At the time of its release in late ‘94, Redman’s sophomore full-length Dare Iz a Darkside (1994) didn’t so much slip under my radar as I willfully ignored its blip on the screen. Despite being enamoured with Red’s debut Whut? Thee Album (1992), I ill-advisedly listened to a friend who claimed Darkside as an artistic disaster, and I returned to whatever happened to be occupying my musical attentions back then. I didn’t actually hear the record until a few years ago, and after spending a few months scouring for it on double-LP vinyl, finally caved and purchased the CD (generally the last option for my format tastes, snobbery unintended). What I was treated to was a seamless glob of greasy funk filtered through a choking blunt haze, a semi-concept record that bore little traces of Redman’s debut, both lyrically and sonically. The strongest impression I initially received was how nocturnal the record was, conducive to dim streetlamps and shadows cast under moonlight, which, combined with Red’s introverted eccentricities, made me regret my abstaining from it ten years ago – I would have been sucking this record up through a straw had I heard it back then.

The Funk Doctor’s weirdest album to date yielded two mid-tempo singles: the dirty, rehashed Funkadelic groove of “Rockafella,” and “Can’t Wait,” placed in the center of the record as a refreshing breather from the sticky and occasionally claustrophobic productions that surround it. Co-produced with mentor Erick Sermon, the latter perhaps best embodies the nighttime vibe of the album, and provides a sharp contrast between Redman’s clowning and boasting and the mellow, mysterious nature of the track itself. Behind the boards, Sermon’s early (and best) work was all about simplicity: give him a melodic loop, a trunk-rattling bassline, and some diced Mountain drums, and dude couldn’t be happier. What distinguished him from scores of other up-and-comers with an SP and a crate of James Brown LPs was his ear for EQ filtering, adding and subtracting frequencies in the mix to isolate and accentuate to certain sounds, basslines, and individual drum samples. This ethos was applied not only to EPMD’s entire catalogue, but to Sermon’s first two solo efforts to hypnotic effect (No Pressure [1993] and Double or Nothing [1995], both sorely overlooked and long out-of-print); it was only natural that this style would rub off on Redman’s own studio concoctions.

The core of “Can’t Wait” is merely a two-bar loop culled from the intro to Bob James‘ “Caribbean Nights,” from the otherwise insipid Touchdown (1979). This lovely ascending loop (heard at 0:17 on the original) of James’ subdued Fender Rhodes, Ron Carter’s chunky acoustic bass, and Hubert Laws‘ delayed flute punctuations is EQ’ed in such a way that the midrangey torso is de-emphasized to bring out the lower bass frequencies as well as the upper regions of the spectrum, adding a much-desired clarity to the flute. Sermon and Red’s copy of the LP must have been especially chalky, as evidenced by the insistent crackle in the mix, and the duo raise the pitch of the sample a half-step or so to increase the tempo. There is no chopping or restructuring of the source material here, just a sonically molded loop that happens to be mesmerizing when repeated indefinitely. If I had the inclination I’d probably notate it here, but it’s really more about the tonal color rather than the actual notes.

“Caribbean Nights” – Bob James 9:21 (Touchdown, Warner Bros. 1979)

During the intro, Sermon and Red insert a vocal snippet of one of the most sampled two seconds in hip hop, the phrase “Check it out, ya’ll” as spoken by Big Daddy Kane at 1:44 on “Just Rhymin’ with Biz,” from his classic debut Long Live the Kane (1988). The pair also include the party idioms “Ya don’t stop” and “Keep on” from the same source at the eight-bar mark.

“Just Rhymin’ with Biz” – Big Daddy Kane feat. Biz Markie 4:06 (Long Live the Kane, Cold Chillin’ 1988)

When the drum track enters after the four-bar intro, one is struck by the modest (by hip hop standards) beat, an open kick-snare pattern with a surprising amount of negative space; there are no pinched kicks or snare drags to be found. The snare sample isn’t wildly pitched, just a soft snap that coincides nicely with the earthy bass hits. The hi-hats follow this same line of subtlety, riding an eighth-note pattern until just before each kick, where there is a slight pickup to ease into the next bar. Further into the mix is a strange, abnormally-pitched vocal sample that makes an occurrence now and then, but I can’t identify the source.

Since “Can’t Wait” could arguably be seen as the unofficial sequel to “Tonight’s Da Night,” one of the singles off Whut? The Album, Sermon and Red adhere to the formula of using a vocal phrase from The Mary Jane Girls‘ “All Night Long” as the chorus. Rick James‘ estate has probably made more in clearance fees from this particular track than any other item in his discography; it would be unlikely that one could find a section of “All Night Long” that hasn’t been appropriated in hip hop in some way. The two snatch the exclamation “I can’t wait to get it on” from two separate parts of the original, once at 1:13, and again at 2:34. Each vocal sample is then cleverly alternated for the chorus of “Can’t Wait,” preventing monotony and providing a livelier hook. The Kane samples return again, placed between each of the Mary Jane Girls’ coos.

“All Night Long” – The Mary Jane Girls 5:46 (Mary Jane Girls, Motown 1983)

I would be hesitant to label “Can’t Wait” as a “classic banger,” but it is nonetheless a fascinating study of Sermon and Redman’s working methods during an especially fertile era in hip hop production.

“Can’t Wait (Instrumental)” – Redman 3:37 (Dare Iz a Darkside, Def Jam 1994)