Remember
the Michael Keaton flick Multiplicity, in which he cloned himself
multiple times only to find out that each successive clone was a little more
fucked-up? Well, if Biggie Smalls
had a third-generation clone who actually stooped to rhyming “liar”
with “pants on fire” while riding the short bus to Hip Hop school,
he’d probably sound a lot like Agallah
“The Don Bishop.”

Repping the increasingly formidable indie label Babygrande (home to GZA,
Hi-Tek and Lord Jamar, among others), Agallah
has certainly spent time battling for survival in the Hip Hop trenches.
Garnering underground buzz way back in 1996 with a “Who the fuck was
that?!” appearance at the CMJ Convention, the Crooklyn native overcame
numerous family tragedies (his uncle died of AIDS, his mother was murdered) to
sign with first Tommy Boy, then East West Elektra, only to watch both
deals fall apart. Everyone was talking about him in the late 90’s after his
hilarious track “Crookie Monster,” where he rapped about stealing with Cookie Monster’s voice over a Sesame
Street-themed track. He went on to produce
tracks for Busta Rhymes, the Diplomats and Big Pun, always yearning for his moment to shine on the mic. When
his group Purple City (part of the Dipset movement) was signed to Babygrande on the strength of some
blazin’ hot underground mix CDs, he finally got his chance.

The resulting solo debut, produced by Agallah
himself with help from Alchemist and
DJ Premier, is sketchy at best.
Listening to the retro-sounding synth squiggles that back the opening track,
you can only imagine that somewhere the Egyptian
Lover is pissed enough to demand some sort of steez-bitin’ restitution. Primo’s work makes the first single, “NY
Rider Music” (featuring M1 of dead prez), a standout cut. But the
muddy, grimy production elsewhere is occasionally too cacophonous to allow the
songs to reach their most impactful head-bobbin’ potential. The bio says dude
is a Lyricist Lounge alumni, but
it’s difficult for me to imagine folks like Mos Def and Wordsworth
getting behind a guy who brags “this
is so gangsta” on “O.G.G.G. (which at least boasts a sizzling Alchemist groove),” then turns around
and boasts on Hardbody: “Told you niggas I’m hardcore/I’m hard like a
criminal/Straight to the point/I ain’t gotta be subliminal.” Truth is,
real hardcore muthafuckas don’t need to repeatedly insist how hardcore they
are, and setting such grade school-level braggadocio against a pseudo-rock riff
that sounds like sloppy seconds from a long-lost Onyx album isn’t doing the guy’s solo bid for street cred any
favors – nor is it making for a quality album.

Let’s face it: Dipset has an
audience, and they’re gonna snap this shit up like crackheads fiendin’ for
their next fix no matter what I say. But to end this Simon Cowell-like critique with a Randy Jackson quote, “I ain’t feelin’ it, dawg.”