In this age of the super producer, the guest producer and the celebrity producer that pops up grinning smugly in your hip-hop video it's easy to forget that there was once a time when hip-hop acts combined skills on the mic with equally impressive accomplishment behind the boards.
And whilst the like of Gang Starr came packaged as the dream combination of producer and emcee, Mobb Deep - perhaps more than any other act - embody the ultimate all-round talent. The complete package.
It explains the perfect unity of theme, sound and vision that was crystallised on the Mobb's second and best album, the era defining 'The Infamous'. Although its most commercial tracks were produced by The Abstract, time already remembers the bleak distopyian odes to Queens that were chiselled by Mobb Deep's Havoc: 'Shook Ones pt2', 'Cradle To The Grave' and 'Trife Life'.
Mobb Deep's smoked-out, fictional (yes they were art students not gangsters!) tales of fear and pride told by emcees that sounded like they were driving to their death inside a blacked-out limo sounded genuinely terrifying. And exhilarating - of course. But the edge began to blunt as they let go of the production credits on 'Murda Muzik' and Prodigy's solo joint 'HNIC' - probably in an attempt to distance themselves from the excessively bleak minimalism of 'Hell On Earth'.
'Infamy' doesn't really break any new ground from the last couple of outings. Like all their recent offerings, the album struggles under the weight of that steely trademark sound and the duo's reputation as staunch underground legends. When they try for crossover they upset the fanbase (see the collaboration with Puffy endorsed pretty boys 112), when they request the services of a guest producer said producer can't help but try their hand at the anaesthetised 'realness' vibe patented on 'The Infamous'.
The 'thug' themes have been stripped of their horror and now sound more like the posturing of Dr Dre delivered without that cheeky grin. But still, Havoc remains a formidable talent. Crisp digital bass underpins every track with sparing instrumentation dropped in and out of the mix dubbing out the grooves. Drums clatter and the wind howls in a bleak evocation of that imagined Queens landscape. Throughout, Havoc shines like a true original. And, God knows, it's hard to hold onto your own sound these days, just ask Scott Storch who turns out pure Dre-by-numbers on 'Live Foul'.
The insistent head-nod of 'Clap', 'The Learning (Burn)' and 'Crawlin' is augmented by a funkiness that elevates the tracks to stand alongside Mobb Deep's post-'Infamous' best. It's a shame that Prodigy's storytelling imagination seems to have deserted him.
