Creating an album with lofty intentions can be a dicey proposition. It is very tough to thread the needle that expresses earnest regard. One slip, and an artist or group can slide into parody-like self-seriousness.
That said, there’s nothing inherently wrong with an artist wanting to use their music to educate and elevate. Yes, many of my favorite albums were created by rappers flying by the seat of their proverbial pants, winging their way into something brilliant. But there are other great albums made with high-minded and clear-eyed scope.
Given the increased cynicism that reigns supreme over our times, many are quick to dismiss out of hand. Thus, it would have been easy to greet Distant Relatives by Nas and Damian Marley with a condescending eyeroll when it dropped 15 years ago. Some critics did so. But I’m personally a big fan of the project, where the pair sincerely converse with their audience about the multitude of issues facing the African continent, the importance of unity, and the evils of colonialism.
Nas first announced Distant Relatives at the 2009 GRAMMYs, saying that he and Marley would be recording an album that would help raise money to build schools in Africa. The two put together an effort that both shoots for the moon and provides red meat for fans of the pair.
Previously, Nas had mixed success when creating music that addresses big ideas. The politically aware tracks on Stillmatic (2001) and God’s Son (2002) were a mixed bag. While I wrote a tribute to his Hip-Hop Is Dead (2006) project, I can admit the central thesis of the album wasn’t fully formed or executed. And Untitled (2008) lost focus as it progressed. That album capped what was a distinctly uneven decade for Nas’ musical career, which had followed the creative misfired/misbegotten pop attempts that characterized his late 1990s albums.
Nas is much more successful at covering serious subject matter on Distant Relatives. He addresses solemn issues, such as colonization and solidarity with the African continent, without sounding didactic. It seeks to inspire and empower without sounding corny. It helps that Nas has other artists to share the load, especially ones with as decorated history as Damian and Stephen Marley. Being the sons of a modern-day prophet serves them well, imbuing Distant Relatives with conceptual weight by association. The two brothers spent their long musical career embracing the legacy of their father, and their experience helps them carry their share of the weight with this endeavor.
The Marley family is very integral to the project’s creation and execution, with Damian acting as a full partner on the mic, and Stephen working behind the boards. Like many of the venerable Bob Marley’s offspring, Damian, who is the second-youngest child (and youngest son), has an expansive history as a musician, recording as a member of The Shephards at the age 13. He began his own solo career at the age of 18 with the release of his debut album Mr. Marley (1996). By 2008, he was a multiple time GRAMMY winner, earning accolades and awards for his subsequent solo projects Halfway Tree (2001) and the mega-hit Welcome to Jamrock (2005).
Listen to the Album:
Stephen, Bob’s second eldest son, has a similarly extensive and decorated musical history. At the age of 7, he became a member of the Melody Makers, fronted by his older brother Ziggy, recording with the group into the late 1990s. Beginning in the ’90s, he began his work as a producer, collaborating with members of his family as well as many other artists and groups spanning different musical genres. He was also a successful solo artist in his own right, winning multiple GRAMMYs during the 2000s.
The presence of both Marleys adds to the project’s success. The contrast on the mic between wizened street soldier Nas and patois-spitting griot Damian makes a dynamic pairing. Similarly, Stephen adds his distinct flair to the album’s production. Through mostly live instrumentation (and some sampling) he frequently integrates reggae/dancehall music into hip-hop based track, as well as classical and modern African musical stylings. He also deftly infuses elements of soul, classic R&B, and even gospel into the musical soundscape.
Distant Relatives begins with “As We Enter,” a brief romp. Nas and Damian pass the mic back and forth every few bars, occasionally going line for line. They each speak Patois and “rap star” over the groove from Ethiopian jazz artist Mulutu Astake’s “Yegelle Tezeta.” It’s a fun note to begin what’s a largely serious undertaking.
The pair similarly cut loose on “Nah Man,” with each delivering braggadocio/battle-based lyrics over a sample of Sara Chaves’ “Kurikute.” Damian takes lead on the track, delivering three of its four verses, but each help turn it into something similar to Juvenile’s “Ha,” with the frequent repetition of the song’s title at the end of most bars.
“Land of Promise” features a stand-out performance by Damian, as he likens various countries and cities on the African continent to cities and states in the United States. He envisions Johannesburg as Miami, the Congo as Colorado, Morrocco as Oregon, and Ethiopia housing the nation capital, Washington D.C. Musically, the song liberally borrows from Dennis Brown’s “Promised Land,” posthumously incorporating his vocals on the chorus, and using parts of an interview with Brown hailing the promise of Africa to introduce the track.
Nas and Damian do tread on significant territory throughout Distant Relatives. The single “Patience” features the pair excoriating educated individuals and institutions for ignoring the plight of millions living in poverty and treating large portions of the population as uneducated savages. The track is almost a musical remake of “Sabali” from the musical duo Amadou & Mariam, incorporating the repetitive synthesizer groove and vocals.
Distant Relatives has a strong and distinctive spiritual bend. At times it manifests itself in tracks like the upbeat “Count Your Blessings,” where, over three verses, Nas encourages other to enjoy the boons that come from daily life, and to not spend their lives chasing material wealth. Others, like “In His Own Words,” celebrate the power of the divine, in both grand phenomena and the small details the occur in daily life.
The album also seeks to deliver messages of inspiration. In lesser hands, songs could come across as heavy-handed or preachy. But Nas and Damian deliver their message with earned unwavering sincerity. Both speak to the importance of staying motivated on the epic “Strong Will Continue,” while “Leaders” pays tribute to organizers in the Black community. The pair envision themselves as holy warriors on “Dispear,” taking up the cause of the oppressed to vanquish “the Masters, the Wall Street War Chiefs,” using their minds as a “modern day spear.”
“My Generation” is almost a full-on hip-hop gospel song, without much of the associated cheesiness usually associated with rap and gospel “mashups.” It features a full-throated chorus from British singer Joss Stone and a contemplative guest verse from Lil’ Wayne, who speaks on building a better world for his children. Meanwhile, Nas addresses the importance of speaking up, rapping, “'Cause music is the way to convey to you what I’m facing / Placing my life in front of your eyes for your observation / Now if you can’t relate, then maybe you are too complacent / Athletes today are scared to make Muhammad Ali statements.”
Watch the Official Videos:
Distant Relatives builds to “Africa Must Wake Up,” a reflective and epic undertaking. The pair, joined by Somalian rapper K’Naan, juxtapose the continent’s rich history as the cradle of civilization with the current issues ravaging sections of the population, including poverty, disease, and the legacy of slavery. It ends with Nas’ plea for global unity, imploring people all over the world to embrace their shared heritage and contribute to the healing of Africa as a whole.
Distant Relatives was a turning point of sorts for Nas, as the project very much helped him chart his career path forward after stumbling a bit through the ’00s. The album helped him start the ’10s on the right foot, and his output has been largely (though not completely) spotless into the 2020s.
Teaming with Damian and Stephen Marley gave Nas a necessary focus. He has continued to take his role as a spokesman for the voiceless seriously, and for the last decade-and-a-half, his execution has come much closer to matching the weight of his objectives. He might not always set out to change the world, but he has demonstrated that he can aim high and hit the mark.
Listen: