Happy 30th Anniversary to O.C.’s debut album Word…Life, originally released October 18, 1994.
During a year when so many dynamic emcees dropped their inaugural efforts and helped shape the trajectory of hip-hop music for the next three decades, it never feels like Omar “O.C.” Credle receives his proper respect for releasing Word…Life 30 years ago. With his debut album, O.C. established himself as a singular talent and began a career that continues to produce quality work. He’s become an emcee’s emcee. And yet I always feel like he should be a household name.
In a parallel universe, O.C. could have (and should have) ended up with Nas’ career trajectory. There are a good amount of similarities between the two emcees, beyond the two dropping their debut albums within months of each other. Both made their debut on wax in 1991, with O.C. delivering the final verse on Organized Konfusion’s “Fudge Pudge” (from the duo’s eponymous 1991 debut album) and Nas delivering cameo rhymes on Main Source’s “Live at the Barbeque” (from their 1991 debut LP Breaking Atoms). Both immediately impressed audiences with their lyrical flair and unique presence on the microphone. Both were seen as young artists that were wise beyond their years, who were forced to learn the intricacies of how to survive the streets at a young age.
Furthermore, both Nas and O.C.’s styles were influenced by the likes of Rakim, Slick Rick, and Kool G Rap. O.C. lists the three, along with KRS-One and Chuck D, in Word…Life’s liner notes as his “mentors.” You could say that Nas was a bit more of a finesse emcee, while O.C. was more blunt and direct in his approach and delivery. But both were pensive and reflective throughout much of their debut long players.
Another similarity between the two artists was their connection to MC Serch, formerly of 3rd Bass, who executive produced both Illmatic and Word…Life. Nas and O.C. were the first two signees to the rapper-turned-aspiring-executive’s Serchlite management, and O.C. was one of the first artists that Serch signed to Wild Pitch in his role as vice president at the label. In an interview with Grandslam magazine back in 2003, Serch said “Word…Life was really my baby. It was more my baby than Illmatic was.”
According to Serch in the Grandslam interview, recording Word…Life was a long and occasionally contentious process, in which O.C. recorded 40 to 60 songs and the two frequently clashed. For what it’s worth, any strain that may have occurred during the recording of the album doesn’t show in the finished product. As Serch states, Word… Life remains one of the most underrated albums in hip-hop history.
Listen to the Album:
For Word…Life, O.C. leans on one producer to do most of the work behind the boards. Buckwild, then a fledgling member of the Diggin’ In the Crates crew, created beats for a little over half of the album, with O.C.’s cohorts Organized Konfusion handling production for another three tracks. The remaining songs are produced by Lord Finesse and DJ Ogee.
Word…Life’s production runs from light and smooth to dark and sinister and back again. In terms of sound, it’s one of the quintessential hip-hop albums of the early to late ‘90s. It’s filled with jazzy, soulful samples that match O.C.’s thoughtful tone that he utilizes for much of the album. Another oft-forgotten component of the album are the scratches, handled by the departed DJ Roc Raida. The self-proclaimed “Ninja of Rap” remains sharp and precise when working on the 1’s and 2’s, enhancing each track where he appears.
O.C.’s “breakthrough” song was, of course, “Time’s Up.” It’s a screed against fakeness in hip-hop music and a testament to the importance of being a dope emcee. Though we look at the past through rose-colored glasses, back in 1994, the sentiment expressed by artists was that much of what was being played in the mainstream wasn’t viewed as “true” hip-hop music at all, but rather sensationalistic, materialistic junk.
O.C. stepped into this fray like a righteous warrior, ready for action as horns blare and the steady bassline pounds, and recorded one of the best hip-hop songs ever. He kicked in the door of the rugged track with wheat Timberland boots, thundering, “You lack the minerals and vitamins, irons and the niacin / Fuck who did I offend, rappers, sit back, I’m ’bout to begin.”
With his second verse, a 32-bar masterpiece, O.C. throws in some perfectly-placed digs at posers and phony gangsters, pretending to be something that their not in pursuit of money and fame. He raps, “Your persona’s drama that you acquired in high school in acting class / Your whole aura is plexiglass / What’s-her-face told me you shot this kid last week in the park / That’s a lie: you was in church with your moms.”
He also expresses the “keep it real” mentality with much more eloquence than those who came before and after him, as he proclaims, “Of course, we got to pay rent, so money connects / But, uh I’d rather be broke and have a whole lot of respect / It’s the principle of it, I get a rush when I bust some dope lines I wrote / That maybe somebody’ll quote.” Yes, it’s become easy to mock the song’s purist values, but even those who don’t agree with the sentiments should be able to at least respect the conviction with which O.C. articulates them.
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O.C. is in a contemplative mood for much of Word…Life, lending gravity to the album’s introspective tones. Throughout the album, O.C. doesn’t waste bars, laying his rhymes with meaning and imbuing them with power. On the title track, O.C. muses about the process he uses to create his rhymes, while decrying those who don’t take the art seriously, rapping “Verses serve a purpose like workers / Yet there’s clowns making hip-hop a circus.” Later, on “Point O Viewz,” he ponders how he can spread his wisdom to enlighten others, but still fulfill his purpose to “defeat all frauds.”
On “Born 2 Live,” a Buckwild-produced track about the realities of life and death, O.C. shares his wisdom. On some level, it’s about enjoying a year in the life in Brooklyn, but on a deeper level, it’s about the frailty of human life. In a powerful passage, O.C. recounts being forced to learn about mortality at a young age, after a car kills a childhood friend. “He didn’t even get to see the summer set in,” he muses over a loop of Keni Burke’s “Keep Rising to the Top,” “Dying all young at the age of seven / It opened up my eyes, small, that the flesh was weak / As a kid, thinking shit like that was mad deep.”
O.C. goes from brooding over the significance of life and death to traversing much gloomier lyrical territory. He describes a harrowing incident of police profiling while driving his car on the grim “Constables.” Pianos clatter and bang away on the Organized Konfusion-produced track, as O.C. warns racist police that “you won’t asphyxiate me in a chokehold, death mocking me / So for that, eat my dust and keep clocking me.”
Meanwhile, “No Main Topic” sounds like it was recorded in a dank boiler room, which suits the mood of the track. As the murky piano sample and stuttering drum track creep through, O.C. delivers one solo verse. DJ Ogee produced the track, mixing O.C.’s vocals so low that it almost sounds like he’s whispering them. He mutters through his verse, twisting and bending his flow, muttering, “Never could I kill a man to fill a void of prosperous life / He gets burnt like phosphorus / Crooked your face from the slap of my base in your grill piece / You’re the lamb I took fleece from.” The original version of the song has the vocals mixed at the proper levels, and it lacks the final version’s mystique and power.
O.C. flexes his skills over smoother tracks on songs like the incredibly dope “O-Zone” and “Ma Dukes.” The latter features the vocal talents of his mother, as she croons throughout the song over a loop of Jimmy McGriff’s “Back On the Track.” He explains how he intricately constructs his rhymes in order to be the best emcee possible, while still being an irritant to sub-par rappers. “I’ll protrude out of your skin like thorns, irritating emcees,” he raps. “’Cause they don’t make songs like these.”
In revisiting interviews with O.C., it appears that he has a complicated relationship with Word…Life. In the past, he’s expressed some frustration that many fans only consider that album when looking at his career, while he believes that he’s released better albums since. In recent years, he’s been a little more forgiving of Word…Life. He conceded in an Acclaim interview that it was a very “important” album, ranking it among the Illmatics and Enta Da Stages of its era. For the record, he maintains that his best album is the maligned-at-the-time Bon Appetit (2001).
O.C. should not be reduced to just Word...Life or “Time’s Up” or a line about how being broke and having respect is better than selling out. During the past 30 years, he has built a discography that’s stronger than most, and has always been a thinking person’s emcee. Whether you believe that Word…Life is his best work or not, it’s still an album that spotlights an artist in veteran form at the beginning of his career, with a firm command of wordplay and visual storytelling. Not many artists were as fully formed as O.C. when they began releasing music, and not many artists could have recorded an album as meditative and essential as this one.
LISTEN:
Editor's note: this anniversary tribute was originally published in 2019 and has since been edited for accuracy and timeliness.