Yella - One Mo Nigga ta Go (1996)

Of all the former members of NWA, Yella seems to have been the most overlooked in terms of the ensuing legend, at least unless you want to start talking about Arabian Prince and others whom even those who were actually in NWA have trouble remembering. This is probably because Yella was never quite so visible as the rest, and we never worked out what he actually did. I mean we know he was the DJ, or he was the other DJ, but er…

Of course, whereas the other four have had post-NWA musical careers which kept their works within the general vicinity of the wider public attention span, Yella shuffled off to produce independent art films catering principally for a male audience, so you could argue that he sort of switched lanes.

Well, sort of, except for producing, or at least having something to do with tracks on a few of the later solo releases by Eazy-E, releases which were actually pretty fucking great, contrary to the history established by people who write for the Source and others; and prodding the internet reveals that Yella produced a whole shitload of records which did well, back when he was still pushing the buttons; and actually there was this solo album, which didn't quite set the world on fire but is nevertheless solid as fuck.

That said, One Mo Nigga has such a laid back, mellow vibe that you can pretty much listen to the entire album without noticing it, then wonder what happened to track two as the disc spins to a stop in the player, at least at first. It's mostly a g-funk variant of light jazz funk-soul-R&B-all of that good shit, taking it slow and smooth and so polished that it wouldn't sound out of place on a Sting album; but the more you listen, the more you begin to feel it, and there's a lot of feeling on this one - it being a memorial to Eazy-E who had recently passed and who was the one still talking to Yella, I guess. It works because, among other factors, Yella knows his strengths and, aside from a few particularly poignant spoken pieces, leaves the vocals to others - BG, Knocc Out, Kokane and various Ruthless vets. There's nothing which punches you in the face like you might get with an Ice Cube set, because even with the few darker, street level numbers, the vibe is set firmly at four in the morning. It's music which knows what it's like to lose a buddy, and which knows there's not always anything to be said, so you just have to deal with it. One Mo Nigga ta Go probably proves the truism about the quiet ones at the back. It's not that it's unlike anything you've heard before, but nothing you've heard before will have sounded quite like this album.