for a long time. In two senses, in fact. It is both inherently funny and associated with a certain level of clientele & quality control. Cheers.
The tracklist for his latest project, Grimeball Crimelord, reflects his access and his taste: Estee Nack, Crimeapple, Ty Farris, Daniel Son, these are heavyweight names. Not just in some imaginary underground, in the music industry, period. They reliably & routinely move real units in an era where major labels struggle muster a roster that can sell $30 arena tickets. Jesus wept.
Ill Clinton has always had the palette of a boom bap Puritan. His beats are raw, edgy, drum-driven. Like Buckshot or Stu Bangas, they lean into the limitations of the MPC workflow until they become gritty artifacts, part of the flavor. That kind of chop and smash doesn’t always work for me, especially when it wanders out of key, or into some pitch-shifted Frankenstein groove that only sounds tight when you’re high.
Mr. Clinton is too experienced, too refined for such rookie mistakes. In fact, Grimeball Crimelord has a number of cuts I thought were more or less perfect. We have very different aesthetics but his craftsmanship remains unimpeachable. Opening cut “Head Tap” sets the tone: absolute hypnotic filth. The beat is a great groove and a great mix, but I wasn’t feeling the first two rappers, Reek Osama and Mo Rukus. Once Eli Tha Don steps up to the mic, things improve sharply.
No surprise, most of the performances here are top shelf. Snotty cuts some standout bars on “Hundreds, Hookers & Handguns” over a beat that channels 1995, and Daniel Son remains untouchable on “One Way Ticket.” For my money, the finest moment was “Kitchen Rituals,” which pairs Crimeapple with Ty Farris over a haunting slow burn of a beat. I’ve never heard Skrewtape or Grimm Doza before, but both of them were superb on “Dirty Pots.”
The album finishes, strong but hella early, with “Gracefully,” a Ghetto MC joint that channels something timeless. It’s a fitting closer for an album full of modernist throwbacks like this, a parting benediction from a griot keeper of the raw authentic & original gospel. Ill Clinton has made exactly the album he wanted to, and it’s deliberately idiosyncratic shit.
This was an excellent project from a seasoned veteran with an impeccable rep. The Us Natives operation has been amassing an increasingly strong catalog, and Grimeball Crimelord is a crown jewel. The only reason I can’t rank it any higher is the sheer brevity and the handful of unimpressive guest spots marring an otherwise god body cypher. Four Dickies.
