Where Kanye West whored out the soul sound to any and everyone itching for commercial success, The Alchemist composes tracks like a forensic officer drawing chalk outlines around dead bodies. His style is ‘roaches and rats’ and he has lured gritty street rhymes from a long list of rap’s underground warriors. He laced Cypress Hill, House of Pain, and Funkdoobiest with beats before unleashing his sound on Dilated Peoples’ Platform. The Alchemist got his start in 1993, as one-half of the duo Whooliganz. Our boy Al turned his back on that life as music fans, we should be grateful. The side of the tracks where male offspring live long past 25, attend Ivy League schools, and build successful law practices. Now you might be saying, “I don’t know anything about The Alchemist, who is he?” He’s a white boy from the right side of the tracks. He lets the music speak for itself, and when it does, you’re thrust into a different world. To his credit, The Alchemist relegates his shout outs to the beginning and end, and only on a few tracks. Even worse, the producer or deejay is often delusional enough to believe they have skills on the microphone. Every five minutes or less, they incessantly bombard listeners with annoying shout outs.
As a rule of thumb, they suffer from the same incurable bouts of vanity that plague emcees. Most producer-slash-deejay compilation albums are wack.
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