The production on The Return… is what listeners have come to expect from the post-2000 Jazzy Jeff. The lush and vivid basslines and funky soundscapes are all produced by Jeff himself this time around and are a bit more smoothed-out than his 2002 solo debut. Aside from a couple of recycled riffs and samples (that can easily be interpreted as odes/homages to hip hop’s pioneers), the sonic value of this LP is superior. Silky smooth, mood-setting chords and stone-cold grooves are the order of the day on this album.
The guest list is diverse and the lyricism is very accessible. About half of the album is peppered with a veritable “Who’s Who” of hip hop history. “The Garden” features Big Daddy Kane over a peaceful but melancholy beat, reflecting on the hip hop game and its casualties, while Posdnous of De La Soul does that “most-slept-hip-hop-greats-of-all-time” thing he does on “Let Me Hear U Clap”. And when backed by Jeff’s intricate and verdant concoctions, CL Smooth sounds just as relevant as he did when teamed up with Pete Rock on “All I Know”.
The new school emcees and singers really bring the album to life. Raheem Devaughn’s textured and layered harmonies ease over Jeff’s skilled scratching and sampling on “My Soul Ain’t For Sale” as does Chinah Blac’s sultry vocals on “Touch Me Wit Ur Handz”. And while Rhymefest isn’t exactly a newbie, his hungry and skilled performance on “Jeff N’ Fess”, a clever adaptation of a Gang Starr classic, is electric. Peedi Peedi, however, is the young boy highlight, completely reinventing and reinvigorating the DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince standard, “The Brand New Funk”. It’s a slammin’ closer that does some serious justice to the He’s The DJ, I’m The Rapper original.
Still, The Return… does stumble a bit. Kardinal Offishall’s frantic delivery and energized adlibs over a fluid Jazzy Jeff dance beat make the album stutter slightly towards the middle. “Come On” is well-intentioned in its message, but is missing the virtuosity found on Jeff and J-Live’s witty flip of the famous Allen Iverson press conference on “Practice”. Also, the album is loosely strung together around a story about Jeff taking a road trip down South with only FM radio as his companion. Supposedly, the tracks on the album are songs that our protagonist tunes into during his journey culminating with Jeff’s optimistic proclamation to his son, “I heard a lot of nice stuff on the radio. Maybe there’s hope”. Yeah, Jeff, we get it… the radio sucks. These skits and interludes, predicated on road trip events (making a rest stop at McDonald’s, being pulled over by a cop, cell phone conversations, etc.) are too long and frequent, come across as contrived, and really weigh the album down just when it’s gaining momentum. We all love the self-deprecating and fun nature of Jazzy Jeff (Fresh Prince of Bel Air was a classic sitcom), but on these skits, he isn’t partnered with anyone remotely as entertaining as himself. The only redeemable interlude with any kind of chemistry is a tongue-in-cheek phone exchange with his former partner in crime, Will Smith – you’ll chuckle.
In an era where our hip hop heroes of yesteryear are struggling to remain artistically relevant in an ever-crumbling industry, Jazzy Jeff’s wheelhouse lies in his appeal to “hip hop adults” that are looking for the soul and funk that hip hop is rooted in rather than the more mundane themes of today’s music. It is in this lane that Jeff’s music shines and gives hope to an older generation of hip hop fans whose demands are consistently marginalized. This is how hip hop is supposed to age.
