It wasn't exactly a comeback given that Darryl McDaniels turns up on just three tracks, having regarded the project with scepticism; but it's a great album, regardless. Run was keen to remind us of the group's significance in rap history, particularly with respect to the whole rock-rap crossover deal which had pretty much begun with Run DMC - not just Walk This Way but their whole sound which was always heavy even in the absence of guitars. Thus we get guest slots and collaborations with Kid Rock, the bloke from Limp Bizkit and other rock-rap types unlikely to have scored points in the pages of The Source; also Method Man, Fat Joe, Nas and others, because Run DMC were integral to the evolution of rap as we know it, not just the Beastie Boys. It looks a lot like the old school getting down with the kids, at least until you listen to the thing.
Contrary to what one might expect, Crown Royal was never about old guys trying to stay relevant and even without guests, these tracks are as good as anything they've ever recorded. If Run's delivery remains rooted in the old school, it wasn't like he'd ceased to evolve and expand or had lost any of his powers. This is also true of the music which kept the faith as we'd recognise it while nevertheless moving with the times - at least as of 2001. It was a new album more than it was ever an exercise in smoking a pipe and looking back with a wrinkled smile.
Of the rock-rap numbers, the collaboration with Trump's fave homeboy, Kid Rock is the one which goes hard and blows even the strongest possible objections out of the water, but none of them are surplus to requirements, even though I don't have a fucking clue who or what Sugar Ray or Third Eye Blind may be. In the name of variety, more than half the album is regular hip-hop and so we get Queen's Day featuring local lads Nas and Prodigy, effectively passing the baton, I suppose. There are two you'll need to skip. Both feature Jermaine Dupri, and if It's Over is musically decent, the Jagged Edge collaboration is a waste of both time and its half-arsed Marvin Gaye impersonation. I'm sure Dupri must have done something to justify his reputation, or at least the fact of my having heard of the fucker, but I have no idea what it might be. He doesn't actually rap on It's Over, for example, instead preferring to explain the extent of his own popularity as quantified by how much he has in his savings bank, delivered in the usual whiny voice of wasps in a jam jar somehow as a tribute to Run DMC, the logic being when someone as amazing as what I am pays a compliment then you better believe it means something; and the cunt won't shut up. Every gap created by Run pausing to draw breath is filled with Dupri reminding us how wealthy he is or just saying yeeeah in case we've stopped thinking about him. Run rhymes about buying his girlfriend a Mercedes, and we hear Dupri croaking me too in the background just in case anyone had begun to doubt his financial standing.
It could have done with a bit more Darryl, but Crown Royal remains a classic despite requiring two judicious stabs of the skip function; and with rap's increased tendency to drift off into the realm of music for furries and anime twats, we really need to remember the originators and how music works best when it does what it should do. This one does what it should do very well.
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