MC Hammer was something that actually needed to be experienced in real time. It’s hard to explain to young individuals who have not heard of him, but MC Hammer (born Stanley Burrell) in Oakland, California was truly crucial thing in hip-hop within the late Nineteen Eighties. He wasn’t as big as Michael Jackson – who was? — but tell me, Bobby Brown? Bright. Bobby Brown was HUGE within the late 80’s, but you realize who had a Saturday morning cartoon on a significant network? MC hammer. “Blacksmith” it might not have been successful, however it existed.

You know what else was huge back then? Especially The Simpsons and Bart Simpson. It was common to see people wearing Bart Simpson T-shirts and doing all the things from skateboarding to dressing like Michael Jackson. Remember that Bart Simpson T-shirt I had? I had the one where Bart Simpson was saying “U Can’t Touch This,” the hook from MC Hammer’s most ubiquitous song, “U Can’t Touch This.” Everyone from 1990 to the fucking mid-90s said, “You can’t touch that” as a joke and a nod to MC Hammer. How big of a deal was MC Hammer back then? His Nineteen Nineties album Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em is continues to be considered one of the best-selling albums within the history of hip-hop.

I mean, MC Hammer was a thing. In 1990, when Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em was released, I used to be 11 years old, and well, anything exciting was completely fascinating to an 11-year-old. Plus he rapped, danced and looked great. I had Hammer pants because all of us wore them. When he released his 1991 album “2 Legit 2 Quit” (he also dropped the “MC” from his nickname), he was still the good guy on the planet. Although it wasn’t as popular because the previous album, “2 Legit…” spawned the only “2 Legit 2 Quit” and made everyone try this funny hand motion. Although Hammer was an excellent street dude whose street cred ran very deep in every circle, his musical management aimed to each raise popularity and sell records at the identical time, and he was very, very successful in doing so.

And then all the things modified. In December 1992, Dr. Dre released the album “The Chronic” which modified, well, all the things in hip-hop. Dre. Dre and Death Row Records moved the middle of the hip-hop universe from New York to Los Angeles, and the sound modified music and the music business for the following 4 years. Although Hammer was a household name within the pop world, hip-hop had modified, and the identical cool Hammer represented by Hammer faded because the gangsta rap version of Dr. Dre – the follow-up to NWA and Ice Cube’s West Coast hip-hop brand – gained a national following. It didn’t help that Hammer took several years off to pursue such business development groups Oaktown 3.5.7. So when Hammer decided to release an album in 1994, he checked out the musical landscape and decided to go along to get along. This decision resulted in the discharge of the album “The Funky Headhunter” on March 1, 1994, which sounded way more influenced by Dr.’s g-funk sound. Dre than Hammer ever thought he could be. The only caveat is that Hammer was no stranger to Death Row (he eventually signed a contract with the label briefly on the behest of his good friend Tupac). Hammer was friends with Suge Knight for a lot of years before Death Row was founded. But Hammer’s sound and approach were nothing like Death Row’s sound or approach. Hammer’s sound was more unified, faster and uplifting.

Sure, Hammer all the time talked about rappers not wanting to see any a part of his success, but Hammer was pop through and thru. And that wasn’t a nasty thing; Hammer was hip-hop the entire family could listen to. Until he wasn’t and wasn’t at the identical time.

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“The Funky Headhunter” is not a excellent album. The beats are okay, but all of them feel like they’re missing something and kind of highlight Hammer’s limitations as a rapper; when the beat is danceable and Hammer gives you an anthem to recite, you do not really care concerning the remainder of the lyrics. When this is not the case, the songs don’t sound nearly as good. Besides, the irritated Hammer felt…uncomfortable. Throughout the album it felt like he was trying too hard to be (which can prove to be accurate) someone aside from the Hammer all of us knew and loved. Perhaps it would not matter; when “The Funky Headhunter” was released, I used to be 15 years old and completely entrenched within the West Coast sound and aesthetic. If it didn’t sound “real”, I didn’t entertain it, irrespective of what coast it got here from, especially if it got here from the West. And Hammer, due to his previous work, didn’t come across as a man who rapped over beats and talked about what he was talking about. It just seemed forced.

And then there it was “Pumps and the tumor”. Hammer’s first single from the album (looking back, it is also the very best album on the album) was accompanied by a music video featuring Hammer in a leopard-print speedo and girls in bikinis from a time when it was scandalous and sexually suggestive, a far cry from anything that ever heard. Video screenings even banned the unique video due to Hammer in its speedometer, which forced the rapper to reshoot a “purer” version of the film. I like this song more now than I did then, although I’ll admit that without the music video to develop into a talking point, I feel the song would just be one other head-scratching song on an already head-scratching album. At least “Pumps and a Bump,” an ode to butts and good footwear, was entertaining.

I feel most individuals were a bit confused about Hammer’s purpose with this album – why would a rapper known for making music that included songs like “Pray,” “Do Not Pass Me By” and “Have You Seen Her?” start trying to sound like a Death Row rapper? Kurupt and Daz Tha Dogg Pounda it even appeared on the album. Fifteen-year-old me was confused and located it easy to move on from Hammer, especially when Snoop Dogg, Tupac, and Warren G. were available.

Looking back, the album wasn’t even terrible, not by 1994 standards. It’s not great, and I’m sure even Hammer would have done some things in another way, but the way in which it modified all the narrative about Hammer and made him almost obsolete seems a bit unfair. However, music consumers are fickle, and there have been few artists whose sonic and aesthetic changes have been well received by fans. Hammer scored one other 180 with 1995’s Inside Out, which took him back to the sound all of us knew and had more gospel-sounding records.

But by then, Hammer’s experiment was largely over. He was more famous for his financial problems; Hammer amassed an enormous fortune estimated at over $30 million a 12 months, but he had to declare bankruptcy in 1996 due to huge debt to tons of of debtors.

At this point, most individuals who remember Hammer reduce much of his rap profession to some joke, but that is completely unfair. With the exception of essentially the most ardent hip-hop purists and rappers, the remaining of us loved Hammer and apparently all of us got his albums and songs. As with lots of our breakout artists of the Nineteen Nineties and 2000s whose downfalls were public and swift, the punchlines overtook the absolutely cometary nature of their music and profession. Let me inform you what, while The Funky Headhunter is not an album I return to often, all of Hammer’s best hits are filled with culinary snacks, which is a legacy in itself.

And we’ll all the time have Pumps and Bumps that can endlessly be too legitimate to quit.