REVIEW: Vanilla Ice, Hard To Swallow (Universal) / Everlast,
_Whitey Ford Sings The Blues (Tommy Boy)
- Steve Kandell
There might not be a more loaded phrase in all of pop music than 'white rapper.' The early 90's saw albums from Vanilla Ice and House of Pain reach commercial heights unseen by most black rappers, bringing charges of cultural piracy from the hip-hop community. House of Pain didn't help matters by wearing Larry Bird jerseys, even though they had street credibility that blonde poseur Vanilla Ice could never hope to achieve. Only the Beastie Boys have managed to fully transcend the stigma; five full-length albums over the course of thirteen years have silenced the harshest of naysayers. Now Vanilla Ice and Everlast, the former House of Pain leader, are both back with albums that aren't afraid to boast their white boy roots. However, this is about as much as these two albums have in common.
It can't be easy for an overnight pop sensation created by a board room full of record execs to strive for career longevity and credibility, to prove he's not an untalented puppet. Like Pinocchio, Vanilla Ice wants to be a real boy. To the Extreme , the album that spawned the "Under Pressure" retread "Ice Ice Baby," sold more than 13 million copies worldwide in 1990. His movie, Cool as Ice hit screens in the final seconds of his fifteen minutes of fame. And then he went away.
Vanilla Ice's first attempt to reinvent himself to the fickle teen set as a dreadlocked dope fiend came with Mind Blowin', on which he brags about his superhuman THC intake to a world that could not have cared less. But rather than say uncle and live off back royalties, the former Robbie Van Winkle presses on with his new album, Hard to Swallow (cue Butt-head chuckling), this time coming back as a snarling, tattooed neo-metal guy - think Korn if it were spelled with a 'C.' He wants you to know that this is the real Vanilla Ice, and that he's hardcore and that he's pissed and that he still smokes a lot of pot ("Zig Zag Stories"). As a mean metal guy, he's no more convincing than when he tried to pass himself off in the press as Miami gang kid eight years ago (Van Winkle's from suburban Texas). But it's far too easy to make fun of Vanilla Ice based solely on his hilariously malleable public image. So, onto the music.
His Coldness has teamed up with Ross Robinson, producer for such rap-metal bands as Korn and Limp Bizkit. Robinson's job here is to make the audience forget that it is Vanilla Ice they are listening to, and at times, does this successfully. Lyrics are growled as much as rapped over churning guitar chords and industrial-strength drums. The formula does not vary much over Hard to Swallow's twelve tracks. To Robinson's credit, the album sounds nothing at all like the kid-tested, mother-approved Vanilla Ice of old. As far as the rhymes go, he doesn't really have anything intelligent to say, but he says it with conviction. The storied Vanilla Ice/Snow rivalry heats up with "Scars." And if anyone's still looking for offensive rap lyrics in this jaded day and age, look no further than "The Horny Song," which makes one long for the subtlety of Luther Campbell.
This is not to say that the album is without its entertainment value. Despite the new title, "Too Cold" is actually a remake of "Ice Ice Baby," with heavy distorted power chords and a busy sound mix taking the place of the ubiquitous "Under Pressure" bass line. Ice's innocuous braggadocio from eight years ago has been reinvented an aggressive threat, and it's genuinely funny; one can only hope against hope that he meant for it to be.
It hardly seems fair to group Everlast's impressive new solo album with Vanilla Ice's noisy resurrection, but where one trick pony Hard to Swallow sounds pandering, Whitey Ford Sings the Blues is genuine and eclectic.
Following a brief movie career (Judgment Night) and a near-fatal heart attack, Everlast returns with his first solo album since House of Pain disbanded. a far-reaching album that defies the sort of simple categorization that Vanilla Ice craves. Acoustic guitars, horns, and live drums complement the otherwise conventional rap numbers on the new disc - more Basehead than Sublime. Standouts include the rollicking "7 Years," which incorporates the piano riff from "Hard to Handle" and horns, and the more plaintive "What It's Like" and "Ends." Despite the country feel of the album's artwork and some of the songs, Everlast has not abandoned his hip-hop roots. "Tired" would have sounded at home on a House of Pain record while "Funky Beat" is a traditional old-school rap featuring Brand Nubian, Sadat X, and Casual.
Lyrically, there is more at stake here than jumping around. Everlast's brush with mortality at the hands of a congenital heart condition is touched on in the huge-sounding "Death Comes Calling," "Painkillers," "Praise the Lord," and well-wishing answering machine messages from the likes of Gang Starr's Guru and Cypress Hill's Sen Dog. "The Letter" is about the end of relationships - both with a woman and with the House of Pain.
Rather than try and use rock guitar and imagery to weasel his way back into favor with the mall set, Everlast utilizes it as a means of crafting an original, personal, and affecting hip-hop record.
