(Rhino)
RECOMMENDED
It was always the job of other people to take the Fat Boys seriously, never their own. Like the Shangri-Las or Jerry Lee Lewis at his earliest and wildest, their conviction was the ruthless pursuit of purportedly mindless fun, the carnal and the corpulent; it fell to others after the fact to read the group's innovation, cleverness and their sense of cut-loose pure joy. The gimmick of Prince Markie Dee, Kool RockSki and the late great Human Beat Box, Darren Robinson, called to mind that sequence in Spartacus when Charles Laughton and Peter Ustinov sit down to discuss the great joys of gluttony. There's a certain novel frivolity in all this, but musically, the group is serious business.
The most consistent material on this enjoyable if somewhat padded out compilation comes from the Fat Boys' landmark first album, several veritable classics of old-school hip hop: "Fat Boys," "Human Beatbox," "Can You Feel It," and the massive "Jail House Rap." But the peaks in the trio's later work reach even higher: "All You Can Eat" is a binge-eating throwdown for the ages, "The Fat Boys Are Back" boasts the wickedest groove here, with "Falling in Love" a piece of grandly self-effacing storytelling worthy of Dana Dane or Slick Rick. Like so many first-generation rap artists, the band loses their integrity as the years weigh on them, though never their enthusiasm; there's something sort of charming about the Beach Boys collaboration "Wipeout" and the awkward deconstruction of "Louie Louie" (try not to love this couplet: "it caused a big-ass rumble / they thought it was filthy, cause the lyrics were mumbled") even if both are sort of terrible. The affability of all three Boys and Robinson in particular is unflagging and makes this hit-and-miss collection a lot of fun even at its worst.
Robinson's beatboxing is wild to experience, even now, squeaking and chopping and screwing and scratching with supernatural rhythm; the prime takeaway is the essence of real artistry. His confidence and self-assertion cannot shrink away other insecurities, but his steely control of his skill makes its own statement. Those same insecurities become something to both mock and celebrate across the rest of the record, although one bristles at realizing how gendered all this is; it's unlikely that a group of Fat Girls would find mainstream acceptance for embracing their own body issues -- as the Boys, or Biggie, or Big Pun all managed to do.
These singles are very much of their time and you have to crane your neck at times to hear the vitality in them. It's probably a good idea to stick to the Fat Boys' individual albums, but this gives you a decent idea of what made them so instantly appealing, even as you cringe at pseudo-Ray Parker "Are You Ready for Freddy" or "The Twist (Yo, Twist)"... and, to be less charitable, the blatant Run-DMC cribbing of "Don't Be Stupid" and "In the House." Still, personality bursts through on this music so much that you can't help liking them even when you don't particularly like where they're putting their talent. The unceasingly wonderful sound of early hip hop is rejuvenating in any context, regardless.
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