Words By Jesse H.

To put it simply, there hasn’t been a Pete Rock production that hasn’t left my eardrums sufficiently shook. What a nice surprise then, that while spending time at one of the delightful sites that contributes to the tremendously impressive Hip Hop sample set (if you’ve never been, please take a few moments to visit, them folks put in work to create an unequivocal rapture for cratediggers), that I was hipped to a Pete Rock produced nugget of soul from the mid 90’s.

InI was a shortlived, eternally shelved Hip-Hop group from 1995 consisting of Rass, Rob-O, Grap Luva (Rock’s younger brother) and Marco Polo. The group crafted an underground opus with Center of Attention, an album that serves as Rock’s musical pinnacle in one of the most storied careers of any Hip Hop producer.

After the dubbed out, Prince Jammy-esque intro, the instrumental of “No More Words” carries on for 24 seconds before the drums drop. After that point, there’s no mistaking that it’s not a Pete Rock barrage of soul goodness. Track for track, the cohesiveness in production exemplifies the advantages of an album done entirely by one producer (are you reading Nas and Premo?). The emcees hold it down with sprinklings of smooth consciousness, reminiscent of the Native Tongues era, particularly Tribe (Q-Tip even drops by on the five-cig worthy “To Each His Own”), but it’s the sonic soundbed of soul that saturates the ear and makes one wonder just what the fuck happened to Hip-Hop that makes you feel this good.

Horns in abundance, drums that would smash through concrete on the way out the speakers, and those echoing, jazzy samples enslave the ear to whatever device the music’s being pumped through, and insist on being spun several times over.

As good as it is, Center of Attention almost didn’t see the light of day. After a relatively successful single (“Fakin Jax,” in which Rock himself delivers a lyrical slap on the wrist to former ally C.L. Smooth) Rock’s distribution deal with Elektra caved, and dispute over ownership of the masters left the record exiled from a major label. Several bootlegs and a built up underground following later, Rock re-released the album via his Lost and Found: Hip-Hop Underground Soul Classics, in 2003 on Rapster Records.

That’s how it goes I suppose, industry ills and backdoor politics murk a potentially classic album that fit perfectly in the context of 1995. With that in mind, thank God for the bootleggers, the underground faithful and most importantly the Soul Brother for proving that good music lives through, no matter what the circumstances.

Turn the lights down low, dial up the volume and let the music do the talking. To put it simply, you’ll be floored.

Pete Rock – Lost and Found: Hip-Hop Underground Classics Part 1 Part 2