Scarface

Scarface could have retired years ago and he'd still be a legend, one of the best to ever do it, a king, an emperor, the Mullah of the South–any superlative you want to toss at him sticks with ease. From his group days with the Geto Boys, where he put Houston on the map while laying down some of the fiercest (and eeriest) gangsta raps ever, to his solo days as hip hop's resident preacher, bellowing at his enemies and chiding the young 'uns, Scarface has never lacked for respect. Sure, he never caught the A-Train to commercial success, but I suspect he never wanted that, and that just being one of the respected rappers ever was more than fine with him–probably better than the commercial alternative, actually. His booming, gravely voice and his studied preacher cadence is a match made in hip hop heaven, and–like Solomon Burke, who could reliably be counted as his soul music counterpart–you could listen to him rap a phone book and it would still knock harder than 90 percent of the other music out there. Throw him a mic and a scratchy beat and he would scare you, teach you, shock you, learn you and straight-up mesmerize you with one fell swoop.

The trouble is, he should have retired after dropping his third classic solo album, 2002's The Fix. It's not that his output since then hasn't been good–he had a couple of great tracks on 2007's Made, and there are some great tracks on Emeritus as well. It's just that eventually the law of diminishing returns takes hold, and there's little more disheartening than watching a legend release less-than-legendary material. The first half of the album is solid vintage Scarface–"High Powered," "Forgot About Me" and "Can't Get Right" all deftly lump together the intangibles that make Scarface one of the greats–the steady flow and the hard-learned life lessons. It’s after those, though, that things start degrading just a little bit, the half-assed hook on "We Need You" and the overall meh-ness and waste of a great beat on "High Note" being just the most egregious examples. The slight mediocrity drags the album to an area that Scarface never used to occupy–the "same old, same old" area, consisting of unimaginative hooks, mailed-in raps and redundant lyrics.

Scarface will always be one of the best to have ever done it, and his catalogue bears witness to that greatness–when he wasn't dropping classics he was putting out near-classics, and in the process he created one of hip hop's most enduring figures. He's just not doing himself favors anymore, and putting out run-of-the-mill albums like Emeritus is doing nothing but tarnishing his otherwise impeccable legacy. My time is better spent bumping "Mind Playing Tricks on Me" or "I Seen a Man Die," "Guess Who's Back" or "On My Block"–and I suspect Scarface's is too.

—Matthew Mundy
12.12.08

With Emeritus, the legendary Scarface brings his solo career to close, a declaration he made six yeas earlier, although this time it seems more realistic. The former Geto Boy's stipulation that collaborations are still possible is right in line with his recent projects like his three-man crew the Product but more than anything, there's a bitterness throughout Emeritus that feels like pulling up stakes and cutting your losses. Right from the extended intro where Rap-A-Lot CEO J. Prince roll calls the snitches as if it was jailhouse poetry, the album is filled spite for a game that doesn't appreciate its elder players. This uncompromising stance never wavers, even with an appearance from superstar Lil Wayne who, along with Bun B., contributes to the furious highlight "Forgot About Me." Bilal, an Ohio Players sample, plus accusations that corporate drug companies are pimping harder than crack dealers all make "Can't Get Right" a standout while "Soldier Story" and the ironically named "Redemption Song" both look back in anger at Face's rise to fame. With the rapper making women hit the "High Note" and getting hedonistic elsewhere, Emeritus is not the usual, very serious good-bye record, but in so many ways, it's a typical Scarface record. It's just better than usual with the rapper sounding liberated by his decision to move on. ~ David Jeffries, All Music Guide