It’s a combination of thoughtfulness and who the fuck cares-ness that not even The Pharcyde could recreate on subsequent albums. They rap against the beat with the gumption of a jazz soloist. Jay, and the arch, unusual way that the rappers (Slimkid, Bootie Brown, Fatlip and Imani) attack each tune. But they are turned into something like art thanks to crackly, soulful production from J-Swift, Slimkid3 and L.A. It’s a record whose concerns are simple: getting a girl, getting high and talking oodles of smack to your buddies. Riding into the party, zonked out on psychtropics and warped funk records, was The Pharcyde, an L.A.-based group who snuck another gem into that year with their debut Bizarre Ride II The Pharcyde.
Dre released his first solo album The Chronic, Sir Mix-A-Lot hit the top of the Billboard charts for five weeks with “Baby Got Back” and bona fide classics were dropped by Gang Starr, Beastie Boys, EPMD and Diamond D. Josh Jacksonġ992 was one of the key moments in hip-hop’s steady march toward being the defining artform of our modern era.
The music on Cracker was punchier and more approachable than anything since Camper’s breakout single “Take the Skinhead Bowling,” but the lyrics were just as compelling, as Lowery asked “Can I take my gun up to heaven?” and proclaimed, “Don’t Fuck Me (With Peace and Love)” while Hickman’s guitar drove home every refrain with his country- and blues-tinged rock riffs. When the band broke up in 1990, Lowery reconnected with his old friend guitarist Johnny Hickman, and released the new band’s self-titled debut Cracker just as the weirdos began taking over the radio with the rise of “alt-rock.” I still remember hearing “Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now)” on the just-launched 99X in Atlanta for the first time and immediately recognizing Lowery’s voice, dumbfounded and delighted that the Camper frontman had found mainstream success. Camper Van Beethoven was a college radio staple in the second half of the 1980s, introducing that decade’s version of indie kids to David Lowery’s sometimes snide, often absurd and surprisingly emotional lyrics.
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