ith a seemingly lackadaisical delivery, simplistic rhyme structure and a gruff, sandpapery voice addled by weed and whiskey, Awol One has steadily built a legion of fans with his pessimistic self-analysis surprisingly void of overt pity-mongering and heartfelt recollections of societal ills. When this eccentric talent hooked up with Mike Nardone, longtime West Coast radio DJ and underrated producer, for an entire album, expectations ran high. Despite releasing several well-received singles in 1999 and 2000, the same old tale of shelved hip-hop albums reared its ugly head when Celestial records repeatedly pushed back the release date. Ultimately, Celestial folded in early 2002. Before this much vaunted project became a historical footnote, Mean Street, a label specializing in west coast underground hip-hop, grasped the album from the black hole of unreleased myths and “could-have-been” speculations. Were the years of wait and anticipation worth it?

Musically, Awol’s tales of despair are complemented by Nardone’s distinctive production that sparse, heavy drums, deep basslines, and melancholy atmospherics that serve as a fitting backdrop without trailing off into off-putting, meandering abstractions that plagued Four Eyed Mortalz (and to a lesser extent, Slanguage). “Sleepin’ All Day” is a prime example of Awol at his best, extracting life experiences and morphing them into therapeutic mantras for the disillusioned and downtrodden, not unlike the first Bonnie “Prince” Billy album. Its chorus, “I’ve been up all night/Sleepin’ all day/My father wasted sperm when he made me/And it’s hard enough nowadays just acting normal/Still got to be to work on time”, has been hardwired into my brain.

A revolving door of topics tinged with realistic negativity range from unrequited love and underage abortions to the homogeny of mainstream hip-hop music and self-destructive behavior are covered. Due to these heavy topics, whenever he takes time to speak on his MC stature and Project Blowed affiliations, it initially clashes with the confessional nature of the majority of the album. However, it all comes together on songs like the surprisingly funky “Galaxy”, where Awol states, “There’s not a message in your life that counts/For it’s the life in your message that always amounts/When the music ends, I decay/It takes a piece of my heart away/I need a beat now just to let out what I say”. It’s not a case of territorial chest beating, but rather the realization that the microphone is what sparks life in him.

Unfortunately, the majority of standout tracks on the album were previously released years ago. With few exceptions, the multitude of guests ranging from Kool Keith to Sole tends to dilute the songs’ messages. Despite the tumultuous history of the album prior to release, this will not be seen as a definitive work. The outro, which consists of (presumably) Awol urinating, serves as an unintended metaphor for his rate of releasing material. Nevertheless, this is Awol’s most accessible work to date, and is a perfect starting point for anyone wanting to explore the missing link between Anticon and Project Blowed.