And it was another example of how poverty and suffering inspires art, and how our educational system has failed. It was like a postcard from some strange, horrible world that I didn’t know existed, yet apparently was just an airline flight away, or maybe even could be found in my own city. And maybe that’s why the album still resonates with me 30 years after it was cut. And while I get that young men will exaggerate their sexual prowess and alpha male credentials any chance they get, as the father of a teenage daughter, I can’t help but be disturbed that there are no doubt plenty of dudes, of all races, who see women this way.īut I am not one to bring judgment, perhaps the Geto Boys were doing us all a favor by letting us know that these attitudes existed. Tracks such as “Gangster of Love” and “Let a Ho Be A Ho” make it pretty clear that these guys don’t see much use for women beyond being sex objects, the latter song actually offers relationship advice to the tune of “don’t treat a ho like a queen who behaves like a dog”. Of course, from a 2020 perspective, it’s impossible to ignore the misogyny that is on display in the Geto Boys’ lyrics. One can imagine the Geto Boys sitting in a room trying to come up with the lyrics that will deliver the most shock possible to White America and laughing at the reactions they would get in the media. Listening to it in 2020, it comes across as something not to be taken quite so seriously. I remember at the time that stuff like this caused a lot of clutching of pearls, even though as it was pointed out to deaf ears that movies and television had been “glorifying” violence for decades. Things take a turn for the darker next with “Mind of Lunatic”, where Scarface describes in Patrick Bateman-like detail a night where he stalks and murders a random woman in her house.
Bushwick Bill is showcased in the second track, the hilarious and catchy (there’s a horn section?) “Size Ain’t Shit”. It’s over quickly, but the message is delivered: these guys are pissed off. The opening track, “F**k Em”, grabs you by the throat from the start and does not let go. I still remember the first time I heard this album, on cassette, in my car as a teenager growing up in the suburbs of Charlotte. (Bill unfortunately fell victim to pancreatic cancer in June 2019).
The Boys themselves, as pictured on the album cover in a sly nod to The Beatles’ Let It Be consist of front man Willie D., the angriest and smartest of the bunch, Bushwick Bill, a dwarf who provides much needed comic relief at times, Scarface, who plays the role of the unpredictable and possibly mentally ill menace to society, and DJ Ready Red, who does a nice job with the beats and Al Pachino sound bites. Put this on in the car and you’ll find yourself smiling and bobbing your head while the Geto Boys spin tales of urban crime and graphic sexual encounters. Simply put, The Geto Boys showcases all the elements that hardcore rap has to offer: raging anger, rebellion, dark humor, political commentary, tales of life in the inner city, and at times abject horror (“Mind of a Lunatic” describes in great detail the (hopefully) first-person fictional account of a knife-welding stalker murdering a woman and desecrating her corpse.) Now, this would all be just garbage if the album wasn’t catchy as hell and fun to listen to classic hip-hop producer Rick Rubin has a knack for making just about anybody sound great, and it helps that you’ll recognize samples from old-school rock standards like “Sweet Home Alabama” and Pink Floyd’s “Money”. While many music fans in my demographic (white/male/GenX) will be quick to associate NWA’s Straight Outta Compton as the most iconic album of the 80s/90s “gangsta rap” era, I would submit that for those who are not familiar with the genre but are curious about it should consider the major label debut of Houston’s Geto Boys to be the one to listen to.
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