Apparently, "Walk This Way" was more prophetic than we ever could imagine. The song was the genesis of rap-rock as fomented by two groups who would take eerily similar career paths. Until recently dropping a half-decent album, Aerosmith stayed popular, but not particularly relevant, through a combination of crass marketing and power ballads that would make Air Supply snicker. For Run-DMC, there's been Christmas albums, members becoming ordained and Gap commercials. Although Run, DMC and Jammaster Jay haven't kicked it with Britney Spears and 'N Sync, their new album "Crown Royal" suggests they just might not have gotten around to it yet.
"Crown Royal's" obvious inspiration was Carlos Santana's gargantuan "Supernatural," which was released on the same label. On both, the influential but under-appreciated acts get all-star treatment in an attempt to capture an audience of not-too-with-it white guys who won't be buying their older albums anyway. While "Supernatural" definitely was tame, you could not argue with the level of talent or the joy in making it that was evident in every track.
The same cannot be said here. It's usually a red flag when an album's release date gets pushed back once or twice. "Crown Royal" was nearing a rumored double-digit number of postponed drops, and boy, does it sound like it.
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This is most evident in the album's core, five rap-rock fusions that sound as forced as giving birth. The guests fall like dominoes in descending moron order: Fred Durst, Kid Rock, Everlast, Sugar Ray, and Stephan Jenkins of Third Eye Blind. Third Eye Blind?
The duets really have to be heard to be believed, particularly the collaboration with Everlast that explores the infinite funky possibilities of Steve Miller Band's "Take The Money And Run."
Oddly enough, "Take the Money" is the most tuneful of the group, as the rest try to resurrect the corpse of Ice-T's "Body Count." "Here We Go 2001" and "Rock Show" are near death-metal and fit Run-DMC's flow like Adidas shoes two sizes too small. Meanwhile, Kid Rock brings butt-rock guitar squeals to the sloppy "The School of the Old." A court order should prevent him from making a song with a title like that.
Though far more listenable, the fully rap-oriented tracks seem to be inspired more by marketing meetings over Chinese food than freestyling sessions in a Hollis basement. I'd never turn down a track with Nas and Prodigy, who beef up the rock-solid "Queens Day." But this is about the fifth time in as many months P's done a cameo on a song with "Queens" in the title. Equally obligatory is the ode to Spanish mamis, "Ay Papi," featuring - most likely in lieu of Big Pun - Fat Joe.
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Some four or five years went into the making of "Crown Royal," which may explain the surprisingly foul-tempered rhymes on the title track. Run-DMC could have learned from L.L. Cool J's latest and stuck to defiant retro pose. Sometimes they do, boasting throughout of their respect in the streets that could cancel out any other rapper's sales. Nonetheless, the business-minded Run was quoted on MTV as saying "we wanted to change with the times, to feel 21 again."
For the most part, this results in an unfortunate exchange of their trademark gold dookie chains and track suits for the accoutrements of the Iced-Out Age. Raising hell is no longer a priority to the elder statesmen; fitting in to radio formats is.
The dudes have been spending way too much time with Jermaine Dupri, who commandeers "It's Over" with his overbearing cheerleading. Even the Reverend gets his roll on, driving Bentleys with 20-inch rims as he claims loyalty to DMC, his wife and even "the kids that aren't hers" in "Let's Say Together (Together Forever)." You can laud the track for being a contrast to most of the grim stuff on the charts, but it's only a good song if you enjoy JD's constant interjections. Worse, on both tracks, Run's rhyming bears a disturbing resemblance to Dupri's style, which is never a good thing.
I'm sure most reviews of this album will focus more on the guests than Run-DMC themselves, but who's fault is that? The members of the rap trio rarely falter lyrically, but it hardly matters: They seem lost in a world they more than likely didn't create. Santana usually needed his collaborators to mention his name once in a track to remind you it was his album, and the same goes here. You can blame the label, the guest artists or even Run-DMC, but whatever way you cut it, this is a good album to feel sorry for.
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