New York rapper Roc Marciano is an underrated producer capable of making oddly hypnotic loops. On Jay Worthy’s Nothing Bigger Than the Program, he weaves a silent film score for “The Field,” and a drumless vocal aria on “The Plug.” His ideas don’t always work, but one must admire his audacity. Unfortunately, his collaborator, Compton rapper Jay Worthy, gives an unconvincing lyrical performance. Worthy can deliver an interesting crime narrative or two, like on “How?” But generally, his boilerplate verses about riding Bentleys, having sex with women, snorting cocaine, and claiming that “the pussy overrated” bore in their thematic familiarity. Worthy is frequently outclassed by his guests, particularly Port Arthur veteran Bun B, who dazzles on “Underground Legend”: “Don’t you be surprised when that throwaway leave you a hickey that won’t go away/It’s like you shaking a Coke, letting the soda spray.” Other guests include A$ton Matthews, Kokane, Ab-Soul, A$AP Ant, and Kurupt. The album was released on GDF Records and Marci Enterprises, with distribution by EMPIRE.
The tale of Run-DMC has been told many, many times in numerous forms, from autobiographies to a VH-1 Behind the Music episode. The appeal of Kings from Queens: The Run-DMC Story, beyond its commentary from sundry golden-age legends like MC Lyte and LL Cool J as well as familiar music-doc talking heads like Questlove, is to give testimony about a history that most fans of a certain age will know by heart. The three-part documentary debuted on Peacock on February 1 and, without commercials, lasts around two-and-a-half hours. But it isn’t exhaustive and tacitly avoids some of the group’s controversies. (Run and DMC are listed as executive producers.) Jam Master Jay is rightfully memorialized, but the doc avoids the murky circumstances surrounding his 2002 murder. Jay’s famed protégé 50 Cent is also absent. The group’s final album, 1999’s Crown Royal, goes unmentioned, as does Rev Run’s disappointing solo excursion, 2005’s Distortion. Even their battles with record label Profile, documented in books such as Raising Hell: The Reign, Ruin, and Redemption of Run-D.M.C., are glossed over. The filmmakers rightly conclude that old heads will enjoy throwback clips of the trio performing at Live Aid in Philadelphia, and DMC’s heart-rending confessions about struggling with substance abuse and finding solace in Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel.” But where are the post-millennial voices like Joey Bada$$, Fivio Foreign, or Nicki Minaj? Where are the scenes connecting Run-DMC’s sound with modern-day shouters like Meek Mill? While the filmmakers don’t need to pander to the kids, failing to illustrate why younger audiences should care about these 80s hip-hop heroes seems like a missed opportunity to burnish their legend. Kings from Queens is directed by Kirk Fraser and produced by Believe Entertainment Group.